An Empathy with Nature (2)

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“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” – Albert Camus

“Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly he work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces that make it a living thing.” John Stuart Mill

“The temple bell stops, but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.” - Matsuo Basho

“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is the temple. The philosophy is kindness.” Dalai Lama

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” – Maya Angelou

The idea or metaphor of the human body as a temple isn’t exclusive to any religion, can also be found in various religious texts. One example is fasting, practiced in order to grow closer to some divine life force by distancing oneself from worldly dependencies, such as food and other pleasures. 

Sadly, this very distancing can encourage a degree of separatism within various societies / communities worldwide, where the art of agreeing to differ is more likely to light the flames of aggression than any candles of peace among those members who are (understandably if not always appropriately) more concerned with driving home their own point of view than agreeing to differ. 

Our sexuality is an expression of who, not what we are; for sure, it is not an attack on the temple of the human body since we are born this way; it is not a choice. The only choice is whether or not we feel encouraged to express it and look the world in the eye as we do so.

As regular readers of both my poetry blogs (my fiction blog too) will know, I was in my early 30’s before I finally emerged from the closet that had been my prison since I first realised I was gay at the age of 14 years (during what were overtly homophobic 1950’s here in the UK.).

60+ years on, I’d have hoped for a much kinder world, any perceived ‘differences’ regarding gender, ethnicity, culture or religion seen as making a positive contribution to a common humanity and welcomed as such. It is good to see this happening, especially among young people around the world, many if not most of whom deserve better than the awful prospect of being made to feel rejected - intentionally or not - by kith and kin.

AN EMPATHY WITH NATURE (2)

Some abuse me, say I sin
whose faith would condemn me
to serve a life sentence
for finding my own way, not theirs,
accessing a sense
of spirituality reflecting the real me,
(yes, warts 'n all);
no copycat stereotype, me, for a spirituality
that lets me BE

Consider mind-body-spirit
a temple to life forces, both worldly
and divine? In the latter
we can trust its promises to fulfil,
by way of heart-and-soul in good time;
i any other we can but hope
our judgement not in error, or else
we have but ourselves to blame, no comfort
 in hindsight…

Given life, a learning curve
my kind would do well to climb,
grow wiser to home truths,
give its kinder voices a say for the sake
of a common good,
respect various differences of opinion,
in all corners of society;
no life force has a monopoly on the humanity
that lets us BE 

Call me Sacrilege, in this heaven-and-hell world
where Peace so needs to have the last word…?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post appears on both my gay and general poetry blogs.]

 

Debating 'Political Correctness'

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I am often criticised for my personal stand on some religions, notably Christianity and Islam; the former would find me guilty of blasphemy while the latter might well see me beheaded... and that’s just for being gay. I am growing old now, and health issues mean I am no longer sexually active, but mind-body-spirit remains essentially gay so I’m no less open to such charges from either religion.

Now, I am no racist, nor do I have a problem with people as such, from any walk of life. I do, however, have a problem with being judged according to the principles of a religion to which I do not subscribe.

I am not a Christian, so how can I be accused of blasphemy? Similarly, I am not a Muslim so how can I be accused of Islamophobia? Am I not allowed to express a legitimate point of view while meaning no personal offence?

A friend of some years - who hadn’t known when we first met as students that I am gay (I was suffocating in a closet in those days) - told me that he felt uncomfortable with gay people. When I asked if that that included me (he had known I was gay for some years by now) he answered in the affirmative. I was hurt, more than a little disappointed and puzzled, too, since he had never indicated any problem with my sexuality hitherto. Such is human nature, though, so I had to get used to the idea; it certainly never occurred to me to jump on any homophobic bandwagon.

Everyone is, of course, entitled to their own religious Beliefs. Should anyone, though, feel entitled to pass judgement on another person by dint of any agenda set by those same Beliefs, especially when that other person neither shares nor recognises the validity of certain aspects associated with those same Beliefs...?

In my opinion, any society giving the impression - intentionally or not - that certain feelings and Beliefs are above the law, are permissible simply because they wear the colours of this or that religion, risks dividing itself into such pieces as may well prove hard if not impossible to put together again.

