Keeper of the Light

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

“There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading to the same place, so it doesn’t matter which path you take. The only person wasting time is the one who runs around the mountain, telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.” – Hindu Proverb 

“… where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight which, no doubt, which was why so many people looked on it as immoral.” – John Galsworthy

“Re-examine all you have been told. Dismiss what insults your soul.” – Walt Whitman 

 “Beauty awakens the soul to act.” Dante Alighieri

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” – John Keats

Now, we all have good and bad memories, but the reason why happier times will always get the better of and rise above the worst is invariably due to an active inner eye and ear focusing on the kinder aspects of heart-and-soul which, by its very nature, will always home in on the positive rather than the negative; the key is, of course to keep focusing on the former, no matter how tough the going may get. 

Yes, sometimes we fail, but where there is life, there always  really is hope… in our hands, be it, no one else’s; any help along the way is always much appreciated, if not always acknowledged at the time....

KEEPER OF THE LIGHT

I see only what I can feel;
though my eyes may well argue
the truth of this,
they cannot win, for the inner eye
sees all that matters
to keep such true faith with me
as exists way beyond
any worldly processes of part or whole
that come to hunt us all

To know me is to love me 
or prove my enemy and yours,
a united front
comprising secret jealousies,
frustrations and rage
that can neither  possess me
nor find an equal
to compare with such mixed a passion
as the poetry of imagination

Hunted, haunted, good-bad
lost and found again, it is I inspires
a greater humanity
to endure, urging all its kind
keep faith with me; 
though Memory’s whim may take us 
here, there, everywhere,
it is for love of me that it can but prevail
for messaging heart-and-soul

I am called Beauty, humanity’s inner eye
on the kinder face of eternity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

The Lilac Tree, no Fairy Tale

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

“I’ve not much interest in the important things of life. Only in the beautiful things. Just” this lilac here makes me happy. – Erich Maria Remarque (Three Comrades)

“The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air like wisps of the past and hints of the future.” – Margaret Millar

“Philosophy: A purple bullfinch in a lilac tree.” – T. S. Eliot

There was, indeed, a lilac tree in the garden of the house where I was born in Gillingham (Kent); true, too, it was still there when I made a point of passing that way during recovery from a mental breakdown in the 1970’s. True, also, that its fragrance filled me then, as it always has and always will, with the life force that is hope; for every blind alley, a kinder alternative.

THE LILAC TREE, NO FAIRY TALE

Once upon a time,
a lilac tree grew in the garden
of the very house
where I was born, lived and played
with friends and family,
would see birds and butterflies attracted
by its fragrance in full bloom,
extending a poetry of spring into early summer,
memories to treasure

Come winter, pruning
would bring tears to the eyes
of family and friends,
less hardy than the little lilac tree,
more vulnerable
for having to weather less-than-kind
ways of the world, eager to give it
a fighting chance to thrive, stay safe, be strong,
lend us a focus for living

Grown old and weary,
yet no less spirited for all that,
a whim took me treading
an alleyway in time and personal space
to the same garden gate
of the very house where I was born,
first felt the fragrance of lilac
encouraging heart-and-soul to weather whatever
in nature and human nature

In one corner of a stranger’s garden, I can still see
my lilac tree, sweet smell of eternity

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

Sealed with a Kiss

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

Love does not discriminate, can be found in all walks of life and means different things to different people.  

Just as people may well change as time passes, so too may the love that binds them; it will either accept and adapt to any changes, or not. In the latter case, it does not entirely deaden the spirit of that love which first brought lovers together, but lets it pass into a dreamless sleep from which there is no waking, leaving both parties free to find love again if they can and so choose. I once knew a woman who married for a second time late in life; it was his second marriage too. Each loved both partners dearly. “They were both very different,” she once told me, “...but so was I, that second time, and love fitted us like a glove, just as it had for each of us the first time around...”

A loneliness of the heart can be filled in many ways, not least by finding that special someone who can help fulfil our needs, share our passions and generally be looking for much the same in a life companion as we are ourselves. That’s as near as I can get to defining ‘true’ love’ while not to say its various imitations are any the less meaningful or honest at any given moment in time.

Two people can enjoy sex with each other, for example, without wanting the kind of commitment that being ‘in love’ involves sooner or later. ‘Casual’ sex is a misnomer; there is nothing casual about two adults agreeing to sex simply because a mutual attraction also satisfies a deep-seated need, whether or not those needs are quite the same.

A reader asks if I have anyone in mind when I write love poems. Yes, I do, but only for having felt the power in all its shapes and forms, though having been ‘in love’ for only a short time. My potential partner was killed in a car accident long ago, before we’d had time to come out of our respective closets and tell friends and family we were in a relationship. I never met anyone again who saw me as a potential life partner.  Even so, as I deal with living alone on a physical level, I am never alone on an emotional one.

