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 May 2019

'Live' Theatre

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

What exactly do we mean by a ‘posthumous consciousness? Well, it’s not an exact science.

Some of us discount neither the notion of ghosts nor any life-after-death phenomena in the sense that everything we say or do of any significance in this life affects other people, for better or worse. This, in turn, may well affect aspects of their behaviour which, in turn again, may well affect that same person’s family, friends, lovers, work colleagues etc; in short, have a knock-on effect that can be traced back to word or deed by someone long since forgotten yet having made sufficient an impression at the time to carry forward and influence people – knowingly or unknowingly for years, even centuries.

Poets, painters and those engaged in various forms of creative experience and/or therapy are invariably inspired – again, knowingly or unknowingly – at a young age by examples set by parents, teachers, friends, neighbours even chance encounters with complete strangers on public transport sowing seeds in mind-body-spirit likely to affect not only our own lives but could well make a significant contribution to the past-present-future of someone as yet unborn.

If life is a continuum so, too, is death in the sense that we all make impressions on others, for better or worse, thereby setting off a chain reaction we never see but continue to remain a part of.

I recall a teacher at my old junior school, more years ago than I care to remember, comparing social responsibility to the acquisition of an invisible cloak by a naughty boy in a story who was given it by a magician who befriended him. He used it to play tricks on others until a day came when he had a near fatal accident while wearing it. His cries for help went unanswered since no one could see from whom or where they came; in his dazed state, he had forgotten he was wearing the cloak.  As soon as realisation dawned, he discarded it, was subsequently rescued. Later, he returned it to the magician who asked the reason why. “It’s dangerous,” the boy replied. “Not in responsible hands,” the magician assured him, “and you’re still too young.” So why give it to me in the first place,” demanded the boy angrily. “You’re never too young to learn about social responsibility,” said the magician, “it’s food for thought from cradle to grave and shared by everyone with whom we pass any minute of any day. “What’s social responsibility?”  asked one of my schoolmates. “Another story for another time,” said the teacher with a wry grin just as the bell went for home time.

I have never forgotten that story or the teacher who died some years ago.

This poem is a villanelle.

‘LIVE’ THEATRE

A life ends, its world gone to ground
(or not as the case may well be)
live' theatre, called 'Lost and Found'

Legend, inscribed on a burial mound
for the world to wait and see …;
a life ends, its world gone to ground

Mind-body-spirit. the first to hound
Guardians of Time to be left free;
‘live’ theatre called ‘Lost and Found’

Dream faces, best TV without sound
(ghosts, only trying to be friendly);
a life ends, its world gone to ground

Inner eye, suggesting we look around,
rediscover flowers of our history,
‘live’ theatre called ‘Lost and Found’

Beyond noise, uneasy silences abound
on resuming a Here-and-Now diary;
a life ends, its world gone to ground;
‘live’ theatre called ‘Lost and Found’

Copyright R. N. Taber


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