DEBATING 'POLITICAL CORRECTNESS'

When asked a question
I will always offer an answer
as best I see fit,
just as mind-body-spirit
would have me do
unsure whether or not my questioner
genuinely cares
or hopes to press all the right buttons
likely to produce revelations

Such is the emotive power
of being put on the spot, needing
to be true to the self
while thought processes
put under pressure,
not least for being only too well aware
of being pounced on
by society’s rush-to-judgemental voices
at the first hint of any prejudices

Discussion, private or public
may well see us treading eggshells,
political correctness
all but turned on its head by some
with much to gain or lose
as the case may be, free expression
across debate in the frame
for agreeing to differ, but a distant memory
in a ‘politically correct’ society

What worth debate or argument,
points of view as need to be made
so often go unheard...
not because participants are afraid
of being challenged,
but of being shouted down, even arrested
for speaking out,
(no disrespect intended) on a growing anxiety
with a ‘politically correct’ society 

No one deserves to be denied a voice,
whatever their ethnicity, sexuality, creed
or culture, and a just society
will neither rush to judgement for fear
of offending any of the parts
that comprise its whole, yet, if harmony
is the key to its success,
any discordant voices, yes, require challenging,
but also, surely, deserve a fair hearing?

Powers that be committed to tackling
prejudice and abuses of privilege in all walks
of life, pick and choose
at their peril, leave themselves open
to all manner of criticism
and allegations of being browbeaten
by the very forces
they would challenge, wherever, even a religion,
fearing to alienate swathes of public opinion

Certain voices need to ask questions of any society;
no questions, no answers, only hypocrisy

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Damper, In-out-In ... OR Tempering the Human Consciousness

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Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2016; it was slightly revised in 2003 (for my collection the following year) from an earlier [1980's] poem, and you are invited to make of it what you will.

Now, in my 70's, I still find myself recalling the words of a song from early childhood:

Well, you push the damper in and you pull the damper out,

but the smoke goes up the chimney just the same…

I well recall what a teacher once said (n the 1950's) when I asked about philosophy, having read the word in a book and found a dictionary of little help. (I was 11 years-old.) ‘Philosophy,’ he mused, possibly more to himself than to me, ‘…is a vehicle for language devised by human nature to fire its passions without its having to commit to any responsibility other than just that. Think of the fireplace damper in your living room at home; the more it is opened, the more air to fuel the fire. So it is, as I see it, with philosophy. The more open a mind you apply, the fiercer the passions of intellect are sure to burn. On the other hand, if it’s absolute proof or even meaning you’re after, that is tantamount to the damper being closed and the fire left to go out. Either way, we have to be prepared for some smoke in our eyes ir not our Does that answer your question?’ It did not, of course (and I'm pretty sure he knew it) but I hadn’t the nerve to say so. Besides, my head was already swimming.

Years on, I begin to see the appropriateness of the simile although I should perhaps add that, as I progressed from first year to 6th form, I came to see my teacher, for whom I had much affection and respect, as something of a devil's advocate. As for philosophy, I am still inclined to see it as wisdom's get-out clause for explaining away everything and nothing.

DAMPER, IN-OUT-IN … or TEMPERING THE HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS

Thoughts

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

ever homing in 

on us …

obscuring,

deluding and confusing

the senses about

who we are, 

where we’re going,

whatever will become

of us …?

Rumours

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there

everywhere,

ever homing in

on us ...

obscuring,

deluding and confusing 

rights and wrongs

keeping an eye on us

like buzzards

in a mist anticipating

our end

Hopes

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

ever homing in on us,

obscuring, 

resolving to get the better

of any delusion

or confusion driving us

to ask who we are, 

going where,

whatever will become

of us …?

History

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

feeding leftover dreams

to mind-body-spirit,

intending to reassure us

who we are,

and going where, if only

we can get it right,

wherever it is we need

to be going,

whatever will become

of us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was first published under the title Smokescreen in an anthology Sometimes I Wonder, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

Stressed Out OR Engaging with Covid-19

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A reader has asked me to repeat the link to my YouTube channel where I read poems over videos shot my best friend, Graham; he is a graphic designer and we are hoping to exhibit some of my poems written during the C-19 pandemic along with appropriate graphic art-work. Fingers crossed …

Sadly, for various reasons, we have been unable to create new additions for some time:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=UUSdhLgPQOsng2Xz8n5m0ViQ

Another reader asks how I can “… write about a ‘common humanity’ when so many of us are as different as chalk from cheese.” Well as I have continued to put it to blog readers for a good 10 years now, our differences do not make us different, only human; nor would humanity be so divided were more people and societies only more willing to agree to differ and find (other) common grounds for making peace instead of war.

