The Lie OR A Matter of Conscience

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

“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.” -  William Shakespeare

If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people. – Virginia Woolf 

“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others.” Fyodor Dostoevsky

“The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.” Jean-Paul Sartre

Now, I suspect most if not all of us tell lies sometimes, whether to ‘spare’ someone home truths or, more likely, to spare ourselves having to cope with theirs and our own at the same time. Whatever motivates the telling of them can be as deceitful, if not more so, than the lies themselves. 

Living with a lie can be a harsh, lonely environment; such was the closet imposed on me at the ripe old age of 14 years by family, church and a generally homophobic 1950’s before I finally came out as a gay man. There are other closets, of course, and other lies; if the cap fits…?

THE LIE or A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE

Whenever I may try
just to put something right,
you’ll argue with me
one long, dark night till dawn,
and just when I’m sure
I’ve won, a watery sun and birdsong
arrive to prove me wrong

It matters hardly at all
should you colour me white,
for soon forgot,
waiting to catch you out;
if no real harm done,
easy enough to simply shrug me away
if only to nag you another day

It’s who colours me black
or even subtler shades of grey
has the most to fear,
living on the edge of a pit
of snaky half truths
eager to begin, on any slip of the tongue,
a song no swan ever sung

Oh, but I so revel in leading people astray,
anywhere, any time of day... 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RT

I, Temptation

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

″You are young,’ replied Athos [to d’Artagnan] and your bitter recollections have time to be changed into sweet remembrances.” – Alexandre Dumas (The Three Musketeers)

“This world is but a canvas to our imagination.” - Henry David Thoreau 

Poetry might be defined as the clear expression of mixed feelings. – W. H. Auden.

“All art forms are in the service of the greatest of all art forms: the art of living.” - Bertholt Brecht 

“You can’t really move forward until you look back.” - Cornel West

I was an avid reader from an early age. I first read Dumas’ swashbuckler novel when I was about 10 years old. For all its swash and buckle, it was the quotation above that aught my eye and struck a nerve. I had bitter recollections even then and doubted whether, even in the course of time, they would eve become ‘sweet remembrances.’ 

Time would prove me both right and wrong. While I continue to be haunted by ‘bitter recollections’ from time to time, these have, indeed, been mostly eclipsed by ‘sweet remembrances. ’Sadly, ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has deprived me of many instances of the latter; some, I can recall vaguely, of others I have no memory at all. 

The same, it is true to say, can also be said for any ‘bitter recollections’ with which even a failing memory would continue to disturb me but for a creative spirit that is quick to dismiss them, replacing them, if not with ‘sweet remembrances’ in any detail, at least with the spirit of them on which I continue to thrive by courtesy of a creative imagination. 

Now, poetry may well be a form of creative therapy, but it is also an art form. I feel privileged to access each, even as my growing old and accompanying health issues threaten daily, but in vain, to deprive me of both..

I, TEMPTATION

I can make you feel good
or I can make you feel so bad
like you’ve been had,
taken in by so strong a feeling
that’s swept you away
on winds of such desire there’s no escaping,
come willpower’s unresisting

You need to let me pass
let mind-body-spirit be a friend,
and listen well to all
it has to say about staying loyal
to its kith-and-kin,
for knowing a heart-and-soul will be grieving
the company you’re keeping

No battle compares with one
set to undermine better instincts,
give a persuasive alter ego 
pride of place, albeit under cover
of lies and deceit
in such a hellish darkness as defies confession
to make way for absolution

Yet, I will have my wicked way
with you, pour scorn on hindsight’s
attempt to wipe your tears,
haunt any positive-thinking mindset
throughout whatever time
would have mind-body-spirit live with its shame,
a posy of thorns by any other name

Now, however long it may take
to make reparation for any mistake
that’s a sacrilege, surely
against all one purports to hold dear?
Such lessons to be learned,
though they weep us on repentance’s tough rack,
as teach the art of moving on, not back 

Whoever considers walking out
with me needs must give due thought
to tackling the task
of repairing any likely damage done
a fairer, kinder, truer self,
last spotted shadowing an existential imagination
by way of addressing potential salvation

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Life and Soul

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

"The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished , or the lustre of it will never appear." - Daniel Defoe  

As I have said many times before, I respect anyone’s deeply held religious beliefs, but reserve the right to criticise certain aspects of it and/or their interpretation, just as likewise, they are free to criticise my own perspective.

