Hi Folks, from London UK

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

“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.” – Martin Luther King Jr.

“Not without hope, we suffer and we mourn.” – William Wordsworth

“Although the world is full of suffering, it is full also of the overcoming of it.” – Helen Keller

Hi Folks,

I am working on a new poem, The Leaf, which I expect to complete today and publish here tomorrow. 

Meanwhile, do explore the blog archives and feel free to email me any thoughts to rogertab@aol.com with “Poetry” in the subject field. I will do my best to reply to all genuine comments; any spammers and/ or trolls will be ignored.

As regular readers well know, writing poetry is a form of creative therapy for yours truly as well as a pleasure, both equally important to me as I grow old. I was diagnosed with a form of perceptive deafness in my early 20’s and have had mobility problems since a bad fall in 2012; these, among other health issues, not least my prostate cancer, would otherwise find me in permanent freefall but for friends, poetry and word puzzles.

Now, you are never too old to discover something new about yourself. My parents were first cousins and I only recently read that the children of first cousins can be born with a cleft palate which, in turn, causes hearing problems. The muscles of the palate are important in allowing air into the middle ear, as well as allowing drainage of secretions from the middle ear; when this process is interrupted, fluid can build up in the middle ear. The channels of both my inner ears are narrow, anyway, due to surgery in the 1960’s that involved graft operations on perforated eardrums; mine was successful with the left ear, but less so with my right ear and the consultant warned me of secretion in later years, which has, in fact, been happening for a few years now. (Something else that doesn’t improve with old age!)

How much my perceptive deafness affects my hearing, for example, is affected by both the pitch of the other person's voice  and local acoustics. At school, I could not understand why I could hear the same  teacher well in one classroom and barely at all in another. Incredibly, no doctor has ever explained this to me. 

However, since there is no point in crying over spilt milk, I just try to take each day as it comes, for better or worse, hoping for the former while engaging with friends, poetry and word puzzles always helps me rise above the latter. (Yes, it works… well, more often than not!)

Take care, everyone, stay safe, keep well and let’s all do our best to stay positive even if the future is looking bleak, for now at least. Hope springs not only eternal, but invariably gets results, if not always when our need is greatest…

Love ‘n’ Hugs,

Roger

Tide, Turning

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

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” – Emily Dickinson 

“Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.” – Gustave Flaubert

“Life begins on the other side of despair.” - Jean-Paul Sartre

Now, we never feel so alone as when we despair, for whatever reason. It is an awful feeling, a sense of being adrift and close to drowning in personal space; at least, though, it gives human nature an opportunity to come into its own and set out to prove that mind-body-spirit can do better… if we but give it a fighting chance.

TIDE, TURNING 

All but drowning,
voices asking only that You-Me-Us
re-engage, left struggling 
to keep mind-body-spirit abreast
of vital life forces
separated from a heart-and-soul
gone absent without leave, 
adrift in personal space, seeking a lifeline,
to be restored, forgiven

All but drowning,
half-heartedly attempting to keep pace
with other fishes in a sea
of mixed feelings, pulling me this way
and that, a fickle tide
now consenting to keep me afloat,
now dragging me under,
arms, legs, putting on a show of emulating
the lesser art of living

All but drowning,
vague voices assuming greater clarity,
like a new moon’s rising,
penetrating even the cloudy darkness
of a mind-body-spirit
war-weary of ways of the world,
lost all faith in humanity
nor trusting promises of divine intervention,
yet...stirrings of motivation?

Positive thinking,
tide turning, a sense of its siding with me,
stinging like a sea anemone
but not fatally, as if issuing a challenge
I’d be a fool to ignore,
reminding me there’s no sense in giving in
without at least attempting
a kinder endgame, a chastened heart-and-soul
stepping up, getting real

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

In Pieces

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

“If you’re brave enough to say goodbye, life will reward you with a new hello.” – Paul Coelho

“You must not lose faith in humanity. Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty.” – Mahatma Gandhi. 

“There is something in the human sprit that will survive and prevail, there is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes,” – Leo Tolstoy

As the war in Ukraine continues into week eight, we can but marvel at the resilience of both refugees fleeing the conflict and those left behind. Sadly, given conflicts the world over, it is not the first time nor likely to be the last time the heart has nursed such sentiments. 

