Love in all its Rainbow Hues

 

From Roger’s friend, Graham

Growing up is challenging enough, even without the burden of stigmatisation for loving someone of the same gender. There’s room for improvement here in Britain, but generally LGBT+ citizens have equal rights enshrined by law. In places of employment (excepting religious organisations) discrimination on the grounds sexuality or gender identity is illegal. Since the Civil Partnership Act in 2004, same sex couples can join in a legally recognised partnership. And after the UK Marriage Act in 2013, LGBT+ couples are able to marry.

Marriage is perhaps the ultimate expression of love for those fortunate enough to find a soulmate. It’s also a declaration of love to family, friends and beyond. For couples with religious faith, it’s a sacred vow of love with God as their witness.

Love is also a scintillating rainbow of sentiments. Greek philosophers Plato and Aristotle wrote of a whole spectrum of emotions such as friendship love; philia, familial love; storge and passionate love; éros. Greek mythology also abounds with inspirational tales of profound and tragic love such as Orpheus and Eurydice. Love can be the light of your life - or the heart of your darkness…

Roger explores these epic themes expansively throughout his writing. Sometimes in sonnet form - popularised in Elizabethan England by William Shakespeare and his contemporaries. (I hope to explore this theme in a later posting). His printed works often devote a section to the theme of love. They are, doubtless, poems interwoven with personal experience.

Roger and I occasionally discussed past relationships and compared notes on our respective missed opportunities, dashed hopes and even disasters. Alas for Rog, he wasn’t lucky enough to find a long-term partner. Although I believe his romantic soul never lost hope in meeting someone special.

In later life, I feel assured that Roger derived fulfilment through the reciprocal love of close friendships. Can this be enough to sustain anyone in the absence of a partner, estrangement from family or societal ostracisation? I imagine we’d all have a differing answer. Throughout my own voyage of self-discovery, friendship has certainly proven to be the most unconditional form of love. An enduring bond with Roger remains testament to that.

 

*  *  *

 

‘Love and compassion are necessities, not luxuries. Without them humanity cannot survive.’ Dalai Lama

‘Love is a canvas furnished by nature and embroidered by imagination.’ Voltaire

‘Keep love in your heart. A life without it is like a sunless garden when the flowers are dead.’ Oscar Wilde

 

*  *  *

 

I’ll leave you with a trio of love poems – all from Accomplices to Illusion, Roger’s 2007 collection. I should explain that I’m staying with family presently - with only one book for source material. Wiltshire offers a welcome change of scenery. Tall oak trees surround the house. Their upper branches sweep back and forth like an artist’s frantic brushstrokes on a grey-marbled canvas. I look out on the small garden; the colours of shrubs diluted under a dull watercolour sky. A crow flies past; its hoarse cry breaking the mesmeric spell of birdsong. It fades to a black smudge on a watery treeline.

Thanks for reading.

 

*  *  *

 

NIGHT WATCH

I have greeted chimes at midnight
lain half dead at the toll for one
as my lifeblood ebbs to a starlight
behind clouds, watch all but done

I have heard the clock ticking over
for the passing of happy hours…
nor shall, when it stops, run for cover
but embrace a time forever ours

I have heard sweet songs at sunrise,
watched the last stars slip away,
seen my life’s light bright in your eyes
promise a beautiful spring day

As nature pauses at stark winter’s cold
so lovers dream, beyond a growing old

 

Copyright R N. Taber 2007 [a sonnet].

 

*  *  *

 

BONDING WITH ETERNITY

It was love opened up my heart
to all life means to me…
nor shall death its bonding part

Sands of time, soulmates at the start,
a song of destiny;
it was love opened up my heart

May the world no finer truths impart
than its natural beauty;
nor shall death its bonding part

Like summer skies, stars, even clouds
charting a fragile humanity…
it was love opened up my heart

If a taste on the tongue sweet or tart,
our togetherness a delicacy;
nor shall death its bonding part

Be nature’s kin struck by poison dart
comprising all humanity…
it was love opened up my heart
nor shall death its bonding part

 

Copyright R N. Taber 2007 [a villanelle].