There is nothing sinful or abusive in agreeing to differ, so long as it is not conveyed in an offensive manner; sadly, it is not a point of view I have found in many people where their religion is concerned, yet I’m expected to accept being called a blasphemer, or worse, without being given much (if any) opportunity to defend the how-and-why of my own feelings.

There are exceptions, of course, and I have felt privileged to meet a good few throughout my adult life; people with a natural warmth and interest in others, regardless of ethnicity, religion (or non-religion) and, yes sexuality too.

I have said as much before on the blogs and I will say it again, that it is a tragedy how, in this 21^st century of ours, such prejudices persist, not least in certain religions in failing to see how they lay themselves wide open to accusations of hypocrisy.

Religion literally puts the fear of God in many people, to the extent they are scared of dying in case they are called to account for... whatever haunts them. Appearing before a court on Earth is a traumatic enough experience, but the expectation of a Judgement Day, and possibly ending up in Hell for all eternity with no leave to appeal.... that is terrifying.  A former colleague once sympathised with the certainty of my going to Hell because I am gay, and she may well be right, but when I commune with nature, I sense more love than retribution in the sense of spirituality it conveys to and settles on mind-body-spirit.

 It is through nature that I came to pantheism, the ides that God is nature, not its creator. The message I have always taken from nature is one of nurture and hope, even for the likes of we fallible human beings. So, I don’t fear death, only a prolonged dying and the pain of it, emotional as well as physical. It is why I have supported the Dignity in Dying campaign for some years. Some readers may care to look it up at: https://www.dignityindying.org.uk – even  make a donation...?

LIFE AND SOUL

Religion can but point the way
to its own interpretation of spirituality
as defined by its own agenda,
but Mind-Body-Spirit as per each of us
is as likely to encourage
a self-awareness that, in turn, lends us all
the spirituality we call ‘soul’

A soul may or may not lend itself
to the poetry and prose of any religion,
be persuaded by the rhetoric
of certain preachers to their followers,
while the human self
in all walk of life, is blessed with a capacity
for an all-inclusive spirituality

Where congregations in any place
set aside for any sentiments of worship
may well bring comfort and joy
to those who come to seek and find it,
the human soul needs only
that we take heart from the same life forces
as united to give birth to us... 

It is a sense of and hunger for peace
and love in all humanity that does battle
with its demons of all persuasions
that may well appeal to its baser desires
effecting a takeover
refusing to acknowledge or give any priority
to the spirituality that is humanity

In nature and human nature,
a kind of poetry to be sought and found,
by whomsoever cares to bid
their native senses ignore worldly rhetoric,
whatever it takes
to discover - or rediscover, as the case may be,
an all-inclusive spirituality...

 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Right Thing

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

A new poem today. 

The 'right thing' for one person is not always the right thing for another; a trite, yes, but true enough comment, often overlooked by those inclined to rush to judgement on others. Indeed, the latter are often inclined to judge us less by our actions and their consequences than for the choices - as they see it - we make to precipitate them given that, yes, we can so easily get it wrong.

No one - even loved ones - know us better than we know ourselves. As for choices, these are rarely as simple as meet the human eye, especially that of an onlooker, however involved and/or directly affected he or she may be.

Self-awareness is a heavy responsibility that all of us carry through life; it is the sum of that same mind-body-spirit we do our best to nurture, but which is often inclined to send out mixed messages that we select, home in on and interpret one way. while others may well follow the same process but interpret differently, and presume to 'judge' us accordingly.

We can but try to do the 'right thing' by ourselves and others even if it involves hard choices between 

- and consequences for - one or the other.  Sometimes, it can appear to be a no-win situation, but - as I have said before on the blogs, and speak from personal experience - never underestimate the power of mind-body-spirit to find a way through any subsequent maze of sense-and-sensibility.

A word, now, to those young people affected by the current examination results crisis. I actually sat my A-levels many years ago so my circumstances were very different. Even so, I needed at least two A-levels to follow my first choice career, and  only managed one. My world fell apart, and no one really understood or made any practical suggestions. Somehow, though, I steered a very rough passage through the next seven years, went to university as a mature student, achieved a better degree than anyone expected, and subsequently achieved a professional qualification in that same first choice career I'd chosen at school. The worst was not over yet - a nervous breakdown would see to that - but even then mind-body-spirit steered me into my 40's and I have been happy enough since.

Would I have had things different? Yes, of course, but various choices to effect that difference were only available to me at various stages of my life.I could not even go with the flow, but had to rely on changing tides,  as I suspect do many of us. 

Hope really does spring eternal, but also needs our help to do the right thing by us ... eventually.