If we let them, such sentiments can bring the host mind-body-spirit ever closer to The Abyss, to the edge of which many of us are likely to stray, for one reason or another, during our lifetimes. 

Reader A.D. has kindly emailed to say that he enjoys many of my poems and appreciates my choice of quotes. He asks what my first choice would be among quotes that have helped me, personally, weather and rise above hard times. A tough question, but I guess it would have to be the Tolstoy quote above; ironically, a Russian, given the current situation in Ukraine, and possibly why the Gandhi quote comes a very close second.

IN PIECES

Too often the world 
will turn a deaf ear to such words
of wisdom as its history
has remarked over centuries,
distracted by main events
hogging headlines, humanity more
inclined to scan than take in
any such implications for personal space
as may give cause for concern

Mind-body-spirit, though,
knows better than to rush to conclusions
likely, in turn, to lead us
into rushing to judgements without
being full advised of truths
behind hearsay from whatever source,
now urging that heart-and-soul
investigate issues invading personal space,
rediscover an affinity with peace

Together, we dig and delve,
uncover such truths as relate to ourselves
as much as the project
in hand, beginning to understand
what makes us tick
in (or out) of time with history’s alarm clock,
accepting or rejecting a need to make redress,
invariably down to us, no one else

While enemy forces all around,
hell bent on confounding, all but destroying
human roots, stunting growth,
slamming doors on such thought processes
as may well reawaken
survival instincts, trust mind-body-spirit
to come into its own,
message we’re not alone, move heart-and-soul,
three-in-one up for the call

We live in a global consciousness
and personal space, each deserving the best,
nor the latter any less;
no matter how we engage with others
in the spirit of kindness,
friendship and hope, things may yet fall apart,
what counts is making a start,
heart-and-soul, to itself, remaining true, or else
our world, inside and out… in pieces

Let  mind-body-spirit heal, and nothing the same,
yet, a rose by any other name…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

You-Me-Us, Lifesaver

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

“I don’t think of all the misery, but of all the beauty that still remains.” – Anne Frank

“In all things, it is better to hope than to despair.” - Goethe

“I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.” – Pablo Naruda

As the war in Ukraine escalates, news came through yesterday of Russian forces bombing a children's and maternity hospital in the port city of Mariupol. Ukraine president Volodymyr Zelensky has declared it a war crime.

Meanwhile the flow of despairing people struggling to flee Ukraine in freezing conditions continues with Russian forces persistently ignoring ceasefires.

At home, and across the world, we can but watch, aghast that this could happen in 2022 while, many of us still suffering both mental and physical effects of having to cope with the coronavirus. The situation in Ukraine may well seem a whole lot worse, but Covid-19 has brought despair to many and despair is despair is despair; to the despairing individual, it is as immeasurable as it is indescribable.

In this life (as many, including yours truly, can testify) when standing still is no option, looking back on kinder times is often the only life force available to spur us into moving forward, less with regret for their absence than in a spirit of celebration and hope.

YOU-ME-US, LIFESAVER

In the eyes of sadness
there is only one thing to do,
pluck a cloud
from the sky and hitch a ride
through time,
to wherever mind-body-spirit
has a whim to revisit,
put a smile on the face of a Here-and-Now
that’s forgotten how

There are old friends,
we used to know before our years
took us places
we didn’t always want or choose
to go...
when we’d laugh and play games.
exchange party hats
and silly names, listen wide-eyed to fairy tales,
fly with nightingales

There are special people,
with whom we’d enjoy special moments,
whose genial ghosts
never fail to cheer the soul that’s lost,
taken a wrong turning,
needing to be put right, helped to lighten
the load it bears,
redirected to some far kinder thought process
than ends in tears

Playful pets, too, recalled
to perform such lively acts as likely to warm
a heart grown cold,
for loneliness, grief or on discovering old age
no ‘true-to-life’ movie
here Happy-Ever-After as likely as not to win
Oscar nominations all round,
no dry eyes in the audience, bur tears
of delight, no fears

