Shades of Comic Genius (and Quinquagenarian Angst)

 

From Roger’s good friend – Graham

 

Sap is rising, shoots are sprouting and buds are throbbing in anticipation…

Today’s poem ‘Shades of Comic Genius’ offers an amusing take on a couple who rediscover the passions of youth in their later years. A blaze of glory as they surrender to the unbridled urges of nature and cast away, if briefly, the burden of age. It’s an enchanting example of the whimsical aspect in some of Roger’s writing.

Speaking of age, I imagine that cresting past that mid-life hill can be daunting for many of those in my generation. Especially if they find themselves single and there’s an incentive to maintain that sylph-like physique of youth! Although that objective does become a bit of a pipedream, unfortunately, as years advance.

It’s an unsightly truth that age and gravity conspire to steer one’s finest assets on a southward migration. Looking in the mirror recently, I was reminded of one of those mudslide events that you might see in a disaster movie. Although I consider myself fortunate that I can still glimpse my feet between shoegazing moobs. (It’s certainly a stark contrast with the type of ‘hangovers’ I faced during my student days.) Sitting in the bath the other day was reminiscent of a baggy old armchair that had become waterlogged.

As if that wasn’t bad enough I was disappointed recently when my young niece asked me why I appeared to be frowning in some of the family photos. I had to explain that I was just facing down slightly and the mouth was sagging. She was kind enough to offer the assistance of a photo enhancer app although I gratefully declined. (Fastening a large bulldog clip to the back of the scalp might be more effective?)

I remember poor Rog complaining about ten years ago about his midriff getting wider. He was worried about becoming ‘bell-shaped’. I couldn’t think of anything diplomatic to say so I suggested that at least, he’d be the ‘belle of the ball’. Fortunately he was immune to my cheeky banter and laughed. Latterly, his avoidance of dairy products seemed to stop the expanding girth which was some consolation.

Much of the time we tried to laugh about our frailties and work around them. Or imagine, at least, that our salad days hadn’t entirely withered on the vine. Anyway, it’s good to throw caution to the wind sometimes; budding with memories from the bloom of youth…

 

*  *  *

 

‘She said she was approaching forty, and I couldn't help wondering from what direction’. Bob Hope (British-born American entertainer).

 

*  *  *

 

SHADES OF COMIC GENIUS
(For old[er] people everywhere)

We stripped naked under a leafy sky,
saw our bodies turn gold,
for a while forgot about growing old

Rediscovering youth’s feisty passion
we surfed its glorious tide,
put aches, pains and home truths aside

A balmy breeze gave us its blessing
and songbirds sang amen
while halcyon days revisited us again

Though years pass and take their toll,
the spirit of adventure remains
to seize the day, throw off its chains

If love is the greatest adventure of all,
sex is but half the story,
a shared empathy, its power and glory

We dressed quickly, nature applauding
bodies frayed at the seams
acknowledging its comedy of dreams

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010. From the collection On the Battlefields of Love

 

*  *  *

 

I’ve also included a jokey poem that I found in an old email which never quite made the grade for publication (‘Senior Moments…’) . However, it ties in so well I’ve included it. I think older readers will appreciate it...

 

SENIOR MOMENTS or GROWING OLD WITH CHUCKLES
(And, no, Chuckles is not my cat.)

This little poem of mine
may well be missing the occasional line
since senior moments with me
are as common as sugar or milk in a cup
of coffee or tea

Whenever out and about,
I rely on my trusty walking stick’s support,
but will often raise the alarm
when I put it aside and it chooses to hide
(usually on my arm)

An easy to follow recipe
(meant to impress old friends visiting me)
might well prove a mistake
when I get proportions sufficiently wrong
to make us all feel sick

I have hurried for buses
only to find I’m soon counting my losses
for its heading (miles) away
from whatever destination I’d had in mind
and forgetting that anyway

A positive thinking person,
I refuse to let senior moments get me down,
but love to laugh at them
among friends over a few drinks in the pub,
ever toasting, ‘Carpe Diem’

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Oh, Christmas Tree...

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

December, and a new poem. Over the next few weeks I will be publishing archival posts (on and from both blogs) leading up to Christmas. No, I do not celebrate Christmas, but like many if not most religions and religious festivals, it brings out both the best and the worst in people, challenge enough for anyone, not least a pantheist poet.

