Suggestions

 

From Graham – a close friend to Roger

It’s only from space the full extent of Earth’s environmental damage can be observed. Deforestation, receding glaciers, coastal inundation and the advance of deserts. From the flattened horizon of a human perspective, few witness the blanching of a coral reef or a river choked with plastic. The devastation remains somehow abstract… deniable.

It’s difficult to deny global weather patterns are becoming more anomalous and extreme. Or refute data that tells of rising average temperatures and collapsing biodiversity.

Venus, our nearest planet, suffered the fate of runaway atmospheric heating about 1 billion years ago when she still had surface temperatures akin to earth. This calamitous build-up of greenhouse gasses created a roiling inferno. A tormented celestial augur perhaps, foreshadowing the fate of her sister planet?

Just as our Earth’s marring is only framed in the bigger picture, the solution too, must be holistic. Political elites must be pressured to think pro-action over procrastination. Corporations must prioritise preservation over profit. And even wealthy religious organisations might be encouraged to save the planet rather than souls? They could even get real and recognise that their impending Judgment Day-cum-Apocalypse will likely be man-made rather than deity-designed. Surely this is the true existential crisis and moral imperative for all to confront…?

The onus is also on individuals to be the change through the choices they make. Small personal sacrifices for the greater good of our, and future generations. The cumulative benefits of driving a vehicle less, eating less (or no) meat and dairy, and conscientious consumerism should not be underestimated. The individual is not powerless to affect change by boycotting businesses that despoil natural habitat or cruelly exploit our fellow animals. Or to see beyond that acquisitional mindset fuelled by sly advertising.

Oh, but of course, there’ll always be climate change deniers - last seen at a Flat Earth Society meeting alongside creationist preachers and conversion therapists…

Roger loved this sun-kissed cradle of life we call Earth, Gaia, Terre... ‘Earth Mother’ features widely in his nature poems and was his foremost muse. He was captivated by her kaleidoscopic raiment in the ebb and flow of seasons. He took practical steps to conserve our precious planet too. He was ostensibly vegan and passionate about recycling – to the extent of policing rubbish bins where he lived. He’d leave curt notes in communal areas for offending parties who dumped non-recylcables in the green bin. And, believe me, Roger knew how to lambast even the most shameless slattern or slob!

When Rog was more mobile we enjoyed many a stroll on Hampstead Heath; communing with mother nature, imbibing ambrosial scents of wild, iridescent flora and savouring heavenly birdsong. Sometimes (pre-vegan days) we’d enjoy an ice cream and trace meandering lakeside tracks among coruscating sunbeams. We’d invariably climb Parliament Hill and gaze down on London’s sprawling cityscape then dive into a cosy pub. The Heath was Roger’s sanctuary and connection to his beloved Earth Mother.

This next poem of Roger’s appears in Accomplices To Illusion, 2007. I find it provocative.

‘The fact is that no species has ever had such wholesale control over everything on earth, living or dead, as we now have. That lays upon us, whether we like it or not, an awesome responsibility. In our hands now lies not only our own future, but that of all other living creatures with whom we share the earth.’ David Attenborough

‘Anyone who believes in indefinite growth on a physically finite planet is either mad or an economist’ David Attenborough

 

*  *  *

 

SUGGESTIONS

 

They suggest we try and save garden creatures
and ocean whales before it’s too late

They suggest our luxury choices are sure to leave
the generation of 3000 with none

They suggest parents are scared of their children
and raising monsters

They suggest religious leaders pay more attention
to compassion than division

They suggest politicians aren’t listening to those
who put them there

They suggest our multicultural societies are failing
themselves and each other

They suggest we start learning the lessons wars
should have taught us

They suggest we’re but living will and testament
of a dying planet

So who are they, daring to suggest humankind look
to its shortcomings?

Among leafy choirs, anxious waves, nature rehearses
this world’s passing

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
[Note: Revised (2008) from the original poem as it appears in Accomplices To Illusion, 2007.]

Autumnal Life Forces

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2012; it has been slightly but significantly revised since I included it in my collection, Accomplices to Illusion, 2007. I am hoping to publish new editions of my earlier collections at some future date; they will mostly comprise revised versions of poems from first editions.

Having just finished my first new collection since 2012, I am approaching publishers, but may need to self-publish again as many just don't like the idea of general and gay-interest poems under one cover; Then, just one more collection before I tackle any new editions. As I will be 75 soon, I can but hope that old age and Covid-19 will keep me alive long enough. <<wry bardic grin>>

Meanwhile ...