Nothing exacerbates differences of opinion than being under stress so I suspect there is many a household across the world struggling with divisions erupting left, right and centre among family members and any friends whom social distancing allows them to see. A Muslim neighbour commented just the other day to the effect that in spite of all the horror inflicted by the C-19 coronavirus “We are all in it together, a Family of Man for once instead of a bunch of stereotypes causing more pain over a far longer period of time than any virus.” I get it, don’t you?

Hopefully, once we have either defeated or at least learned to control the spread of C-19 (rather than its controlling us) many if not most of us will look back on what continues to run like something out of a horror story and remember how we were, indeed, all of us in it together, regardless of ethnicity, culture, religious or (yes) sexual persuasion. One in the eye for the bigots perhaps, enough to cause a change of heart? Yes, well, they do say hope springs eternal …

Lines from a 19^th century novel seem to me to be as appropriate now as it was then:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” 
- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

How can I possibly suggest that this could, in any way shape or form, be interpreted as ‘the best of times’? Well, we are all in it together, aren’t we? The pandemic is the worst crisis the world has had to face since World War 2; we pulled together then, too, and this time Germany is not the enemy, but pulling together with us; a common humanity that, hopefully, will continue to work together long after the Covid -19 coronavirus is a thing of our distant past.

STRESSED OUT or ENGAGING WITH COVID-19 

Another day,

rise ‘n’ shine, willpower

touching base

with an alter ego

that’s long since lost sight

of any get-up-go

Another day

of waking up to memory

playing tricks on me;

Where is whatever,

and who moved it anyway?

(Not me, surely?)

Another day

on old Forget-me-Not lane

(a wistful sigh);

logging on to images

that would mean the world

should I recall why

Another day

of shopping locally, list left

at home (of course);

chatting with folks

whom I do my best to place,

for better, for worse

Another day,

walking a few laps of the park

if only to keep fit;

social distancing

making sure of no seat in sight

for tired feet

No park keeper;

C-19 guidelines abused by egos

guaranteed

to defy regulations

likely to cause inconvenience

and hurt pride

Another day

of people being people, all things

left unequal

but for mind-body spirit’s

being equal to the task of rising

above it all

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Mortality, a 'live' Canvas

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As regular readers know, I have not been well for some time, not least due to  8+ years of being treated with hormone therapy for my prostate cancer. Lately, a venous ulcer hasn't helped and arthritis can always be relied upon to make matters worse. It's enough, sometimes, for even a do-or-die spirit like mine to wonder whether it has really been worth every heartbeat. The answer has to be 'yes' of course, misgivings notwithstanding. Lately, I have to confess to being somewhat preoccupied with the latter.

Having to buy a new computer and discovering how much of a dinosaur I am when it comes to matters I T, has finally driven home the fact that I will be 74 in December; no spring chicken, indeed. I find myself wondering what happened to the chicken and taking no small comfort and pleasure in the fact that he is still here to tell the tale in spite of a good roasting along the way. Yes, I could have done some, if not many things differently and better, but I didn't, so why let the benefit of hindsight plague me so? I haven't achieved a fraction of what I once hoped to achieve, and bitterly regret letting a mental breakdown in my 30's become the trigger for looking the world in the eye about my being gay. I should have been open about my sexuality years earlier, especially given that I had realised I am gay by the time I was 14 years-old in 1959...

Even so, I have enjoyed much of my life in my own way, and that has to count for something. More to the point, perhaps, I have learned a lot from some wonderful people who have - knowingly or unwittingly - been my mentors; in good times and bad, in sickness and in health. Hopefully, I, too, may have played my part in mentoring or at least encouraging others in making of themselves what they will, not what anyone else may have in mind for them by way of compensating for their own shortcomings. Self-awareness is one thing, remaining loyal to it in the face of everything (and everyone) that is meaningful in our lives, that's something else. Well, we can but try and that has to count for a lot too.

