Love, an Agenda all its Own

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

This poem is from my gay-interest poetry blog for April 2016.

We cannot help with whom we fall in love, but our love is not always reciprocated in the same way. Loving someone who sees us as a close friend, no more or less, can be hard sometimes. Even so, - whether we are gay or straight, male or female - friendship is a wonderful thing, and if worth having, always worth saving…whatever it takes.

No one gender or sexual orientation has a monopoly on love; it really does have an agenda all its own, and who are we to argue with that?

Any commitment to loving each other is down to those immediately concerned, no one else, whatever our socio-cultural-religious (or sexual) preferences. I put it to you that more of us should respect and at least try to support those choices instead of criticising (or worse) simply because we do not agree with them.

LOVE, AN AGENDA ALL ITS OWN

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his hair blows in a breeze

and his face almost vanishes from sight

but for a wicked laughter in the eyes

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his voice eases my pain

like a balm to sores, moon to wintry night,

sunshine filtering through a summer rain

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his hugs near break my heart

and how, as his arms are holding me tight,

it aches for knowing we must quickly part

There’s a friend for whom I often begin 

poems I know he’ll wish I’d not written…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appears under the title 'Genesis' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

A Positive Take on Adversity or L-I-F-E. No Waiting Game

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

I have read poems at voluntary self-help groups from time to time. Many of the people who attend are on welfare and/or have mental health problems and/ or alcohol or drug related problems. These are fine people, trying to help themselves and each other with precious little help or encouragement from outside the group. It is inspiring to see them pulling together in adversity and learning to take responsibility for themselves and each other; a lesson the less enlightened among us would do well to learn instead of preferring to pass judgement on others.

Help, encouragement, reassurance...these ARE all out there, but rarely will they simply knock on our door; we need to knock on theirs and find the words to ASK. I well recall how my mother once told me that life is no waiting game, how we have to get out there and live it, and that means meeting each other at least halfway.

 A POSITIVE TAKE ON ADVERSITY or L-I-F-E, NO WAITING GAME

Coming together, supporting each other,

toes in the Sea of Life, getting a feel for the swim

rather than drown

Making an effort to come down to a shore

where seaweed and shells on shifting sands spread

rather than stay in bed

A part of a life tide’s natural ebb and flow

yet frightened of its fickle nature, all highs and lows

but a Hall of Mirrors

Alone, it is hard to bear the happy sounds

of children laughing, applause for ice cream chimes,

hints at kinder times

In good company, easier by far to break free

of shadows stalking us, driving us to seek sanctuary

in cages of our history

Together, let’s imagine wings, flex and fly,

take heart from songbirds rejoicing seashore and sky,

no matter where or why

As rough or fair as any sea passage may be,

let us look to fellow voyagers, let a creative empathy

reconstruct our history

Coming together, supporting each other,

getting a feel for wings rising above, learning how

to trust in Nature’s love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared  under the title 'A Feeling for Seagulls' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

The Play's the Thing OR Audience Appreciation Paramount

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

‘One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and nature shall not be broken.’ – Leo Tolstoy

That quote leapt to mind one evening only recently as I recalled observing a glorious sunset from my bedroom window that looked over the backyard and garden of my childhood family home.  I experienced such a link then, like an electric current so powerful it made my head swim and almost knocked me off my feet.

I was only 13 years-old at the time, and that feeling of intense, personal bonding with nature has never left me even in my darkest moments. Whenever people let me down (as people are inclined from time to time) I go for a walk in the country, let Earth Mother  dry any tears and lend me the strength to rise above any ill feeling.  

Nature, too, of course lets us down sometimes; Earth Mother can be a harsh mentor. Yet, mentors teach and the better pupil will learn. While we should not cherry pick what we choose to take on board or reject, I suspect most if not all of us do just that. Whatever, I look around and see the world Shakespeare once likened to a stage as parts of a whole, and I bond with that whole, and the whole is nature.

I also recall my English Teacher at secondary school, 'Jock Rankin', commenting that we are to nature as nature is to us, and the sooner humanity gets to grips with that, the greater its chances of survival.  Like everyone else in Class 5B, I nodded and said “Yes, sir!” although none of us had a clue what he meant at the time. When I summon that moment to my mind’s eye now, though, more than half a century later, I am not in class at all, but that same bedroom window experiencing an epiphany in a sunset…

Ever get the feeling we are all but players in a docudrama, have been such since the beginning of time, and doubtless will continue to be so as past, present and future merges into that infinity we call death .... ?

