A Sparrow Falls

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

Another recently revised poem today, the original of which was written 20+ years ago; I have made significant changes. 

Until the coronavirus pandemic and the various safety precautions generated by various lockdowns, I hadn’t realised how much I take some of the ordinary, everyday pleasures of life for granted; one of these is birdsong. 

During dark, lonely days alone in my studio flat in London, I would listen to the uplifting, inspirational sounds made by birds nearby and not only feel less alone, but also better able to focus on nurturing a positive-thinking mindset rather than succumb to what had been but a growing sense of negativity and despair... 

Never again will I take our feathered friends for granted or the simple but effective magic they weave, whether in the life-music they may make or  always being there for us.

A SPARROW FALLS 

World, falling apart;
dreary, all but empty gardens
of the heart;
senses, playing tricks;
everyone, a victim, few of us
suspecting 

Walking out one day,
aware of little or nothing but
in shades of grey;
bonding with a sparrow
in a gutter, its wings barely able
to flutter... 

Anxious hands reaching
down to hold, if small comfort,
bird already cold,
each teary eye looking
death in the face, like a child’s
on a safehouse 

Suddenly, ears pricking up
at sounds familiar on overhead
telegraph wires;
songbirds, keen to re-engage
our personal space with life-music
of life-music

As one, the tiny birds fly off,
once having fed on seeds tossed
by human hearts
eager to thank them again
for returning the mind-body-spirit
to its safehouse

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2002; rev. 2021 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in my collection First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; rev. 2021]

Where the Password is Peace

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

A reader has emailed to ask if I will post some poems that are included in my collections,  but not on the blog. Apparently, he likes to copy the poems and email them to 'an elderly relative who loves poetry but is 'only ok'ish with very basic IT, sufficiently to be able to open emails anyway.'

Meanwhile...

I included this poems in my collection with a place in mind that always fills me with a sense of peace. Before I hit 70+ and developed mobility problems, I'd often walk to nearby Hampstead Heath, at any time of year; once there, I would , enjoy a panoramic view of London from the top of Parliament Hill before wandering back down to sit by the ponds, or roam the woodlands, listen to incredible birdsong and, yes, find peace in the beauty of it all. Oh, but it is sheer poetry, believe me; of the kind no poet can do justice.


 Any readers who enjoy this poem might also enjoy 'On Hampstead Heath' which is also on the blog.

Hampstead Pond

Highgate Pond is a Nature Reserve on the Heath

WHERE THE PASSWORD IS PEACE

I am the rose dripping pearls

on a chamomile lawn stretching

across fields and woodlands

where trees tell tales wiser men

and women than you or I

have passed on since Creation

to the world’s poets, painters

and its music makers to re-create

in a spirit of celebration

I am the lame dove haunting

frantic urban streets reaching out

for a peace of mind as told

by the world’s poets, painters

and its music makers…

to still the restless heart, restore

a flagging faith in humanity

much like the rose dripping pearls

on a chamomile lawn

I am not whom you took me for

when first you tried to read my face,

unused as you are to seeing clear,

mistaking an iconic tablet of stone 

for a chamomile lawn stretching

beyond parameters of time and space

where the password is peace,

trees are heard telling tales and roses

seen dripping pearls

Look around and within all you see

to find me, who am called Beauty

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Birdsong

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

One of my poems begins with the line, ‘I care not for the world as it is now…’.I never said or wrote a truer word. But living in the world is one thing, how we get on with our lives is something else.

We can but try and make our private world a better, kinder, happier place, while hoping some of it will rub off on at least some of those with far more say in world affairs than us so that the world, too, may become a better, kinder, happier place.

Yes, well, wishful thinking perhaps ...

BIRDSONG

Once a bird flew to my window sill

and sung its song for me,

spreading peace, love, and goodwill

as far as the inner eye can see;

over hills, forests, deserts, far away

to lands where little can grow,

and people going hungry every day

while others prefer not to know

As I listened to the bird on my sill,

its song touched my heart

with such peace, love and goodwill

(it saw through me from the start.)

What can we do for the world as it is?