I love autumn. I don't find it a depressing season. The incredible colours of turning leaves never fail to fill me with passion along the lines of optimism, hope, and defiance even at a time of sadness for the beginnings of endings … 

However hard a winter we may endure, we can always look forward to a kinder spring and new beginnings, such is the way of the natural world, ours too if we but let ourselves access the kinder human spirit; religion does not have a monopoly on

spirituality. (As regular readers know, I do not subscribe to any religion as such, although I do relate very strongly to Pantheists who see God as nature, rather than its creator.)

AUTUMNAL LIFE FORCES 

In a garden spread with dead leaves
and heads of flowers,
I once heard tales told by a dying rose
soon to breathe its last,
about a Man in Red passing through
the world, scaring us
like the Bogey Man in hiding
under a child's bed, pretending to roar
like a dragon up for sport,
despite as vulnerable a heartbeat
as an ageing pet

Neither young nor old, a Man in Red
wears buttons of gold
on a coat the colour of blushing cheeks
at our making a faux pas,
made to look as small as a toy dragon
under the bed, where dawn
is prologue to adventure and sunset
fingers of blood, though 
we'll be safe enough tucked away
in bed, free to dream, and tomorrow
is another day ... 

According to the rose, the Man in Red
has kindly ways, in spite 
of inviting cloud and wind to feed 
on gentle trees,
rip them bare while a few songbirds
dare to watch and wonder
how sounds of war become songs 
of peace, fear become joy,
leaving a friendly Sandman free
to paint over the bleakest scenarios
with bold colours 

"He comes for us all, and we must depart,
to engage forever with the human heart."

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

[Note: Photo taken from the Internet. An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Autumn is a Man in Red' in Accomplices to Illusion by R, N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

 

 

 

Stumbling Blocks

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

While I continue to replace originals in my print collections with any later revised poems in preparation for publishing online at a later date, I have also decided that, once having completed the task, I will first publish a collection of the most  popular poems on the blogs; this way,  readers will be able to dip into them should Google delete my blogs once I have gone walkies with the Grim Reaper.

I have to confess that I am finding even  my early 70's heavy going on a daily basis. I am 74 now, live alone, and seem to deal with just about everything so much worse than I used to. Inclined to get everyday crises out of proportion, to say I am less than happy with my quality of life these days is an understatement. 

I used to be happy enough living on my own, but now I often feel isolated, probably because I have so much less of a social life these days. Even so, I have much to be thankful for, especially a best friend without whom my life would be unbearable. 
  
Life could be better, for sure, but it could also be much worse so...as good a reason as any to continue taking my cue from Monty Python, and always look on the bright side of life; well, nearly always... (My cue for visiting nearby Hampstead Heath, where the  peace and beauty of nature can always be relied upon to clear even the most dissatisfied mind-body-spirit.)
.
I guess growing old(er) was never meant to be an easy journey. Writing poetry helps; in my head, I can hear Ella Fitzgerald singing 'A Satisfied Mind', and do my best to achieve just that...

STUMBLING BLOCKS

Stumbling so, my years
across a shifting sea of sand;

the poetry of unshed tears

In a haze that never clears

though blind faith withstand,

stumbling so, my years

A sad heart’s secret fears

expected to make a last stand; 
the poetry of unshed tears

Deafened by global cheers

at some false god’s command,

stumbling so, my years

World, too, nursing its fears,

(failing to stay a logger’s hand);
the poetry of unshed tears

Peace, it all but disappears,
under layers of dissatisfied mind;

stumbling so, my years,

the poetry of unshed tears

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 'On the Battlefields of Love' by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Nature v Human Nature, Battle Royal

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

"Autumn's nearly over, and who's ready for winter? Not me!" exclaimed a neighbour the other day, adding, " ...but who's ever ready for any change for the worse,"he asked with a wry grin, then "We can but take it in our stride, I guess, and hope for the best..."

I refrained from saying that 'hoping or the best' may well - literally - be the death of humankind if we don't all get our act together sooner rather than later regarding climate - not just seasonal - changes across the globe. We've had this conversation before. He is convinced Donald Trump had his finger on the pulse when he dismissed the idea of climate change as fake news, scaremongering, intended to make Big Business feel guilty and think again about just how it continues to amass its millions.

Climate activist,  Greta Thunberg, a Swedish teenagers has recently made world headlines by going 'on'strike' from school as part of a strategy to emphasise the concerns of young people worldwide regarding climate change. She was invited to speak at a world conference on climate change and  succeeded in ruffling many a politician's feathers with her blunt, no-nonsense approach to a subject increasingly close to many people's hearts, especially the young,given that it is their futures with which our political ,betters, insist on playing Russian roulette.

