http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Yesterday,
I posted a poem inspired by a song sung by Doris Day. A reader has been in
touch to ask, ‘It is bad enough that someone who claims to be a serious poet
writes gay rubbish, which I find offensive, but to write about Doris Day is
really the last straw!’
Well, for a start I have never
claimed to be a serious poet only someone who takes poetry seriously; well,
most of the time. I am certainly no poetry snob, and readers will know that I
write on all manner of themes. Nor am I a music snob. I love Doris Day just as
I love Ella Fitzgerald and Johnny Cash. I
love some classical music, but I also love some pop and adore rock ‘n’ roll. I love some opera but cannot claim to be an
opera buff. With me, it’s pick’n’mix. So what’s wrong with that? If it is good
of its kind, I will usually enjoy it. Why shouldn’t I enjoy Elvis Presley every
bit as much as Placido Domingo or adore Shirley Bassey just as I do Diana Ross
and Leona Lewis. And let's not forget the late, great Dusty Springfield or, for
that matter, Mario Lanza or Frank Sinatra. I could go on all day...
If people choose to limit their
appreciation to one kind of music, one genre of literature or one period of
art, that’s up to them. But there are lots of people like me who love to dabble
in this ‘n’ that, and where’s the harm?
So I offer no apology for offending
that particular reader. What planet is he (or she) from, I wonder?
Meanwhile...
So many readers have asked me to
repeat this trilogy of villanelles that has not appeared on the blog since
early 2010 so here it is again. I hope new readers and those who are unable to
browse the blog archives for whatever reason, quite possibly because they
simply don’t have the time, will enjoy it and regular readers will also enjoy
being reacquainted with it.
We all have to grow old, but to how
many of us, I wonder, does the ageing process convey the wisdom that we must
make the most of the best not the worst of it all...?
IN APPRECIATION OF YOUTH
Youth cries the world’s tears,
slows time’s flight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears
It will always lead the cheers
for wrongs put right,
Youth cries the world’s tears
Youth bonds with its peers,
develops second sight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears
To peace and love it steers
(Armageddon in sight)
Youth cries the world’s tears
As a mist of naivety clears,
it won't throw the fight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears
It straddles the world’s terrors,
a love poem to write;
Youth cries the world’s tears
relays Earth Mother’s fears
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
IN CELEBRATION OF MIDDLE AGE
In celebration of middle age
(after much rehearsing)
time brings us centre-stage
Like a bird freed from its cage,
we’ll fly on a poem’s wing
in celebration of middle age
Daring us turn the first page
in our history’s re-shaping,
time brings us centre-stage
Shake off cliché and adage,
give truth a rare dusting
in celebration of middle age
Inspired by youth’s raw rage,
its humanity enduring,
time brings us centre-stage
Acted out on a custom page,
a love poem in the making;
in celebration of middle age
time brings us centre-stage
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
BY WAY OF MARKING OLD AGE
By way of marking old age
(after much reflecting)
time edges us off-stage
Like a bird returned to its cage,
we’ll flex a feisty wing
by way of marking old age
Letting slip that life's last page
makes good reading,
time edges us off-stage
Let’s not pass cliché and adage
off as living…
by way of marking old age
Inspired by a well-honed rage,
its humanity enduring…
time edges us off-stage
No matter memory skips a page,
its poetry re-working;
by way of marking old age
time edges us off-stage
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
[From: On The Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
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