Smiling Through

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

“There is a crack in everything, that's how the light gets in.” - Leonard Cohen

“ What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity.”- George Eliot

“You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Now, as regular readers will know, I have been treated with hormone therapy for my prostate cancer over a period of a good ten years now; one of the side-effects can be - as it is so for me - regular depression and/or a rising sense of panic whenever even small things go wrong. 

I suspect it may seem worse for older people like myself who live alone, which is maybe why we appreciate acts of kindness so much, as it helps (considerably) to alleviate these symptoms; someone able to pare just a few minutes to talk to you and help calm you down can make all the difference.

Since the pandemic, everyone has been under stress. Here in London, acts of kindness are noticeably in far shorter supply than they were previously. For example, fewer people are willing to pause to help ole Rog when clearly in difficulty or offer a seat on a crowded bus or train, so I have to stand, leaning on my walking stick for support. 

 Whenever anyone does offer me their seat, I thank them, throw them a huge smile, and the light in their eyes suggests it is as much welcome to them as their offer of a seat is to me.

As in many old sayings, there is much truth in the one about kindness bringing its own reward. 

Hopefully, we have seen the worst of Covid-19 and its variants, although there remain hard times ahead as the financial crisis finds so many people struggling to make ends meet.

All any of us can do is keep looking on the brighter, lighter side of life and take comfort in the knowledge that there is always light at the end of even the longest tunnel.

No, never easy, but... we have a choice?

SMILING THROUGH

This heart grew heavy,
loaded down with sadness, a sense
of feeling adrift,
barely keeping afloat for sailing
stormy waters,
struggling to make sense of a life
searching heart-and soul
for that familiar surge of a lively inspiration,
now gone quiet, all but a vacuum

Mind-body-spirit
struggling to rise above such despair
as strikes fear
in the hearts of those of us anxious
to make sense
of a You-Me-Us simply drifting along
having all but lost sight
of who we are any more, not as once we were,
birds of a feather, so happy together

Lately, even the smiles 
on our faces tell lies, trying to disguise
a You-Me-Us fallen apart
over tard times without our noticing,
taking us for granted,
failing to see how we rarely any more
as once we would
fondly reminisce about how we met, fell in love,
caught up in the magic of stars above

So… it came to pass,
we agreed a trial separation some time
to think us through,
search the remains of who we once were,
try  and see our way clear
to bring You-Me-Us together again, fill 
the Black Hole
we'd dug ourselves, a lonely, grieving while apart,.
anxious to reconcile mind-body-spirit

Yes, we courted anew, years falling away, tears too,
a shared heart-and-soul smiling through...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Dead Keen OR Recovery Position

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

Many if not most of us  have been there at some time or another. Now we’re dead keen to get on with whatever life has in store for us, now we feel it’s all a waste of time... so why bother?

Regular readers will know that I have suffered from depression most of my life. Now and then, readers email me to ask how I deal with it. No easy answer to that as I am not even sure myself. Yes, I do my best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset, but I still find myself confronting The Abyss from time and life forces out of nowhere invariably come to my rescue; how or precisely why, I have no idea, they just do...

Today’s poem attempts to convey the sense of being rescued that has helped me through really bad times; the nights are always the worst, but even now, having to deal with the prostate cancer and other health issues, my friendly shadows see me though even having to get up so many times to pee... and see that I go back to sleep sooner rather than later.

As a child, I used to suffer with earache badly, especially at night. My mother would often recite poems she knew by heart to lull me to sleep. I like to think my friendly shadows are the extensions of those same poems, come to haunt me in the nicest possible way.

Well, that’s a poet for you, fanciful to the nth degree...

DEAD KEEN or RECOVERY POSITION

Sometimes, I feel shadows
on my bedroom wall, closing in on me,
but never menacingly,
as if they know instinctively
I’m in a bad place,
needing to be comforted feel reassured
that it cannot last long (surely?),
an awful, chilling loneliness, descending on me
like a shroud in a mortuary

I start to shiver and shake,
the shroud all but poised to cover my all,
make a cadaver of me...
until the shadows force an entry
into the tiny space
still letting me breathe, admonishing me
for having the gall
to surrender a mind-body-spirit well able to resist
any sense of abyss to the last

Yet, there I sway at the edge
of an abyss, and dare I say I am tempted
to let myself fall,
but for shadows having none of it,
urging without voices,
reciting poems that have a familiar ring,
playing feisty music,
no seductive harp, but pulses of sound to dance to
the whole night through...

Merging into one, the shadows
tear at the shroud as enthusiastically
as I sit up and propel
myself to the floor, a new lease of life
recharging me
as never quite before when they have always
come to my rescue,
these dream shadows, kin to the lively mind-body-spirit
of a depressive poet

Come morning, throwing off the duvet, ready to take on
the world again, dead keen

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: Everyone has their own ways of getting to sleep, of course, but counting sheep has never worked for me. A friend, long since passed away, used to imagine his pet tortoises racing each other. He'd often relate how they were so slow that he could always guarantee he'd  nod off to sleep from sheer boredom.... 😀] RT

 

De Profundis or Mind-Body-Spirit, On the Mend

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

“Everybody’s journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. The fact that many Americans consider it a disease says more about them than it does about homosexuality.” – James Baldwin

May 2010 saw the resignation of David Laws from the coalition government; it was very sad, for him personally and the country. The latter was told that he broke the rules regarding MP’s expenses in order to protect his privacy. Apparently, he had claimed rent for an apartment owned by a man with whom he had been in a relationship since 2001. He had not declared the relationship.

