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].
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.
[Update 5/1/17: All my poetry collections are out of print and it is unlikely there will be any print (revised) editions; they sold well (for poetry) but I had to self-publish them because no poetry publishers were willing to combine general and gay-interest poetry. I am in the process of preparing revised editions in e-format for Google Play but this is likely to take some time as I am in my 70's now and am kept busy overcoming various health problems.]RT
[Update April 2016: I read this poem over a video shot by my friend Graham Collett for my You Tube channel some time ago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvoS6PLKqSA Some readers have said the previous link does not work so I have copied and reinstated it; if it still does not work, go to my channel and search under title. As feedback suggests some of you cannot always access YouTube for one reason or another, I have also posted the video below.]
Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog before, I included it among some 100+ others in my new collection, divided into seven themed sections for easy reading. Let’s face it. No one sits down and reads a poetry book so I have made it easy for readers to (hopefully) makes the most of all my collections; he or she can dip into one section of about 20-25 poems now and then before dipping into another at his or her leisure.
I hope to be around for a few more years yet. Even so, I am always aware that when my time is up, the blogs will vanish into cyberspace and all that will remain of my poems (and me) will be in my collections. The sum total of my collections is a diary of journeys short and long, delightful and grim, that comprise my life. Anyone who cares to read them may or may not discern which poems have their roots in autobiography and which do not, but even imagination has to be nurtured by a creative mind, and the mind of poet has to be worth exploring. Well, doesn’t it...?
.
Now, regular readers will know how much I love trees. I am fortunate to live near Hampstead Heath and have written several poems about it that express, if only in part, the immense satisfaction I take from strolling among its grassy slopes and ponds, but especially admiring its splendid trees of all varieties. Needless to say, I am a passionate about Green issues.
My HERO IS A TREE
(for Val Berry)
Leaves on my hero are budding,
the music of spring as sweet as ever heard;
swallows returning bring life
to field and valley, filling the lonely heart
with thoughts of love;
Leaves on my hero are singing
songs of summer as feisty as passion;
young folks laughing bring life
to field and valley, filling hearts growing old
with memories of love;
Leaves on my hero are turning
read and gold in the company of dreams,
swallows departing, sure to return
to field and valley while hearts young and old
fly the colours of love;
Leaves on my hero are drifting
across time and space, world without end;
tears of pain, joy and hope
flying field and valley like bright-eyed children
running with kites;
Leaves on my hero are budding;
the music of spring as sweet as ever heard;
swallows returning bring life
to field and valley, as well as new takes on old tales
we tell on love;
Leaves on my hero are singing
songs of summer as feisty as passion;
young folks laughing bring life
to field and valley, teasing hearts growing old
for knowing nothing of love;
Leaves on my hero are turning
red and gold in the company of dreams;
swallows departing, sure to return
to field and valley while hearts young and old,
fly the colours of love;
Leaves on my hero are drifting
time and space, world without end;
tears of pain, joy and hope
flying field and valley, the children we were,
running with kites
Copyright R. N. Taber, 2012, 2021
(Note: this poem has been only slightly revised since it first appeared in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012 and also read it on my YouTube channel.) RNT