 

*  *  *

 

WEATHERING LOVE

When I dream of you it is a springtime
of high hopes I’ll not forget

When I think of you it is midsummer,
(that rainy day we first met)

When I speak of you, each word is like
an autumn leaf that’s falling

When I hear your name on another’s lips
it’s but a winter robin calling

At nature’s whims, a beauty, each its own
though we weather it alone…

 

Copyright R N. Taber 2007.

The White Horse

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

A reader has asked me to repeat a poem on the blog that accompanies a video on my You Tube channel. Apparently, a friend showed her on a tablet, but she has been unable to access You Tube on her own PC for some reason. Always happy to oblige, the video appears below; readers who can access You Tube might enjoy some of my other videos. (All were shot by my best friend, Graham Collett, a graphic designer by profession.):

I started my You Tube channel about five years ago. At the time, my best friend Graham and I had no idea how to insert a voice file into the video. Consequently, early videos show me reading my poems while later efforts (as in this instance) have me reading my poem (or poems) over the video; most readers prefer the latter, so do we.  Graham works full-time, and I'm no photographer so opportunities for filming are limited. To be honest, we were not expecting much of an audience for a poetry channel so are well pleased that people continue to access and contact us about it. (See my email address in the blog heading.)

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

This video concludes Graham's snapshots of Wiltshire and a trio of poems I wrote for the occasion. The Westbury or Bratton White Horse is a hill figure in the escarpment of Salisbury Plain where Stonehenge stands. Approximately 2.5 km (1.6 miles) east of the village of Westbury, it is located on the edge of Bratton Downs and lies just below an Iron Age hill fort; its origin obscure, it is the oldest of several white horses carved in Wiltshire and was restored in 1778.

'A dog may be man's best friend, but the horse wrote history.' - Author unknown

Just as the White Horse endures, weathering nature and human nature in all its shapes and forms, for good or ill...so, too, will love and peace endure, weathering whatever storms that nay threaten not only its survival from time to time but that innate capacity for goodness and kindness comprising the quintessential human spirit,

THE WHITE HORSE

A white horse lay on a hill,
watching the world go by;
bold and brave, it waits there still,
and no one knows quite why

This horse will never make a fuss
as we try for a closer look,
though it's sure to put teasers to us    
like pictures in a history book

In sun, wind and pouring rain
it doesn't make a sound
as the world turns and turns again
on Time's merry-go-round

At night, it rides the Milky Way
as wild and free as it can be,
till the first cold light of a new day
wakes all we slaves to reality

In days of war and uneasy peace
the Westbury horse waits on
druids, their like, and the rest of us
making our play for salvation

A chalk horse carved on a hill,
watching the world go by,
begs the question, dare, how, will
we ever know quite why...?


Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Making Peace with Progress (On the Waterways of Britain)

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

I wrote today’s poem to accompany the video my friend GrahamCollett shot some time ago for my You Tube channel (a team effort). Feedback suggests that some readers cannot always access You Tube so you can watch it here (see video at the bottom of this page) and listen to me reading the poem  over it OR tune into it directly on You Tube:

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA8VQoPgX2M

Alternatively, if the link does not work, go to my You Tube Channel and search by title:

 http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

After my being incapacitated for over a year following a bad fall in August 2014, we thought it would be a good idea to test new video software with some earlier - previously unpublished - footage  before proceeding to edit/post the next (recent) video/poem to You Tube comprising footage of The Gift Horse sculpture on the 4th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square. Watch this space…]

The video shows a section of the Kennet and Avon Canal, a waterway in southern England made up of two lengths of navigable river linked by a canal; the name is commonly used to refer to the entire length rather than just the central canal section. In all, the waterway incorporates 105 locks, one of which you can see in the video. The two river stretches were made navigable in the early 18th century, and the 57-mile (92 km) canal section was constructed between 1794 and 1810.

In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the canal gradually fell into disuse after the opening of the Great Western Railway. In the latter half of the 20th century the canal was restored in stages, largely by volunteers. After decades of dereliction requiring much restoration work, it was fully reopened in 1990. Since developed as a popular heritage tourism location for boating, canoeing, fishing, walking and cycling, it is also important for its wildlife.

