A Window in Time

 

(From Roger’s friend, Graham)

 

Hi everyone,

Over the years I’ve attended many of Roger’s poetry readings. Many took place in public libraries or art centres. Occasionally they were part of an events programme for LGBT+ History Month (February, here in the UK). Often, friends and old colleagues would attend.

I recently discovered a sound recording among Roger’s personal effects. A reading at the Society of Genealogists hire space, London, back in March 2017. Hearing his voice again was evocative. It made me recount those many convivial evenings enjoying poetry and wine. More interestingly though, it offers the listener an extra dimension. They’re more expressive and nuanced than mere lines of printed verse. The added intonation and emphasis illuminates and counter-shades the narrative.

I’ve opted to add some imagery. A simple slideshow really, which hopefully provides a suitable backdrop. My plan is to publish the entire reading in full on Roger’s YouTube channel. For now though, I’m including a link to the first part here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2klMtjNWuSQ

Happy listening and thanks for reading.

Graham

 

*  *  *

 

ROGER TABER - POETRY READING

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

 

PART 1

Close Friends, Distant Lives

A Short History of London

The Busker or Music, Spirit of Life

Last Take on Multiculturalism

Whatever Happened To Love?

The Ballad of Neighbour Joe

Darkness, The Poetry of Mixed Feelings or The Scenic Route To Daylight

View From A Church Window

Life At The Shallow End or Keeping Up Appearances

The Zen Of Counting Beans

A Family Connection or Time Travel Firsthand

Harvesting Imagination

Looking For Answers or Passing Comment On The Human Psyche

Mother Love

The Guardian

 

(CC) R N. Taber 2017

 

Poetry Live

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

[Update Sept 2, 2017] I am not well at the moment but no worries. Going into hospital soon, but hoping for a short stay and back soon. Meanwhile, I hope you will enjoy browsing the blog/s anyway. You can, of course find poems via the search field in the top right hand corner.]

[Update  March 25, 2017]: Well, the poetry evening is  done and dusted. Not a lot of people came but we enjoyed ourselves and it raised a tidy sum for Prostate Cancer UK. (I have been living with prostate cancer since 2011 during which time hormone therapy has prevented it from becoming aggressive.) There's nothing quite like live poetry.) Everyone seemed to appreciate my choice of gay-interest and general poems and we all got on well during the break which was really nice as some people had only just met for the first time. The arts are meant firstly to entertain and secondly to offer food for thought. Feedback suggests the evening was a success on both counts.

For me, personally, it was hard work but a labour of love so I'm glad I went ahead with it despite being a bag of nerves...which, thankfully, steadied once I got started. This year marks sixty years of getting my poetry into print, given that my first published poem appeared in my school magazine summer 1957.]

I did not have the confidence to read in public for years. However, after a few years of occasionally performing Open Mics at Farrago Poetry evenings in London, I found the self-confidence to accept invitations to give readings around the UK (2003-2014). Only weeks after a reading in 2014, I had a bad fall and have spent much of the last two years learning to walk again. I can get out and about quite well now with the aid of a walking stick, for which I am truly thankful as my left ankle had sustained a complicated fracture and I was warned I might never walk again. Oh, but I love walking and am stubborn enough to defy any harbingers of doom. Even so, I did not expect to give another poetry reading.

Now, this first poem appeared in Visions of the Mind, Spotlight Poets (Forward Press) in 1998 and subsequently in my first collection,  Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001. It is an early piece, written in the summer of 1976 during which I gave an impromptu reading of it in Trafalgar Square to a friend (and several appreciative passers-by who paused to listen.) 

POETRY LIVE

Words

to music, out of words

let the sun rise

in the eyes of that ragged-eared mongrel

curled on George’s doorstep

tongue lolling stupidly

nostrils a-smoke

Words

to music, out of words

let carnival hot dogs

substitute for garden scents,

make easier the stink

of slop-outs in

the gutter

Words

out of choc-smeared mouths

in Bank Holiday sunshine;

kids in glad rags spilling

on the streets like bin bags;

shirtsleeves copper

getting chatty

Poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2017

I never dreamt that 30+ years on I would be reading a selection of my poems there, this time to a global audience via web stream as my contribution to Sir Antony Gormley’s ‘live’ sculpture project, One and Other (2009) sponsored by Sky Arts. To view, click on:

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223131109/http://www.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

The Gift Horse

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

Some readers have contacted me in the past to say they cannot access You Tube for one reason or another so I am posting another poem + video here today. (See below.)