While I applaud this young woman's stand on climate change, and wish her well, I also hope she does not neglect her schooling for too long.  Education is not only the key to exposing ignorance, it is also  the key to power; the latter is necessary if we want to make a difference in real rather than rhetorical
terms. The Here-and-Now is all about immediacy, especially for the young as I well recall, albeit from a distance of some sixty years; pointing it in the right direction is one thing, though, steering it there is another challenge altogether. The person at the helm needs to be clearly focused at every turn of the wheel on what he or she is doing, and why. No one is going to give a fifteen year-old girl a turn at that wheel. All the feisty spirit and good intentions in the world are no substitute for experience, and that falls under the remit of a good education, the more authoritative the better, to take us to a position of power; only then do we stand any chance of grabbing the wheel. It can be a long haul to get there, and it's a wise person who not only starts young but also Education as both mentor and ally.

If hope springs eternal, it is on the energy of youth that it best thrives. Hopefully, more like-minded people like Greta will see their way to positioning themselves where they can make actions speak louder than words; it is their future in the balance, after all. The tragedy is, that many if not most of us in any Here-and-Now cannot or will not see further than our own personal space.

Whatever, there is no room for apathy, and this Here-and-Now needs to show it can move forward, in every sense of the word, not only by way of invention and capability, but also by actively engaging with the greater among its leading players, he or she most trusted to steer the safer course.

My late mother once told me (40+ years ago, when climate change was barely on anyone's agenda) that I should always respect nature. "Earth Mother," she said, like any parent, will fight to the death to save her children, and She is no mean adversary. Anyone who thinks we can continue destroying forests, polluting the seas and killing animals to satisfy dietary preferences and fashion egos ... well, if you ask me, they and all of us are in for a rude awakening one of these days ..."

NATURE v HUMAN NATURE, BATTLE ROYAL

Patch of sky, a brilliant blue
among autumn leaves of red and gold
marking nature's 'live' show
for seeing eye and listening ear
to share one last fling
of a year's fruitfulness before winter
comes (for better, for worse)

Clouds gathering, anxious
not to play second fiddle to a spectacle.
of bright silvery sunlight,
like tears in time's eye, a curtain
sure to fall yet anxious
to be seen entering into the feisty spirit
of things, no missing out

Curtain down on autumn's
show of defiance meant to drive home
its alliance with all things
bright and beautiful, all creatures
great and small, promising
renewal despite a winter as certain to take
its toll as snow sure to fall

Barely have autumn's players
taken a last bow than a cruel north wind,
come to see them on their way,
stirs an out-of-sight, out-of-mind ethos
intended to undermine
any mind-body-spirit that might see itself
as the greater life force

Nature, though, is not yet done
with us, relying on its evergreens to bring
to mind its promises, the likes
of robin redbreast to keep eyes and ears
alert to that same spirit
of hopeful discontent that has seen humanity
rise above its worst winters

Curtain rising, all in due course,
but what is this? An empty stage, no players
rehearsed to act out another cycle
of life personifying humankind's attention
to nurture while promoting
a well-meaningfulness, stage name 'Progress'
for want of a better moniker

It is in the nature of humankind
to improve its lot, no matter the cost, whatever
it takes, but plenty signs already
of nature's matching any human spirit,
consequences for consequences,
cost for cost, season for season, for better
or worse, all things considered


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Tracking the Torchbearer

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

This is not a new poem but one that several readers have asked me to repeat on the blog.

In 2012, the year the Olympic Games came to London and Her Majesty The Queen celebrated her Diamond Jubilee,, I produced a new collection, Tracking the Torchbearer; overall, it tries to capture something of the spirit of The Games rather than focusing on sporting events. (I had not long been diagnosed with prostate cancer so it was a welcome distraction!)

The book comprises 100+ poems in seven themed sections - including a gay section - for easy reading. Among poems on love, nature and contemporary society I have included others on such themes as the so-called Arab Spring, a tribute to trapped miners in Chile and their dramatic rescue, earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand and the earthquake/Tsunami off the coast of Japan as well as a record of happier occasions like a royal wedding and Her Majesty the Queen's Diamond Jubilee.

Regular readers will know that I publish my poetry collections under my own imprint, not least because most if not all poetry publishers seem to disapprove of poems on a gay theme appearing alongside poems on other themes and/or believe it to be a non-commercial proposition. I am delighted to have proved them wrong. Not only do my books sell well (for poetry) but gay and straight readers alike frequently get in touch to say they enjoy them; new readers among the latter usually express surprise at  enjoying ‘even’ my gay-interest poems, and some even start dipping into both blogs.

