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, 11 June 2014

A Seasonal Magic


[Update August 4th 2018: This poem was written before the effects of climate change began to make themselves well and truly felt...as during this, one of the hottest summers on record worldwide, Even so, every season in our lives is reflected one way or another in nature. In the latter, the keyword is renewal so, yes, I have no fear of death; pain, though, that is something else altogether.]

Some years ago,  I confided to friend (always an inspiration) on his 80th birthday that I sometimes felt scared of growing old. The lively 80 year-old in question told me not to worry. ‘Me, I think of myself as a tree going through its seasons, time after time, every one different and each, in its own way, as magical as any that have gone before,’ he said with a wry grin. .

‘What about winter?’ I asked sceptically.  

‘Time to enjoy a good rest and conserve our energy for whatever (or whoever) may be just around the next corner,’ came the unhesitating reply.

‘What if there’s no one and nothing?’ I persisted.

My elderly friend threw back his head and roared. ‘Well, if you’re that much of a pessimist it’s probably no more than you deserve.’

We both laughed, and I have never feared growing old since.

 (Image taken for the Internet)

A SEASONAL MAGIC

Often, as spring is fading,
I spot a face in clouds I know well,
as sure as a late lark working
the magic of its ages-old spell

Often, as summer is fading,
I hear a voice in my ears I know well,
as sure as a fine rain seducing
the trees with its ages-old spell

Often, as autumn is fading,
I feel caresses on my skin I know well,
as sure as a fair wind rising
to Earth Mother’s ages-old spell

Often, as winter is falling,
I surrender to an embrace I know well,
as sure as home fires reworking
what passes for an ages-old spell

Where a season’s colours fading
like the dream we knew only too well,
other lovers are discovering
the magic of its ages-old spell

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2012]






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