A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

Name:
Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Saturday, 3 September 2022

The Lie OR A Matter of Conscience

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

“To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man.” -  William Shakespeare

If you do not tell the truth about yourself, you cannot tell it about other people. – Virginia Woolf 

“Lying to ourselves is more deeply ingrained than lying to others.” Fyodor Dostoevsky

“The worst part about being lied to is knowing you weren’t worth the truth.” Jean-Paul Sartre

Now, I suspect most if not all of us tell lies sometimes, whether to ‘spare’ someone home truths or, more likely, to spare ourselves having to cope with theirs and our own at the same time. Whatever motivates the telling of them can be as deceitful, if not more so, than the lies themselves. 

Living with a lie can be a harsh, lonely environment; such was the closet imposed on me at the ripe old age of 14 years by family, church and a generally homophobic 1950’s before I finally came out as a gay man. There are other closets, of course, and other lies; if the cap fits…?

THE LIE or A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE

Whenever I may try
just to put something right,
you’ll argue with me
one long, dark night till dawn,
and just when I’m sure
I’ve won, a watery sun and birdsong
arrive to prove me wrong

It matters hardly at all
should you colour me white,
for soon forgot,
waiting to catch you out;
if no real harm done,
easy enough to simply shrug me away
if only to nag you another day

It’s who colours me black
or even subtler shades of grey
has the most to fear,
living on the edge of a pit
of snaky half truths
eager to begin, on any slip of the tongue,
a song no swan ever sung

Oh, but I so revel in leading people astray,
anywhere, any time of day... 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RT


Labels: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,