This poem that I read over the video (also in the Description on You Tube) is a villanelle.

MAKING PEACE WITH PROGRESS (ON THE WATERWAYS OF BRITAIN)

On the waterways of Britain
(many neglected for years)
Man and nature as one again

Compensating for acid rain,
find honest sweat and tears
on the waterways of Britain

Ever mindful of loss and gain,
(Oh, spirited volunteers!)
Man and nature as one again

A testament to industry’s pain,
toiling through its centuries
on the waterways of Britain

Hosting the occasional swan,
even water voles and otters,
Man and nature as one again

Among such, pages written
of a nation’s finer endeavours;
on the waterways of Britain,
Man and nature as one again


Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

A Poet's Shrewsbury

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

A poetry reading in 2007 took me to Shrewsbury where I engaged with a lovely audience in a local bookshop. I did not get around to including my poem in a collection until this year and have to say I feel more than a shade self-conscious about posting a poem of mine alongside mention of such a fine poet as Wilfred Owen.

Wilfred Owen (1883-1918)

Owen, a homosexual (the word ‘gay’ was not used in this context in those days) is probably one of the best known of the World War 1 poets. His name appears on the Great War Memorial tablet inside Shrewsbury Abbey.

Photo: Shrewsbury Abbey

‘Symmetry’ in the grounds of the abbey is sculpture, by Paul de Monchaux commissioned by the Wilfred Owen Association (Owen went to school in Shrewsbury) to commemorate the poet’s life and work; it was unveiled in June 1993. The line "I am the enemy you killed" engraved on one side is from Owen’s poem, ‘Strange Meeting’ The design is meant to convey the symmetries in Owen’s poem as well as the trenches of 1917 and the Sambre-Oise canal in 1918.

Photo: ‘Symmetry’

On 4th November 1918, the British 32nd Division crossed the Sambre-Oise canal at Ors, in the face of strong opposition. Wilfred Owen was killed on the towpath on this side of the canal about one kilometre to the north of the bridge.

Photo: Western Front Association plaque for Wilfred Owen by the Sambre Canal, Ors, France. 

Regarding my poem, I should mention that Laura's Tower is a folly built on the summit of Shrewsbury Castle motte around 1790 by Thomas Telford for Laura, the daughter of Sir William Pulteney, as a summerhouse. It is of an octagonal design in red sandstone with conical copper roof. The river Severn flows by

…Photo: Laura’s Tower

Mount House, birthplace of Charles Darwin

A POET'S SHREWSBURY

Follow the market trader’s cry

across old Shrewsbury town

where the fickle Severn flows by

Discern in history’s cloudy eye

scenes of Parliament v Crown;

follow the market trader’s cry

At Laura’s tower, dare lift high

the hem of Nature’s gown

where the fickle Severn flows by

Swans over the English Bridge fly

with dive-bombing precision,

follow the market trader’s cry

See sunset’s flames lick at the sky

as if the grand abbey burning down

where the fickle Severn flows by

Ponder a war poet casting the die,

Darwin giving heaven cause to frown;

follow the market trader’s cry

where the fickle Severn flows by

[Shrewsbury, August 2007]

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Dunster, Marking Time

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

I have written many ‘place’ poems; places I have visited and with which I have fallen in love. Always hopeless at taking photographs, I try to absorb my surroundings and later compose a poem to reflect them.

Now, I love Somerset so was delighted when reader ‘Kathy’ in New Zealand got in touch recently to say how thrilled she was to come across my poem Dunster, Marking Time on the blog as she was born there. It appears her family migrated to New Zealand in the 1970s. Since I have not posted the poem since 2008 it is good to know that some readers enjoy browsing the archives.

The poem first appeared on the BBC Somerset site which is worth exploring and will also take you to my poem on another picturesque village, Watchet, closely associated with Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s famous poem The Rime of the Ancient Mariner:

http://www.bbc.co.uk/somerset/content/articles/2008/06/04/dunster_poem_feature.shtml

For good measure, I am also posting Classic Somerset inspired by R. D. Blackmore’s classic novel Lorna Doone; the poem appears in my latest collection Tracking the Torchbearer.