Now, I have suffered from depression all my life and poetry has been literally, a life-saver, as was the case when I came to write a first draft of today’s poem in 1983; I was feeling suicidal at the time.

The title -meaning ‘Out of the Depths’ is taken from a love letter written by Oscar Wilde while serving time in Reading Gaol.

I wasn’t in despair about being gay, having come to terms with that some years earlier, but I was feeling acutely disappointed in myself and my inability to get my life on an even keel. Eventually, I would do just that, and writing this poem helped considerably, but it would take a few more years yet and a troubled ocean to cross... in more ways than one...to Australia. Regular readers will know the tale so I won’t repeat it here. Suffice to say, I managed to rise above the worst and get my life in better shape.

While shopping yesterday, I overheard a group of people discussing how ‘scary’ the pandemic, and how they feel close to despair of life ever returning to the way it used to be before Covid-19 and its variants struck. I suspect thee are many such folks out there, among blog readers too, who feel much the same way. I (know I do, at times.)

My hope is that the poem may yet help you, as it did me, to rise above our fears and rediscover the Poetry of Love, Friendship and Motivation...

Yes, Oscar Wilde was gay, and anyone can find themselves in despair, for whatever reason, any time, any place, anywhere... so, can deny it or dare judge anyone else for being so driven, whatever his or her sexuality?

DE PROFUNDIS or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ON THE MEND

I lay floating an ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown,
while dolphins kept me company
and Apollo lingered on

Sharks, they kept a hungry distance,
an albatross winged by,
while waves lent a gentle cadence
to twilight’s lullaby

Went into freefall to the ocean floor,
and would have stayed,
but Apollo demanded of me more,
while the dolphins cried...

I let them have their way, if reluctantly,
screaming out for motivation,
searching the finest Poetry of Mortality
for the Threshold of Reason

No inner voice answered me, although
I strained to hear,
then twilight let a cloud pass through
and I found a poem there

Body of straw in that ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown,
I read an ode to life, love and a history
of peace, after wars hard won

It told, how few things in life come easy,
including death...
Such is the fickle nature of humanity
and ways of Godmother, Earth

I felt a poet’s passion take hold of me,
heard its voice in a seagull’s cry,
swimming me across an ocean of misery
to walk kinder shores, head high

I woke in tears still drenching my pillow,
began (slowly) to recover;
at chinks in the blinds, winks from Apollo,
reassuring me the worst was over

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2010; rev.2022

[Note: The poem’s title means Out of the Depths. An earlier version of the poem itself appears as the Dedication poem (to Oscar Wilde) in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012; it has been only slightly but significantly, revised.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Another Open Letter to Readers

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

Hi Everyone, from here in London UK,

Sorry, no poem today, but am working on one...

Several readers have kindly emailed to ask how I am, as I am getting on a bit now and having to deal with various health problems, although not Covid-19, so I count my blessings.

My inner self is fine most of the time, I am happy to say; the pandemic leaves me very dispirited from time to time, especially when my bad leg &/or prostate cancer are playing up at the same time. By way of creative therapy, writing up the blog and making contact with readers around the world is not only a welcome distraction from my own problems, but hugely comforting too. So, many thanks to you all again, just for being there and taking the trouble read my poems.

Some days, of course, are worse than others, but I decided a long time ago that I would take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er)side of life. Years go, I did not expect to be having to deal with growing old on my own. As it turned out, I live alone, but have some good friends who keep me on my toes; hopefully, the feeling is reciprocal.

None of us can tell the future, though (probably just as well) so we have little or no choice but to deal with the ups and downs of life as they (invariably) happen or let them toss us into a quagmire of self-pity and despair.

Oh, yes, I  am familiar with that quagmire, been stuck in it many times over the years, but not for a long time, so... fingers crossed. I get fed-up, of course, don't we all? After a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, though, I have done my best to give it a wide berth.  Never easy, but well worth the struggle, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you. None of us should ever hesitate to ask for help, either; help is on hand in family friends, professional counsellors... all can help, but none are mind readers and I suspect there will always be times in life when we need to swallow any misplaced pride and learn how to get a life again...

For many people, everyday life becomes harder to contend with once retired, especially if - for whatever reason - they are unable to enjoy retirement as they had hoped and planned. An elderly friend - long since passed away - once warned me about retirement. "When you retire, be sure to replace your job, especially if it is one that has given you much pleasure and satisfaction, with something that gives you much the same level of pleasure and satisfaction," adding wryly, "We all need a purpose in life. When you retire, it's a case of sink or swim." Having been retired for nearly 15 years now, I am often reminded of those words, hearing his voice speak them in my head whenever I feel myself in danger of sinking into the quagmire...

Easier said than done, of course, but what isn't in the struggle to make the best of circumstances we would have preferred to avoid...?

