Either/Or, Life Force

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

Of all life forces confronting us a we journey through life, few if any are equal to that of choice; it can literally be a matter of life and death or, at the very least, a life changing experience.

Forewarned is forearmed, or so they say, that communal ‘they’ might well do better to stick to what it does best, making mountains out of molehills, than trying to dictate the workings of a mind-body-spirit inclined to put its trust in basic instinct.

A couple of days ago, I was warned by a specialist that a recurring ear complaint could be cancer of the ear and might require surgery. The possibility had been put to me before, but native instinct was already rejecting surgery ,whatever the outcome. Normally I would not hesitate to take specialist advice, but sometimes our instincts should not be ignored, especially when they are as forceful as mine in this particular case. However, it still remains to be seen if I do have ear cancer, so...finger crossed.

Which is the more important, life or quality of life? Everyone will have their own answer to that, depending on all manner of circumstances; religion, too, will have its say. Whatever, the final decision remains ours or, if it so happens that we are not able to make it for ourselves, we can but trust those who know and love us best to see that the right choice is made on our behalf; the right choice for us, that is, not necessarily for them.]

As for yours truly, I’ve had a good run and, at 76 years old, have no intention of agreeing to surgery even if it is considered to be in my best interests. Meanwhile, I will continue to play events by ear as they unfold... no pun intended.

EITHER/ OR, LIFE FORCE

Though friendly clouds carry me
to the ends of the earth
whenever and wherever caught
such ever-changing
landscapes, matching humanity
mood for mood,
as we now engage, now beat a retreat
with its every heartbeat

It was a landscape of the womb
first installed in me
a mind-body-spirit reaching out
across a family history
of which soon I would be a part,
for good or ill...
I could not even guess, no thoughts yet
of engaging or retreat

Come into the world on a tide
of mixed feelings...
pain and joy, relief and such hope
as would carry me
into landscapes unknown...
across generations
drawing on and shaping the human heart
to destroy and/or create

Thus, a first take on that to-be-or-not-to-be
question for/ of humanity

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remembrance, (Another) Poem for All Seasons

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

Today's short poem first appeared on the blog in 2014.

Love, like life, has its seasons and, yes, we all know how changeable seasons can be while always making their presence felt. To no small extent, our capacity for love - in all shapes and forms - and friendship identifies our potential as human beings, no matter how far we may manage to fulfil it in real terms.

Much the same can be said of time. (We only have to look in a mirror to work that one out.)  

Yet, of one thing we can be certain; whatever our ethnicity, creed, gender or sexuality and, yes, age too, spring will always follow winter as sure as sunshine and rainbows follow rain.

REMEMBRANCE, (ANOTHER) POEM FOR ALL SEASONS

When I dream of you, we are in springtime

among high hopes I’ll not forget

When I think of you, it is midsummer,

(that light rainy day we first met)

Your kisses linger on my lips, invoke images  

of autumn leaves so gently falling

When I hear someone speak your name,

I fancy I hear a winter robin calling

To love, like nature, a splendour all its own,

and we, though parted, never alone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

Time, Critic-cum-Tallyman

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

I wrote an earlier and significantly different version of this poem for a collection published in 2010. So why revise it nearly ten years later? You may well ask, and I will do my best to make the case not only for for its revision but for having revised many poems that appear in my collections between 2001-2012.

Our perspectives on and attitudes towards life and people  change as time passes, perhaps not radically, but significantly all the same. You only have to look at political correctness; what was tolerated - even if not acceptable - years ago  is now considered abuse; racism and sexism are but two examples, never acceptable but once tolerated. Even now, there are often huge discrepancies as to what is politically incorrect and what is not, often depending on the context in which something is said/interpreted/misinterpreted and/ or the person who says it. It is one reason why I object to people being taken to task for politically incorrect behaviour years ago when it did not have anywhere near as high a profile as it rightly does now;  it doesn't mean that a person was right to say or do whatever at the time, but society, too, has to take its share of responsibility for not taking that person to task then rather than using it as a weapon against them years later.

Language and the use of language changes alongside our perceptions on all manner of issues. Climate change is another example; now getting the high profile it deserves, but still dismissed by some as a fairy story or 'fake news'. Ordinary people like me cannot help but become confused sometimes, and this confusion sometimes comes through in what they say - or write - at any given moment in time; by the time it is made public, circumstances may have caused hem us to have a change of mind and heart. The point being, they genuinely believed whatever they said or wrote at the time; even more to the point, perhaps, is that they were satisfied at the time with heir choice of words.

There is always, of course, the hope that we become better speakers/writers the more we practise either craft or both.

In poetry especially, titles are so important too.I have to confess I struggle with titles. Interestingly, I have changed the title of a poem that hasn't gone down too well with readers and - without changing a word of the poem itself - hey, presto, it attracts significantly more readers and favourable feedback.

There will always be some who don't like what we say or do, for whatever reason, and that is human nature; no problem there so long as the critic is prepared to engage with the writer/speaker rather than seize upon one word or sentence and proceed to attack that, rather than take in the whole. As I have said many times, many parts make a whole, but it is the whole that counts; the parts may well be critically interpreted separately, but should always replaced.in the context of that same whole.

Such is human nature and the complexity of mind-body-spirit, that we are too often inclined to mistake one or more parts of a person for their whole; a whole that is not always a certainty; as such, can it not be forgiven for being  no less susceptible to change than  any uncertainty, feeling its way though the maze that is life - and the range of emotions it invariably invokes - at any age or given moment in time, no matter what our ethnicity, culture, politics, social background or religion...?

TIME, CRITIC-CUM-TALLYMAN

No impartial critic of old age,

(performance s-l-o-w-i--n-g)

Time's remit, clearing the stage

Letting slip how life’s last page

guarantees no happy ending,

no impartial critic of old age

Like a songbird kept in a cage

see humanity flex a wing;

Time's remit, clearing the stage

Earth, driven to express outrage

for an inhumanity enduring,

no impartial critic of old age

Proving neither apathy nor rage

a true template for living,

Time's remit, clearing the stage

Humanity (still) acting The Sage,
its poetry-prose but reworking;

no impartial critic of old age, 

Time’s remit, clearing the stage

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘By Way of Marking Old Age’in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]