An Autumn Reverie

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

As a student of English and American literature (early 50 years ago … oo-err!) at the University of Kent in Canterbury in the 1970’s, I enjoyed reading the works of Nathaniel Hawthorne. I dipped into his Notebooks and could as easily relate to this entry then as now notwithstanding a mobility problem and my coming up to 75 years-old.

“I cannot endure to waste anything so precious as autumnal sunshine by staying in the house."  - Nathaniel Hawthorne [Notebook, Oct. 10, 1842]

 AN AUTUMN REVERIE

Autumn leaves on a lake
caught like flies in a spidery web
of glittering sunlight

Breaking free in a breeze,
skimming feisty ripples, courtesy
of a north-westerly wind

Some taking off, low fly past
over sad trees standing at attention
for once-time companions

Others, caught in a sudden lull,
returned to the lake or as prodigals
to the earth’s safe-keeping

Somewhere, woodlands sounding
its Last Post by way of acknowledging
all its seasoned veterans

Glittering sunlight on a lake,
dead leaves like flies in a spidery web,
observers lost in thought

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017; 2020

Setting the Pace

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

Here is another poem from my collections that is not on the blog; as I continue to work through them, adding revised poems for e-editions to publish at a later date, there may well be others appearing here. (Poems already on my poetry blogs have long since been revised where appropriate.)

It often seems to me that we live in an increasingly heartless world, one in which people don't care enough about each other as befits a common humanity. Even so, despite the hypocrisy, bigotry, fake news and other divisive aspects of human nature, its humanity continues to shine through because most people DO care; it's just that few hit the headlines, and we are invariably  influenced by media headlines - local and national -more than we might care to admit.

It is the human heart's capacity for empathy and caring that will always let mind-body-spirit have the edge on the worst aspects of human nature...as and when we choose to let it; in any socio-cultural-religious context.

SETTING THE PACE

I am a cry in the night,

world cocking but half an ear

as it tosses and turns

its sleepy heads on damp pillows

that will need laundering

come morning if only to hide

tell-tale patches of grief,

guilt, betrayal, loss of innocence

and worse

I am tears in the rain,

no one able to tell I am crying,

no matter that I am

dying inside, needing to show

a kinder side than seen

by those who have no pity

for the likes of a cry

in the night or tears in the rain

soon forgotten

I am shadows in twilight,

precursor to darker deeds than

any God imagined

or else He (or She) would never

have laid life on me

but left me to pass like a dream

across time and space,

no cries or tears or fretting

about losing face

The faster beat of the human heart,

I give its humanity a head start

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Rites of Silence, Fingers of Blame OR Survival, a Collective Responsibility

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

Time and again, we feel inclined to silently lament how there is nothing we can do about this or that, while expecting someone to do something.

There is always something we can do, even if it is only to lend someone a helping hand or shoulder to cry on or (better still, more often than not) speak up for them.

Arguments rage worldwide while fingers of blame point to the damage humankind is inflicting on the planet. Indeed, there seems to be a majority conscience on the streets that something needs to be done…before it is too late for future generations.

So just whose ear does Earth Mother have, and how effective can we expect it to be, the voice of this majority conscience demanding our leaders listen to and respect our greater hopes and worst fears…and whose silence is deafening?

'Throughout history, it has been the inaction of those who could have acted; the indifference of those who should have known better; the silence of the voice of justice when it mattered most; that has made it possible for evil to triumph.' - Haile Selassie

This poem is a villanelle.

RITES OF SILENCE, FINGERS OF BLAME or SURVIVAL, A COLLECTIVE RESPONSIBILITY

We've heard Earth Mother crying

dutifully considered speaking up often
but chose to say...what, nothing? 

Wherever our senses reaching,

(restless dreams, at work or play even)

we've heard Earth Mother crying

Finally placed on a war footing,
in all conscience asking we be forgiven,

but chose to say...what, nothing?

A welcome peace celebrating

an end to all battles hard lost, hard won;

we've heard Earth Mother crying

The politics of blame resuming,

pointing out certain voices that complain,

but chose to say...what, nothing?

Her weary vigil forever keeping,

world putting its interests second to none,

we've heard Earth Mother crying,

but chose to say...what, nothing?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2018

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised (2015) from a version that first appeared under the title Who’s Sorry Now in an anthology - The Bread of Life, Triumph House (Forward Press) 2004 - and subsequently in  The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised edition in e-format in preparation.]

Observations on the Human Nature of Cats

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When I was much younger (I was born in 1945) I used to play with a local stray cat that would cadge food, shelter, and affection from just about anyone, until it grew old and didn’t want to do much other than laze around yawning for much of the time.  Every now and then, though, it would throw me a knowing look as if to say, ‘I may be getting old, but I can still climb trees in my sleep. One day you’ll know what I mean.’

Yes, well, that cat never said a truer word…

[Photo from the Internet]

  

OBSERVATIONS ON THE HUMAN NATURE OF CATS

No feeble cat, I haunt people and places

I have loved, glimpse in smiling faces

a hint of pain and weariness but quickly

overcome by a strength of spirit

and zest for life, feeding me the same

though I am lost for words, cannot

name this feeling in me that puts a spring

in my step, clears blurred vision, warming

bones that have seen better days

Home cat, alley cat, pedigree, strayed,

pacing the same boundaries laid

when the appetite for territory strong

and I made my presence felt among

peers, not always for the best of reasons

it has to be said, but my seasons

well spent, better instincts no less reliable

for feeling my way when Top Cat disagrees

for seeing, sadly, through misty eyes

To each living thing, a time must come

to set the spirit free, surrender

all temporal claim to a body seen us

through good times and bad,

made grave mistakes, done us proud,

no undoing or (ever) going back, 
on chances given us to make amends, 
live and let live among old enemies, never
having to forgive old friends

Black cat, white cat, tricks of light;

tiger, tiger, burning bright…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (under the title Year of the Cat) appears in 1^st editions of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.]