The Confidante

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

I should like to say a big thank you to those readers who email me now and then to ask how I am coping with my prostate cancer. Generally speaking, I feel fine although I get very tired some days, not that winter is a particularly inspiring month anyway.

Now, being philosophical about my prostate cancer is one thing, but I have to confess to moments of panic and low spiritedness. That’s when I turn to spending time with friends…

Looking back on my life (very selectively) I can recover peace of mind whenever I want. Writing helps. Oh, there are plenty of bad memories too, but that’s where the art of careful selection comes in. I guess it’s the same for everyone. Difficult times can make us vulnerable, edgy, and even scared. So what better course of action than to create another good memory to add to those we already have? Hey, presto! Suddenly, it is easier to stay calm, reach a more positive perspective on life, reap the finer rewards only peace of mind can bring.

It may not last long, peace of mind, but there is always recourse to the same archive of happy memories to restore it again and again for as long as it takes. Yes, probably a lifetime. Oh, and we should never forget that life is not about pleasing other people all the time, trying to be being a good friend and confidante; we need to make time for ourselves too.

We should all remember, too, that there is no shame in asking for support, physical and/or mental. Sadly some of us, especially men, seem to feel that it is an expression of weakness; on the contrary, realising that we cannot cope on our own and seeking help, even it its just means confiding our fears in someone, is an expression of inner strength, not to mention common sense. As well as or in the absence of anyone close, there are also support networks available where professional counselling can help; no need even to ask, just go on the the Internet. (Help - and computers - often available at your local public library.)

This poem is a kenning.

THE CONFIDANTE

I wait

in the wings, ever willing,

never failing to relieve

a fellow player stumbling

into everyday dramas,

comedies, darker scenarios

and Mummers' Plays

reaching out to an audience

up for empathy

I help clarify

those arguments between

mind and spirit

ever turning over choices

of words, trying

to keep to a script of sorts

reworked more times

than memory dares mull over

its mistakes

I lead

from the heart where heads

make ever-increasing

circles, a fragile conscience

debating intention,

direction, and motivation

without coming to a conclusion

most likely to earn a standing

ovation

Rely on me, a friend of the kind

arguing for Peace of Mind

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Confessions of a Con Artist

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

Here’s a cautionary tale today, inspired by my late mother’s capacity for dreaming that enhanced rather than detracted from an earthy wisdom.

Everyone loves to dream. Ah, but beware of substituting dreams for reality; that way, heartache looms unless you can stay awake.

Not everyone who shares your life will share your dreams; don’t shut them out.

Dream on...but in trying for more and better we should take care not to undervalue what we have.

This poem is a kenning.

CONFESSIONS OF A CON ARTIST

At the breakfast table,
we’ll always chat over the cereal
and you’ll ask me
how you look today, what to say
when colleagues
at the office ask about us,
let anxious hands
spoil your hair and put it to me
that I don’t really care

What can I say? You know
as well as I do how office politics
turns on speculation,
feeding on a morbid imagination
that would sacrifice
a best friend to a conflagration
of malice dressed up
to the nines in whatever fashion
creates the best impression

At the supper table,
you always tell me about your day
and suggest we get away
from all this, suggest an early night
and kisses on your pillow
so I can start to show how I feel,
and let’s be carried away
on a rising tide of shelf clock ticks,
spoils of simulated sex

Call me, Dream Maker, if you will;
better still, make your own, get real

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009