I asked a friend whose family, like me, do not subscribe to any religion, why they celebrate Christmas, a Christian festival? "Apart from the religious aspect," he replied, "it is all about peace and goodwill to all humankind, isn't it? That has to be worth celebrating, surely?"  I could not agree more, but peace and goodwill to all humankind is not (or should not) be a seasonal aspiration; both belong to the evergreen family.

Well, hope springs eternal...

OH, CHRISTMAS TREE...

Oh, Christmas tree,
all tinsel, pretty baubles
and presents
for everyone on hand,
lead character
in a play for all the family,
meant to convey
a message of home comforts
and eternal love

Oh, Christmas tree,
tell me what it is you see
from the window
you face, curtains drawn
so rough sleepers
may yet dare to dream
of kinder days,
children playing in the sun,
laughing off the rain

Oh, Christmas tree,
do you even remember me,
one who dressed you
in between a mince pie here,
a sneaky sip
of homemade wine there,
and writing cards
meant to spread love and cheer
at least till New Year?

Oh, Christmas tree,
so soon abandoned, forgotten,
caste off as waste,
not even up for recycling,
your artistry
as artificial as the needles
messing the carpet
and pricking the eyes of all those
Santa Claus forgot

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Christmas, the Great Pretender

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

Even as a child, I had a love-hate relationship with Christmas.Like most if not all children, I loved the festivities and (of course) the presents, but my father would always find a way to spoil Christmas for me and drive home the conviction that it was all a beautiful fantasy, a dream, and sooner or later needs must reality start biting again, fiercer even than any winter.

Regular readers will know I am not a religious person although you don’t need to be religious to appreciate the spirit of Christmas. Religion - Christianity or whatever - is meant to be about peace and love, a fact history may well be inclined to dispute. Whatever, there is a feel-good factor about religious celebration that I suspect its founders would not disapprove. For all the evil and hardship in the world, there is also much good, and for that we must be thankful and spread the word.

The human spirit may well be the epitome of stoicism and resilience, but both feed on hope and the kind of inspiration we see all around us in good people everywhere, no matter their colour, creed, sex or sexuality.

The likes of terrorists and psychopaths such as Islamic State, Boko Haram, and Al Qaeda cannot hope to get the better of the finer human spirit for all the dastardly acts they may inflict upon mind and body.  Small comfort for their victims, but light, at least, at the end of a long, dark tunnel; a light their attackers will never see for all they may attempt to call upon religion to excuse their behaviour.

Religion for the true believer is an inspirational way of life not an excuse for barbarism nor, for that matter, is it an excuse for anti-social behaviour at any level.

How many religious celebrations, I wonder, are enjoyed by those simply playing at religion and/or hedging their bets regarding mortality …?

CHRISTMAS, THE GREAT PRETENDER

Rudolph, the red nose reindeer

has a very shiny nose,

and makes a wish every year

that on Christmas Eve

it won’t just be cold, but snows,

creating a Christmas world

of peace and love, too rarely   

more real than a beautiful dream

painted on a card

Hey, there, Frosty the Snowman,

Santa’s on his way

so be sure to listen for jingle bells

for quite possibly his elves

have loaded a surprise for you

to ease the bleak midwinter,

rework every child’s imagination,

sure to invite even the holly and ivy 

in on the magic

Christmas time, mistletoe and wine,

cause for celebration,

no matter our social, cultural, sexual

identity or even religion

for the Spirit of Christmas brings

hope, love and peace

to mind, body and spirit, shades

of darkness transcended into angels

on wings of light

Oh, Christmas tree, oh, Christmas tree,

as good a metaphor for fantasy any…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

Innocent, Until Proven Human (As Defined by Rites of Conscience)

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

I once saw a foal and a child born at different times of the same day. One had no conscience and would remain a picture of innocence until its slaughter for human convenience; the other would soon become wise to the ways of the world and learn to manipulate them … one way or another.

