http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
As a
child, I would love creating stories in my head from cloud ‘figures’. People
would laugh and tell me I’d grow out of this fantasising. Well, some people
still laugh, but I’m glad I still feel inspired by clouds years on. (I will be
75 later this year.)
They
taught me a lot, those clouds; for a start, how to create and enjoy fictions
without confusing them with facts although ... well, there was a time in my
life when it was a close call.
It is
thanks to my childhood fascination with cloud shapes that I became interested
in reading, writing and... yes, people. I have written many poems and a few
novels, but cannot be described as a 'successful' writer in the sense that it
has neither made me rich or famous. Yet, who cares? Nor me, that's for sure. Writing
(even more than observing cloud shapes) has taught me much about myself and
human nature; more importantly, I have enjoyed every moment,
and - as is often the way with any form of creative therapy - it has also
helped to keep my old enemy Depression at bay for years.
Clouds
have played no small part in making me the person I am today, and hopefully i
may even pass some of this on by way of a posthumous consciousness in time and
space, to be touched upon by any who may care to remember words I have spoken
or written long after this life has had its way with me. For sure, there have
been people in my life, long dead, who have remained a 'live' influence on
and within my own consciousness, in a very positive way, and always will.
GHOST
RIDERS IN THE SKY
I’ve seen
ghost riders
chasing
sandmen into storm clouds,
and
leaves fly
I’ve seen
ghost riders
throw a
sandman into a dark place,
and trees
cry
I’ve seen
ghost riders
pluck
such as I from fragile shelters,
and no
one care
I've seen
ghost riders
playing
cat and mouse with humanity
(winner
takes all)
Ghost
riders, goading
others
like me into this sorry world’s
worst nightmares
I’ve let
ghost riders
drag me
from my armchair, re-awaken
my
consciousness
I’ve let
ghost riders
rescue me
from assault by prime time
TV
advertising
I’ve let
ghost riders
force me
to face my more fragile selves
head-on
I've let
ghost riders
leave me
trailing behind, and found a way
back to
real time
One by
one, ghost riders
but a
dust cloud, no trace even of a history
(except in me)
Copyright
R. N. Taber 2012
[Note: An
earlier version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by
R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]
Labels: clouds, consciousness, dreams, ego, hope, human, identity, imagination, inspiration, life, mind-body-spirit, nature, personal, poetry, positive thinking, posthumous, self-awareness, society, space, spirit