THE RIGHT THING

I form the ties that bind

such life forces of mind-body-spirit

as provide a learning curve

for all human history to learn, regress

or stand still, measuring

human progress by acts of kindness

and understanding

towards others, regardless of ethnicity,

creed, place in society

I make allowances for mistakes

that (at least) teach us never to repeat

the same again, forgiving

(if never forgetting) any slow learners

in the games people play,

whether pushing to get their own way

by pulling strings or relying

on self-awareness to sustain integrity,

avoid notoriety

Be we a winner, loser, an also-ran

or might-have-been but for this or that

person or consequence

tracking our strengths and weaknesses,

no time for excuses;

it’s mind-body-spirit shapes

the ships we sail through life, our hands

on the wheel tackling rough

and smooth, sink or swim, no one else

to blame …

I am Self Awareness, urging (never forcing)

us to home in on, and do the right thing

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Scenes from a Life

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

Today's poem  first appeared on the blog in 2012. Yes, I know I said I would only be writing up the blogs now and then while I am compiling a new collection, but I guess I can't keep away and several readers have emailed to say logging on to the blog helps them get their thoughts together, ready for whatever the day ahead may bring. My own thoughts are all over the place these days, and the new collection is proving harder that I anticipated, so continuing to write up the blogs does us both a favour. wry bardic grin

For many of us, our thoughts will be with the people of Reading today, and the savage attack by an   individual over the weekend resulting in three people, simply enjoying time in the sun with friends in a local park, losing their lives in what police are now saying appears to have been a terrorist-motivated attack. 

The death of a friend or loved-one is hard enough to bear, without its coming so unexpectedly and violently and our hearts go out to all those close to those who died and were injured in the attack, also anyone who witnessed, for whom it will always count among their darkest and most frightening memories. 

Love, though, never dies and will remain a source of comfort and inspiration all our lives; nor is that just the rhetoric of poetry, either, as I speak from personal experience.

Now, I don’t always want to talk to people when I am travelling. More often than not, I like to enjoy the scenery or just close my eyes and go wherever my thoughts take me. For example, take the London to Brighton train that I've caught on average several times a year for 50+ years; by the time the train arrives in Brighton or back in London, I'll have travelled the world over, and loved every minute of it. Having been all but housebound during the Covid-19 pandemic, I have travelled the world in mind-body-spirit, and to say it has helped me to stay hopeful and keep looking on the bright(er) side of life would be a gross understatement.

That’s life for you, mind over matter, and who’s to say mortality is so different?

Yes, people have had a free ticket to ride since the beginning of time when the only train to ride was the Imagination Express ...

SCENES FROM A LIFE 

Passing into spring,

pausing where streams of living water flow

and kingfishers reassure me

they know I am here,

whenever they can but catch glimpses of me 

beneath leafy skies

Rushing into summer,

pausing where living woodlands in full voice

sings songs of my childhood

as if to reassure me

it still has hold of my shirt collar

and will never let go

Rolling into autumn,

pausing where the last flowers still blooming

inspire the weariest traveller

with a passion for life;

better to have got away than settled

for armchair histrionics

Rumbling into winter,

anticipating the last long tunnel discouraging

us from entering, though nature

falling back on old tricks,

working new wonders at every turn

where we look for them

Copyright R N. Taber 2012

Tracking the 'I' in Humanity, a Universal Consciousness

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

A reader asks why on earth I am trying to compile a new volume of poems in the middle of a pandemic. Well, why not...? Apart from providing a welcome distraction, I have to be pragmatic about the fact that I will be 75 years-old on the winter solstice and have been living with prostate cancer for since 2011. Should I die, it is unlikely that Google will retain my blogs so I want as many of my poems to remain accessible as possible to anyone interested. My best friend, Graham, has already said that if I have not managed to put all my fiction and poetry online by the time the Grim Reaper comes calling on yours truly, he will do his best to see to that for me.

Meanwhile ...

I once found myself chatting to a delightful young Muslim couple on a bus. They recognised me from my photo on the blog and asked if I was 'the gay poet'; this does not happen very often (!) so I have to confess I was flattered. The couple are gay, and were planning to come out to their respective families in the near future. Naturally, they were concerned about what kind of reception they will get, and asked my advice.

I never 'advise' people, preferring to simply offer an opinion. I pointed out that, unless they suspect the truth about this couple/s relationship anyway (often the case) any family may well need time to get used to the idea. We should never underestimate the power of love, though, to come to our rescue in any crisis. Hopefully, (and more often than not) love will prevail if only later sometimes rather than sooner.