Every living thing dies, but what never dies is whatever good their their life has brought to someone else's. There may well be good and bad in all of us, but it is the good we need to focus on, the better part of any mentoring because it comprises all we leave behind that's worth the leaving, has been worth every heartbeat whoever we are; rich or poor, whatever our ethnicity, sex or sexuality, there is something about all of us that's helping to write up someone else' life long after mortality has claimed us for its own.

We may or may not choose to follow a path as laid down in tablets of stone, but the human spirit has a mind of its own; as I learned long ago, our differences do not make us different, only human, and  - more often than not - no less deserving of respect. There has been an outcry from some parents only recently about schools having to include LGBT issues on school curricula from next year. Now, the  majority of children and young people are probably the least judgemental members of any society; what is wrong in encouraging to stay that way? I am reminded of the title of a poem posted here some time ago, 'Whatever happened to Agreeing to Differ?'

MORTALITY, A 'LIVE' CANVAS

Time, like saliva on my chin,
mind and body losing momentum,
spirit doing its best
to keep up with a digital world
testing its strengths
and weaknesses daily, yet failing
to (quite) prevent
its capacity for imagination
finding purpose,
though its hold on motivation
losing its grip

Years, trying to catch me out;
the past, much like a walking stick
sustaining my balance
as I but lean on past pleasures
to find a way
through such present predicaments
as ganging up on me,
if only to undermine processes
of thought summoned
to resist  my being outmanoeuvred
by contemporaneity

An everlasting feeling for nature;
a future much like an autumnal mist
screening off any winter
of mind-body-spirit likely to kill off
the life forces
of its spring where sense and sensibility
turning no less
on nature's capacity for self-nurture
than any human interest
in growing things, cashing in on it,
climate notwithstanding

Come that certain moment in time
I exchange the vibrant colours of life
created by engaging
with a capacity for arts-sciences-sports
(whatever cap fits)
for a mortality that's still a blank sheet
despite all the shades
of love-hope-wishful thinking and despair
(for better, for worse)
imposed by various conventions,
underwritten by dogma

No blank sheet, the haunting enigma
we call mortality, our feeling for its poetry
bequeathed one and all
to make of it whatever as needs must
give mind-body-spirit
a fighting chance to rise above the worst
of negative thinking,
reinstate hope, give peace a fighting chance
to rise above our fears,
no tears left to stain the canvas
we leave behind

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

Human Spirit, the Hand that Rocks the Cradle

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By now readers will know the so-called Arab Spring (2010) has left those countries involved no better if not worse off than before. Well, that's world politics for you...

Civil war has all but broken out in Libya yet People Power continues to make its voice heard across North Africa and the Middle East, ordinary men and women desperate for democratic reform and risking their lives for it.  The human spirit is strong if vulnerable, proving time and time again that it can and will rise above tragedy.  Perhaps, though, if more Western politicians even half understood Middle East politics and neither side did not always assume they know best...

Nature and human nature, they give and they take away. Perhaps, though, if it were even just a shade less inclined to reflex actions that demand it bite the hand that feeds it, humankind might yet find itself in better shape to prevent itself going to the dogs of war that have haunted its every step since the beginning of time...?

The poem first appeared in Poetry Monthly International (2010) and subsequently in my collection.

HUMAN SPIRIT, THE HAND THAT ROCKS THE CRADLE

There’s a hand that caresses the first buds of spring

and bids them grow;

it moves among summer corn in time for harvesting

by courtesy of Apollo

Where autumn’s leaves making ready for its turning,

it bestows a blessing;

when winter brings us to our knees, of life despairing,

it beckons us to spring

Where we run the gamut of love, hate, peace and war,

find, too, Earth Mother;

let Her fair hand caress and smooth the troubled brow

or we destroy each other

The question arises, dare we bite the hand that feeds us

and face the consequences

or do we accept it in a spirit of goodwill to all humanity,

put aside our differences?