Oh, and my late friend also told me to be sure and practice what I preach, so I do my best. 😉

Take good care of yourselves, dear readers, play safe, keep well as we can but try to nurture a positive thinking mindset, whatever life throws at us,

Lotta digital hugs, many thanks for dropping by and join me again anytime,

Roger

Keeping Tabs

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

The subject of today’s poem will be no stranger to many if not most people, whoever and wherever they may be in the world...pandemic or no pandemic.

KEEPING TABS 

Adept at finding ways
of taking advantage of humankind,
especially at such times
as may find it weak and least able
to keep from visiting
dark places, struggle though it may
against my resolve to attack
any life forces likely to offer resistance,
sure to be watching its back 

Be sure, I will infiltrate
such defences as no mind-body-spirit
can resist, a foxy cunning
as innate to me as a desire to best
any who would deny me
an opportunity to prove my worth,
take a random soul
to a Black Hole at the edge of its universe,
see it suffer, watch it fall 

I creep up on my targets
with such stealth that none are aware
that I am near, closing in,
posed for the kill, despite the pull
of other life forces
encouraging it to out its devils,
no more clutching at straws,
get the better of me, inspire self-awareness
to rise above its worst fears 

I am Stress, keeping tabs on Man and Beast,
with a view to putting us all to the test

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

Hello again Everyone, from London UK

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

Hello again from London UK.

A reader, P R writes to say that “I am a strong-minded person, but am struggling with depression even though I have tried to stay upbeat throughout the pandemic. What the hell is happening to me...? I am ashamed to say I feel nervous, even scared much of the time, and it’s not the kind of person I am or want to be..."

Firstly, I am not doctor, so I urge this reader to make an appointment to see their GP and ask his or her advice asap.

Secondly, there are many men, woman and young people in much the same position, having to deal with such feelings as they may well never have encountered before with such intensity.

Never estimate the power of stress over mind-body-spirit; if left to fester, it can be crippling. likely to leave even the strongest and most upbeat among us feeling like putty in the hands of invisible forces bent on doing us harm. It’s called depression, and there is no shame in falling into the various, nasty emotional traps it has set humankind since its earliest beginnings.

Rarely has the modern world seen such devastating effects on its population as Covid-19 and its variants. Parents, whether trying to keep their children distracted from the full force of lockdowns or helping them with schooling and/or preparing for examinations that have taken a whole new shape during the pandemic, many schools and colleges forced to close.

Children and young people have been stressed out, unable to see their friends, deprived through no fault of their own of a social life and all the trimmings that we associate with being young, eager to explore and enjoy all the pleasures they would normally expect to be on offer.

Yes, Covid restrictions are being lifted for most age-groups here in the UK, especially those people who have had both Covid vaccinations, BUT the coronavirus hasn’t gone away and it remains a threat to many if not most of us; there is no room for complacency while cases continue to rise in certain places and communities. Yes, variants are said to be less serious than the original virus, but serious enough to hospitalise a significant number of people, if not to the extent we have seen worldwide at its various speaks.

Societies and communities worldwide have a collective responsibility to do their best to keep the pandemic on the run rather than encourage a repeat performance. Most people agree, yet there are still a significance number who refuse to wear a mask in busy areas or shops, on public transport etc. simply because it is “advisable” but no longer a legal obligation. Yes, some people are exempt from wearing a mask for medical reasons, but there are plenty who - from the start - have refused to wear a mask for no other reason than personal preference. I ask you, how selfish can some people, be?

Wearing a mask might not prevent a person from catching Covid-19, but it can – and still does – help prevent the spread of it.

I am not unsympathetic to reader P R, believe me. I share much the same feelings a lot of the time, but struggle to rise above them as best I can; an anti-depressant helps as does writing poetry; the latter not only distracts me, but sends my thought processes along far better routes than they might otherwise have been persuaded to take.

As I have said before on the blog, anyone for whom any form of creative therapy appeals to mind-body-spirit, especially if they find themselves struggling (for whatever reason) they would be well-advised to give it a go...

That’s all for now, folks and apologies if I seem to be repeating myself a lot these days. I’ll be back with a new poem soon.

Take care and let’s focus on nurturing a positive-thinking mindset... whatever everyday life throws at us, yeah? Yeah!

(Digital) Hugs,

Roger

Beautiful Dreamer

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

When we are young, many if not most of us like to think we are invincible, the world our oyster and every beautiful dream worth chasing. It may well be that we are able to make some dreams come true while others will invariably fall short of the mark. 

An elderly friend once commented along the lines that what he hated most about growing old was that dreaming becomes redundant. “Dreams are about the future,” he insisted, “What future is there for ordinary folks like me who have neither the money nor energy to pursue impossible dreams?” It was meant as a rhetorical question, but one I could not resist answering. 

As I see it, young people making their way in life have no more monopoly on beautiful dreams than religion has on spirituality. As we grow old, our mind-body-spirit is as likely to tune into our past-present-future just as it has always done- if we but let it. 

Aged 75 and living alone, I cannot pretend that old age is as I imagined it years ago, and I don’t see much of a future for myself. Yet, recalling the better, kinder aspects of my past and present along with those with whom I shared them, continues to fill what otherwise would be long, lonely days... nights, too. 