Sadly, some people don't see their religion as embracing all sincerest forms of human love, consider any religious dogma as written on tablets of stone, never to be what might be interpreted as being  'compromised;  while world religions emphasise the power of human as well as God's love, they  have little (if any) time for expressions of the former likely to leave them open to accusations (by fellow Believers) of compromising the fundamentals of whatever dogma that defines their faith; the proof -  invariably in the "small print" - often forbids and despises same sex relationships. Whatever, I for one, put quality of life above life itself, and a life without someone we love, physically as well as otherwise, can be a living hell. 

Christians will always quote Leviticus on the question of same sex relationships, forgetting that Jesus of Nazareth preached a very different kind of God, a God of Love, and what God of love is going to cherry-pick what forms love should take When asked if he was the Son of God, Jesus answered "Thou sayest it" - in other words, if you say so. As a Pantheist The closest I come to any religion) , , I can no more believe in a personified God than a God who wish "Hell" on any LGBT expressions of love in mind-body-spirit. Many readers may be offended where no offence is meant, but it is my personal point of  view in a world where free expression (and a sense of spirituality) is gradually being eroded, not least by irs religions who seem to think they have a monopoly on spirituality where I would argue a (free) human spirit will find its own ways to express itself, whether through religion or not.

As with all decisions, Coming Out demands that we consider all likely outcomes and just how important it is to us to shrug off the shackles of dogma, convention, whatever... Tragically, same sex relationships remain a crime in some countries as well as in the eyes of others where LGBT folks are seen - legally, at least - as fully fledged members of modern society and a common humanity; they may well feel they dare not emerge from their closets, but should not think any less of themselves for that. Sadly, humankind is not unfamiliar with being a victim of circumstance as centuries of abuse in one form or another will bear witness, and almost certainly continue to do so.

I wish people everywhere who - for whatever reason - feel more oppressed than liberated by their sexuality, all the luck and love in the world; the greater part of hope for a better, kinder, world has always fallen on the shoulders of the young in any society, in any century; an unfair burden, of course, but one worth every heartbeat in my humble opinion and experience. Yes, I have no one with whom to share the ups and downs of old age as intimately as I would like, but that's life, and can happen to anyone; as I have said so many times (and will keep saying) love comes in all shapes and forms, and although I live alone, I am fortunate in having plenty of love in my life still, both living and posthumous; who could ask for more?

TRACKING THE ‘I’ IN HUMANITY, A UNIVERSAL CONSCIOUSNESS

Where have they gone,

all the people I used to know

when the world and I

were younger, making hay

while the sun shone

by day, making love by the light

of a gay-friendly moon?

Some have moved on

to that other-world we call death

for want of anything else

in the absence of any dogma

to let us off the hook

(so to speak) and as likely to be

gay-unfriendly as not

Some have moved away,

favourite gay bars closed down,

and nowhere (locally)

to kiss, hug, chat and feel safe

from sick innuendo,

malicious gossip, and hate crimes

no one deserves

I miss them, who saw me

come out, hold my head up high

rise above any whispers

and looks meant to drive a knife

into mind-body-spirit

for its having kept my 'dirty' secret

since schooldays

Where have they gone,

the feisty folks I used to know,

making of the world

a better, kinder, place, equality

given its head, LGBT

rising above stigma, stereotypes

and fake news?

A global consciousness,

the good fight against life forces

that would have equality

lose any battle against riptides

of dogma (still) crashing

against LGBT closets in all walks

of life worldwide

Ghosts, among those I used

to know, urging LGBT make hay

while the sun shines

by day, make love by the light

of a gay-friendly moon,

any riptide of human intolerance

notwithstanding

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

Ghost in the Mirror or A Rage to Live

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

This poem first appeared on my gay-interest poetry in March 2015.

For any gay person who feels, for whatever reason, that he or she cannot be openly gay, it is a terrible lie to live and burden to carry whatever their socio-cultural-religious environment. I lived that lie for years as a youth and young man (I am in my 79's now); it not only saddens but also horrifies me that in this 21st century there are still gay boys and girls, men and women worldwide, who feel they cannot be openly gay but must give the appearance of being heterosexual. Those responsible, whether within family and/or religious and/or cultural circles should hang their heads in shame for their intolerance and inhumanity. 