Beware, or the hand that rocks the cradle may let it drop,

our world broken or worse;

needs must, we learn to read the hand that’s writing us up,

go back to school or else... 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was first published in Poetry Monthly International, February 2010 and subsequently Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

On the Bitter-Sweet Politics of Being Human

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War, more often than not, takes a cruel toll on Home Fronts as well as on the battlefield; it changes people, and in doing so can destroy relationships, inflict all manner of blows on family life, cause individuals to question the validity of any raison d’être on offer.

It is perhaps the greatest tragedy of humankind that it’s multi-ego has a problem with the notion of simply agreeing to differ

ON THE BITTER-SWEET POLITICS OF BEING HUMAN

At war, injury or worse for victory’s sake,

not all survivors showing its scars;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Back home, safe passage no piece of cake,

many survivors too weary for tears;

at war, injury or worse for victory’s sake

See the battlefield, its finest heroes make

of women from Venus, men from Mars;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

All roads to peace, too, their victims take,

for all we’re told an answer to prayers;

at war, injury of worse for victory’s sake

Where war makes waves across time’s lake,

find peace putting its faith in straws;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Shall history its peace with war ever make,

its windows on the world need no bars?

At war, injuries or worse for victory’s sake;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: Title (only) of the poem revised (2016) from the version that appears under the title 'War and Peace' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Waking up to Life

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Spring is in the air, season of new life and hope although this sorry world continues to turn as oblivious to positives as to negatives. We human beings, on the other hand, while we, too,  continue our daily lives, we can but look to the former for the inspiration  to carry on just as we must shoulder the latter in order to survive the worst of global conditions and human nature.  

Being positive when the immediate outlook appears bleak is possibly the greatest challenge we face in life. For my part, I always tell myself that spring follows winter, and - trite as it may sound - it has seen me through some BAD times.

May the joyful spirit of spring be with you all regardless of race, creed, sex or sexuality. (Oh, and none of us have to wait till springtime, either, but may well anticipate it by nurturing our own eternal springtime of the heart, arguably the more splendid of all its seasons, bursting with the joy of renewal and the sweet smell of hope.)

WAKING UP TO LIFE 

Showers
in clouds above, promises
of springtime,
tears for a lifetime
of such love 
and loss, joy and sorrow 
haunting us...
thereby remaining a part 
of us forever,
never (quite) leaving us
on our own to run
(oh, so self-consciously)
the eternal gamut
of socio-cultural-religious
trappings coercing
nature and human nature
for selfish gain
if only to get the upper hand
over any secular ethos
promoting self-awareness,
exposing its flaws

Showers
in darkening skies, closing in
on daily lives
trying to make the best of things,
put the worst behind,
bearing in mind a long winter
passed, asking only
of human hearts to open (at last?)
to a side of human nature
that’s less judgemental,
seeking even to be instrumental
in brokering peace
among enemies, encouraging
(mutual) respect)
for multiple differences
of opinion, faith, lifestyle choices,
in a world that rejoices
a civilized society's championing
Human Rights 
for its majorities, minorities too,
no cronyism.

As life-giving showers come and go,
so we, ourselves, aspire to know


Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: This poem appears has been revised since appearing under the title 'A Feeling for Spring' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007[

Tree of Light, Gift of Love OR A Feeling for Christmas

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It’s easy to get downhearted because Christmas seems to be all about finding money we don’t have for presents, cards, stocking our cupboards with assorted goodies etc.

Then (hopefully) something happens to make us think again and give us (and Christmas) a new lease of life...

Christians celebrates the birth of Jesus. Son of God or no, Jesus was a Man for all Seasons. Whatever our religion or non-religion, should we not always try to celebrate the spirituality we give and take from it in our everyday lives, preferably in a spirit of peace and love, no matter what or where or who?

Some Christians, for example -  even clerics -  reject gay people (including family members) because they interpret the Bible as telling them to do so. The Bible, perhaps, not Jesus. The God of the Old Testament is all but made redundant by the New. Jesus taught that God is no God of vengeance and intolerance, but the very opposite. If I were a Christian or subscribed to any religion, there is no way I would believe God is a homophobe. Thankfully, for humanity's sake, there are many Christians and other religious-minded people who feel the same.

As I have said before (being of a repetitive nature) our differences don't make us different, only human. Take the humanity out of religion and all the ritual and prayers become pointless.

