Notre Dame, a Phoenix Rising

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

[Update, 3/5/20]: As restoration work on building and artefacts continues, French President Emmanuel Macron has since announced that Notre Dame would be rebuilt by 2024 although, of course, this was before the Covid-29 pandemic. Fingers, crossed ...]

Regular readers will know I do not follow any religion although I have every respect for those who do so. My Christian upbringing let me down too often to have any place in my mind-body-spirit. Instead, I chose to put my faith in nature, especially given that no religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

Even as a child, I felt as close to Earth Mother as to my birth parent, and when my mother died, the latter saw me through one of the worst periods in my life, culminating in a nervous breakdown some 40 years ago; both have continued to sustain me since.

I once had the good fortune to visit Notre Dame cathedral with an old friend who is no more religious than yours truly. We both fell in love with its beauty and were held in voluntary thrall to the sense of spirituality it evokes long after leaving its towers, stained glass windows and precious artefacts behind …

When a raging fire broke out, all but engulfing Notre Dame earlier this week, in the early evening of Monday, April 15th, I shared Paris’s grief among many around the world; like them, too, I heaved a sigh of relief that its main structure remains standing and there is potential for as impressive a restoration as saw the survival of York Minster after a fire there some years ago. Moreover, the heroism of French firefighters tackling the blaze, and that of the chaplain who ran into the burning building to save what precious artefacts he could, well deserve a place in history.

Notre-Dame spire collapsing 

(photo from the Internet))

This poem is a villanelle.

NOTRE-DAME, A PHOENIX RISING

Gothic cathedral, pride of a city,

Notre-Dame, loved by all,

global metaphor for spirituality

Though fire threatens its entirety,

its proud exterior stands tall;

Gothic cathedral, pride of a city

Heroic firemen, salvaging history,

though its spire takes a fall;

global metaphor for spirituality

Brave chaplain confronts eternity

at Heaven’s call;

Gothic cathedral, pride of a city

Paris in tears and hymning its story,

free world in thrall;

global metaphor for spirituality

Stoic survivor, messaging its glory,

world answering its call;

Gothic cathedral, pride of a city,

global metaphor for spirituality

Copyright R N. Taber 2019

(April 17^th 2019)

History Live OR Ghosts Revisited

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

I was born on the winter solstice, 1945, in Gillingham (Kent) one of several towns on the river Medway collectively known as the Medway Towns of which another is historic Rochester where Charles Dickens once lived. While many childhood memories are not especially happy ones, there were good times, too; at 70, I often find myself revisiting these, especially those that that take in picturesque Rochester.

When I was 14 years-old, my family moved across the river to a sprawling carbuncle of a housing estate that dominated the village of Hoo or Hoo St Werburg, to give the place its full historic title. My life there was a waking nightmare, not least because there was only one bridge across the Medway in those days; it was not unusual for the journey home from school to take two hours to cover less than five miles. None of my memories of Hoo are happy ones. An opportunity to live and work in London just a few years after I left school was a godsend. .

As much as I hated Hoo, I loved Rochester. I’d sometimes see ghosts in historic costume, including battle dress, looking out over the walls of its castle keep or treading its ancient streets, especially on days when a light, seasonal mist would fall or a stormy haze. Figments of a young imagination, you say? Maybe so, even probably, although I swear I caught a glimpse of them, too, as recently as on my last visit in 2013.

[Photo: Rochester castle - cathedral in the background - from an engraving by H. Adlard after a drawing by G. F. Sargent, 1836; taken from Wikipedia.]

This poem is a villanelle.

HISTORY LIVE or GHOSTS REVISITED

A castle keep overlooks the Medway

in fair Rochester city,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Like a war horse grown old and grey

in the service of liberty,

a castle keep overlooks the Medway

Companion cathedral, holding sway,

for century after century,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Time, honoured guest invited to stay

(no one’s friend or enemy);

a castle keep overlooks the Medway

A Dickensian charm brushing away

the cobwebs of history;

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

River flowing sure, at work and play,

ever restless and moody…

A castle keep overlooks the Medway,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

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.