One of Us

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

An English teacher at my secondary school, way back in the 1950's, once commented that ‘It is not the size of a tree but its perfect beauty that makes us feel small and aware of our imperfections, as nature intended.’ I remember that comment some 50+ years on while I have forgotten most if not all the curriculum he ever taught.

Deforestation and the removal of trees for property development worldwide is a sacrilege against nature, but not untypical of human shortsightedness, its being a hugely significant factor in saving us from climate change ...  and ourselves?  A rowing world population mean more affordable housing and this, in turn, requires the land on which to build them. Even so, we must never forget that we need trees for our protection and our mental health in the sense that they are inspiring features of any landscape; their natural beauty can help us stay on top of everyday life at times when we can barely summon the strength and willpower to get through it. 

Regular readers will know that I suffered a bad nervous breakdown way back in the 1970's; it was walking among trees in a local park that played a significant part in my recovery. Since then, I have feared a relapse and sought inspiration from various aspects of nature every single day, simply as a human being who also happens to be a poet.; it has worked, and I cope with stress better than I have ever done.

“All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost.”
- J. R. R. Tolkien (Lord of the Rings)

'When the axe came into the forest, the trees said “The handle is one of us.' Turkish proverb.

Yes, oh, yes, the human mind-body-spirit need our trees ... and not just for axe handles.

ONE OF US or BURY THE LEAVES, SAVE THE TREES 

Splendid tree, shades

of green caught up in combat

with a rising insurgency;

patched-up leaves, shades

of red under relentless attack

from native forces

Branches, groaning

for knowing limitations placed

on input and outcome;

canny leaves, anticipating 

Big Combo, taking advantage

of cloud cover

Falling leaves, piling

at the feet of a parent tree

left to watch and weep;

dying leaves, with more

to offer than a half blind Earth

living with heart failure

Dead leaves, poultices

for wounds News editors

will use for headlines;

splendid tree, hopes pinned

on its surgeon, anticipating spring,

and home birds returning

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of today’s poem under the title 'Bury the Leaves, Save the Trees' was first  published in Poetry Rivals: A New Dawn Breaks, Forward Press, 2010 an subsequently in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.] 

A Job Half Done OR Planet of the Apes

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

Have you ever began working on something you don’t really believe in, but felt you had no choice... so  puting any finishing touches to the task in hand was never really on the cards?  You may well have fought against it, given that many if not most of us are inclined to do whatever for a quiet life especially if it means being nagged to get on with it. Yet, at the end of the day, it is not certain people who persist in nagging at us but the lack of those very finishing touches itself; it leaves us feeling not only dissatisfied with our work, but also questioning our resistance to properly completing the job in the first place...so much so sometimes that we find ourselves, if not coming round to that to same point of view with which we found ourselves at loggerheads, at least able to enter into it, grasp something of where it was coming from - to the extent, more often than not, that we cannot leave the job unfinished if only because our hearts tell us it's the right thing to do, even if we are never quite sure why.

Oh, we may choose to put it all down to pride in a job well done, but at heart we may well suspect it is more than that; whether or not we choose to look any further, though, that is down to a sense of conscience we may or may not prefer to own; it is in the latter wherein lies a job but half done, and likely to nag us for the best part of a lifetime...although if it means we never stop asking questions - of ourselves and humanity in general - it may not be such a bad thing after all...

‘What an ugly beast the ape, and how like us.’ – Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC)

A JOB HALF DONE or PLANET OF THE APES

Builder, pondering

a job half done, frowning

under a baseball cap...

(So , what he’s looking at?)

Eco-warriors, armed

with principles in defence 
of treasured open spaces
being eroded by developers
reaping the rewards
of feeding bricks and mortar
to human apes homing in

on concrete jungles, parodies
of natural worlds

Builder, pondering

a job half done, distant grin

under a baseball cap…

(So what's he’s looking at?)

Not scaffolding  

for brand new offices meant

to keep fat cats happy

once staff won over to the view

that a bird in the hand

is worth two in any hedgerow,

and he should know

with a wife, three kids, behind

with the mortgage

Builder at work

on a job half done, furrows

under a baseball cap…

(Now what’s he looking at?)