TREE OF LIGHT, GIFT OF LOVE or A FEELING FOR CHRISTMAS

Once 

I found a Christmas tree

discarded in the street,

some of its branches cut away,

the rest looking shabby
(to say the least) needles already

turning shades of brown

like crumbs of toast, a sorry

specimen indeed, and few

passers-by would have spared

a glance, but something

in me responded to that tree

so I bent down, picked

it up, took it home, placed it

in a tub of earth and recall

thinking, oh, how good it was

to restore a sense of dignity

to the spirit of a sad little tree

that, surely, would die,

yet not without playing a part

of sorts in Christmas,
even with someone like me,
hardly the smiling face
of joyous festivity!

I found two dusty baubles,
some sad-looking tinsel
and a lopsided star...

Even so, it seemed to me
the little tree took on
an positive air of triumph,

and celebration, things
 I’d much preferred to forget
at this time of year

By the 25th, it had taken root,

a sight for sore eyes indeed,

one I felt a need to share, 

with a joy and pride felt before, yes,

but never quite like this feeling

for Christmas


Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2016

[Note: This poem first appeared under the title 'A Feeling for Christmas' in A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Whispers in the Wind

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History is a great teacher of love and peace; the pity is that humankind is (such) a slow learner in respect of either …  

Oh, there is peace in many parts of the world, but only where we define pace as the opposite of war ; it is an uneasy peace with societies refusing to reconcile with core differences threatening to undermine national (even global) stability at the best of times ; similarly, there is love, in all its shapes and forms, so long as we don't look too closely at the various shortcomings of human nature.

WHISPERS IN THE WIND

Whispers in the wind

like autumn leaves, ever drifting

time and space…

Love poems in the heart

like tears of a rose, harbinger

of autumn

Hymns to nature voicing

hunger for change and peace

of mind

Bogeyman at every corner

waiting to pounce, force-feed us

its prejudices

Drop-ins along every street,

ready to lend an ear, teach us

fight-back

People of all persuasions

asking no more of life than love

and peace

Grim Reaper harvesting

humankind’s failure to settle

its differences

Whispers in the wind

like deaf ears, perpetually drifting

time and space…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Anatomy of Illusion

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It often seems to me that everyday life is all about reading between lines, exposing rhetoric, making choices based on hunches…and hoping for the best.

ANATOMY OF ILLUSION

World keeps turning;

life choices

like everyday heroes

exposing tricks of light

for shadows

World keeps turning;

its worst divisions

hosting jaded heroes

performing tricks of light

among shadows

World keeps turning

open minds,

its comic strip heroes

chasing Job’s comforters

into shadows

World keeps turning;

room at the top

for air brushed heroes

blaming the worst selfies

on shadows

World keeps turning;

Earth Mother

inciting its heroes

to challenge illusions cast

by shadows

Shadows, infiltrating

a world turning

on everyday heroes

tripping the light fantastic

into chaos

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

More of the Same (Unless, What ... ?)

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[Update, December 31st 2018: I hope  you all enjoy my posts and poems as  much as I enjoy writing them. I have not been in good health for some years, and at 73 there's neither time nor room for much improvement. Even so, I keep looking on the bright side of life. The blogs distract me from the likes of prostate cancer and arthritis, and help me to feel more in touch with the world since I've been less able to get out and about in it. A huge thank you to everyone for staying with me; the sum total of pageviews for both poetry blogs has now passed 300,000.]

Here’s a BIG thank you to all my readers. When I started writing up the blogs, I hoped to reach a few thousand people, but both blogs have now had 53,000+ pageviews since Google started collecting statistics in May 2010; feedback suggests many of these are regular readers.

Christmas, light years away already. Let us hope 2014 will be a better year for us all. Sadly, for many of us, I doubt whether it will feel much like we are emerging from recession and hardship for some months, even years yet.

All we can do is find a bright side and focus on that as we try to make the best of things rather than dwell on the worst. Despite having to contend with regular bouts of depression, it is something I have always tried to do…with varying degrees of success (and failure).

Did I say it was easy?

May we all find peace and love...this year, and always...keeping mind and heart open to all things and all people.[Well, as far as some people will let us anyway.]

MORE OF THE SAME (UNLESS, WHAT ... ?)