As I have said many times on the blog, love takes all shapes and forms; friends, places, and favourite pastimes as well as lovers. Old age may place limitations on any or all of these by way of various medical, issues, physical or psychological reasons, but they are part of who we are and that may well change outwardly, but not inwardly. 

The inner self is never too old to dream; if it cannot look forwards, it can always look back, and I defy anyone to say they have none of the better, kinder, things in life to look back on, not with regret for their having passed, but with thanks for their having come our way. 

Such is life; such, too, is the stuff of sweet dreams. So, you ask, what about nightmares? Well, many of us have those, awake and asleep; I guess the trick is letting the light of a sandman’s lantern save us from being overwhelmed by the shadows it throws. 

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER 

I am the glow
that lights up any dark
encroaching
on the mind-body-spirit
that’s edging
too close for comfort
to an abyss,
watching over us though we 
embrace or deny it 

I am close kin
to the star we wish upon
as darkness
threatens to leave us feeling
abandoned, scared,
just as we were whenever
we felt much like
ill-chosen pieces of a jigsaw in
an impossible dream 

I inspire the hopes
of things to come when life
is as likely
to fail us as we may well fail
even ourselves
and each other now and then,
by chasing rainbows, 
only to kickstart yet more storms
in tea cups or wherever 

I, am Love, as eternal a companion
as ever lit a Sandman’s lantern 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

Insomniac

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

As I have said before on the blog, prostate cancer has a mind of its own; sometimes it lets me off lightly with my only having to get up a few times during the night to have a pee. Some nights, though, it will have me up every hour on the hour, clearly determined to get the better of mind-body-spirit’s reluctance to cave in. Last night was one of the latter. Eventually, I gave up trying to sleep and began working on this poem which, ironically, saw me fall asleep for a good five hours although it was already 4 am. 

I suspect it isn’t just the prostate cancer unwilling to let me relax sufficiently to get a decent spell of sleep. The stress of coronavirus restrictions during lockdowns refuses to (quite) go away, despite its implications and consequences for everyone then substantially easing as safety restrictions are gradually relaxed and the vaccination program gathers momentum. We are assured the worst is over and we can relax here in the UK...but is it, and can we? We can but nurture a positive thinking mindset...and keep our fingers crossed. 😉

This mind-body-spirit, for one, plainly continues to nurse such concerns as likely to keep sleep at bay for a good while yet… unless it can keep finding ways to let sweet dreams override any troubled consciousness. Growing old, doesn’t help, but one thing I know for sure. I won’t be attempting to write  poems at 4.00 am too often! 

Good luck, everyone, and many thanks for dropping by, always much appreciated. 

Hugs, 

Roger 

INSOMNIAC 

Unable to sleep for disturbing images
haunting my consciousness, chasing shadows
over my head colluding with moonlight
to transpose into stark images of such regret,
as missed opportunities, time ill-spent
mulling over what-might-have-been instead
of rallying positive life forces enough
to galvanise me into action, make things better,
get real with warning signs 

Oh, but I listened to all the wrong voices,
made all the wrong moves, and now the process
of growing old is fast catching up with me;
all I can do is look back in anger and tears, none
to blame for my actions and inaction but me,
unable to go into reverse gear, left to toss and turn,
yearn for sleep, if only to spare me the agony
of more waking my nightmares as have dogged me
all hours during my later years 

A face at my window, peering through a gap
in the curtains, old man Moon making time for me,
throwing me a wink as if to say he empathises
with age-related issues while not inclined to agree
that wishful thinking will get either of us
anywhere fast, better (surely?) to make the most
of who we are, consider how past positives
may yet bear fruit (if they haven’t already) dismiss
any negatives, too late for tears

“Easier said than done,” I hear mind-body-spirit
retort, but the Old Man’s one good eye plainly hints
at mocking the plight of a human so distressed
that he’d rather count fantasy sheep that any blessings
as bring good times as well as bad (rain or shine)
peace as well as wars, love as well as hate, triumphs
as well as failures - such is the lot of such kith
and kin as ever having to make sense of mixed feelings
held to account by looking-glasses 

I glared at this one-eyed jack for making me feel
worse than I felt already; what could he know about
all we endure for doing our best, being put down
for it, time and again, yet we find ways to rise above
the sneers and stereotypes, graffiti on walls passing
fake news or imaging threats for not consenting to this
to this or agreeing with that, supposedly reflecting 
local opinion, but more likely someone’s paranoia fuelled
by a singularly egocentric social media 

“No need to defend yourself to me,” says the eye
n the chink of a curtain starting to cloud over already,
“I have seen it all, and rather you than me for a life
on Earth, all for the sake of piling up capital gains
(or poverty as the case may be) hardly worth the effort
of giving birth, surely, only to end up an insomniac
with nothing to show for it?”  Now mind-body-spirit’s
turn to mock, “Oh, and what know you of such joys
as love and friendship, celebrations enough to keep worlds
turning, give divisions the heave-ho?” 

