Engaging with Epic Poetry

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

In July 2009 I was privileged to participate in "One and Other", sculptor Sir Antony Gormley's 'live sculpture' project on the 4th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square; I gave a poetry reading. At the time, I thought reference to its being a 'live' sculpture simply referred to those participants invited to do whatever for an hour, July- October. I became aware that I was part of an epic poem of sorts, which subsequently inspired the poem.

Now, text-speak may well be as relatively a new phenomenon as the mobile phone itself, but conversations with the inner self are as old as humankind.

Invariably, we think of mind, body and spirit at separate entities, and I am often criticised for suggesting they are. Yet, each engage with each other in such a way that maybe it is high time we started thinking of the whole rather than the parts? After all, it is they that would see us (as a whole) engage with time and space... for better, for worse; it is they, also, to, whom we invariably turn when we are stressed out for whatever reason.

Exercising mind and body is a form of creative therapy that can encourage the human spirit to wake up to whatever reality we are avoiding and help us reach a constructive decision as to how best to proceed - or not, as the case may be.

Poets make much of Poetry of the Heart, but there is a  sense in which we are all, each and every one of us, living poems; the whole of us, as individuals, not just this part or that. 

There are many who profess to hate poetry, find it glib, trite, weak; those same people, simply by engaging with life itself, who are creating the Poetry of History, an epic poem about the human race as beautiful - not least for its very diversity - as any prose.

ENGAGING WITH EPIC POETRY 

Life,

spiralling me downwards

from cradle to grave…

often when I least expect it,

leaves me clinging

for dear life at straws in an ill wind

raised by a helter-skelter

of events conspiring to drag me

beyond imagination,

test ego (and salvation) to limits

rarely conceived

even by those daily enduring

a world of nightmares

Love,

spelling out such promises

as sweet dreams

are made of, offering (for free)

a magical-mystery-tour

of mind-body-spirit asking only

that I stay true

to the end of a line drawn

not (whimsically) 

in sand or clay, but in good faith

that 1 + 1 is equal,

to the sum of all its frictions,

and, yes, I can add up

Hope,

bringing me the best of things

at the worst of times,

reshaping the obstinate clay

of human nature

as a potter’s wheel might

its tasks in hand,

demanding the poetry of art

speak up for Beauty,

fair chameleon exposing masks

of the Beast

for human waste washed up

by the tides of life

Centuries of anticipating eternity 

for engaging with its epic poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

[Note: This poem also appears on my gay-interest blog today.] RT