A new year beckons across the sad remains

of a Christmas past its use-by date,

discarded wrapping paper a pretty metaphor

for token gestures, world over

Our shame, its magic fading, oh, so quickly

to an everyday ordinariness;

(they fade too soon, the laughter and songs

of a world coming together.)

Even so, the frailest things may last forever

once touched by love;

so say bodies living (and dying) on our streets

here, there, world over ...

Wherever a heart beats in time with another

love will find a way

(even if means heaping starker choices upon us

than any Holy Books ... ?)

Needs must, recycling pretty wrapping paper

and tearing a strip off humanity

whenever it fails to teach its children respect

for our differences, world over

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

The Upbeat Heart

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

You don’t have to be in the media spotlight to influence people, even society, for the better; big or small, every contribution counts and we can all make one.

Setting a good example can make a big difference; it may start off as a small ripple on a BIG pond, but it will spread. Much the same can be said for setting a bad example, of course, and we would all do well to remember that. At the same time, in various socio-cultural-religious respects, different people have different takes on what constitutes good and bad. I guess all we can do is engage with and trust our better, kinder, instincts. (At least the meaning of kindness is universally understood if not always much in evidence.)

Ah, but if we can see a ripple spread, we rarely get to see what difference our words and everyday behavior make. Take good manners for example; they seem to have gone out of the window here in recent years, but just saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to someone may well encourage them to do the same and so on, making more of us feel just that little bit better, even hopeful that this sorry world of ours might also take a turn for the better any time soon. Our differences, too, can make a difference to the much divided world in which we live and its splintered societies..by pulling together and creating a better world to pass on to those who deserve better.

This (revised) poem is a kenning. Like many of my later poems, this one is the more mature version of an earlier piece. So why publish the earlier piece? Well, it seemed a good idea at the time, and like many good ideas feedback has since shaped it into something much the same yet significantly different. 

THE UPBEAT HEART

How will it all end,

if they have their way, clerics

and politicians pulling me  

in all directions?

Will some fallen angel

pick on me and drag me away

or will a gentler spirit

have mercy, find a place for me

come Judgment Day?

Shall wolfish death

delight in tearing us apart

or strike swiftly

and cleanly at the human heart,

lost doves find their way,  

defy infernal dark, fly eternal light

or (conveniently) consigned

to mythology, out of human mind

and history’s sight

Not ours to know the how,

where, or when, but be glad to give,

learn, unite in Love and Peace

than passively wait Death’s turn

with us while our ‘betters’

play politics with common sense,

and the better, kinder, part

of human nature gets on with making

all the difference

I am that up-beat of the human heart

that gives humanity a head start

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: This poem has been substantially revised from an earlier version published in my collection The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 and subsequently in Ygdrasil:, a Journal of the Poetic Arts, May 2006.]

Engaging with Mirrors

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It is not unusual for me to hear from readers - especially young people - torn between love of family and a respect for a culture in which the family may well have its origins, but which for them, as 21st century girls and boys, men and women living in the 21st century, has increasingly less relevance.

Nor is it only tough for gay people whose culture of origin may be intrinsically homophobic, Many more young people feel hogtied by certain traditions that are, to say the least, anachronisms in the modern world.

There are no easy answers, and I am not surprised that many young people, feeling unable to  choose between their family and the way of life they would prefer to follow, continue to pay lip service to this or that anachronism while desperately seeking a compromise. [I have often wondered why ‘compromise’ is often considered a dirty word when it is not infrequently a far better path to follow than where no one is prepared to compromise at all.]

No one should be made to feel they must choose between family and the life they want for themselves. Love sometimes means letting people go. Family members can show no greater love for their children or siblings than by trusting them to make their own way in life even if, in the light of their own upbringing, they may not quite approve.

Every generation needs to break free of family ties that bind. Invariably, by doing so, those same tied reassert themselves even more strongly than before.

We are not a world of clones (yet) so let’s all make the most of who we are and not only  encourage loved ones to do the same, but take pride in their doing so.

Yes, yes, I know I have said much the same thing more than once on the blogs and doubtless shall do so again. Regular readers may well recall that I often cite my mother’s pointing out to a young Roger T that ‘if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating.’