The eye disappears, as are the ways of night skies,
as unpredictable as humanity, now here, now moved on
to new places, new ideas, new attitudes, new worlds
of being, seeing, thinking, feeling - a rollercoaster, true,
but such is the fun of any fair, and only right we pay
to try what’s on offer, thrill to a sense of shared good cheer
among crowds come together from communities,
of all shapes and sizes, differences put aside for making time
to take heart from simply being human 

I fell asleep on the rollercoaster, shrieks of joy in my ears,
relieved, finally, to let happy times dry my tears 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

Hi folks, from London UK

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

Hi Folks,

No poem again today. Sorry about that, but I seem to be running out of bardic steam.😁 I am working on a new poem, though and will post it here on Monday.

I do hope many of you will be able to enjoy the Easter weekend, whatever the weather. There is much to enjoy, even though the coronavirus  remains a threat. Spring is in the air here in the UK, there is blossom on the trees, flowers in gardens and parks to brighten our days as well as a vaccination program that promises a new lease of life. Hopefully, that promise will be well and truly fulfilled so long as everyone remains vigilant. It is very upsetting to see crowds of people flocking to parks and beaches with no thought for social distancing. The world has a long way to go yet before it is Covid-safe. Caution has to be the keyword. (On this, at least, I have to agree with Boris 😉)

A reader asks how I feel about vaccination passports, given the objections so many people, especially politicians, are raising. Personally, I think they are a good idea; they could not only show that people have been vaccinated, but also indicate any booster jabs, given that we are likely to need the latter as time goes by. Anything to help people feel a lot safer about entering a busy pub, restaurant, entertainment venue or wherever has to be a good thing... well, doesn't it? 

Everyone is entitled to their point of view, of course, but I am sick of hearing certain people whinging on about safety precautions being an infringement of human rights. It is common sense, surely? Mind you, no one can feel safe all the while there are those among us who object to wearing a mask even simply as a matter of so-called 'principle'.

Enough of my ramblings, and it's back to the poem for yours truly; it refers back to a time when I was having a nervous breakdown  many years ago and had completely lost my way in life. Reflecting on that time has helped me get through the pandemic. Then, as now, poetry was the form of creative therapy to which I owe my survival. The poem will attempt to indicate how I eventually managed to get myself back on track; not surprisingly, its working title is Back to the Future, one which I will probably keep.

Take care everyone and try to stay positive, if only because the alternative is unthinkable,

Back on Monday,

Hugs,

Roger

Mind-Body-Spirit, a Flexible Friend

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

Around the world, many if not most of us still subject to safely regulations due to the pandemic are nearing the end of our tether; the stress of having to cope with the absence of loved ones and friends in our daily lives continues to make itself felt.

While we can but keep looking on the bright(er) side of life, it is easier said than done. We have no choice, though, but to fight Covic19 and its variants and let common sense take the lead in playing our part to protect not only ourselves, but others too. Those who view safety precautions as an affront to everyday human rights are simply being selfish.

The police handling of the vigil for Sarah Everard on Clapham Common is a case in point. While I support it in so far as it was not only meant as a show of support for Sarah’s grieving family, but also protesting about violence against women in general, this is not the time to raise our voices. Too many people and too little social distancing at this particular moment in time, when Covid-19 and its variants are still rampant across parts of Europe and a real threat to us here in the UK, was irresponsible; it had been banned for the same reason, not because the powers-that-be are unsympathetic.

Yes, civil liberties are restricted at the moment, have been for some time, and feelings are running high, even more so at the murder of an innocent woman simply returning from visiting a friend.  

Yes, the police may well have seemingly over-acted at times, but what were they meant to do when calling upon the crowd to disperse and some people refusing to move?

Yes, of course women and girls should be able to feel they are free to walk any streets anywhere in the world without fear of being attacked and, yes, their voices need to be heard. Even so, at the moment, large gatherings risk spreading the coronavirus, and that is a threat to everyone.

MIND BODY SPIRIT, A FLEXIBLE FRIEND

Ahead, gloom,
self-confidence all but zero,
no sense whatever
of being able to rise above
a troubled mind
caught unawares by questions
demanding answers
where there are none,
only more of the same 

Ahead, despair,
ego despatched into free fall,
its host body
left battling against all odds
just to exercise
its human right to give as good
as it gets, refusing
to take any cues from either sense 
or sensibility 

Suddenly, a light,
all but dazzling an inner eye
grown weary
if not yet (quite) glued shut
by fear, prised open
for the duration by such forces
as will always
get the better of the worst we suffer
if we let them 

I am Mind-Body-Spirit, would-be adviser;
who heeds me grows all the wiser

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: Apologies. This poem first appeared on the blog under the title 'A Word to the Wise... until I realised I had used that title elsewhere so had to think again; I could blame lockdown stress, but suspect growing old has a lot to do with it too.] RNT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Addressing the Art of Positive Thinking

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

We have lived with the pandemic for more than a year now and everyone is feeling very fed-up if not depressed. Yes, the vaccines bring hope to us all, but these are still dark times.  

Recalling happy memories can be inspirational s well as sad, more than reason enough to look forward to being happy again; never in quite the same way, of course, but happiness comes in many shapes and forms, and better to be happy than sad, yeah?

