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.

Thursday, 10 December 2020

Private Lives OR A Lesser Known History of Everyman

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

Another revised poem today that I found while rummaging my print files; it has not appeared on the poetry blogs before.

I am still very poorly, but remain Covid-free, am feeling a little better every day, and hope to continue writing new poems and publishing them here before too long.

The poem is a kenning and appears on both general and gay-interest poetry blogs today. 

Sadly, many LGBT folks worldwide still remain fearful of the consequences of their choosing to look the world in the eye wherever bigotry persists in making itself felt. As I've said before - and daresay will again - there is so much more to anyone than their sexuality. I suspect the bigots among us, too, (like many if not most of us) know all about engaging in a tug-of-war between keeping up appearances and bringing certain home truths into the public domain.

PRIVATE LIVES or  A LESSER KNOWN HISTORY OF EVERYMAN

We lurk in personal space
conspire to confuse feelings 
likely to light it up,
expose me for watching them
from shadowy corne
while they dance all cares away,
pretending not to know
I am nearby or why, refusing to cry
over spilt (sour) milk 

We manage the living dead,
calling tunes and pulling strings
who would deny me,
mistake me for such bad dreams
as plague humankind
for infiltrating a mind-body-spirit
that is but weak
where it likes to fool itself otherwise,
and everyone else 

We're no strangers to mortality,
walking daily in such shadowlands
as haunt humanity
throughout its daily sleepwalking,
calling on life forces
least likely to penetrate is defences
see it break cover,
confront and/ or excuse its true identity
for acknowledging me 

We are such secrets as never on the loose
for fear of Truth getting the better of us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

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

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home