Towers, like trees, in skies

where birds fly like toy airplanes
and drop like skydivers

on the backs of eco-warriors

guarding nature’s own

from fat cats on the make

that don’t care, can walk away.

a job well done. time to move on 
to the next land grab

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2014

[Note: revised (2014) from an earlier version that appears under the title A Job Half Done in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Earmarked for Development

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

Several readers have asked when I intend to record more of my poems for You Tube. Well, soon I hope. However, Graham, my close friend and cameraman works full-time so is not often available and I have been unable to get anyone else interested.

For those of you who may be interested but haven’t yet seen and heard my capers on You Tube,

try: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber  or keyword ‘Roger Taber You Tube’

We only do it for fun (and that includes heading straight for the nearest pub afterwards) but hopefully people will enjoy our efforts. I will be posting more on You Tube throughout the year, weather and cameraman availability permitting.

Meanwhile...

The world's growing population requires that we provide for its housing and other needs. We should not forget, though, that nature provides not only for its own protection but ours too. Our taking from nature without giving back is already making itself menacingly felt in various ways, and will likely haunt future generations with even greater menace. Deforestation especially, leaves us all exposed to climate change,

EARMARKED FOR DEVELOPMENT 

Archived, children at play

where once were trees and grass;

echoes of sunny laughter
but splinters of broken glass

Carefree voices, last heard
drifting away like autumn leaves;
carbuncles springing up
where Earth Mother grieves

Manna for the developers,

demand ever outstripping supply;

grass all concreted over,
(a time to live, a time to die?)

Nobody left likely to recall
how things were once-upon-a-tree
come nature, fairy tale...
Carbuncles, the new poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Weeping Ozone, Sleepwalking World

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

[Update July 29th 2019: The world s beginning to wake up to the threat of climate change. Better late than never, although some pf its major players (like US President Donald Trump, to name just one continue to insist it is fake news. Let's all hope it is not too late for future generations.] RT

It is GOOD that (at last!) the world is starting to take climate change seriously, and accepting some responsibility for it. Even so, I can’t help thinking it is too little too late…especially as humankind is, on the whole, inclined to put its immediate needs first; immediate, but often (well) above and beyond the basics. Food, shelter and affordable housing are constantly put at risk by corporate greed funded by the wealthy intent upon getting wealthier and supported by the kind of back-door politics at which so many politicians excel.

There are, of course, a lot of good people out there if outnumbered by the bad. (The expression, 'the smile on the face of a tiger' springs to mind…)

It will be down to future generations to make the best (or worst, as the case may be) of the mess we have made and  continue to make of our planet with whatever resources available and, hopefully, a generous dose of sound common sense.

Whatever happened to priorities? It is bad enough that many people continue to bury their heads in the sand and pretend global warming is a fiction. How a significant number of those same people can continue to rage against gay relationships, for example, while playing down if not ignoring what has to be one of the greatest threats to the human race we will ever face is beyond my comprehension.

WEEPING OZONE, SLEEPWALKING WORLD

Terror in the sky, likely to bring
about the destruction of our planet;
rivers run dry, poisoned plants,
beasts of the wild starved of a will
to live, birds of the air unable
to take wing, too weak to sing even;
fishes in the sea, last to survive
nature’s very own Armageddon,
no end of tears in the ozone

Fear enough to melt glaciers,
seed mountains, valleys, urban oases
of wishful thinking among
fortune hunters quick to seize the day,
make a killing for profit (or kicks)
in human as well as animal trade-offs,
heart sleeves of the best cloth,
faux promises dead in the water,
potential eulogy for humanity

Panic in forests stripped of trees
meant to protect us in mean streets,
 androids forced to their knees
by silicon gods competing to be first
to clone eternity, any semblance
of morality but a vainglorious sterility
glossing over forsworn obligations
to generations left rummaging nature
for crumbs of survival

To the earth, a relentless rush of pain
its peoples shrug off as acid rain

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 under the title 'Under Threat'; rev title 2018.]

A Mythology of Leaves

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

Regular readers will know I have a passion for nature; its trees, history, and mythology...