ENGAGING WITH MIRRORS

Looking in my mirror, all I can see
is a tear-stained face grimacing at me,
mouthing questions I can’t ignore
though asked them many times before

A still, small voice demands of me
I walk tall, be confident in my sexuality,
forget compromise as a real choice,
but make a stand, give integrity a voice

I tell the mirror, ‘That’s all very well,
and I agree I might just as well be in hell
for this pain and fear like a fire in me,
but what will I find if I walk tall, go free?’

‘What if people choose to reject me
and I lose the love and respect of family,
friends, work colleagues, everyone…
lose face within my culture and religion?’

‘What chance of getting them to see
I didn’t choose my sexuality, it chose me,
and I’m the same person I was before
I chose truth, a refugee in lies no more?’

‘Follow your instincts,’ says the mirror,
though family, friends, creed and culture;
put love and peace to the ultimate test,
or how else can they, in you, find rest?’

‘Trust me,’ mouths the mirror, ‘A world
for whom respect seems so shallow a word
when it comes to healing its differences
will one day need to reassess its priorities.’

Dare I do as the mirror says in good faith,
knowing I so long to go its way, take a path
pointing me plainly in the right direction,
where I follow the rhetoric of deception?

Family and friends looking out for one another,
care you enough for me to see-hear my mirror?

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2012; 2013

[Note: An earlier draft (under the title 'It's Done with Mirrors') appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

A Predilection For Road Movies

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

Readers ‘Glen and Sara' have been in touch to say they love this poem because it reminds them of when they were students and ‘...we used to take off’ here, there and just about everywhere in an old banger we called Genevieve after the movie of the same name.’

Metaphorically speaking, life on the open road took on a whole new meaning when I finally came out years ago after far too long in a cold, dark closet that eventually resulted in my having a severe nervous breakdown some 30+ years ago.

Openness is everything, and bottling things up is never a good idea. As far as gay men and women are concerned, some feel they have no choice but to keep their sexuality secret, but it is not only gay people, of course, who find themselves hugging years of frustration close to their chest. Many of us fall victim to at least one family member, friend or colleague who simply refuses to listen to any point of view that takes issue with their own. Since there is no talking to these people, we say nothing, sometimes for years. Suddenly, we can bear their selfishness, self-centredness and generally tunnel vision no longer, and we snap, often over something so trivial they probably have no idea where the flood of our hostility is coming from.  Oh, they are nice enough people, which is probably why we put up with them for so long. It is much easier to tell a nasty person to f**k off. 

I call it closed-mind syndrome; a sickness that is prevalent in many socio-cultural-religious areas of society. It runs in my family so it will come as no surprise to new readers that I am estranged from most of my relatives. Yet, I envy people who belong to a close-knit family, and always encourage others to try and work through any differences they may have with their own even if it means venturing where I promised myself years ago that I would never go again. [Maybe that makes me a hypocrite?]

As I have said many times, our differences do not make us different, only human. We are not a race of clones (yet) thank goodness.

Oh, but love the open road. [Did I say it was easy?]

A PREDILECTION FOR ROAD MOVIES

Now and then, the road ahead

seems to stretch forever

and a weary heart seeks in vain

for the strength to carry on;

lost sight of any meaningful goal,

loneliness invading the soul,

the poetry of life but dull prose,

beauty fading like memories

once held dear, now but straws

in the wind, falling, drifting…

like autumn leaves from a tree

that has the look of a body

resolved to die. Ah, but look again

and see that Earth Mother

is not done with us yet, for all we

fret and moan like winter,

unable to comprehend that spring

might come again and the tree

come into its own though it feed

on acid rain

Look again, where the road ahead

seems to stretch forever;

glimpse patches of blue where dark

clouds part to let light through,

as good a goal as any to keep in view,

give a weary heart the strength

to carry on, though why we bother

as unclear as why we feel

the soul respond to some heavenly

goal we cannot begin to express

except to permit a fragile happiness

find its way back into us

on the backs of dearest memories

we pushed away in pain,

now conspiring yet again to make us

whole and set us free - to enjoy

the journey, inspiring our senses

to indulge us life’s finer poetry,

discover in its beauty the meaning

of eternity

Meaning, purpose, prose and poetry,

all chief players in a road movie

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