On the Nature of Love

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I have often heard people say they feel they have missed out on love, and it saddens them because they feel life has left them feeling incomplete.  Perhaps they have never been ‘in love’ or a partner has died young or a lover may have let them down in their eyes…

Whatever, love is neither so easily defined nor confined to the context of being ‘in love’. As I have said before on the blogs (and dare say will say again) love takes many shapes and forms that can be as real, inspiring and life-shaping as a lover.

Me, I haven’t had a steady partner for many years and we only had a short time together, but knowing him was a learning curve in many ways, not least in learning to take nothing for granted, especially love. It is possible, even likely, that platonic love between good friends can be as enriching in its own way as the love shared by lovers. A love of certain places or simply for travelling and experiencing new places can be wonderful nor less so the love of home life and everything it means to us, even if we rarely if ever step out of that particular comfort zone.

Different people want and need different things from life, but so long as we keep our eye on love, and always remain aware of and nurture its presence, the least likely we are to ever look back on our lives and find them wanting.

Few people, in my experience, can say they feel wholly fulfilled, Yes, I envy those that can, of course I do, but we should never let envy of others blind us to our own blessings, even when the latter sometimes seem somewhat thin on the ground; be assured they will pick up, but only if we open up to them, fill our senses with them, see them for what they are through our own eyes, not someone else’s.  Yes, I know it’s pretty obvious, but SO many people fail to see the proverbial wood for trees planted by someone else.

As for sexuality, it embraces love, yes, but love is bigger than that, and anyone who believes in love needs to be big enough to admit it, socio-cultural-religious prejudices notwithstanding, or they are 
hypocrites...to say the least.

‘Where there is love, there is life.’ - Mahatma Gandhi

ON THE NATURE OF LOVE

Hey, listen out…

Hear that lasting beat 

whose remit to feed

the sweetest memories

to a hungry heart.

long after its life force

carried away

on wings of a day set aside

for sorrow

Hey, look there…

Discover cloud shapes

whose remit to relay

best (and worst) times

to an inner eye

long after losing sight

of friendly faces

to hands on a wall clock

stuck fast

Hey, have a smell…

Where grass is greenest

and leaves bring

the scent of summer roses

to the mind

all but closing down

in keeping

with a winter all but gone

to earth

Hey, get the taste…

For honey on the tongue

on what we may

liken to a ‘soul’ having left

its lasting imprint

on such as we may care

to call ‘spirit’

in the lamentable absence

of a poem

Ever get the feeling…?

Earth Mother, nurturing

the beauty

of our seasons going

full cycle,

constructive comment

even on dreams

of each hopeful tomorrow

left unfulfilled

Hey, reach up, touch…

Where the heart beats out

its hopes

for such peace and love

as may or may not

run true, but much the more 

worth the dreaming

for filling all my senses

with you

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

First Impressions

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Have you ever wondered what a baby thinks as he or she opens their eyes for the first time in a mother’s arms? Okay, a baby can’t talk, but who says we can’t think for ourselves even from the very start? We feel reassured, safe...

Ah, but for how long?

It is one of humankind's greater tragedies that many children are born into an environment that will give them neither the love nor care they deserve.

With luck, we are welcomed into the world with love. A sense of the power of love passes from mother to child, and will stay with us always.

Yes, with luck. Sadly it is not the same for all of us, and we have to look elsewhere to discover the power of love for ourselves. Some of us do, others never will. There are so many unwanted children and young people in the world who deserve better.  I have known some people who have gone through the Care system and not only survived, but done well for themselves. Yet, I have also known others who have ended up spending most of their lives in and out of prison, never knowing that wonderful sense of belonging peculiar to family life and being loved as a matter of course, no matter what. My own family life was flawed (whose isn’t?).Even so, that immeasurable sense of belonging helped shape my formative years in a very positive way.

A sense of belonging should never be underestimated. Tragically, it drives some young people to become part of a street gang; gangs are often seen as a substitute family, albeit a poor one. I once knew a family whose children became involved in a local gang culture. When one of the sons went to jail for a gang related offence, the parents saw it as a wake-up call, moved away and set about mending their broken family life. That was years ago. All the children have turned out well and take their own parental responsibilities very seriously; their children will never want for love, care, and a positive sense of direction.

FIRST IMPRESSIONS

The first thing I saw on opening my eyes

was a love in my mother’s face

I hadn’t yet learned the words to describe,

but sensed I was in a safe place

The first thing I felt as I opened my eyes

was my mother’s arms cradling me;

I hadn’t yet learned the words to describe,

but sensed it was a good place to be

The first thought I had on opening my eyes

was that this was but the start 
of living by and learning words to describe

the love in Earth Mother’s heart

In a world without words, only its first cries

find reassurance in well-meant promises

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[Note: This poem was first published under the title Opening Up to Love in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Twilight on a Lake OR Nature, an Everyman's Guide to Infinity

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As I grow old, some memories dim while others take on a whole new perspective, probably because we don''t always realize at the time just how much certain occasions mean to us or those with whom we get to share them. 

I have made some changes to this villanelle that I wrote during a wonderful weekend in the Lake District some years ago.

 Twilight at Ashness Bridge (Lake District)

TWILIGHT ON A LAKE or NATURE, AN EVERYMAN'S GUIDE TO INFINITY

Though pain a part
in our lives surely take,
play on, glad heart

There is a beauty art
strives its copies to make
though pain a part

When life falls apart,
and fragile promises break,
play on, glad heart

Cherish from the start
each dip in passion’s lake
though pain a part

Where the stars chart
our every move, mistake,
play on, glad heart

May love’s winged dart
find its mark for our sake;
though pain a part,
play on, glad heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2016

[Note An earlier version of this poem was first published in an anthology, 'Chasing Shadows', Poetry Now [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation. The poem was slightly revised in 2013, and an alternative title, added 2016.]

The Lovers OR Quality Time

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Today’s poem is a favourite of mine and appeared in several poetry magazines/anthologies before I included it in my first major collection; it was written in 1991 after a conversation over a garden hedge with an elderly man whose wife had died the previous year. He talked about the spirituality of love and togetherness in such a way that I was full of admiration and close to tears.

THE LOVERS or QUALITY TIME

Scarce we talked of love,

scarce we talked at all

I would scan the paper

while you got the tea

or prune my roses

while you watched me

out of the corner of one eye

at your herbaceous border

busy with a trowel

Scarce we talked of love,

scarce we talked at all 

I would fix whatever

while you made us a cuppa,

and when I’d finished

we would sip comfortably

in our favourite places

glancing up now and then to

read each other’s faces

Scarce we talked of love,

scarce we talked at all 

Now I prattle away

in a misty rain,

bring you roses where you lie

in a patch of cemetery,

birds for company,

wondering why, oh why?

Again and again

Scarce we talked of love

scarce we talked at all

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001

[Note: this poem was first published as 'The Lovers' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]