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.

Friday, 13 May 2022

The Bee

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

 “In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.”” –Alice Walker 

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” – Helen Keller

“We are all broken. That’s how the light gets in.” – Ernest Hemingway

Many years ago, a boy, about 10 years-old, I asked a disabled man in a wheel chair if he missed walking. “You bet I do!”, he said with a wry grin, “… so, thank heavens for imagination, eh?”

It struck me at the time that imagination was poor compensation for being unable to walk. 

Now, years on and in my 77th year, often frustrated by having to deal with an increasing mobility problem, needing compression stockings and a walking stick to get out even locally, I count my blessings that I can walk at all…  and know exactly what he meant.

THE BEE

There is a trellis fence sprawling with roses
whose gate I often pass through, into a garden
tendered with loving care
by the thoughtful heart, anxious that any who
enter there should open their senses 
o such sights, smells and sounds urging we
bond with the bee homing in on a favourite rose,
attend to late forget-me-nots

Always open, the gate, garden as welcoming
to strangers as old friends, whomsoever drawn,
whether by accident or design,
conscience or circumstances beyond reasoning
or control, body-mind-spirit
leading us into a panorama of peace and quiet,
taking its cue from mixed feelings, 
overflowing hearts posing questions, left struggling
to make sense of mixed feelings

No easy answers or solutions, bee disappearing
out of sight, out of mind, as we try to feel our way
to at least a leading clue
as to how to get through another day, fighting
off fears with a heart-and-soul,
taking us places we love to see, letting Earth Mother
show us how much beauty survives,
however badly the world treats us, whether in real time
or ‘live’ seasons of imagination

Oh, but to stay in the garden, breathe clean air, 
engage with such beauty as nature and human nature
have it in them to invoke,
given tender, loving care, left unprovoked by elements
seemingly all but indifferent
to such kinder life forces as call on us to follow a bee
into a trellis rose, be inspired
by how a beautiful garden landscapes grows on the heart,
wannabe world in miniature

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022






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