INNOCENT, UNTIL PROVEN HUMAN (AS DEFINED BY RITES OF CONSCIENCE)

Every birth, a celebration,
history redeeming
the very nature of creation

At break of day, an ovation
for each living thing;
every birth, a celebration

From its time of hibernation,
a glorious spring;
the very nature of creation

At the heart of every season,
find love enduring;
every birth, a celebration

If history pauses for no one,
find in its evolving,
the very nature of creation

Seeds of a world’s salvation
here for the nurturing;
at every birth, celebration,
the very nature of creation

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2015

Christmas Revisited

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

Now, every year, for many years, I have written a Poem for Christmas that I send to friends instead of a Christmas card.  They are rarely if even conventional Christmas poems, not least because I am not religious person, just like to keep in touch with people and cards are so commercial at a time when this should be the least of our concerns, and many people can’t really afford them anyway. I used to send cards just to keep in touch and let people know I was thinking of them, but nowadays we have e-mail…

Why do I write a Poem for Christmas at all? Well, regular readers will know that, although I am not religious, I like to think I have a strong sense of spirituality. Only, I find it in nature rather than any religion, especially as religions are so divisive. (We should respect different points of view, not attack them.) Born on the winter solstice, I dare say there is an element of pagan in me too.

For many people, their religion is a club, ‘Members Only’; it takes the spirit of religion to reach out to non-members too. Don't get me wrong. I respect religious points of view, simply cannot enter into them.

So here is my Poem for Christmas, 2014. Whoever and wherever you are, and whatever your Belief or non-Belief, it comes to you in the spirit of Love and Peace.

CHRISTMAS REVISITED

Clouds, like baggage

on a tramp’s back trudging the sky;

doom-gloom of winter

threatening to extinguish flames

at a roaring hearth,

humanity's way of creating shades 

of kindness

Ghosts, wistfully engaging

in a pillow fight in remembrance

of a Santa Claus

that betrayed every trust created

to reassure us

with mockery of the cruellest blasts

of winter

Snow, like white feathers

heaping accusations on doorsteps

and at windows

where humankind flirts with blame

long enough be acquitted

by cosy fantasies fuelling conscience

in home fires

Tramp in the sky falters

under a load growing heavier, Apollo

pondering whether or not

to join the pillow fighters, kill off

the best snowmen,

leave Christmas to the complacency

of religion  

Frost on the glass

creating a kaleidoscope of life’s pain

and pleasures, urging us

to dwell on the latter, believe

in happiness in spite

of a sorry world’s worst misgivings

about Christmas

Doom-gloom of winter

ever threatened by the fiercer flames

of a roaring hearth,

humanity's way of creating shades

of kindness to pass on

to the next generation in the spirit

of Christmas

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Looking out for Christmas, Anyone?

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

Yes, Christmas will be with us in less than a month. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.

Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If God doesn't mind, why should anyone else?]

No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.

We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.

At the heart of every religious celebration is (or should be) love in all its shapes and forms...or what is there left that any God would have anyone celebrate?  

LOOKING OUT FOR CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?

Come, hear the bells of Christmas

though lost, alone, in the snow,

recalling times past when we’d leave

a card for Santa, hot cocoa

and a mince pie, try to sleep while

listening out for reindeer hooves

pounding across the sky, a cheery cry

ringing loud and clear for children

everywhere to hear, know (for sure)

that we are loved, no matter who

we are or how our lives shaping up,

whether or no we’re finding signs

of Christmas or much the same cruelty

(or worse) than the day before

Peering ahead down an endless road,

lost souls, alone, no place to go

till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love

and peace, count blessings, let bells

speak for us, echo high and low, anxious

to share out the joys of Christmas,

fearful for lost souls looking for refuge

from a bitter-sweet winter snow
where no pretty flowers able to grow
yet nurtured out of sight and light
by Earth Mother, chief carer for a world
beyond even mind-body-spirit,
where all the odds stacked high against
mutual understanding or trust

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2013

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it first appeared in Christmas Remembered, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

A Christmas Truce

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

Religious festivals should bring people together. Yet, so often they follow the age-old tradition of religions worldwide and, in the end, but cause division among family, friends, neighbours....

Christmas is no exception for many of us.

Even where people are brought together for a day or two, it is often no more than calling a truce. Before we know it, we are divided; fighting, insulting, demanding more than we deserve, failing to enter into each other’s points of view...or simply ignoring each other again.

Even so, calling a truce can be a new beginning ... if we let it, always bearing in mind that it takes two to tango' there has to be the will to get together, albeit often absent for all kinds of reasons it is not for any of us to judge.

A CHRISTMAS TRUCE?