"The play's the thing..." says Hamlet in Shakespeare's own play, referring to how his play will give the audience food for thought on recent events. Much the same, though, can be a said for all performance arts, (indeed, all art) in the sense of its intending to  give any audience serious food for thought as well as pleasure and entertainment.

THE PLAY'S THE THING or AUDIENCE APPRECIATION PARAMOUNT

Glad blue skies, a stagy backcloth

to sad, naked branches

barely hinting at far kinder times

yet to come once winter

has worked its worst on humanity

for wanting to prove itself

better, stronger than Earth Mother

while working its worst

on all things bright, beautiful

and freely given

Sad clouds leading us a merry dance

for wondering if any tears

that may (or may not) fall are meant

to harm (even kill) or nurture,

inspire, re-invent an ethos of peace,

love, kindness and respect

for nature, human nature, all-inclusive

no cherry picking for any ego

demanding the bright and beautiful

serve its own interests

Grey skies, making no sure promises

(or threats) to naked humanity

anxious to avoid the worst of nature

yet to come once winters

of the heart have worked their worst

on human mind-body-spirit

obsessed with survival for its own sake

rather than acknowledging it

all the brighter and more beautiful

for freely given

Amber-red skies, reflecting uncertainty

on earth as it is in heavens

anxious to see us avoid the very worst

we knowingly or unknowingly

propagate for the sake of a greater good

as reworked by dogma

bent on killing freedom of expression

by imaging only the brighter

and more beautiful in its own eyes,

on its own terms

Wide, open skies, ever inviting all nature

and human nature to a life

freely given, never for the asking or taking

besides Time’s remit

written in tablets of stone before its seasons

flowered, died and rose again

as humankind woke, slept and woke again;

testimony to old gods, new gods

and digitalised mock-ups... no match

for Earth Mother

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Alice Maud Taber OR Remembering My Mother

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

[Update: 22nd March 2020] Today is Mothers' Day, and likely to prove very upsetting for many people. The COVID 19 coronavirus pandemic continues to spread and take its toll on the vulnerable and elderly in societies worldwide. While social distancing is necessary to help slow the spread of the virus sufficiently to help medical and emergency services teams to cope, not visiting Mum today of all days won't be easy.]RT 

My mother was one of the least judgemental people I have ever known and would have applauded transgender men and women for finding the moral courage to be true to themselves and look the world in the eye. (Far too many people worldwide rush to judgement without giving a second thought to how it must feel to live in a body that cannot truly relate to the gender assigned to it.

It is some years since my mother died on June 2nd 1976. [She was born 100+ years ago on July 16 1916; a hundred years to the day, a friend came to lunch and we toasted her over a glass of Baileys Irish Cream Liqueur.]

She was a remarkable woman, my Mum. She would talk to anyone and anyone would talk to her regardless of any artificial class barriers. Above all, she was a very understanding and forgiving person, traits of human nature that - in my experience - rarely go hand in hand in people and which, sadly, are anything but common in my own family. (I like to think I am a very understanding person, but struggle with forgiveness although I usually get there in the end.)

Throughout my childhood, my mother would often tell me story poems instead of a traditional story at bedtime. (She could recite 'The Highwayman' (Noyes) and 'The Ancient Mariner  ' (Coleridge) by heart!) Even as a young man, I used to love to hear her reciting poetry.

We cannot celebrate death, but celebrating a person much loved and a life well lived is always a privilege.

   

My mother at 21 (1937)

My mother at the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, 1971

ALICE MAUD TABER or REMEMBERING MY MOTHER

         (1916-1976)

Always there for me, believing in me

more than I believed in myself, knowing me

better than I knew myself,

loving me more than I loved myself

although I could never  give you

what you wanted, be what you wanted,

live or love how you wanted...

subscribe to your fantasy of family unity;

we did our best by each other, assisting

one another through life’s maze of emotional

twists, turns, and dead-ends; me, unable

to grasp for years how conflicting loyalties

were tearing you apart...

Yours, a divided heart never truly made whole;

we whose demands you loved to meet

always failing it. Yet, even now, years on

since a tumour took its toll, you are (still)

one to whom this poet turns, always striving

for some peace of mind, heart, and soul

(imagination’s impossible goal) - learning 

to read between lines to which you gave

life and meaning. Only, then I wasn’t listening

(youth thinks it knows everything.)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2011

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version that appears as the dedication poem in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Friends

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

Today’s poem - another villanelle - was first written in 2002 and published in an anthology the following year before I included it in my collection.