Ah, many the comfortable
and pleasurable zone we need to make our own.
as and when
we can, and best not delayed as any tomorrow
may yet bring sorrows
enough to urge a saddened eye but open wide,
steer a passing cloud
through as lively a stream of shared consciousness
as You-Me-Us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

Hello again Everyone, from London UK

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

"Times of terror and the deepest misery may arrive, but if there is to be any happiness in this misery, it can only be a spiritual happiness related to the past in the rescue of the culture of early ages and to the future of a serene and indefatigable  championship of the spirit in a time which would otherwise completely swallow up the material." - Herman Hess (The Glass Bead Game)

Hello again Everyone, from London UK

Hi folks,

Sorry, no poem yet as my health issues are ganging up on me, but they on't include Covid-19 or any of its variants, so am trying to look on the bright(er) side of life... albeit through a misty window.😉

Yesterdays, my 76th birthday, I had lunch with my best friend who was later mugged, his debit card stolen and phone smashed. I.am hoping to see him later today if the trains are running ok as I don't have a car; travel is not advised, but needs must... Fortunately, he is not hurt, but may well be in shock for awhile yet. It was a birthday we won't forget, and much the same will apply to Christmas this year, already in tatters for many people due to the meteoric spread of Omicron. 

I am working on a positive-thinking poem to post here on Christmas Day, so do drop by over Christmas if you can. Meanwhile, we can only do our best to enjoy as Happy a Christmas as we can make it each in our own way. 

As regular readers know, I am not a Christian but a Pantheist. Whatever, we all deserve a good slice of Peace and Goodwill at any time of year, especially in the middle of a pandemic that is creating personal crises for so many people, not least in terms of their mental well-being. Stress is a cunning beast; it can creep up on us unawares and/or insinuate itself among other worries and concerns we may be having to deal with and see that we get everything out of proportion to such an extent that depression sinks its teeth into us and we feel we just cannot cope.

If you know someone who tells you they cannot cope any more, do lend a helping hand as well as a shoulder to cry on Some people, especially men, seem to think that giving way to stress is a weakness to be kept hidden. Ah, but we are only human, men and women, younger and older; there is no shame in asking for help. Yes, I know I have said this before on the blog, only recently too, but - as my mother used to say - if something is worth saying, it is worth repeating... time and again if necessary.

That's all for today, I'm afraid, as I need to get on with some physical exercises if only to  find relief for my mounting anxieties before I visit my friend who has been mugged. Oh, and I expect to be back by early evening, in time to tap Inspiration for yet another Covid Christmas poem.

If you have time and are in the mood, do feel free to explore the blog archives.

Take care everyone, stay safe and do your best to keep nurturing a positive-thinking mindset,

Hugs,

Roger

A Lion in Winter

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

Overheard: “This pandemic, it seems to have the heart of lion. Let’s hope the vaccines are good hunters!”

Ah, but the human spirit, too, is more than capable of lending the heart of a lion to any of us whenever we need it most; it also has a lion’s skill in avoiding capture. 

A friend who lost his wife to breast cancer a few years ago, commented at her funeral “Of course, I’ll always miss her terribly, but love has the heart of a lion, and that never dies. Hers  is more than enough to see me through the rest of my life... for better, for worse”

A LION IN WINTER 

Find me in a very lonely place,
its corners dark and bare,
struggling to ward off fears
surging through my body,
snapping at my mind for thoughts
tossing me such ideas as not made to last,
leading nowhere - fast 

All things bright and beautiful
out of sight where windows
sparing me no signs of life-light,
the only shadows, my fears,
my only company, the sounds of mice
come to feed on what may yet be left of me
worth saving for... eternity? 

No place else to go but here, fear
stoking all but dead ashes,
mind-body-spirit as keen to bury
all traces of positive-thinking
as needing to break free of a Black Hole
carved out by the likes of regrets and despair
haunting past-present-future 

Suddenly, flickers of light all around,
growing in shape and form,
warning I not let them out of my sight
or risk returning to this prison,
left blaming Fate for such human flaws
as unable to rally lifeforces enough to restore
a lion grown weary of winter 

Slowly, but surely, inner eye (and ear) freed again
to rework the art of being human 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, rev.2021 

[Note: The original version of this poem appears in my collection The Third Eye, Assembly Books, 2004.]