Lies, like ghosts, are inclined to haunt us, but not necessarily in a bad way; they can, in truth, drive us towards a kinder reality or at least one likely to invest the inner self with greater integrity than any so-called ‘reality’ we may have been led to believe (for whatever reason) is all there is…

Reality for the human being comprises a multitude of differences; differences that make people not different, just human, and deserving of respect for their humanity regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. If we cannot respect each other’s differences, what chance of finding common ground on which to build a worthwhile relationship as a family member, friend, lover, colleague or whatever...?

The young, closet man I once was would confront lies in mirrors  and shop windows daily. ashamed that I hadn't the strength of character to look the world in the eye. Among the lies, though, were greater truths such as passed on by generations of LGBT people working against intolerable odds to create a better, kinder world for the likes of me; it was for them as much as for myself that in 1985 I flung the closet door wide open (rather than toe it occasionally ajar) at the ripe old age of 40. Even now, though, I sometimes see that tormented closet self in the eyes of passers-by, fellow passengers on a bus or train...and am truly thankful to be free.

GHOST IN THE MIRROR or A RAGE TO LIVE

I told myself a lie,
lived that lie for years
till (inevitably?)
a day came I broke down
in tears,
and through my tears
I watched the lie
come for me out of a mist
like a ghost

The ghost revealed
the lie had run its course
till (inevitably?)
it was breaking me down
in pieces,
and among the pieces
I caught glimpses
of consequences slowly
killing me

Pieces all in place,
I saw the bigger picture
that (in spite of me)
had haunted my other self
for years
as through the years
I had given fiction priority
over reality

Reality, taking pride
of place, if better late
than never..
casting off excuses made
for years
bout wanting to spare
family and friends any tears
over me

I admitted the lie,
I‘d hid behind for years
and (inevitably?)
a day came I broke down
in tears,
and through my tears
I walked free,
embracing truth, world,
and sexuality

The ghost, it stayed,
a reminder of those years
and (inevitably?)
it rages now and then
in my ears
how it was until (finally)
I found a way
to hold my head high
for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Love, a Leading Light

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

I always welcome constructive criticism; more often than not this turns on the fact that I rarely use full stops at the end of stanzas. Regular readers will know that it is a convention I prefer to ignore because, as I see it, they interrupt both the free flow of a poem and reader's thought/s relating to it. 

I recently asked one such critic if  my lack of punctuation had ever spoilt a poem for him. He conceded it had not while protesting that "You expect to find a full stop at the end of stanzas if only to allow the reader breathing space to consider what's gone before." 

"So what if the poet sees no need for a breathing space from start to finish, and beyond?" I asked. It's expected," he insisted again.

I rest my case.

Now, the heart always thinks it knows what is best for us, and often does; most of us invariably take its advice, for better, for worse, regardless of any arguments put forward to the contrary. Whether or not we make the right choice for ourselves, and any other parties concerned, they can be dark days while we try to think it through as reasonable people, well aware that reason cannot always be relied upon (or allowed, as the case may be) to get the upper hand... 

C'est la vie. 

LOVE, A LEADING LIGHT

Love, a guiding light

through life’s misty days,

come the dark of night

Though it takes fright

at humanity’s shifty gaze,

love, a guiding light

Invariably, it's hindsight

alerted to an enemy’s ways,

come the dark of night

Though doves take flight,

would douse sunset’s blaze,

love, a guiding light

Forces of wrong and right,

arguing the error of our ways,

come the dark of night

Head, it would see us right,

but Heart says where it stays;

love, a guiding light,

come the dark of night

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012. 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Love, a Guiding Light' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Walls, among 'live' Metaphors

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

We often hear talk of moral courage, and it is to be applauded, but standing up for what we believe in is not always the same as standing up for the rights of everyone in the same corner we are fighting. The recent shutdown of the U.S. Government over funding for a wall across the border with Mexico, the continuing impasse at Stormont in Northern Ireland and the Brexit fiasco in the British Parliament are but a few examples of how our so-called ‘betters’ should not lead by example.

Meanwhile ...

Parents in West Yorkshire, UK, came up against another such wall only recently.  Kirklees Council debated the supply of non-stun halal meat to 43 schools. in West Yorkshire; this, after receiving a petition of almost 8,000 parents expressing concern over animal welfare. Various councillors - including  Green Party members who voted with Labour colleagues - sided with the pro-cruelty lobby on the grounds that it supports diversity. Perhaps they can explain what diversity has to do with either animal welfare ... or freedom of choice, such as so far denied the schoolchildren concerned?