As well as being a very beautiful part of the UK, Somerset is also steeped in history and some of you may care to look it up on Wikipedia:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Somerset

DUNSTER, MARKING TIME

Come clouds of steam or sea mist,

its castle ghosts watch over

Dunster village, shore and forest

Yarn market shell among the best,

(hear buyers and sellers barter)

come clouds of steam or sea mist

Where Benedictines have blessed

history’s customary makeover;

Dunster, village, shore and forest

At a water mill its days have kissed,

engage with past and future,

come clouds of steam or sea mist

Where packhorses once crossed

and nuns offered up a prayer;

Dunster village, shore and forest

Where Doomesday stories persist,

along the Avill river…

come clouds of steam or sea mist,

Dunster village, shore and forest

[Dunster, Somerset, May 2008]

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

 Photo: 17th century Yarn Market, Dunster

 CLASSIC SOMERSET

Doone valley, classic fiction

for holiday images

conjuring true inspiration

Come any with a predilection

for turning nature’s pages;

Doone valley, classic fiction

At Badgworthy Water, listen

out for Carver’s rages

conjuring true inspiration

At Earth Mother’s invitation,

share a Love of Ages;

Doone valley, classic fiction

Celebration of Lorna and John

(birds singing their praises)

conjuring true inspiration

Cream teas teasing imagination

to revisit R. D’s pages;

Doone valley, classic fiction

conjuring true inspiration

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

  Photo: This bridge marks the boundary between Somerset and Devon in Doone Valley.

 [Please Note: My poetry collections are only on sale in the UK but anyone can order (signed) copies from me at a generous blogger discount. For details, contact rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog reader’ or Poetry collection’ in the subject field.]

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. 

Dirt Track

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

I wrote today’s poem especially to accompany and read over the video below that I have just uploaded to my YouTube channel. If the video here does not play, go to:

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

or visit:  http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber 

Continuing my best friend Graham’s snapshot of Wiltshire, he takes us from the Gothic splendour of Salisbury cathedral to the natural beauty of the Cheddar Gorge; this is the first of three videos which we hope will give you a feel for the Gorge and its splendid views. Yes, he could have waited for a sunny day, but we both feel that a gathering storm is more atmospheric.

The poem attempts to covey something of the intimate relationship between the human condition and the natural world. I will post poem and video on my blog as previous feedback suggests that some of you cannot access YouTube directly.

Two further videos of the Cheddar Gorge (and poems) will follow during the course of this week once editing is completed. [We had hoped to combine all there videos into one, but the resulting file proved too big for my pc and it crashed.]

DIRT TRACK

I found myself trudging a dirt track,

my world, splitting at the seams,

not caring if no way back,

nothing there but shattered dreams

Wearily negotiating mud and stones,

my world, a lonely, empty place,

mind, spirit and aching bones

closed to the poetry of time and space

Suddenly, the track began to open out

my world, opening up as if on cue,

unfriendly ghosts put to rout

by Earth Mother looming into view

Firmly, yet kindly she grasped my arm

and led me through time and space,

glad captive of a fickle charm

returning me to poetry’s birthplace,

I had neither the heart nor will to resist,

but submitted to all she asked of me,

to all I hadn’t known I’d missed,

more still the inner eye had yet to see

No matter a world splitting at its seams,
I am resolved to find my way back,

sow-nurture-reap new dreams,

the Poetry of Life keeping me on track 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

In the Eye of the Beholder OR Inner Eye, Inner Ear, Sheer Poetry

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

Although I do not subscribe to any religion, that doesn’t mean I have any less love for the architecture of many religious edifices; for much of religious music, too, even if I cannot relate the words of hymns and other songs of praise. For that matter, regarding Christianity, I also have a great appreciation of much of the sheer poetry to be found in its Holy Bible. I once commented as much to colleagues during a debate about religion over a meal after work; all said they found this offensive. I could not, they insisted, have my cake and eat it; one even accused me of blatant hypocrisy when I added that I am not only often moved by examples of religious architecture and music, but they also appeal to a strong sense of spirituality in me even though I take that from nature rather than religion.