 

 

 

 

 

A Sparrow Falls

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

Another recently revised poem today, the original of which was written 20+ years ago; I have made significant changes. 

Until the coronavirus pandemic and the various safety precautions generated by various lockdowns, I hadn’t realised how much I take some of the ordinary, everyday pleasures of life for granted; one of these is birdsong. 

During dark, lonely days alone in my studio flat in London, I would listen to the uplifting, inspirational sounds made by birds nearby and not only feel less alone, but also better able to focus on nurturing a positive-thinking mindset rather than succumb to what had been but a growing sense of negativity and despair... 

Never again will I take our feathered friends for granted or the simple but effective magic they weave, whether in the life-music they may make or  always being there for us.

A SPARROW FALLS 

World, falling apart;
dreary, all but empty gardens
of the heart;
senses, playing tricks;
everyone, a victim, few of us
suspecting 

Walking out one day,
aware of little or nothing but
in shades of grey;
bonding with a sparrow
in a gutter, its wings barely able
to flutter... 

Anxious hands reaching
down to hold, if small comfort,
bird already cold,
each teary eye looking
death in the face, like a child’s
on a safehouse 

Suddenly, ears pricking up
at sounds familiar on overhead
telegraph wires;
songbirds, keen to re-engage
our personal space with life-music
of life-music

As one, the tiny birds fly off,
once having fed on seeds tossed
by human hearts
eager to thank them again
for returning the mind-body-spirit
to its safehouse

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2002; rev. 2021 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in my collection First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; rev. 2021]

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

 

L-I-F-E, Dreams and Dragons

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

I wrote today’s poem to help lift me out of a pit of despair, mostly due to years of hormone therapy for the prostate cancer, but with more than a little help from my landlord and certain neighbours. 

Fortunately, I was able to phone a close friend who encouraged me to rise above the worst of my feelings and hitch a ride on a dragon.

Yes, you've guessed it. Having learned long ago that crying over spilt milk gets no one anywhere fast, I made a stab at thinking and writing myself into a less torturous frame of mind. 

As creative therapy, it worked a treat As for what readers will make of the poem, I can but hope they will be less critical of it than I was a few hours ago of the same mind-body-spirit that came close to failing its host poet altogether... 

Among other things a wise old aborigine told me some 50+ years ago, "The only way to deal with despair is with patience. Look it in the eye, dry its tears, insist things can only get better - and they will... eventually."

L-I-F-E, DREAMS AND DRAGONS 

At the very edge of free fall
peering down into a bottomless pit,
all parts of mind-body-spirit
struggling to rise above such fears
as denied even any tears
for its more perceptive selves left dumb
by their own screams 

Teetering, too fearful even
to take a step either forwards or back,
no real sense of direction,
only an intense awareness of being
an abstraction of sorts,
all or nothing, depending how an inner eye
sees what it will 

A kaleidoscope of colours
attempts to perform art in a vacuum,
succeeds only in confusing
the mind, distracting a body left to rely
on some nameless spirit
to make something or nothing of what’s left
have us act accordingly 

Colours, now finding voices,
intent on transforming any senselessness,
bent on lending it images
such as inner-selves project on clouds,
dead eyes coming alive
for recognising a dragon’s head breathing fire
snatched from Apollo

Legs, recoiling instinctively,
stumbling, now arms flung out to save
from falling, dragon descending;
now clambering its scales, now astride,
flying low over landscapes
I used to know and love, inspiring such worlds
as the best dreams spin us 

At the very edge of nightmares,
waking to the sound of birdsong, sunlight
chasing shadows, creating art forms,
reminding mind-body-spirit (as one again)
that if nothing comes of nothing,
it well may be for failing to let inner selves loose
on the likes of dream dragons.

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

Cornered OR Nil Desperandum

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

Asked how he was feeling at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, a neighbour replied that he felt “Cornered. I never know from day to day how that day will pan out and whether or not I will get through it in one piece, either physically or mentally, but...” he added with a shrug, “I can’t stop the damn virus, can I?  I just have to get press on and make the best of a bad job along with everyone else... I mean to say, let it beat you and, well, you’re done for, aren’t you?”

Did anyone ever speak truer words...? 