In most if not all cases of intransigence across the  whole spectrum of issues plaguing various societies worldwide, where there's a will there is invariably a way; it is called compromise. Sadly, where compromise means having to agree to differ and act for the better of all rather than some (or self) this puts 'will' in a position too many of our so-called 'betters' are unwilling to accept.

This poem is a villanelle.

WALLS, AMONG 'LIVE' METAPHORS

At a wall dripping blood and tears
find world democracies' sins well-met,
live metaphor for the world’s fears

Where true democracy disappears,
political ambition refuting its social debt
at a wall dripping blood and tears

Wherever love-and-peace, it veers
away, find agents conspiring to thwart;
live metaphor for the world fears

Divisions perpetuated for years
driven further apart since last ill-met
at a wall dripping blood and tears

Where time’s kinder mist clears,
discern guards with orders to shoot on sight;
live metaphor for the world’s fears

It's Freedom’s fair head that rears,
to debate any socio-cultural-religious tenet
at a wall dripping blood and tears,
live metaphor for the world’s fears

Copyright R N Taber 2019

A Life in the Day of a Couch Potato

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

A reader, Helen, has kindly written in to say she and her family enjoy my poetry and she thinks my blogs I deserve more followers. Well, thanks a lot, Helen, encouragement is always welcome. Poetry, though, is not everyone’s cup of tea and I am just happy that the blogs are still going strong after six years via my Google Plus site that links to new and historical posts/poems. I have set the statistics so Google does not count my own views; this gives me a clearer picture of readership. 

Now, today’s little poem was written way back in 1979. Sadly, it strikes me as being even more relevant now than it was then. A neighbour had been complaining to me about retirement, saying how he missed ‘the buzz of real life’ because all there was for the likes of retired people was a second hand existence by courtesy of television and cinema. I suggested keeping up with friends, getting out and about and doing things, going places…pleasures for which we often have little or no time when working full-time and/or bringing up a family…? (Mind you, we need to make time.) He simply shrugged and went indoors to watch an afternoon soap opera.

No, I’m not knocking TV, or the fact that we live in a Digital Age, but now I am retired myself, I enjoy keeping up with friends, getting out and about and doing things, going places…the simple pleasures for which it was often hard making time for when working.

Following a bad fall in summer 2014, I was housebound for months and spent a good year or so learning to walk again. I live alone so TV was a great comfort and companionship (of sorts) in between writing up the blogs, three sessions of (ten) physiotherapy exercises a day and chatting to friends who were kind enough to drop by and help out on a regular basis all the while I could barely walk. I missed getting out and about and do so now as much as I can; even though walking is still quite painful, I have a sturdy oak walking stick, and it is always worth making the effort.

So when I talk to young people rushing home to spend hours on social media, I can’t help feeling they are missing out…

No, I am not knocking on-line social networking, but there can be no substitute for real-life, face to face companionship and banter among friends, not to mention getting out and about in the sunshine…can there? Now I am older (71) and less mobile, it is harder to get out and about and meet people, but (still) always worth making the effort.

Social media. the world wide web, TV...all have a place in our lives, of course they do, but no one's real life balance should be tipped in their favour...surely?

Yes, cyber fun can be good fun, but there's no fun quite like sharing fun in the real-life company of friends, forming and developing interpersonal skills that can teach us as much about ourselves as other people, and will see us though the best part of a lifetime. Oh, and it really isn't a case of you can't teach an old dog new (digital) tricks; this old dog knows a few, and all the better for having learned a good few of the non-digital variety...

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF A COUCH POTATO

Little birds singing on the garden wall

I’ll not write you up;

you’re, too sentimental

for the Age, they say

As one to another you brightly call

I’ll shut the window;

a new soap opera's about

to start on TV  

Bright sunlight distorting everything

Screen-lined faces

like grotesque cartoons

in a Hall of Mirrors

Let's close the curtains, better already

Comfortable now...
with armchair perspectives
on the world

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2017

[Note: This poem has been revised since it first appeared under the title 'To a Sunny Day' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Home Truths, Martyrs to Love

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

A reader once got in touch to say he feels such a fool because he can’t help loving his girlfriend even though she continues to see other guys. 

That same day, there was an email in my In Box from a gay guy relating how he could not get even begin to get his head around his boyfriend's wanting an open relationship. While I, personally, would walk away, I do not underestimate either the power of love  or of well-meaning (if often ill-advised) pressure from family and/or friends - reminding us of our various 'responsibilities'; in other words, we mustn't be seen to let the side down. (Better to let ourselves down...?)