A MYTHOLOGY OF LEAVES

As the wind rustles leaves across earth and sky

and the moon feels its way among clouds,

hear voices of old gods telling loud and strong

of a time when they sat, oh, so proudly,

on the crest of Olympus considering the ways

of Earth’s children, found us wanting

It is Earth Mother who replies, loud and strong,

reminding them where they went wrong,

trying to manipulate humankind at their whim

like pieces on a chessboard instead

of allowing for its foibles and letting its peoples

win or lose their own battles

To the tawny owl, she calls, as it hunts its prey

and to the rabbit, trying to run away…

To the rough sleeper on the streets of a city

where few will act upon their pity

but watch and wait, playing the blame game

(old gods, in all but name)

As the wind rustles leaves across earth and sky

and the moon feels its way to dawn,

hear voices of old gods calling loud and strong

on a time long, long, gone…

while Earth Mother can but consider the ways

of a new generation, find us wanting

Come day, hear Earth Mother confide in Apollo

how humanity’s poetry rings, oh, so hollow

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

Requiem For A Skylark/ Nature Trail (Two short poems)

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

Enjoying nature has to be one of life’s greatest pleasures. Here in the UK, as elsewhere in the world, it is down to each and every one of us to save as many of its green and pleasant places and wildlife habitats as possible for future generations...or they will not easily forgive us, if ever.

REQUIEM FOR A SKYLARK

On tuneful wing, our seasons

scanning, circles and dips

anxiously a covenant

with Earth's poetry, where

once a nesting tree

grew tall

Now, a shopping

mall

 NATURE TRAIL

Follow leafy trails

into red and orange,

silver, green;

let the dew of life

wash clean our

dirty hands;

be still, antic winds

till nothing's heard

but an egg-bird;

a tear in the eye,

all our yesterdays

on standby

[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Poor Sparrow

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

While this overcrowded island of ours badly needs more (affordable) housing, we must protect what remains of our green and pleasant land. So many birds are losing their natural habitats. This is not only bad news for the, but bad news for us too.

Let’s all speak up to save our trees and woodlands, and make sure there are always green fields nearby for everyone to enjoy, especially our children, and wildlife too… 

POOR SPARROW

Once a village, quickly became a town;

green fields now a housing estate

where we lowered poor sparrow down

In lanes we’d watch the harvest sown,

now highways, commuters running late;

once a village, quickly became a town

Of daisies a tree nymph’s spring gown

within creak, squeak, of a trellis gate

where we lowered poor sparrow down

More peace and quiet than ever known,

though small politics its fishwives berate;

once a village, quickly became a town

Office blocks where kites once flown,

nature’s finest gone for cheapskate

where we lowered poor sparrow down

Long years past, we children grown,

memories like sunlight on wet roof slate;

once a village, quickly became a town

where we lowered poor sparrow down

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

The Last Donkey Ride

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

Nature may be fickle, but so is human nature; the chances are whoever takes the last donkey ride will look around and see a coastline that’s nowhere near as sound or green as we see now or may have done centuries ago; even the sea is losing its wildlife to a polluted modernity. 

Humankind may we rail against nature where it wreaks havoc and tragedy, the greater irony being that, in our desperation to harness and make it serve our own ends, there is really little to choose between the two.

Most if not all we human beings are vain enough to think we deserve priority over the natural world. Could it be, though, that Earth Mother has other ideas?

THE LAST DONKEY RIDE

Time and again you have passed me by,

turned a cloth ear to cries from a heart

begging its release or at least some relief

from such pain as only they know
who roam  the shores of life asking Why?"

In spite of those willing to lend a hand

where the need is greatest, you  deny

ignore, the rhetoric of discretion being

much the better part of valour

So weary am I of being taken for a ride,

on wings of a prayer or bored donkeys

at the seaside reassuring children

how sand shells tell tales of a golden age

not yet spent … where the sea is as safe

as the sky is blue, grass is green and corn

grows high, hopes for world peace
alive and well if but sailing on driftwood 

among time’s uneasy swell

How long can it last, me doing my best

for kith and kin, you abandoning us

to empty words, promises of better days,

world left railing against humankind’s

inhumanity, sure to get the better of me

without even a native dignity to cover

my blushes as they strip me bare, caring

little more in their naivety for my decline

than our mutual salvation?