“Nil desperandum, - Never Despair. That is a motto for you and me. All are not dead; and where there is a spark of patriotic fire, we will rekindle it.” - Samuel Adams

CORNERED or NIL DESPERANDUM

The road is long, and crowded with faces
in queues at bus stops, fashion stores,
train stations, even for Covid vaccinations,
anything to give mind-body-spirit a lift
to such far-away places as we see in eyes
reflecting daydreams, general hubbub
given the old heave-ho just long enough to let
mind-body-spirit grab some peace 

The road is long, like a tale we’re making up
as we go along, no end in sight to make it
worth the effort, uphill, down dale, on frantic
city streets, lonely suburbs, leafy turnings, 
sneering passers-by enough to panic hearts
left vulnerable by years of fake news rejecting
accusations of intending more harm than good in
as many real as digital communities 

Yes, the road has been long, and I'm left asking
myself, whether I feel motivated enough
to continue my journey from here, where I stand
at the heart of No-Man’s Land or trust my feet
to find a suitable escape route, but what chance
of success where mind-body-spirit has tried
and failed to achieve anything along such lines a
heroic men and women in our fictions? 

Time, perhaps, to consider the role models we
choose, we wannabe heroes, as we pursue
the humdrum and hubbub of everyday life all art
forms seek to encourage us to acknowledge
for fantasy and draw us in while it may, if only
during the kinder seconds-minutes-hours
of days that would leave us feeling all but defeated
humiliated, possibly broken-hearted? 

Ah, but artists, too, have role models into whom 
they breathe life, would give the Kiss of Life to any
relating more closely to near-death scenes than
any celebration of life, for all its pitfalls, resolving
to let peace, love, joy have stronger voices when
having to make choices affecting loved -ones
no less than ourselves, give humanity an opportunity
to get the better of its egocentricity

Come Here-and-Now’s demanding we let it pass us by,
time, perhaps, to be asking “Why...?

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

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Living with Dragons

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

A reader writes that it is all very well for me to encourage positive thinking in the face of adversity, but it is easier said than done. True enough, and have I ever suggested it was easy? We all need inspiration and hope to see us through the harsher facts of life we are likely to have thrown at us from time to time from one source or another. 

As a child, I loved fairy stories and legends, and still do. I have met parents who forbid their children to read them on the grounds that they are not true-to-life and leave them ill-prepared for such trials and tribulations as they will invariably encounter as they grow into the adult world. Not unusually, I disagree. 

More often than not, fairy tales and legends have happy endings, heroes getting the better of villains and everyone left living the Happy-Ever-After that is their hallmark.  Not so, in real life for much of the time. Even so, the best tales see good overcoming bad, heroes defeating villains etc. Like many children, I used to love role-play, even on my own, when I would play the imaginary hero sure to get the better of whatever villain I would pick from whatever story or (as would happen not infrequently) a real-life experience at home, at school, wherever. 

The death of a loved-one or close friend can take us to the edge of reason, sending us into battle with the most fearsome of all dragons, our own mortality; even as we grieve,  we find ourselves fighting on two fronts. Some find inspiration in their religion. Me, I take heart from Happy-Ever-After tales whose endings are but new beginnings. No? Well, disprove it if you can.

Such role-plays would serve me well as I grew to face the harsher realities of teenage years and adult life. At 75, I can honestly say they still do. Mind over matter, much of it well may be, but if it works… who cares? I have lost count of how many times I have become a favourite storybook hero in my head and it has lifted flagging spirits just to feel that I can and will get through a bad time and learn from it… eventually. 

“I believe in everything until it's disproved. So, I believe in fairies, the myths, dragons. It all exists, even if it's in your mind. Who's to say that dreams and nightmares aren't as real as the here and now?"― John Lennon. 

