http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Another new poem today.
A
regular reader has emailed to asks if I am not ‘slightly obsessed’ with rain
imagery in some poems although he enjoys it, ‘given that it is one of those a
positive life forces with which you also seem more than a little obsessed’. Well,
I hope I don’t come across as ’obsessed’ in any of my poems.
Yes,
I am fascinated by and empathise with various life forces; good, bad, ugly and
sublime aspects of human nature … which I suspect applies to most of us if we
are truly honest with ourselves. It is, after all, what the arts are all about
as well as entertainment, the sciences, too, as well as looking for and finding
answers; in the latter, science has an advantage since all the arts can too is
make suggestions and offer alternatives to both entertain audiences as well as
providing food for thought.
As
a child, one of my elders and betters told me that art is the opposite of
science; even at a young age, though, we had to agree to differ; in children
and young people this is too often seen as being precocious. Different,
yes, very different, but both are mentors to mind-body-spirit, each in
their own way.
Much
the sane can be said for nature and human nature; take a raindrop falling from
the sky, catching both light and a child’s imagination, food for thought,
indeed; where imagination entertains, invariably asking more questions than
answering any …such observations may well not only stay with us all our lives, taking us on a voyage of
discovery that consciously or subconsciously
may well affect every move we make, every word we speak, who we are at
any given time and whom we may yet become ...
No
mean mentors, raindrops …
LINES
ON THE ACCIDENTAL LIFE OF A RAINDROP
I
watched a raindrop falling,
saw
it splash on the ground without a sound,
and
the silence, it was deafening,
killing
the roar of traffic all around, leaving me
wondering
who and where I am,
looking
back at the heavens, asking questions,
needing
reasons as to why
one
minute I’m in a busy, noisy place, the next
travelling
time and (personal) space
Silence,
splashing my face
like
thoughts that never seem to find a voice,
sailing
through my head,
much
like a summer breeze, every word unsaid
splashing
on the backroads
of
my mind, like raindrops fallen to the ground
only
to conspire with others
to
form puddles for children to make such faces in
as
prompted by some native intuition
Years
on, the boy I was that day,
a
man now, but still watching that same rain fall
into
much the same silence,
weirder
now than ever for being so much rarer,
more
likely to be swept along
by
the rushing by of a Here-and-Now, little pause
to
wonder where the time goes,
as
likely breaking me for going with its flow had I not
listened
to the silence, and never forgot
Old
now, mind-body-spirit as full of pleasure as pain,
just
for watching raindrops splashing Memory Lane
Copyright
R. N Taber 2020
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