ADDRESSING THE ART OF POSITIVE THINKING 

It’s down to us
to give the sad, weepy eye
reasons to smile again,
replace sadness with gladness,
bring such relief to any moody gloom
as lights up any room 

It’s down to us
to open up paths of memory
once skipped for the joy
of holding hands with loved ones
or off for a lively chat with old friends
where the rainbow ends 

It’s down to us
to smooth furrows in the brow
and give worries the elbow
long enough to allow self-esteem
to take pride of place in such company
as inspires all humanity 

Unable to find us?
Oh, but we are always on hand
to lighten loads,
brighten groundhog days, singing
in the rain, splashing in puddles as we go.
give Hell the old heave-ho 

We are memories
of the happy kind, as sure to put
any worse to rout
as the rabbit outwitting a wily fox
for refusing to let fear have its wicked way,
resolving to live another day 

Just one more day,
and who can ever take the measure
of its weather?
Kinder winds, as likely as not
to gift our past with a present even a future,
nature and human nature 

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2021

 

 

 

Come, Springtime OR Let there be Light

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

A new reader has emailed to say, “… it’s all very well to wax poetically about hope, but when life takes a turn for the worse and there is no one to lend a helping hand, hope is inclined to fade like spring mist.” An appropriate analogy, if I may say so, given that once the mist fades, it is still springtime. 

Regular readers will know that I went into freefall some 40+ years ago and remained in the throes of a nervous breakdown for nearly four years. I did have some much-valued support from several people, and staring to write again proved very therapeutic, but I saw no future for myself, the chances of getting another job remote. I joined a local support group, which helped me re-learn how to connect with people; this, in turn, helped me recover a degree of self-confidence. 

Chance took me to a charity that helped people get back to work who, for whatever reason, considered themselves to be unemployable; within months, I was working again, albeit on a trial basis which later became permanent. 

They still haunt me, those years, and always will, but in a good way; they inspire me just as they have done throughout the pandemic and as I grow old(er). I am 75 now, and having to contend with various health issues that get me down sometimes. There are many people out there who are a LOT worse off than me, though, so I try take each day as it comes, just glad to be alive even if my quality of life is less than I would like. 

A teacher at my old school some 60+ years ago once commented that our limitations should not be seen as restricting us but as challenges, inspiring us to overcome them, each in his or her own time and way.

The blog archives are accessible from the right hand side of any blog page and ew readers are welcome to explore them; hopefully you will fine some poems  you like, bearing in mind the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln:

You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time.

COME, SPRINGTIME or LET THERE BE LIGHT

Once, darkness and cold,
as if winter had refused to surrender
to yet another spring;
with all the intensity of an impending doom,
it had me wandering
a maze of tunnels as lost and alone
as children waking at night, too scared even to cry,
too young to reason why 

Now, a glimmer of light
has me heading that way with a surge
of hope in my heart
offering all mind-body-spirit a potential lifeline,
reasons to dream
that had long since all but died, buried alive
under mixed emotions barely allowing room to move
or space to draw breath 

Yet, making slow progress,
every step as if my feet are unwilling
to chance arriving
at much the same awful place as had failed me
once already,
but for a yearning in me to see kinder heavens
smiling on us than have angry echoes of weepy ghosts
bringing us to our knees

Now, let there be light. Children of the Earth celebrating
the return of spring

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: In response to the reader who has just e-mailed me, no this is not a kenning; kennings comprise three stanzas of nine lines + a couplet; and, yes, this post-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RNT

 

 

A Life in the Day of Everyman OR Sunrise to Sunset: an Existential Journey

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

I seem to recall playing a board game years ago, in the course of which if a player’s throw of a dice moved him or her into a tunnel, they would have to pay a forfeit to get back into the game again.  

When I spoke to a friend on the phone recently, he was clearly at a low ebb and I was finding it hard to lift his spirits; like so many of us during the coronavirus pandemic, he could see little if any light at the end of his own particular tunnel. When I had occasion to speak to him again later, though, his tone was markedly more positive.  He described how walking by the river during a beautiful sunset had not only brought him peace of mind-body-spirit, but that same aura of peace had given him the space he needed to get his thoughts in order and see his way more clearly. 

Regular readers may recall how my ocean passage to Australia many years ago, was an enlightening experience in itself for giving me time and space to similarly get my thoughts in order and see my way more clearly, not least in so far as I was not so much going to Oz as running away from a seemingly impossible situation here in the UK. Oh, and yes, I have many a glorious sunrise and sunset to thank for that too. 

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF EVERYMAN or SUNRISE to SUNSET, AN EXISTENTIAL JOURNEY

Rising with the dawn,
following the first sunbeam
that happens along,
mind-body-spirit taking laughter
and birdsong for its cue;
leaping here and there to join
cheeky clouds at play
while continuing along Sunshine Road,
allowing joie de vivre its way

Pausing at high noon
to look down at worlds below
mapped out as one,
yet playing host to such divisions
as see no end in sight
to socio-cultural-religious flaws
justifying wars of a kind
that target the human spirit with a view
to corrupting heart and mind 

Saved from bleak despair
by a glorious sunset inviting me
to wing such shades
of pink, red and gold as illuminate
old Apollo’s lair,
help lighten, too, any heavy load
humanity asked to bear
for having its imagination so fired as daring
to seek (even find) rescue there 

Where human instincts risk failing each other,
come words to the wise from Earth Mother

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

 

A Rule of Thumb

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

When I failed to get enough A-levels to take up the place at Library School that I had been offered, I was in despair as to what my next step should be. My English teacher told me “Never lose hope, Taber, or you will lose everything.” It sounded somewhat trite at the time, and I took little comfort from the sentiment, but over the years I have learned the wisdom of it. 