LIVING WITH DRAGONS

Some ghosts, they haunt
shadowy corners of the mind
while others would keep us
safe and sound from such fears
as well might make
cowards of us all or, worse still,
see us engage with dragons shadowing
our darkest thoughts 

The human spirit, it run 
a gauntlet of conflicting emotions;
love and hate often vying
with each other to be top dog
in stakes whose winners
take all, losers left mulling over
how they might do better another time,
and someone to blame 

Such is the Here-and-Now
a blast of home truths stripped bare
of such excuses
as might well fool any believing
they know us better
than we know ourselves
but for a dragon bringing us down
and proving us all mistaken 

Ah, but the human spirit
is a match for any dragon’s hellfire,
not least for fighting
fantasy with fantasy, so dampening
flames of innuendo
fuelling gossip and stereotypes
behind closed doors (as only human)
with a kinder imagination                              

Life may be going so badly
as to wring tears of despair from us,
yet we have but to play
giantkiller, visit friends in Toyland,
cross angry seas
with Ulysses, reunite with love,
in whatever it is every human heartbeat
will always have a head start 

However high, whatever odds
stacked against us, there are beanstalks
to climb, giants to defeat
(one way or another) and dragons
to confront head-on,
for where the heart is willing,
as led (or misled) by faery days of long ago
be sure the mind will follow 

Therein lies the untold story of humanity,
its penchant for fantasy… 

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Conversation with a Seagull

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

As the pandemic continues to drive many if not most of us too close to despair for comfort, my best friend, Graham, has suggested yours truly needs to despatch imagination to its home base, and draw on a native fantasy for relief. 

Subsequently… 

Now, hindsight can be a worthy mentor, but a tormentor, too, especially in the middle of a pandemic when we are able to enjoy little if any social life.  It’s at such times, as this, though, that we need to draw on our native life forces for inspiration and encouragement. Vaccines are becoming available; there is an end in sight, even if it will be some time coming yet. 

Patience is not one of human nature’s commonest virtues, but there is a common strength in it of which a common world humanity is in much need right now, so summon it we must… or risk going into free fall. 

Good luck everyone, let’s do our best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset, 

Hugs, 

Roger 

CONVERSATION WITH A SEAGULL 

I was treading water
in a river so close to home, I could touch
its pebbly shore,
had I been much of a mind to carry on
living any more 

A seagull came by,
paused in mid-flight to ask what I was about
since it didn’t seem
I felt inclined to swim, simply wallowing
in a bad dream 

I confided the seagull
my worst fears, piling up on me as time passes,
pausing in mid-flight,
more often than not to find me wallowing
in hindsight 

“I can’t go on like this,”
I told the gull, past mistakes taking me to places
invariably deaf-blind
to human hopes and desires as set me adrift
of humankind." 

“I could fly wherever,”
said the gull, “but whenever such whims take me
to travel farther
I reason the need, invariably get no further
than downriver.”  

“We all make mistakes,”
said the gull, “not least for our senses confusing us
now and then;
no harm done, so long so long we’ve learned
a singular lesson.” 

“Learning is such wisdom,"
said the gull, as lets us understand why such errors 
as how the land lies
wherever time takes us that needs must we
open inner eyes." 

The gull flew on, leaving me
feeling more hopeful than before, objects of despair 
left half-forgotten
for kinder times assuming pride of place,
all else forsaken 

Returning to that pebbly shore,
I entered a landscape (far) more beautiful than before
and (far) less hostile,
as if approving my chancing to converse
with a seagull

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life-saver

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

A few months ago, I called a friend on the phone who has health problems, just to say hello and let him know I was thinking of and rooting for him, especially during these troubled times of Covid-19. Like me, he lives alone, but has always been far more sociable than yours truly so I was surprised and not a little guilt-ridden to hear him say I was the first person with whom he had chatted all week. “No one gives a damn if you’re on your own,” he sighed, “They are so busy getting on with their own lives, they can’t even make time to give a friend a call.” I  confessed I had friends like that, but …

“Don’t wait for them to call, call them,” I said, “It’s not a matter of their not caring, more like they cannot imagine what it’s like to be lonely. People like us need to swallow our pride and just pick up the damn phone.”

“You get lonely too?” It was his turn to be surprised.

“You bet!” I laughed, “But if I start to feel forgotten then I know I need to give a few people a nudge. The chances are, I won’t have to wait so long next time, and if I do, well, I’ll just give them another nudge …”

“What about people who have no one to call or email?” he wanted to know.

“There are organizations that recruit volunteers to befriend others. You have a computer. Look some up and maybe even think about giving it a go.”