Alternatively, you may be able to access it directly on You Tube:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q5zt3lkwT9k

OR Go to my You Tube channel and search by title:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

The 4^th Plinth is the north-west plinth in Trafalgar Square in central London, UK set aside for a rolling program of contemporary art works. The current work depicts a skeletal horse in bronze. The artist, German-American Hans Haacke, says it is a tribute to economist Adam Smith and English painter George Stubbs. (The horse is based on an engraving by Stubbs taken from ‘The Anatomy of the Horse’ published in 1766.) Tied to the horse’s front leg is an electronic ribbon displaying live feed from the London Stock Exchange thereby completing the link between power, money and history.

There are many metaphors for wealth and power of which The Trojan (Gift) Horse of myth and legend is but one…

THE GIFT HORSE 

Measure of means, icon for history

gifted with beauty and power;

a horse, once tamed, a worthy ally

An ages-old metaphor for industry,

no less so for sport, and leisure;

measure of means, icon for history

Well trained, no more trustworthy

a vehicle of human endeavour;

a horse, once tamed, a worthy ally

Sometime victim of the inhumanity

human beings show one another;

measure of means, icon for history

Life force against worldly adversity,

(live metaphor for Earth Mother)

a horse; once tamed, a worthy ally

Imaging death as a skeletal memory,

elegy to nature and human nature;

a horse, once tamed, a worthy ally,

measure of means, icon for history

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Poppies, for Remembrance

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

Today’s poem was written in 2004 and appeared in my 4th collection the following year; it has also appeared in an anthology, The Colour of War, Forward Press, 2011.

I have written almost as many poems about the tragedy of war as I have about the inspiring quality of love, much influenced by the powerful poems of World War I poets like Rupert Brooke, Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon and Vera Brittain, to name but a few.

The irony cannot be lost on anyone. Given that the horrors of war have been passed on so graphically from generation to generation since, it neither prevented World War II nor this sorry world of ours remaining a battleground for various socio-cultural-religious-political forces worldwide.

Here in the UK, as Armistice Day approaches, many of us buy a poppy as a symbol of remembrance; the money raised goes to the British Legion, a charity that, for many years, has provided financial, social and emotional support to members of the British armed forces, veterans, and their dependants.

National anniversaries of remembrance rightly salute the dead, but the dead would not want those they leave behind or injured friends and colleagues who survive to be forgotten either. Charities like the British Legion  and Help for Heroes have stepped in where successive Governments much prefer not to tread.

Countless poppies, countless tears; hopes, shared by millions for a peaceful world while haunted by the growing sense of a twenty-first century no less inclined than any other to the rhetoric of peace.

  

Photo: Cenotaph war memorial, London (UK)

Created by ceramic artist Paul Cummins with setting by stage designer Tom Piper; ceramic poppies commemorating the centenary of the outbreak of World War scheduled to progressively fill the dry moat around the Tower of London until Armistice Day, November 11th, 2013.

Photo: In the war memorial Neue Wache (Berlin) the moving sculpture, 'Mother and her dead son' by the Berlin artist Kathe Kollwitz says it all...

POPPIES, FOR REMEMBRANCE 

In two world wars, and conflicts since, they died

for love of country, freedom and their own;

shells, mortars, bullets and bombs they defied

so we may reap the rewards they have sown

Let’s remember those who never came back,

(sitting comfortably, watching TV);

Somme, Dunkirk, Korea, Falklands, Iraq...

(So much for the lessons of history!)

The wounded, too, deserve our thanks and pride,

some forgotten, left but to fade away

in pain, loneliness, no one at their side

as fought with them so bravely, won the day

World in remembrance of hope, prayers and tears

for peace in its time to yet end its worst fears

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

Saluting Bomber Command

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

[Update Feb 22nd 2019]: The US bomber - a B-17 Flying Fortress known as Mi Amigo - came down in Endcliffe Park in Sheffield on 22 February 1944, killing everyone on board.

Thousands of people gathered in the park this morning to pay tribute to the fallen US airmen with the flypast due at 8.45am.

It is believed the U.S. Mi Amigo crew from the 305th Bomb Group crashed into woods to avoid a group of boys who were playing as their flying fortress plummeted to earth:

U. S. Bomber air crew (Photo from the Internet]

One of them Tony Foulds, 82, was eight years old when he saw the plane crash; it is he who has attended the crew’s memorial for years and organised today’s fly past.]

[Update May 16th 2018]: On the night of 16-17 May 1943, the RAF's 617 Squadron carried out an audacious bombing raid attacking dams serving the Ruhr valley, leaving German factories and mines badly damaged. ]

This poem is a villanelle that I wrote to mark the occasion and will include in a final collection - Diary of a Time Traveller - scheduled for publication in 2015 (when I will be 70).