Loved-ones, living or passed away, whether family, friends or lovers... they never die, but pass into our consciousness and will continue loving and supporting us if we let them. Yes, it is a sentiment at which some may well scoff, but it works for me and can work for them too if they will only give it a go...

SEALED WITH A KISS

We met at a dance,
soon got into romancing
under a moon as misty
as a priest’s glass eye,
voices in the wind making us
laugh, making us cry

We wished on stars,
felt the world cease to turn,
pause, as if eager
to share our first kiss,
voices in the wind sighing
“Yes, yes, yes...”

So began, a fairy tale
that would see us hitching
rides across landscapes
of such joy and tears
as any lifetime sure to bring
true lovers

That first kiss, a blessing
as of Earth Mother
to Her children, lending us
a spirituality
to rise above the many failings
of Society

Through thick and thin,
up against walls
or dancing other nights away
wherever we may be,
we bonded with that very first kiss
into eternity

Come other nights, dawns,
wherever life chanced
to take us, be we awake or asleep
together or apart
a life force would always sustain us,
,our shared heart

If all good things must end,
memory grow dim
and time wing its way to eternity,
be sure of this;
true love lives on forever, once sealed
with a kiss

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poem is loosely based on an earlier poem that appears under the title ‘Hold the Dream’ in my collection First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002.]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No Match for Love

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

Regular readers will know that I wholeheartedly support assisted suicide when it is clearly what a person wants and there is no hidden agenda on the part of any third party. Oh, and why not; we put down animals in distress so why persist in treating human beings less humanely? Yes, there are religious arguments concerning the sanctity of human life, and I respect these, but why should anyone who subscribes to no religion be likewise bound by them? In some countries, Assisted Dying is legal, but why should anyone have to leave country and friends, let alone have to pay for the 'privilege' of dying on their own terms? So far, I can live with the fact that my quality of life has been much undermined by my prostate cancer; once the cancer becomes aggressive or my quality of life all but beyond endurance...I would prefer a say in dying that does not necessitate the the pain of  leaving not only loved ones, but my country too. Oh, and why not...?

People may argue the sanctity of human life, but what of the quality of human life? We have no say in our being born, we all deserve a say in when and how we die as and when the occasion arises. Whose life is it, anyway? 

Yes, we may (or may not) be much missed by some, but every life touches  others more than it can ever know, and whomsoever it has touched for the good, there thrives the art and poetry of Memory to nurture our posthumous consciousness, playing an active part in lending lives and human spirits  the timelessness we call eternity.

NO MATCH FOR LOVE

I try the patience

of all those who can relate to me

but cannot call me

friend since we do not empathise

with one another;

yet neither am I an enemy,

the likes of which

would see the kinder mind-body-spirit

go into free fall

To the human spirit,

I throw the challenge of a lifetime,

daring it to use me

as it will – go with my flow, turn

the tables on

any open contempt I so love

to put down

by recording its final shouts and screams

that all may listen in

No defeatist, I pursue

friend and enemy alike, inflict on them

ways of seeing

and feeling beyond all imagination,

regardless of race,

religion or gender identity,

no attempt to please,

but bring humanity to its knees, homing in

on its finer flaws

I am Pain, would triumph over all humankind

but for its capacity for love upstaging me

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

A Parting Gift OR Mind-Body-Spirit, Bottom Line

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

A new poem today as I work my way through New Year blues, and try to rise above them. Oh, I will get there, but it becomes so much harder as the years pass...

As regular readers well know, I do not subscribe to any religion although I think of myself as a pantheist relating closer to Earth Mother. I was once asked if I feared death as I envisage no Heaven. Well, I don't fear death as such, only any pain that might come first. The human spirit, though, lives on in the hearts and minds of any it has touched during a person's lifetime and it's that posthumous consciousness I see as a kind of afterlife, our parting gift to a common humanity of which, for better or worse,we play a part all our lives.

Many if not most of us look back on our lives as we grow old, good times and bad, wondering if we could have done better, and if we have made any real difference at all; questions to which few of us have all the answers, only shadows; We can but hope our being here has made some difference to someone, somewhere, and for the better.