He did, and has enjoyed being a volunteer for some time, not least for the two-way rapport in making new friends; even if it’s a voice at the other end of a phone, the chances are that voice will become a friend.

LIFE-SAVER 

It was a scary hollow of the heart
keeping me from seeing my way clearly,
a sense of dying slowly,
no one near to hold my hand, understand
the depth of my despair,
reason barely clinging to kinder memories
on the wings of a child’s prayer 

Each breath I took was but sapping
mind-body-spirit, tossing away dreams
like human waste
without a care even where they might fall,
no pride left to save,
nor reassuring voice, or comforting hands
to help lift me from the grave 

Out of nowhere, a shrill bell ringing
as if calling on mind-body-spirit to recover
any discarded waste,
time yet to recycle, put it to as good a use
as invention can contrive
if fuelled by such friendly persuasion as leans
on the human heart to live 

I answered the telephone just in time
to let a voice from the past haul me back
into a Here-and-Now
I had all but given up on, lively conversation
putting despair in its place,
filling this hollow heart with joie de vivre
for turning its back on loneliness

No longer feeling scared, alone, in free fall,
and always first to make a life-saver call

 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

 

 

Life Force, Lifeline

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

It is all very well for President Donald Trump to urge us not to be afraid of the Covid-19 coronavirus, but few of us ordinary folks have access to the best health care available; there are those in those in parts of the world without the kind of NHS system we have here in the UK who can barely access the minimum. It is OK to be scared, and only human. 

At the risk of being a bore for repeating myself yet again, there is a free health service available to us all; no guarantees, but a life force that is first among equals and will, as likely as not, see us through the worst. Nor do I see any failure to survive as the ‘worst’; the end of one thing is invariably the beginning of another, although it may take us some time to see that.  

Death, as I see it, means leaving nothing and no one behind; the life we lead is part of who we are, and part of who we are is passed on from generation to generation. The loss of a loved one of the hardest things we have to bear in this life, yet the life force generated by that love remains as much a life force within us as ever, to be called upon whenever. 

A widower friend once told me that he hopes to see his late wife again in some after-life that, as a Christian, he would call Heaven. I would suggest the operative word here, though, is not Heaven but hope; lose hope, and we lose our hold on as precious a lifeline as mind-body-spirit in its innate wisdom, can throw us.  It can be a tenuous hold at times, for sure, but like many if not most people, I have had my share of bad times, having survived thus far because Hope has always been on call  to help me find a way through the darkness, even if where I’ve ended up has rarely been quite (if at all) where I had intended to be 

That’s life; it doesn’t always go to plan, but, like is closest kin, the Spirit of Love, it will see us through … if we let it. 

Now, regular readers know that I do not subscribe to any formal religion, not least because it has always struck me how each has its own agenda and is inclined to be something of a closed shop. I do consider myself something of a Pantheist though. Whatever, Hope is an open door anyone can walk through and find their way through life within or without the confines of any religious dogma.

Today's (new) poem is a villanelle.

 LIFE-FORCE, LIFELINE

A carer for all human plight,
kin to Apollo and Earth Mother,
always on call, day and night

Its sun, moon, stars, my light,
serving the best of human nature,
a carer for all human plight 

I come to fight the good fight,
loyal ally to humanity like no other;
always on call, day and night 

I will clear Despair’s fading sight,
attend mind-body-spirit’s deaf ear,
a carer for all human plight

I cannot make wrongs come right,
only a kinder, wiser course help steer,
always on call day and night 

I am Hope, in whom all take delight,
notwithstanding our going get tougher;
a carer for all human plight,
always on call, day and night

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

Winter, haunt of 'live' Ghosts

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

I may seem strange to publish a winter poem in August. Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2010 at a time when the UK and much of Europe was seeing its worst winter for some years. 

Ten years on and many of us are experiencing a cruel winter of the heart as the Covid-19 coronavirus remains active worldwide; combined with the effects of increasing climate change, the world and everyday life as we know it is changing faster than anyone could have predicted even just a few years ago.