SALUTING BOMBER COMMAND

Where Bomber Command once flying

the gamut of heavens and hell;

so many young men, so few returning

Among birds of prey, resolutely diving

a ghastly, deadly, smoky swell

where Bomber Command once flying

For many, no glorious homecoming

nor a single passing bell;

so many young men, so few returning

No glory, only necessity in the bombing

and a faith that peace will prevail

where Bomber Command once flying

Haunting the brave veterans surviving,

a face for every bomb that fell;

so many young men, so few returning

Our thanks, far too long in the waiting,

its last crew, a fitting memorial;

where Bomber Command once flying,

so many young men, so few returning

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

A Lancaster bomber dropped 82,000 poppies over London to remember those who died. 

A Short History Of London

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

I grew up in Kent and would often spend a few weeks of my summer holidays in London where my maternal grandparents lived. This would have been in the 1950s when London suffered from periods of dense smog; the air here is considerably cleaner now still much polluted as in so many major cities.

When I was a boy, my mother would bring me to London on my birthday to see the Christmas lights in Oxford and Regent Streets; in take on a theme and all the major stores would reflect this in their shop window displays. The effect was magical. To this day, I recall how an Aladdin theme took young Roger's breath away, and it must have been a good fifty years ago.

Pollution aside, it is a great place to live, especially if you are rich (which am not) if only for its wealth of art galleries, museums and various historic icons like Buckingham Palace, Tower of London, the Monument and  St Paul’s Cathedral as well as newer ones like The Gherkin and The Shard...etc. etc.

I am fortunate to live within a short walking distance of Hampstead Heath and can easily access Green Park via the nearby Regent’s Canal. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I live in the heart of a bustling metropolis. To be honest, it is too bustling these days. London is very overcrowded as anyone who uses its stressful public transport network will confirm. 

Photo: The Tower of London

A SHORT HISTORY OF LONDON

Find love, hate and mystery
(politics of redemption);
zoom lens on a city’s history

No passing hint of jealousy
in its powers of persuasion;
find love, hate and mystery

Mansion and hovel, secretly
writing up its passion;
zoom lens on a city’s history

In darkest prose and poetry
of its tower-prison,
find love, hate and mystery

Feeding on Sam’s feisty diary,
flames of determination;
zoom lens on a city’s history

Come a multicultural century
(cause for celebration)
find love, hate and mystery;
zoom lens on a city’s history

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Canaletto Revisited

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

1,000 boats, several orchestras and chamber music, Royal barges the like of which hadn’t been seen for 200 years...

The seven mile long Thames Diamond Jubilee Pageant that took place yesterday (June 3, 2012) was inspired by Canaletto’s paintings of the arrival of Catherine of Braganza to marry Charles II in 1662, when 1,000 boats took to the river to welcome here. (See below)

While no poem can do the occasion justice, but I wanted to record the event in a villanelle to include in what will probably be my final collection in 2015 when I will be 70.

CANALETTO REVISITED

On a river that flows through a city,

hear bells ring out nationwide;

celebrations for a Diamond Jubilee

All is colour, cheers and pageantry

even politics briefly put aside

on a river that flows through a city

Sure respite from global austerity,

transcending multicultural divide;

celebrations for a Diamond Jubilee

Echoes of a land of Hope and Glory

taking war and peace in its stride

on a river that flows through a city

Regard and affection for monarchy,

in Commonwealth taking pride;

celebrations for a Diamond Jubilee

A godly queen, woman extraordinary,

true rock of a man at her side...

On a river that flows through a city,

celebrations for a Diamond Jubilee

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Every Street has Something to Say

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

Now, a street is far more than a place where people live, more even than those people themselves.

A street is part of history, stretching back through time and forward into the future.

For now and always, we are a part of all that...

It used to be a GOOD feeling if perhaps less so in recent years. (Well, that's the nature of change for you, rarely for the better when it comes to the local environment.) Even so, the street where I live now and streets where I once lived hold happy memories as well as sad ones so... thank you streets for those.

EVERY STREET HAS SOMETHING TO SAY

I’ve walked along a busy street
as the sun rises, shedding its rays like tears
for all I am not

I’ve walked along a busy street
come noon, Apollo’s heat on me like a lover
offering comfort

I’ve walked along a busy street
in a gentle twilight, its lampposts like trees
bidding me sleep tight

I’ve walked along a busy street
as the sun begins to set, felt like a movie star
on a red carpet

I’ve walked along a busy street
to my own front door, proudly acknowledging
I am a part of it

[London: Kentish Town, Oct 2010]
  
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010