Oh, yes, I get some complaints and hate mail for supposedly ‘promoting’ a gay lifestyle, but not a lot, and it doesn’t bother me in the least.

I have to confess I am not much of a sports person, but what I love about sport is that it is open to everyone to actively participate or simply watch and enjoy. Ethnicity, religion, sex and sexuality all but cease to be the kind of artificial dividing lines some bigoted people insist upon drawing; all that matters is the person and his or her personal achievement in taking part, just as it should be in all aspects of life. People matter, end of... (One reason I will never understand so-called 'good' people who are intolerant of anyone who does not subscribe to their way of thinking, especially with regard to religion and sexuality; take the humanity out of religion and what is left is nut an empty shell for appearances' sake.)

Visiting 135 cities in 20 countries, covering 137000 kms in 130 days, I like to imagine the Olympic torch as bringing people together in a world where are neither gay-friendly nor gay-unfriendly people, homosexuals or homophobes…just people; a Family of Man that, like all families, will have its ups and downs, its share of falling out and making up, but always there for each other when it really counts. (Oh, but I wish…!)

Here's a BIG HUG from your truly because, as I write the blogs, I have a wonderful sense of your being there; it's a wonderful feeling and helps me a LOT in dealing with my prostate cancer. (So far, so good with the hormone therapy!)

It was the founder of the Olympics, Baron Pierre de Coubertin, who said "The most important thing in the Olympic Games is not winning but taking part."

We should be proud to be part of a common humanity, not fighting over our differences. As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human. Indeed, we could - each and every one of us -  learn much from living by the basic principles of sportsmanship.

The poem is a villanelle.

TRACKING THE TORCHBEARER

Cheers, not just for those who win,
but everyone playing their part
in the race to show we’re human

Old gods who saw the Games begin
see new gods playing their part;
Cheers, not just for those who win,

Torch lit, world crowds making a din,
all set to make a start...
in the race to show we’re human

Politicians worldwide putting a spin
on an overloaded apple cart;
Cheers, not just for those who win

As old gods would get under the skin,
so new orders falling apart
in the race to show we’re human

Apollo, struggles even to raise a grin,
Earth Mother fast losing heart;
Cheers, not just for those who win
in the race to show we’re human

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2018

[Note; An earlier version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Human Spirit, the Hand that Rocks the Cradle

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

By now readers will know the so-called Arab Spring (2010) has left those countries involved no better if not worse off than before. Well, that's world politics for you...

Civil war has all but broken out in Libya yet People Power continues to make its voice heard across North Africa and the Middle East, ordinary men and women desperate for democratic reform and risking their lives for it.  The human spirit is strong if vulnerable, proving time and time again that it can and will rise above tragedy.  Perhaps, though, if more Western politicians even half understood Middle East politics and neither side did not always assume they know best...

Nature and human nature, they give and they take away. Perhaps, though, if it were even just a shade less inclined to reflex actions that demand it bite the hand that feeds it, humankind might yet find itself in better shape to prevent itself going to the dogs of war that have haunted its every step since the beginning of time...?

The poem first appeared in Poetry Monthly International (2010) and subsequently in my collection.

HUMAN SPIRIT, THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE

There’s a hand that caresses the first buds of spring

and bids them grow;

it moves among summer corn in time for harvesting

by courtesy of Apollo

Where autumn’s leaves making ready for its turning,

it bestows a blessing;

when winter brings us to our knees, of life despairing,

it beckons us to spring

Where we run the gamut of love, hate, peace and war,

find, too, Earth Mother;

let Her fair hand caress and smooth the troubled brow

or we destroy each other

The question arises, dare we bite the hand that feeds us

and face the consequences

or do we accept it in a spirit of goodwill to all humanity,

put aside our differences?

Beware, or the hand that rocks the cradle may let it drop,

our world broken or worse;

needs must, we learn to read the hand that’s writing us up,

go back to school or else... 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was first published in Poetry Monthly International, February 2010 and subsequently Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Hope Is A Woman

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

Every so often readers ask me for a CD recording of my informal poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square back in July 2009 as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other ‘live sculpture’ project.  Sky Arts typically refused to oblige those of us who participated with a CD so I can only repeat the link for anyone interested. [The entire web stream - all 2400 hours of it - is now archived in the British Library.]