Emigrating to Australia in 1969 was more impromptu desperation than a plan, doomed to failure from the start. Even so, it gave me six weeks to think things over during a voyage on the good ship, Southern Cross. I couldn’t get a job, ran out of cash, and ended up sleeping under Sydney Harbour bridge. Then I met an old Aborigine who not only gave me hope, but also told me how to get back to the UK (without having to get into debt) and make a fresh start … which I did. 

A few years after I returned to the UK found me at university and doing OK.  Seven years later, mother died, the only member of my family who really understood the problems I faced with perceptive deafness and how it had contributed to my not having achieved as much as I’d hoped at the ripe old age of 30. Consequently, three years on found me doing battle with a nervous breakdown. Again, I am ashamed to say my first instinct was to run away and I took an overdose. Life, though, had other plans for me, demanded I get real, let hope back in and make the best rather than the worst of my situation. I started writing again, and that was a GOOD start. With the encouragement of several people in my life (not family) providing an invaluable support network, I eventually got another job as a librarian four years later, and stayed there until I retired in 2008, although I went part-time after 13 years in order to make time for more creative writing,  a life-saver  as depression was starting to take over again. 

I will be 75 in December, not a good age to find oneself in the midst of a pandemic, but I continue to seize the day, give depression the old heave-ho, and let hope take its course if only because there is no workable alternative. After my nervous breakdown, I had promised myself that I would never again wake up wishing that I hadn’t. So far, so good...

A RULE OF THUMB

Dour mist lifting,
late morning sun, a smile on its face,
rescuing us from doldrums,
whisking us to a better, kinder place,
encouraging divisions 
to reconcile, religions to come together
in the same love and peace
whose rhetoric its peoples would have us
engage with its principles 

Birds singing,
as if telling us not to despair of winter,
but remember best summers,
look to spring, when the chances are
Earth Mother will bring
new leaves for our trees, new flowers
to cheer home and planet,
a burst of incomparable colour
having us engage closer with Earth Mother
and also with one another

Humanity, waking up,
resolving to put aside any cares of the day
long enough to listen
to what mind-body-spirit has to say
about how best to rise
above dark scenarios closing in
on the Spirit of Morning,
re-engage with a sense of hope-faith-charity
that characterises humanity

True, we well may argue “Easier said than done …”
but that’s a rule of thumb for everyone 

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

 

 

The Lane Revisited (On the Sunny Side) OR The Great Escape

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

While the Covid-19 coronavirus is getting everyone down, various safety restrictions being imposed across the world are not helping, whether we agree with the necessity for and extent of them or not. Everyone is affected, one way or another, but older people who live alone are possibly finding it the hardest to cope with everyday life which is anything but ‘everyday’ as we knew it pre-coronavirus.

Me, I seek refuge in happier memories, taking care to avoid any unhappy ones. Hence, another new poem today.  (Friends can always tell when I am stressed out as I churn out poems. wry bardic grin)

THE LANE REVISITED (ON THE SUNNY SIDE) or THE GREAT ESCAPE

When the burdens of life
would have me on my knees in despair,
I have only to close my eyes
and enjoy a stroll down the sunny side
of Memory Lane, be comforted
by warm smiles, pausing for a cosy chat
with old friends, share a laugh,
invite the Here-and-Now to take its cue
from ghosts of a kinder past 

There is a house on The Lane
where I uttered my first cry on being made
to leave the safety of a womb
and take my chances in a world that would
rarely (if ever) offer the same
comfort and safety of a mother’s embrace,
rocking me gently, treating me
to so rare taste of love-and-peace as needs
must last a human lifetime 

There are friends on The Lane
with whom I bonded as my formative years
mentored me well
in the art of just taking people as I find them,
no rush to judgement
for being ignorant (as yet) of such cruel ways
of the world that would take me
on a learning curve comparable with a climbing
any of the highest mountains 

At the end of the Lane, barely time
to say goodbyes, and what is it now I can see,
but another road challenging me
to make whatever I will of wherever it may lead,
no fault but mine if I fail
to draw upon the same taste for love-and-peace
as will comfort and reassure
those who care to take a stroll down the sunny side
of life anytime, anywhere 

If my Here-and-Now no less a challenge
than before, at least mind-body-spirit rests easier
for knowing there is light after dark,
healing after pain, rainbows after rain, Earth Mother
rocking us gently, treating us
to so rare a taste of love-and-peace that may not last
a lifetime, but even a share now
and then, a dream for any human heart to keep as safe
as any worldly treasure 

Earth Mother, too, all but giving upon us now and then?
Our cue to live and learn on The Lane … yet again

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

C-o-m-p-l-a-c-e-n-c-y, Mountains of the Moon

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

As Covid-19 continues to take its toll across the world, in terms of imposing stress in all shapes and forms, not least on those feeling helpless while their loved ones are left fight the illness, win or lose. Everyone is looking for someone to blame whether it be God, politicians or simply Fate.

