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].

Name:
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, 6 July 2014

Artist Unknown OR Smoke and Mirrors


As a child, I was fascinated by a tramp who always sat on the same bench blowing various shaped smoke rings. People would often pause to watch, and then go on their way without even a kind word for the poor man although a flat cap at his feet would fill with a significant number of coins (various denominations, even the occasional note) as the day progressed.  

One day, I asked him why he just sat there blowing smoke rings. "Because I can," he said. But why, a 9 year-old Roger T wanted to know, did people give him money?  "Because they can," he said. Besides, he added with a wry smile, "They either like or don't like what they see, but it makes them feel better, for reasons best kept to themselves, to pay me anyway. I'm a good deed, lad, and nothing beats it when it comes to compensating for ...whatever."

His words meant nothing to me ... then.

 ARTIST UNKNOWN or SMOKE AND MIRRORS


Every day for years…
a tramp sat on a wooden bench
on the edge of town, no party to its life,
of smoke and mirrors

Passers-by were privy
to glimpses of have-a-go heroes
for peace and love, war and hate, chasing
smoke and mirrors

Audiences would gather,
see-feel wrong moves and right,
failures and successes, catching them out
in smoke and mirrors 

Smiles and laughter
(public fronts for private truths)
last seen grabbing at defence mechanisms,
all smoke and mirrors 

Every day for years…
Tramp on Bench, a live sculpture
shaping tell-tale coughs and dragging feet
in Smoke and Mirrors

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

[Note: This poem has since been significantly revised since first appearing in the January-June ed.'of CC & D magazine published by Scars (US) 2014. See http://scars.tv/ccd.htm for the CC &d D web page; the poem's original title was 'The Artist' and I am encouraged that feedback suggests some readers have enjoyed both versions.]

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