A reader suggests I am "talking nonsense" when I refer to a posthumous consciousness. Fair enough, we must agree to differ.  Only ... an aunt of mine lost both her son and daughter in their early 20's within just a few years of each other; one to a driving accident, the other to breathing difficulties made worse for being asthmatic. She once told me that "Of course I miss them terribly, more than  words can say, but they will always be a part of me and their dad; their presence there is not only veyt real but also very comforting. We are still a family, after all." 

I felt much the same way when my mother died, although having to cope with the reality meant it would take a nervous breakdown three years later to - eventually - reach the same place as my aunt.  

We die, yes, but its is far more than a poet's imagination that we live on through others, for better, for worse, although the human mind-body-spirit is such that it is more likely to take inspiration from the former than dwell on the latter. 

Those life forces that are the making of us all may well be a curious combination of good and bad, but mind-body-spirit will always make more room (and time) for the former ... if we let it, rather than put up roadblocks along the lines of envy, jealousy, and a sense of being unable (quite) to forgive, either ourselves and/ or others. 

WINTER, HAUNT OF 'LIVE' GHOSTS

Where once daisies in meadows green,
footmarks where Jack Frost
has paused, glanced over his shoulder
for any sign of a 'live' ghost
(man or woman?) haunting each step
he takes…
marking each heavy, careless tread,
all green things left for dead
that may yet be saved
where other seasons await their cue
within its savage breast

Sure to bide its time before descending
on wings of a dove
spreading its wings like an eiderdown
of white satin
where a restless world dreams of waking
to a peace and goodwill
folk singers will celebrate for years,
while angel voices make a play
to fill half empty pews
and world leaders grace Sunday prayers
in election years

It will not stay long, if time well spent,
making good at least some
of the damage old Jack inclined to do,
reminding brave robin,
(eternal optimist) of other lives sleeping
off hangovers
from half forgotten centuries lusting
for the joys of spring
all but lost in the thick of such wars
on nature’s own deadlier even than Jack’s
for being human

As peace, to pain, a kindness sure to show;
where winter ghosts, spring sure to follow

Copyright R.N. Taber 2007; 2020

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

A Timely Reminder

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

As the Covid-19 coronavirus continues to take its toll on the mental well-being of many if not most of us, worldwide ...regardless of ethnicity, religion, sexuality or place in society; there is nothing like a common danger to dispense with the separatism these so often impose on the less free-thinking among us.

Now, some people are having to deal with the loss of loved-ones as well as losing their jobs and having to worry about diminishing savings, how to pay the rent or mortgage besides feed themselves and their families … also cope with the relative few, albeit significant and selfish, who persist in defying instructions to self-isolate and/or wear a face mask.

While certain people are exempt from wearing masks for health reasons, it is rare to see anyone challenged here in the UK, in shops or on public transport, wherever … Only the other day, I overheard a conversation on a train between two people, one wearing a mask, one not; the latter was saying he hated wearing a mask (who doesn’t) so “Why should I, and who’s going to make me, anyway?”

Is it surprising that the coronavirus is far from finished with any of us yet? The sheer selfishness of some people will literally be the death of others. 

So far, so good here, not least because I am almost sure I had the virus in early January … but, am in my 70’s now, and living alone so counting no chickens.

We can but take care, stay positive, and perhaps take our cue from the first light of dawn and let our hearts be filled with the first birdsong, if only to replace any fears and/or frustrations and/or despair left by events of previous days and months.

Did I say it would be easy?

A TIMELY REMINDER

Uneasy sleep, bad dreams,

a sense of isolation getting the better

of any kinder reality

likely to call on the darker side life

to take on its bad and ugly;

unchallenged fears come to haunt

mind-body-spirit,

set the Ghosts of Nightmare on human hearts,

 no prisoners

An uneasy calm, persisting

in its endeavour to reassert itself

over waves of despair

threatening to crush positive thoughts,

abandon mind-body-spirit

to its own devices, pitting its host

against its worst imaginings,

challenging Earth Mother to a bitter showdown,

daggers drawn

Come the first hint of dawn,

shadows on curtains war-dancing,

heaping scorn on any hint

of positive thinking rallying human hearts

to wake and take them on;

eyes opening and heart sinking

at the first rush of shadows

bent on making a kill, though life-force songbirds

have other ideas

Dawn chorus, come to re-engage mind-body-spirit

with such things in life as worth every heartbeat

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020