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, 19 October 2014

It's Never too Late for Love Poetry


[Update 3rd Oct 2018: A reader has asked about the videos on my You Tube channel. To fully enjoy, you need to keep the sound on to hear the poem/s I read over the video/s. Oh, and if you would like to comment on any of the blogs, feel free to post in the Comments box. I never publish comments (too many ignorant trolls) but always read them; include your email address if you would like a reply.]

Now, sometimes we so wish we could put the clock back and let life and love return to the way they once were. Oh, but especially love!

It is never easy to let go of love. Even when the mind-body-spirit is close to admitting defeat, two hearts bonding as one may well have other ideas …

It's never too late even for the poetry of love which, as many of us have discovered, can often be revived once regret and a sense of loss pause long enough kick-start the heartfelt renewal of a forward looking mind-body-spirit; even death cannot kill the poetry of love, as any of us who have lost loved ones well know.

IT'S NEVER TOO LATE FOR LOVE POETRY

As I lay on a pillow thinking about us,
you opened the door and came in,
crossed to the bed, lay down beside me,
cradled my head, swore you loved me,
despite having chosen to see me in agony
(knowing you’d cheated on me again)
begging to share a bed left sad and lonely
as my tears for our love left to die

I resisted your embrace, closed my eyes
to care lines telling far too many sorry tales
on you-me-us

You let fly with a passion to stay a part
of a gloriously light-dark history
that had seen us feeding off our need
for one another, making believe we were
in love and nothing else mattered
but flames of mad desire, devouring us,
little left once over and done, but ghosts
having braved a fire no phoenix dare...

Unless (a familiar murmuring in the ears)
we quit this soap opera of ours and give love 
a fighting chance...

A tempting offer, love almost persuaded
by our tears, but suddenly sees through
its disguise, tells us straight, "Enough lies";
Ah but restless libidos had other ideas
and chose for us (as we knew they would)
the bitter-sweet prose of fallen heroes,
nor was it some God punishing us for hadn’t we  
already seen to that ourselves?

May the 'live' mind-body-spirit we share
stay with us as even we journey through eternity;
forever, love poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Too Late for Poetry' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; like many of my poems, I revised it in line with Time's insisting life teach me new lessons.] 





Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,