A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

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Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Wednesday, 26 December 2012

Spoilt For Choice

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

We face questions about the meaning of life and death almost daily. It is a rare person that finds any answers. However, we should not be defeatist. On the contrary, we should feel encouraged.

Yes, we run a gamut of emotions. The joys of life are constantly under threat by fear, grief, pain and loneliness. Yet if we look hard enough with our inner eye, we are likely to see more and more of that bigger picture of which we are but brush strokes on the canvas. It may not answer any questions but it affords us a glimpse of our purpose in life.

We are all aspects of the bigger picture and, as such, have a positive part to play as we find ways to deal with ways of living and dying. We can but hope that when others view the picture they may glimpse and take heart from our contribution.


SPOILT FOR CHOICE

Too often have I talked with Death
in green fields, by sandy shores,
under stars in the middle of the night,
on street corners in broad daylight;
conversation is always much the same,
along the lines of my losing a grip
on the meaningfulness of life and love
and He offering safety, security,
release from the anxieties of integrity;
let Death take responsibility for me
where others refuse, be a ghost among
shades of darkness, distanced from
the spoils and heartache of daily grind,
out of sight, out of mind...?

Too often have I talked with Death
during early hours, late strolls,
counting spring lambs frolicking in
fields of memory, listening out for
voices across the sea, once near, dear
to me, not so long ago it seems,
stuff of sweet dreams, laid low come
cold light of day, buried beneath
cracked paving stones, cruel highways
expecting me to carry on till I drop
exhausted, reaching for Death’s hand
rather than dare ask for help, seek
answers in prayers that always seem
to fall on deaf ears…

“No one cares,” Death so delights
in telling me, urging I turn
my back on spite, hate, jealousy,
poverty, hunger, war, a politics
of perversity, world religions busy
practising world division, quick
to condemn what (too often) they
can’t comprehend for refusing
to play a part in common workings
of the heart, keeping their distance,
awarding marks out of ten to any seen
to have stakes in a God they would
claim for their own and give a name
where no need for one...

Where voices would deny us peace,
let us explore the politics of choice

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

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