I mean no offence to anyone. An eye and feeling for beauty are unconditional, surely? Few people, I suspect, whatever their religion, could fail to be moved by the sheer beauty and magnificence of some of England's great cathedrals of which the oldest is Salisbury.

As for religion itself, I intend no offence there either when I often attack the hypocrisy I find in many religious minded people for whom their religion is a closed shop, and they have little if any time for anyone who does not pay the appropriate dues. I would like to say these are a in a minority, but at 66 years-old experience suggests otherwise. However, there are exceptions to every rule, and thank goodness for all those men and women who not only subscribe to their religion, but also to humanity in general, regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality.

Yesterday I uploaded today’s poem as a voice-over to a video shot by my close friend Graham who has been visiting family in Wiltshire. (See also below.) If you want to see other videos I have uploaded to my YouTube channel, go to:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

This poem is a villanelle. [As regular readers will know, I am not averse to taking the occasional liberty with ’hidden’ rhyme.]

IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

Ancient and beautiful,
a watchful maternal eye;
Salisbury cathedral

Its spire, proud and tall,
reaching up to kiss the sky;
ancient and beautiful

Welcoming one and all
(no enquiring who or why);
Salisbury cathedral

Hear cloisters softly call
upon peace, its tears to dry;
ancient and beautiful

An ages-old clock’s toll
offering pilgrims sanctuary;
Salisbury cathedral ...

Ode to love, one and all,
(embracing Henge nearby);
old and beautiful ...
Salisbury cathedral

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Note: Alternative title added 8/19.

Casualties of Contemporaneity

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

[Update (Sept 3, 2016): I fully support the Junior Doctors past and proposed strike action even though it will probably mean appointments for which I have already been waiting for a long time will be put back yet again among thousands of other people’s. It is all very well for Prime Minister, Theresa May  and Health Secretary, Jeremy Hunt to say we have more doctors than ever and the NHS is better funded than ever, but they are among the privileged classes who don’t have to wait months for an appointment or sit around in A & E for hours.  

Government ministers keep reminding us that the UK has an ageing population, but they clearly don’t have a clue as to how much stress that (and immigration) places on the NHS. As for the BMA (British Medical Association) apparently telling the Junior Doctors they should not strike, clearly it is in its best interest not to antagonise a Government more concerned with supporting the Establishment than the welfare of the ordinary man, woman and child in the street, for all Mrs May's fine words to the contrary. Well, no surprises there. Politicians are hot on rhetoric, but when it comes to relating to the world as it is for ordinary people, a significant number are cold fish.] - RNT

Now, all credit and thanks to hospital staff in the UK and around the world; the vast majority do a great job in what are often very stressful circumstances. (Too many patients and not enough staff to name but two.) Even so, I suspect there are few among us who haven’t had to endure a frustrating wait in Accident and Emergency Departments at some time or another.

Whatever, we would all do well to remember that our NHS is the envy of the world while those who abuse it should remember that it is not a free-for-all service, but paid for by those of us who pay into it all our working lives.

CASUALTIES OF CONTEMPORANEITY

No losing heart over fortune or fame
only that someone call my name;
might as well be the Invisible Man
for all anyone’s paying attention;
hours passing, hands on a clock keen
to mock our growing impatience;
(Time, alas, has little or no feeling
for outpatients)

From someone in the next chair,
an outpouring of despair;
on the other side, news of someone
who has just died;
a red-faced man making a big fuss
gets seen before the rest of us;
mutterings of acrimony overtaken
by a drunk causing havoc

Staff acting beyond call of duty
to end our panic;
a young woman in the front row,
waters breaking...
wheel-chaired away, partner flapping
and fretting,
can’t help wondering, girl or boy?
(Welcome distraction...)

Anxious to convey why we’re here, ;
in pain, tearful...
fearful of things getting worse
in spite of reassurance...
from that nice blond nurse, ready smile
and eyes a lively green
fooling no one. Some leaving without
being seen, dare I risk it?

Could murder a biscuit, a cup of tea too,
and need the loo;
ears prick up for a name, another,
pray be mine soon…
Just want to go home, but hurt all over,
must stay, wait my turn, can't face
all this angst again, could even be dead
by then...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Casualty' in The Third Eye: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised edition in e-format in preparation.]