Why do I make revisions at all?  During the process of preparing my collection for publication to Google Play in e-format, I find myself dissatisfied with some poems for reasons not always obvious, even to me; most, it has to do with how a poems ‘flows’ – or doesn’t, as the case may be.

Given that I’ve never really got along with most members of either my immediate or extended family, good friends have always been especially important to me. (Yes, even those of the ‘fair weather’ variety.) As I grow old (71 now and live alone) I am, oh, so thankful to and for good friends. and value our friendship even more.  

FRIENDS

Come some dark, lonely night

or saddest sunny day,

find friends, making it all right

At one with moon and starlight

kept at bay,

come some dark, lonely, night

Wherever a so-weepy half-light

gone charcoal grey,

find friends, making it all right

Find home fires burning bright

(shaping our clay)

come some dark, lonely night

Losing out (again) taking fright

of facing another day;

find friends, making it all right

Oh, but no kinder end or respite

from worldly rites of way;
come some darkest, longest night,

find friends, making it all right

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Among Friends, Music to the Ears' in an anthology, Where the Words take You, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye (2004) by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

The Zen Guide to Eating Out

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

I have eaten out several times with friends lately, and it was a real tonic, especially as I have not been feeling too well. It doesn’t have to cost a lot either.

Whether the meal is excellent, average or could be better…there’s nothing quite like eating out (or in) with old friends. We chat a lot (with or amongst each other, not on our phones!) which is all part of the fun. Mobile phones are great in SO many ways, BUT you can't beat face-to-face conversation. Some people, especially among the young, should try it more often while we older ones need to lead more by example lest it become an all but forgotten art.

This poem is a villanelle. [OK, I take a few liberties with 'hidden' rhyme - as regular readers will know I am inclined from time to time - but isn't that a poet's prerogative...?]

THE ZEN GUIDE TO EATING OUT

Welcoming and airy,
ever a good place to eat,
cue for good company

Bubbles of memory,
seducing us on the street,
welcoming and airy

A hint of strawberry
worthy of a summer meet,
cue for good company

Shades of a history,
regular Sandman’s beat,
welcoming and airy

Heavens, an eternity
to argue, ponder and wait,
cue for good company

A scrumptious reality
for mind, body, and spirit,
welcoming and airy,
cue for good company

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005. I posted a revised version on the blog in 2014 and have recently revised again in the light of critical feedback from readers, which I always take seriously.]

Stoic Spirit, Vulnerable Heart

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

It is so true what they say about discovering who your real friends are when the going gets tough. Since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011, several people I thought were good friends have rarely if at all even been in touch by phone or email. I am not upset if a little hurt, but mostly a feel a sense of déjà vu, having been here before. Even so, I am fortunate enough to have friends who are very supportive and more than compensate for those that choose to look the other way.

Of course, other people have their own lives to lead, may well have problems of their own they have no wish to share or are simply too busy to put friends first. But real friendship deserves better, surely? Otherwise, it is an illusion. Sadly, too many people see friendship as a one-way street; they take what they can get from it, and give precious little if anything back.

True, we don’t give to receive, but when we put ourselves out for people, show a genuine interest in their lives and try to give support whenever they ask for it, don’t we deserve better than a metaphorical slap in the face?

Few of us set out to deliberately hurt others. It’s just a sad fact of human nature that some people are so blinkered to any if not all home truths.  It can take many years before we call it a day with he or she who has played a significant part in our lives only to let us down time and again. It is never an easy decision, and one many of us are just as likely to retract should he or she ever need us again.

This poem is a kenning.

STOIC SPIRIT, VULNERABLE HEART

I run the gauntlet

of love, life, fun and tears,

trying to make the best

of things rather than complain

about the worst years,

struggling to rise above

the pain human beings

inflict upon each other time

and again

I turn to nature

for comfort and brief respite

from a daily torture

humanity asks me to endure

with all the dignity

and stoicism of someone

always expected to put

other people’s needs before

their own

I lie awake at night

wondering who or what

is wrong or right

amongst all that’s been said

and done in the course

of whatever merry chase

mischievous Apollo

and outcast Cassiopeia care

to lead us on

I am that sense of loss and hurt,

trailing where friendships abort

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011