A PARTING GIFT or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, BOTTOM LINE

As we grow old,

so, too, find us chasing shadows

across the mind;

memories come to haunt us

for good and ill;

dreamy days, nightmare days,

in-between days,

mind-body-spirit left to make sense

of it all

As we grow old,

years like passers-by try to read

our changing faces,

leave us asking of time and space

just how much

of all they see (or think they see)

is fact, wishful thinking,

or home truths we’ve spent a lifetime

hiding from

As we grow old,

our shadows deepen, linger longer

as if daring us

to catch them like butterflies

in a net,

no harm meant, but pleasure spent

in showing nature

who’s king-pin, aware of Earth Mother

looking on

As we grow old,

so tearfully we’ll recall butterfly wings

on a bedroom wall,

rare species, a collector’s boast

for catching the most

in Class 3 B, earning a gold star,

one in the eye

for living things bright and beautiful, great

and small

Ah, but butterflies

enjoy but a brief life span, while old age

(if chasing shadows)

homes us in on splendid dawns,

starry nights,

sunny days of love, laughter,

family and friends,

where a rolling landscape of mind-body-spirit

never ends

Mortality, it catches up

with all live things, its kinder shadows

lending wings

to rise above time and space,

access realms

of least explored consciousness

and spirituality;

passport to eternity by way of life’s parting gift

to humanity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

N-A-T-U-R-E, Imaging Eternity aOR Transcending Known Parameters

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

It seems to me that we often overlook the simpler pleasures of life in our enthusiasm for the more exotic or whatever is most likely to impress family, peers and neighbours. A friend once commented, ‘We never know long we’ve got so all the more reason to cram in as much as we can while we can.’ I get that, but not everyone is a crammer; we all want different things from life and just because someone does not appear to have a lot to show for his or her life doesn’t mean they have not live it, in their own wat and time, to the full.

Now, every so often, someone asks me why I often write about death. Well, as a positive thinker, I try to be as positive about the inevitability of death as I do about making the most of each day as it comes, no matter what it may bring. Besides, I have been living with prostate cancer for nearly six years now so shying away from death is not an option. Not that I have any intention of letting the Grim Reaper have his way with me just yet! (Better to be positive, surely?)

It has been suggested by those who do not know me very well that I should ‘find God’ and therefore need have no fear of death. They mean well, of course, but I have never been able to relate to any religion or idea of a personified ‘God’. Nor am I am an atheist, though, but more of an agnostic in as much as I do believe in a sense of spirituality that enhances our customised vision of the world; outwardly and inwardly. However, as regular readers well know, I take that sense of spirituality from nature, not religion.

Oh, and why, too, do I have a particular fondness for robins? Well, not least because they are survivors, known to see out the worst winters if only to sing in another spring, reminding us all that, of all nature’s gifts, hope has to be among the best on offer. (And should hope die in some bleak winter of the heart? Well, as spring follows winter so, too, perhaps might we…?) 

Such is a sense of spirituality as I see it or if you prefer, the Landscape of Imagination from which so much of my poetry takes its inspiration, both mutually inclusive in my view.

N-A-T-U-R-E, IMAGING ETERNITY or TRANSCENDING KNOWN PARAMETERS

No one ever lays flowers,
comes even to rework old times,
but an old tree reads poems
that passes for a fitting eulogy,
and a robin sings

No memorial marks the spot,
none have cause to pause this way,
but shadows make a play
for life at Apollo’s pleasure,
and seeds grow

Each of four winds has a say
in how the tree needs must recite;
leafy branches acting out
rhythm, rhyme, blank verse,
(all weathers)

Mark how seasons play a part,
anticipating nature’s every mood,
overseeing a predilection
for happy-sad shades of green,
amber, red and mould

No let-up by day or night,
the tree passing on its every nuance
of sight and sound to each man,
woman and child with any feeling
for the natural world

Nature may well see us through
time’s ever-changing kaleidoscope,
yet humanity has far more say
than any leaves in what patterns
it may shape us…?

Ah, but such is human nature,
it may yet branch out on leafy whim
to make, break, let rise or fall
such passions of the human heart
as a robin sings
  
Roger N. Taber (2016)

Road Signs OR Winging with Doves

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

Travelling hopefully, we make our way through life.

Go carefully, but trust your instincts and never be afraid to take any risks mind-body-spirit might suggest. Okay, so that might be a mistake sometimes, but better to make a mistake, surely, than live with a lifetime of regret? Besides, everyone makes mistakes so ... what the heck, so long as no great harm done (except maybe to the ego)?

ROAD SIGNS or WINGING WITH DOVES

It was a bright light led me to this place,

as I fought for breath in a mother’s womb,

painting dreams of peace, glory, grace,

winging with doves at a warrior’s tomb

Fading, a light that led me to this place

as I took my first breath outside the womb,

painting dreams of peace, glory, grace,

winging with doves at a warrior’s tomb?

It’s a long road that led me to this place,

some may call it destiny, other fate or doom,

but although my sight dims, I see a face,

lighting up with love over its womb-tomb

Who watches out for its peace, glory, grace,

journeys well from first to last resting place

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008