What can I say except these are among many men and women around the world who, for centuries, have settled for less - sometimes far less - in a relationship than, at heart, they desire and need. Some people, of course, can live with open relationships; for others (like me) it is asking too much.

It has to be one of the saddest facts of life that many potential partners cannot always see the other person’s take on love or…each other. Yet, many of us will settle for a one-sided relationship than no relationship at all, and the threat of loneliness; the latter reason perhaps why the world is full of martyrs to love.

Relationships between two people can only work if both partners want it to work, and neither should forget that everyone has a choice.

HOME TRUTHS, MARTYRS TO LOVE

You warned me not to fall in love with you,

that it was sex alone, never love, spurring us on,

for love is only for fools (you said) its course

set and steered by wet dreams; we worldly types

know better (you said) while tonguing words

of intimacy as if rites for a benign conspiracy

Keeping up appearances, it was nothing more

(never love) fuelling inspiration. Gladly I’d let

your fine body take mine, clung to the hope

that you’d come to love me, despairing as each

frantic, mindless, orgasm ripped through us

like that double-edged sword we call honesty

A culture of hypocrisy concealing human needs,

never quite able to satisfy the loneliness it feeds

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2015

Heartlands

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

Life offers a variety of landscapes, each one a challenge; how we react to these challenges,   defines who we are…but never believe that is written in stone; we all have choices and, yes, we all make mistakes.

While some mistakes can never be properly rectified, and may well haunt us all our lives, we can at least try and compensate for them. Never easy, but a small price to pay for peace of mind if a fragile one, yet strong enough, too, to survive the cut and thrust of human nature in response to which, for good or bad, we shape and reshape our very identity from cradle to grave...

I once asked a friend why he loved so exploring and didn't the potential dangers worry him ? He shrugged. "It's in the blood," said, but the trick is to know when and where to stop. That's in the blood, too," he added with a disarming grin. A good enough template for life for anyone, I thought at the time...and still do,

Oh, and as my mother would often tell me, the only way to think is positive ...or it's downhill all the way.

HEARTLANDS 

Forgotten dreams, lost causes,

a mountain of broken promises

daring us climb and conquer,

save ourselves and each other;

higher we climb, farther away,

yet bringing us closer every day

to a scary, grey, loneliness,

weeping landscape of distress

A faery mist issuing a threat

to those seeking an easy way out,

nature is not (yet) done with us

in denial of its greater mysteries;

kind faces in clouds beckoning,

frail ego and willpower conspiring

to revive an all but dead hearth,

kiss the sky and inherit the earth

Ghosts, sharing our tears,

wiping clear a window on years

that have not been kind to us

nor we to ourselves or each other;

parting now, eyes wiped dry,

Apollo advising let live, let die,

time to descend the mountain,

into the heartlands of its creation

Forgotten dreams, lost causes,

a mountain of broken promises

daring us climb and conquer,

save ourselves and each other;

no easy way up or even down

only (potentially) peace of mind

in scaling peaks of desperation,

making peace with imagination

Fearful, yes, yet anxious to be seen

colouring grey landscapes green

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Marking time, Sapling, Waiting On Its Seasons

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

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2008 so I guess now is as good a time as any to give it a airing albeit a slightly revised version. 

I am in my late 60s now. Now and then I consider the discrepancy between what I have achieved and what I’d once hoped to achieve, and my heart sinks...until I consider various off-shoots of that ‘unfulfilled potential’ and then the tree doesn’t look half so bad after all.

MARKING TIME, SAPLING, WAITING ON ITS SEASONS

Youth, with dreamy eyes

and wind in the hair,

soaking up heaven’s store

of tears for cares

like leaves untimely fallen

on slim shoulders

Like a sapling in a breeze,

see it bend, never break;

watch leaves bud and grow;

now green, now red,

now gold for each mortal

breath it takes

Nor shall its season cease,

grown older, stronger,

a bold heart harbouring 

the finer seeds

of Creation for nature’s  

nurturing

Spirited tree, proud and free,

a living part of earth’s

finer tapestry, sheltering all

(no one’s enemy)

though they carve initials

on your body

Forever, tall and beautiful

in the mind’s eye;

where lashed to dark skies,

a freedom won

by egg cries sure to archive

its leafy passions

Potential in its prime, marking

time

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem  appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2004; 2nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.] 

Lost in Translation

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

In response to this poem, someone once complained that I 'seem to be suggesting that being gay is as natural as God intended.' Well, the poem lends itself to various interpretations (as a poem should) and if that's theirs, I am delighted to have at least giving a religious bigot some food for thought.