Maybe the answer lies closer to home, though, in the human race itself? For years we have all but ignored the warning signs regarding climate change and the consequences for the planet of deforestation, declining animal species, waste disposal etc. … the relationship between one and the other has become increasingly obvious over the years … well, has it not? Clearly not, although it is not too late, even now, to change our behaviour for the better and give survival of the human species a chance.

Pioneers in the field like Sir David Attenborough may have captured the world’s attention, but action requires legislation at both national and local levels and any Governments in any  society - especially one based on the principles of capitalism - will be slow to act for fear of offending its electorate; the latter can protest as much as it likes, but it is unlikely to have the last word which, more often is more likely to take its own rather than any global concerns into account.

Whatever, it is no wonder that depression is widespread and any worldwide inspiration to overcome it as likely to decline as increase until Green Issues become integral to political and social agendas. Listening to the likes of Sir David and nodding our heads in agreement is not enough, and never will be unless we all play our part in translating those nods into action.

In the current climate of human complacency, as far as saving the planet is concerned, we might as well be reaching for the moon; complacency itself, an innate sense of denial, is as good a metaphor as any, I would suggest, for Mountains of the Moon...?

C-O-M-P-L-A-C-E-N-C-Y, MOUNTAINS OF THE MOON 

The mountain demands
I climb it or forever wish I had,
spend the rest of my life
regretting a lack of will-power,
courage, whatever...
(call it what you will) no escape
from the shame of it,
no engagement with mind-body-spirit
for want of inspiration 

The mountain expects
better of me than I give up on it
so soon, and I hear it
taunting me, haunting me by day
and night, urging me
to at least give it a go, shake off
a growing pain and fear,
get a life again, recover peace of mind,
it has to be now or never

I dare turn a deaf ear
to the mountain no more, am taking
my first shaky steps
towards its base, obscured by a mist,
clearing only minimally
as I approach, more significantly
the higher I climb, no easy
path to follow, scared for having no guide,
but a mountain on my side

In its darkest hour, loath to concede defeat,
I am the joie de vivre in every heartbeat

Copyright R N Taber 2020

Waking Up to Life

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

One of the (many) problems of living with prostate cancer and being treated with hormone therapy (Zoladex) is that its success depends on keeping testosterone at bay. As it happens, I am gay, but a debilitating illness can affect anyone, and finding a way through it - on our own rather than its terms - is never going to be easy.

Most of the time, I have no sexual urges so am relatively content. Every so often, though, a rush of testosterone creates the urges while failing to address bodily functions anywhere near adequately. (In other words, I can barely get an erection, if at all!) Being sensually rather than sexually active is even more frustrating than being without a regular partner, given that there are usually brief encounters to be had if you know where to go. Knowing where to go, but well aware it would be a complete waste of time, however, now that can be soul-destroying. 

Oh well, I just have to keep looking on the bright side of life and be thankful that (75 soon) I am still here to tell the sorry tale. Stay positive, I am always telling people so I guess I need to practise what I preach! (I do, mostly, but now and again I allow myself to lapse into whinge-mode…)

Not in any wasteland, though, not me, not any more. There is more to life than wanting what we can't have; we just have to find ways of making the most of what is available to us and, no, that doesn't mean having to settle for less. The human condition is incredibly adaptable to its circumstances, just as the human spirit can rise above even the worst life throws at us ... if we let it.

What's done is done, and gone. No one gets their time over again, neither the good parts nor the bad. What we can do, though, each and every one of us, regardless of any socio-cultural-religious or other forces working for or against us, is start looking ahead, resolve to make the most not only of what we have, but who we are in a Here-and-Now that has the potential to let us play not only as constructive a role in our past-present-future as any personae we may have previously adopted, but all the more so for a positive thinking mindset.

WAKING UP TO LIFE

Overslept,
dreams preventing deep sleeping,
or eyes opening,
taking m places I'd rather not go
but can't stay away
because they are an integral part
of my history

Overslept,
revisiting brief, intimate encounters
(high hopes dashed)
that promised everything, but left me
stranded in a wasteland,
worse off than ever for misreading
not seizing the day

Overslept,
cuddling up to a pillow, surrendering
to the surreal,
long enough to leave all emotion spent
on fuelling imagination 
into meeting more pro-active demands,
body stalling 

Waking up,
faces on the ceiling floating wry smiles
for a sleepy-head
sick of taking each day as it comes, only
to be left stranded
on some lonely wasteland without a clue,
body on stand-by

Getting up,
resolving not to include a dead yesterday
in my calculations,
no more truck with illusion and delusion
needs must get real, start
exchanging negatives for positives by way
of mind-body-spirit 

Starting over,
(finally) getting to grips with life as it is,
people as they are,
learning to laugh again (even at myself)
finding silver linings
wherever I look, no going by any text book, 
and all the better for it

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018; 2020

(Note: This poem also appears on both poetry blogs today given that issues it raises  may well affect us at some point in our lives, regardless of  ethnicity, culture, gender, sexual persuasion or, yes, growing old...] RNT