(little enough, it’s true)

but if a bird can prick our consciences,

there has to be more we can do

I watched the bird fly up and away

on wings of that song I’ll hear

as I take in the world News every day

in the comfort of my armchair…

What can I do for the world as it is?

(little enough, it’s true)

but if a bird can prick its conscience,

there’s hope yet for me and you

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Best (Free) Seats at the Opera

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

Reader ‘Sahira’ has kindly been in touch to say how much she especially enjoys my nature poems. Many thanks for that, encouragement always gratefully received. Sahira has also asked for more information about the Cheddar Gorge after viewing the videos posted on my You Tube Channel + poems: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

(Click on ‘browse videos’ and scroll to Cheddar Gorge clips 1, 2, and 3.)

More about the Cheddar Gorge on Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheddar_Gorge

Meanwhile…

Today's poem has been significantly revised since its last appearance on the blog in March 2011 while (hopefully) giving the reader food for thought regarding our relationship with nature, for better or worse. We have not been kind to nature nor is nature always kind to us, yet together we make a good team. Could it be that we are not so different after all, but two sides of the same life-force?

BEST (FREE) SEATS AT THE OPERA 

Music in the air, timeless songs

we only ever hear

for listening out for birds, bees,

and summer showers

wherever tree-ushers gesture

mind-body-spirit takes its place

in the front row

Though humankind try to copy,

modify or destroy,

it can but fail to silence songs

Earth Mother teaches

her children from seedlings

(if never on time at rehearsals)

for the Opera of Life

Lights down, only Pan’s pipes

keeping us reflective

until the next act begins. puts us

through our paces,

gives imagination its head,

as per  humanity’s predilection

for performance art

Though we be deaf, blind, dumb,

the Spirit of Nature 

can be felt and passed on by all,

come the sun by day 

or the moon by night, if only

for treading footprints of live clay

left by dead poets

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2018

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

Poems By Passing Clouds & The Challenge (2 poems)

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

I posted a ‘Cloudscape’ video on You Tube yesterday and read one of my ‘cloud’ poems (The Challenge) over it: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

As I only posted The Challenge here in February, I am repeating another ‘cloud’ poem that has not appeared on the blog since 2010.

Today is National Poetry Day here in the UK. Here’s hoping that if you love clouds even half as much as I do, you will enjoy these poems…

POEMS BY PASSING CLOUDS

Some songs in the wind

only the trees ever hear

and even beasts and birds

never learn the words,

can but live by the descant

of hungry young in spring,

butterfly wings in summer,

falling leaves in autumn winds

bin bag puppies in winter

Some songs in the wind

only the trees ever hear,

no matter that humankind

imposes its own lyrics

(poor carbon copies passing

for popular reflections in

some subway busker’s eye)

sure to become global classics

since they make people cry

Some songs in the wind

only the trees ever hear,

will never let on they know

or beast and bird give up

on a world that humankind

likes to make out it knows

but dare not face the wind

with its, oh, so pathetic untruths,

lyrics sure to blow the mind

There’s a song in the wind

only the trees ever hear

about nature’s secret ways;

life, death, misadventure,

why it’s the good die young

more often than not, while

the old pressure the rest of us

not to forget long-ago, kinder days

but take a leaf from the trees

There’s a song in every tree

running rings around history

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010. 2012

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; slightly rev. 7/19]

 THE CHALLENGE

There is a bridge between clouds

where we pause

who ponder on the purpose

on living just to die,

where the spirit unfulfilled,

the heart strayed

across certain boundaries society

has imposed (conventions)

so much the better to disguise

its worst intentions

There is a bridge between clouds

where we pause

who ask why the world below

has let us down…or did we

let ourselves and each other down

in the end

for never ceasing to demand more

than our fair share

of whatever peace and love

to be found there?

There is a bridge between clouds

where we’ll wait

our turn to cross…or be left

wishing deeds undone,

words unsaid, lies left creeping

under the tongue,

never to see the cold light of a day

when we must answer

to all its invidious shadows

may have heard us say

We can but cross, we children of Earth,

rise to the challenge of life over death

Copyright R. N. Taber 1984; 2010