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.

Sunday, 5 January 2014

An Affinity (of sorts) with Winter OR World, Half Asleep


Some readers will recognize this poem as I once posted it over the Christmas period as one of my Poems for Christmas. However, I have decided to make several significant changes which I think makes the poem more perennial…like the Heath itself.

The editors of a delightful Hampstead Heath site that includes the original among other poems will be editing accordingly. ('Culture' button.)


I am so fortunate to live within easy walking distance of Hampstead Heath. I love to stroll there in all weathers.  Conscious of walking in the footsteps of giants - Keats, Turner, Dickens…to name but a few - I feel similarly inspired. I cannot compare myself with their talents, but suspect I am filled with much the same sense of love and peace as they for communing with nature in all its shapes and forms. 

Photo: Hampstead Heath in winter

AN AFFINITY (OF SORTS) WITH WINTER or WORLD, HALF ASLEEP

One wintry day,
I strolled on Hampstead Heath,
snow almost ankle deep
in a world whose very life-force
fallen half asleep

A deafening silence
hurt my ears as I made my way
among trees like chandeliers,
ran a gamut of moon shadows
and winter’s tears

Apollo’s footprints
buried among kinder memories,
yet every now and then
I would chance to catch the eye
of a custom snowman

I had started out alone,
but not for long, friendly ghosts
of seasons past anxious
to keep me company, lend hope,
transcend worst fears

Redbreast, too, began
conjuring up images of a lasting
love, comfort, and peace;
songs composed by Earth Mother,
plagiarised by clerics

Mind and spirit so inspired,
every host body welcome to share
(no matter whose or where)
that holds this life’s finer dreams
close and dear

One wintry day
I strolled on Hampstead Heath,
snow almost calf deep
in a world posturing life balance
while half asleep


Copyright R. N. Taber 2013


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