Sought, a safe haven on Christmas Day
from family stuff, presents round a tree,
giving the rein to how things should be,
denying what stares in each tinsel face;
A stranger in red mentioned such a place
where I might escape, find sanctuary,
even peace - away from all pretence
at burying home truths under layers of truce,
letting sweet carols on the ear replace
a harsher cacophony of lies, more lies,
accusation (and retribution?) for crimes
against the ego (never mind humanity)
in the daily round of sheer hypocrisy
and petty discrimination against whatever
points of view that can’t, won’t, shouldn’t
always go with the flow in case we tread
on Someone’s feelings, trigger into motion
a tedious, even violent chain reaction,
that might go on for years, spill more tears
than for Judas or lied about Christmas

So, where to go? I asked a jolly man in red
who started laughing, said to use some
common sense and moved on, leaving me
for dead among piles of pretty wrapping,
more calls for a truce, plates of mince pies
and sausage rolls blind to a soul’s fears,
deaf to its prayers

[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

The Snowman

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

[Update: December 23rd 2018; There has just been a devastating tsunami in the Java region of Indonesia. Whatever our religious beliefs (or those like me who subscribe to no none) let us spare a thought if not a prayer for all those affected. Ironic, isn't it, that world divisions only seem to unite, if only briefly, in the face of tragedy?]

Christmas 2010 is coming! Do we cheer, sigh or groan? Take your pick.

Now, when we celebrate a religious festival, obviously we are celebrating that religion whether it is Christianity, Judaism, Islam or Hinduism...whatever. At the same time let us remember those who are no longer with us, especially those who taught us how to keep its spirit alive with and open mind and heart so that all we celebrate has meaning way beyond its holy books and various rituals.

Regular readers know I am not a religious person but religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality. I, personally, found that in nature after religion let me down. Even so, I bear no grudges and respect other people’s religious beliefs – just as nature does - even though these are often tainted by intolerance and prejudice, including homophobia. Could that be, I ask myself, where human nature far too often goes so badly wrong?

The UK is experiencing its worst early snowfalls for eighteen years. The snowmen at least have never had it so good.

THE SNOWMAN

Snowman in the sun, icy patches
on the ground;
eyes of conkers soaked in vinegar,
reminder of autumn roll-over;
grandpa’s army coat lent a vintage look;
carrot nose, smiling mouth
(like a rhubarb stick);
we called him Jack, grandma’s cane
helping him stand or, rather,
keep him steady in reindeer tracks,
ready to lend a hand

Through the night we waited to see
if Jack would take his cue
from the likes of you and me, fairy lights
on the tree...but we dozed off;
we opened our eyes,
Ma flinging the curtains wide,
(no sign of Jack outside);
among gifts around the tree,
for any who care to look and see,
a card attached to a plain white box
reads simply...

'Thanks for the Memory'

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2004

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Halloween Landscape (Two Poems)

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

It doesn't have to be Halloween for mind-body-spirit to stray into a Halloween landscape. Indeed, there are times when can feel like we are an everyday part of it, and it of us. As for its ghosts, they are ours, too, nor all meaning us any harm; on the contrary, the majority represent a posthumous relating to loved ones that will comfort and inspire use is if only we will let it.

HALLOWEEN LANDSCAPE

One Halloween, I sought the dead
among trees all but stripped bare,
only to recover the living instead

Heart heavy, legs weights of lead,
I took my cue from bleak despair;
one Halloween, I sought the dead

By a wicked moon, too easily led,
I let Death's voices lure me there,
only to recover the living instead

My ghosts happy to see me, I fed
on that like a king to banquet fare;
one Halloween, I sought the dead

Too soon, an owl’s wings overhead
flapped like a shroud over us there,
only to recover the living instead...

Unafraid, where once I'd have fled,
I felt inspired by dawn's first glare;
one Halloween, I sought the dead,
only to uncover the living instead 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

[Note: This poem has been revised since appearing under the title 'Fair Game' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

RECONCILING WITH EARTH MOTHER

Come Celtic revels,
witches and warlocks abroad
casting ancient spells

Voices, coaxing me
to take wing, soar like a bird
come Celtic revels

The world, it but calls
upon me to fall on my sword,
casting ancient spells

Earth Mother, she fills
my heart with a loving word,
come Celtic revels

Human spirit, unafraid
of some self-titled time lord 
casting ancient spells

Be sure, it will not be I
lets Earth Mother go unheard,
come Celtic revels
casting ancient spells

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007