When it comes to the various Holy Books and the attitudes they convey towards gay, bisexual, and transgender men and women, I know many people feel the same as me; much has been lost in translation or, as often as not, deliberate misinterpretation. Too many people have too great a fondness (reliance even) on a stereotyping which not only confuses important issues but, worse, is put forward as a truth, Time and again, I have heard people trying to justifying an attitude that beggars belief, not least because it has its roots in stereotypical caricatures, especially when it concerns LGBT issues. I am not disputing everyone's right free speech, but let's at least get our facts right, yes?

We all occupy a mother’s womb. I will never believe the love there is conditional to our turning out the way some parents’ preoccupation with various socio-cultural-religious conventions try to impose as. indeed, they have done very successfully since the beginning of time. Thank goodness for a natural capacity of the human heart for rebellion against such constraints; it may well have lost a good few battles and will surely lose a good few more, but is as sure to win the war for  common humanity as day follows night.  

It was once put to me by a work colleague that poetry - no more or less than other art forms - is all about self-indulgence. I beg to differ. Poetry - no more or less than other art forms - is all about finding out who we are; nor is it a definitive 'we' or first person persona for, as the metaphysical poet John Donne points out, 'No man is an island entire of itself...' (Meditation XVII)

Whatever, be it in reading prose or  poetry, appraising a painting or a person, the chances are few if any will come to the same conclusion, and even greater are the chances of any one person reaching the right one; we are all made up of many parts. The arts - among which feedback regarding my own suggests poetry is often considered the poor relation - attempt to reach at least some of those parts, the sum of which makes us who we are.

There can be no perfect interpretation of mind-body-spirit, but we can at least try to lose as little as possible in translation, and allow for human error ...

LOST  IN TRANSLATION

When people ask where I came from;

I answer, my mother’s womb,

so why am I so haunted by a sense
of having been somewhere else,

distant, unknown, as if I’d crossed
mythical territories of time and space
just to find my way here?

When others ask if I have a ‘real’ goal
in life, I confess I’m never sure

which doors are left ajar just for me

to take a peep (our choice, enter

or not) and may let a still, small voice
out of time and space persuade me to try
the safer (better?) path

Sometimes I am even accused of sitting

on some metaphorical fence

rather than explore secret passages

of the mind, and the doors open
to tease me, dare me enter, have a go
at translating the ages-old hieroglyphics
lining Mother’s womb

Yes, I have a ‘real’ enough goal in life

if prompted by a poet’s feeling
for wrestling with the hieroglyphics

between womb and tomb,

writing up an alternative autobiography
of my life and death than trust local graffiti
on doors kicked shut

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Overheard in a Cafe (A Sign of the Times?)

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

This poem reflects just what its title suggests, a conversation overheard in a café. I have included it in my new collection. I came away from that cafe feeling more than a little relieved that I am not alone in finding the various world religions divisive.

Societies force-feed us religion from childhood. It is reassuring to know that some people manage to take the better (kinder, more compassionate?) elements of religion while sidelining the rest, breaking away from the dogma while retaining its spirituality in the way they take other people as they find them...without rushing to judgment as so many religious-minded folks are inclined. It is not religion that is at fault, but many of those who preach it, selecting to home in on whatever suits their own agenda; an agenda that may well have far less to do with religion than its founders intended.

Let's be clear here. I am not knocking religion, only those who use it to their own advantage, frequently feeding a desire for influence and power that is contrary to all the principles upon which faith and religion are meant to turn.

It is to their credit that a good many followers of this or that religion are by no means as gullible as their self-styled leaders appear to believe, proving that religion does not have to be as divisive as their so-called 'betters' paradoxically insist.

As for me, regular readers will know only too well that I take my spirituality from nature.

(Image taken from the Internet)

  

OVERHEARD IN A CAFÉ (A SIGN OF THE TIMES?)

What would we do without religion,

where would we be?

For a start, we’d have a kinder world,

less bigotry

What would we do without religion

telling us what to say?

For a start, commonsense might just

win the day

What would we do without religion

putting us in our place?

For a start, love and peace, not about

saving face

What would we do without religion,

no God to blame?

For a start, a common humanity living

up to its name

Where would we be without religion

separating us out,

Holy Books vying with each other to

put us right?

Where would we be without religion

promising salvation

for all the guilt, despair and grief

it feeds upon?

Where would we be without religion,

what would we have done?

For a start, arguing over some other

rhetorical question

Yes, waiter, more tea and cakes please

and…any answers?

[From: On The Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]