Hear me, your Earth Mother in distress,

ye who engineer the Politics of Progress 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

This collection is still in print, but only on sale in the UK.  All readers, including any outside the UK, can obtain (signed) copies direct from me at a generous blogger discount on [retail price + shipping]. Enquiries to: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Poetry collection’ or ‘Blog reader’ in the subject field.

My Hero Is A Tree

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

[Update 5/1/17: All my poetry collections are out of print and it is unlikely there will be any print (revised) editions; they sold well (for poetry) but I had to self-publish them because no poetry publishers were willing to combine general and gay-interest poetry. I am in the process of preparing revised editions in e-format for Google Play but this is likely to take some time as I am in my 70's now and am kept busy overcoming various health problems.]RT

[Update April 2016: I read this poem over a video shot by my friend Graham Collett for my You Tube channel some time ago: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fvoS6PLKqSA   Some readers have said the previous link does not work so I have copied and reinstated it; if it still does not work, go to my channel and search under title. As feedback suggests some of you cannot always access YouTube for one reason or another, I have also posted the video below.]

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog before, I included it among some 100+ others in my new collection, divided into seven themed sections for easy reading. Let’s face it. No one sits down and reads a poetry book so I have made it easy for readers to (hopefully) makes the most of all my collections; he or she can dip into one section of about 20-25 poems now and then before dipping into another at his or her leisure. 

 I hope to be around for a few more years yet. Even so, I am always aware that when my time is up, the blogs will vanish into cyberspace and all that will remain of my poems (and me) will be in my collections. The sum total of my collections is  a diary of journeys short and long, delightful and grim, that comprise my life. Anyone who cares to read them may or may not discern which poems have their roots in autobiography and which do not, but even imagination has to be nurtured by a creative mind, and the mind of poet has to be worth exploring. Well, doesn’t it...?

.

Now, regular readers will know how much I love trees. I am fortunate to live near Hampstead Heath and have written several poems about it that express, if only in part, the immense satisfaction I take from strolling among its grassy slopes and ponds, but especially admiring its splendid trees of all varieties. Needless to say, I am a passionate about Green issues.

My HERO IS A TREE

(for Val Berry)

Leaves on my hero are budding,

the music of spring as sweet as ever heard;

swallows returning bring life

to field and valley, filling the lonely heart

with thoughts of love;

Leaves on my hero are singing

songs of summer as feisty as passion;

young folks laughing bring life

to field and valley, filling hearts growing old

with memories of love;

Leaves on my hero are turning

read and gold in the company of dreams,

swallows departing, sure to return

to field and valley while hearts young and old

fly the colours of love;

Leaves on my hero are drifting

across time and space, world without end;

tears of pain, joy and hope

flying field and valley like bright-eyed children

running with kites;

Leaves on my hero are budding;

the music of spring as sweet as ever heard;

swallows returning bring life 

to field and valley, as well as new takes on old tales

we tell on love;

Leaves on my hero are singing

songs of summer as feisty as passion;

young folks laughing bring life

to field and valley, teasing hearts growing old

for knowing nothing of love;

Leaves on my hero are turning

red and gold in the company of dreams;

swallows departing, sure to return

to field and valley while hearts young and old,

fly the colours of love;

Leaves on my hero are drifting

time and space, world without end;

tears of pain, joy and hope

flying field and valley, the children we were,

running with kites

Copyright R. N. Taber,  2012, 2021

(Note: this poem has been only slightly revised since it first appeared in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012 and also read it on my YouTube channel.) RNT

Beating Up The Planet

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

I suspect historians may well look back at the early 21st century and portray us as a bunch of sadomasochists!

Who could blame them, eh?

At least we have now our first Green Party MP here in the UK so maybe there's hope for us all yet and people will stop thinking that voting Green is a wasted vote. Let's face it. The G8/20 leaders aren't going to do much for us...for all their huffing and puffing.

BEATING UP THE PLANET

Running a gamut of earthquakes,
beating the flames

Sheltering in Iraq from bullets
beating down

Watching children of a lesser god
beating up butterflies

Letting our leaders get away with
beating drums

Standing for democracy’s bouncers
beating up flowers

Paying a price for politic players
beating the odds

Treating poverty’s weeping wounds,
(beating its hunger?)

Singing praises to a Greater Power,
(beating terror?)

Preparing to swim with polar bears,
beating ourselves up

[From: Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]