Be warned, though. The entire clip lasts an hour:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile…

The vanity of human beings is such that we like to think we are in control of our lives and nature has to play second fiddle to our intentions as well as in our affections.

I wonder about that sometimes…

Some people look to God as the ultimate male ego. The Ancient Greeks cherished Elpis, Spirit of Hope. Me, I prefer to look to Earth Mother for an inner strength of a quality that can only be female; therein lies the key to our survival. On our terms, as Masters of the Universe? Don't bet on it.

(Photo: Elpis, Spirit of Hope (copied from the web)

HOPE IS A WOMAN

To Mother Nature
we bared all as we were born;

since then, for good or ill,

(mostly) in good faith her colours
openly worn

Green, the grass,
defying threats of acid rain; 

Blue, clear skies turning

a blind eye to the human obsession

with temporal gain

Red, streaks of blood
across a sky, the throat of a fox

as the first hound’s claw 

finds its mark, and darkness shuts us
at random in its box

Yellow, the sun’s wounds

weeping through drought, famine,

and an outing of inhumanity,

in platitudes among record audiences
for prime television

Stumps, where we'd stood,

listening to a pretty wood, if deaf 

to every plea it made
and warning it gave, now all but dead
but for its grief

Grey, tear-stained profiles
among remains of a next generation
running scared in the face

of apathy from elders shooting selfies

before they were born

To Earth Mother dare we fall
on our knees, if only to beg Her stay
this enemy's execution,

given that any 'tomorrow is another day'
well past its use-by date

Copyright R N. Taber 2007

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appears in  Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

Bailiffs On The Doorstep OR Comeuppance

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

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [I am often asked for this link to my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square, my contribution to sculptor Antony Gotmlry' s One and Other 'live sculpture' project in 1999. For now, at least, though, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

I have been more than a little anxious about getting my biopsy results next Wednesday. I dare say that is why I recently dreamed I opened my front door to Death. Ah, but Earth Mother slipped past him to stand beside me. Now I feel confident of getting the better of him ... for now, at least.

A friend recently confessed he did not know what to say to me, whether to wish me luck with the biopsy or ignore the subject altogether. I could only say that it is always nice to know we feature positively in other people’s thoughts.

Whether on the world stage or in our own living rooms, we are called upon time and again to make choices which, as often as not, find us stuck between a rock and a hard place. Do we speak up or say nothing rather than chance making things worse (or better)? Do we let actions speak louder than words ... and risk making things worse (or better)?

Perhaps we should ask ourselves for whom we risk making things worse or better? Are we motivated by altruism or self-interest?

BAILIFFS ON THE DOORSTEP or COMEUPPANCE

There's a banging
on my door, but what can I do?
No point in my turning
a deaf ear, everyone knows
only too well I'm living here
(Door forced ajar)

Who does he think he is,
presuming so to call Time’
before I'm ready?

I will appeal to a kinder nature
to grant my reprieve,
for I'm not ready yet to leave
this place, despite
its worst flaws, neglecting peace
in pursuit of wars
on those who would avoid
well-trodden paths
of reason and need, seeking
only to feed themselves,
procreating in their own image
a mirage of Fate when,
in truth, only themselves to blame,
though the world rise
eagerly enough to its bait, lured
by a glare of Public Relations
designed to fool us all into thinking
altruism rules OK

Oh, but let them, bang away;
none may enter here, I'll keep
a foot in the door

Better the damn door
left ajar, let Earth Mother
slip in (hopefully)
with a reprieve for any part
I've played in faults and flaws
at other people’s doors

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

The Guardian

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

Today's poem last appeared on the blog in 2009 and is repeated today especially for 'Rose-Marie and Paul' whose first child, Damien, celebrates his first birthday today.

Regular readers will know that where religious-minded people like to think God is watching over us, I prefer to put my trust in Earth Mother.

Both points of view deserve respect, surely, since none of us can know for sure?

If only more people would agree to differ instead of fighting over who is right and who is wrong, the world would be a far happier and peaceful place!

Give peace a chance, yeah?

Image taken from the Internet

THE GUARDIAN

Where snow is falling snow on snow,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in white shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where acid rain defies flowers to grow,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in tears shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where summer breezes gently blow.
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in green shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where autumn makes a splendid show,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in gold shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Once loved ones gone, we ask to know
why the world is a lonely place?
It’s a woman called Hope tells us so,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Look where she comes and see her face;
let this world be a less lonely place

Copyright R. N. Taber 1973; 2009

Note: This poem first appeared in Life's Simple Pleasures, Forward Press, 2011 and subsequently in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.]