L-i-f-e, Beachcomber Tales

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

Now and then, readers of one or other (even both) my poetry blogs  - all ages, both sexes, gay and straight - email to say they are in London or coming to London and would like to meet up for a chat (about anything and everything) over a few drinks or a meal. I always enjoy these get-togethers, have met up with some very interesting people and keep in touch with many of them if only by email. So feel free to contact me any time, even if a meet-up is never likely to be on the cards. While I don’t allow comments on the blogs, I will always reply to emails; a lively exchange of views and opinions is always enjoyable.

Meanwhile...

'There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves or lose our ventures.' -  William Shakespeare

Dreams and daydreams are more a part of us than we care to admit, carefully – or even carelessly - stored away in some shadowy corner of the mind waiting for sandmen to come along and explore, rather like a children  rummaging through the contents of an attic and turning it into an adventure as only children can. Quite possibly, too, they instinctively recognize the worth or worthlessness of whatever they find there…as only children can.

Like it or not, few if any of us leave childhood – or at least its natural instincts – behind altogether; naivety and innocence may be tiresome from an adult perspective, while both harbour an honesty unfettered by the so-called ‘wisdom’ that comes with maturity and invariably urges discretion if not total restraint…for (our) survival’s sake if nothing (or no one) else’s.

L-I-F-E, BEACHCOMBER TALES

Sun going down,

leaving our daydreams to float

on waves of twilight

where some are sure to drown,

others washed up

on green-gold shores of infinity,

the rest left drifting

on a vast sea of darkness,

flotsam and jetsam

of human nature to be claimed

in the passing of time

by that old beachcomber, Sleep,

and re-appraised,

reworked by sandmen, guardians

of our secret selves

Twilight dimming,

anticipating thoughts drowning

beneath wintry waves

of abandoned hope, ambition,

darker aspects of nature

and human nature sure to drag

the human condition

into an unfathomable despair

were they not there

to watch over us, keep us safe

in dimensions of Being

beyond its everyday assumptions,

painting picture-poems

on closed eyes anxious to open

closed minds

A Smiley Moon

overseeing black holes for worms

and makeshift coffins

made up of pillows, duvets and sheets

where monsters lurk, waiting

to pounce unawares on consciences

left exposed and vulnerable

in the absence of any conscious effort

to make the kind of excuses

we need to half-believe in or spiral

into a state of half-living,

inciting us to try and beat The Reaper

as his own game,

losers all, we bit players in the greater

scheme of things

Sun resurfacing,

lending passage to lion and lamb

and all of nature’s own

going about the business of living

much as we human beings

if more protective and protecting

of its species and spaces

in spite of the world’s demanding

of Earth Mother far more

than its share of natural resources,

but all’s fair…(so they say)

and the human beast needs must

be the best of a bad bunch

occupying Her territories, fighting

over them for centuries

Cold light of day,

taking us through everyday motions

many if not most of us

think of as living, taking for granted

every ripple, every wave,

carrying us to the very edge of a world

created for ourselves,

all-comers welcome while remaining

in their seats lest they rock

this Ship of Fools chartered by ‘betters’

to take the rest of us

towards a landfall some call ‘Heaven’

where no going down

of the sun, no pillow promises made

at dawn cruelly broken

Selfies, everywhere

like dogs at a bitch on heat inciting

priority attention

as becomes nature’s motivation to fill in

time’s blank spaces

with living, loving, thriving species,

meant to mature,

(since such is the cycle of natural life)

by filling in their own blanks

with living, loving, thriving issues,

and any black holes

with light enough to show we were here,

we bit players, we flotsam

and jetsam, we bringers of all history

coasting shores of infinity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015