Tracks

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

OVERHEARD: “They’re always right so everyone else has to be wrong. How vain or self-centred can a person be, for heaven’s sake?” 

Possibly the person in question is neither vain or self-centred in the sense their accuser implies. Sometimes people need to address their inner selves so often, in order to avoid a personal abyss, that they develop tunnel vision; not in every respect, though, only as and when they need to make some cliff-hanger of a personal decision. 

Whatever, everyone’s cliff-hangers are different; what may help one person may not help another. 

Since the person under discussion here was clearly asked for advice, or at least an opinion, with which the speaker plainly disagreed... don’t they deserve some credit for at least trying to answer, in the light of what they may well have discovered for themselves, rather than sitting on the proverbial fence? 

Now, the speaker may well be right, but doesn’t the accused deserve the benefit of doubt rather than be given a stereotypical label that may well do the rounds and prove to be unfounded in different circumstances...? 

Why did I earwig and subsequently write the poem? Well, possibly because one of my favourite recordings from the 1960’s is Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood by The Animals. Sadly, it happens to some of us all the time... 

TRACKS 

Everywhere I look,
I’ll invariably fail to see what lies
beyond certain perimeters,
narrow, though, they well may be
for reasons best accounted for
by formative years left least aware
of a mind-body-spirit
failing to master such arts of interaction
as effect true communication 

Unable to break free
of such hauntings and compelled
to follow, though they lead
into such dark, complex landscapes
of emotion and imagination
as more likely to effect tunnel vision
than lend me a key
to better understanding the finer mysteries
of human history over centuries 

From time to time,
personal space allows me glimpses
of a kinder past-present-future
than the human engine in me running
on lines meant to leave me
missing out on such key destinations
as Love and Peace,
only for me to miss my destination yet again
on such tracks as are but human 

Call me Self-centredness, that human faculty
often mistaken for vanity 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

Teller of Tales, Second to None

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

What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in the Corridors of Power, just about anywhere in the world! 

There is a saying, ‘Truth will out’ and it invariably will, if only in bits and pieces for us to make of them what we will, our own bias making no less a contribution to our interpretation of those same bits and pieces as whatever personal agenda various sources releasing them may be following. 

As England prepares to enter a second lockdown on Thursday, the local gossips are having as much a field day as party politicians. As ever, I can’t help recalling what my mother used to say of national politics and local gossip alike, “Never rely on one source, and always try to keep an open mind.”

This poem is a kenning.

TELLER OF TALES, SECOND TO NONE 

I mingle with the rich and famous
every day, but am rarely in the public eye
although you may glimpse me
on the telly now and then helping to set
the scene for an interview,
a silent witness never anything to say there
and then, although the chances are
you’ll hear more from me, and openly,
no anonymity 

Politicians have always had my ear,
along with icons of sport and other masters
of their art, whether he or she
be a movie star or small screen celebrity,
writer of novels, poems, recipes
to try at home or travel tales sure to tempt
even a diehard stay-at-home
to roam beyond house and garden, by courtesy
of imagination 

I rub shoulders with kings and queens,
help lift the lid on various world intrigues
(if better late than never);
I can travel past, present and future as easily
as hailing a cab, catching a bus,
free to fly air corridors, saol oceans wide,
summon emotions good and bad,
play such games with the human psyche anyone
engaging with me 

No more sworn to secrecy than bound by time
or place, your everyday bookcase

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

War of Words

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

“You can please some of the people all of the time, you can please all of the people some of the time, but you can’t please all of the people all of the time.” - John Lydgate (English poet)

In my humble opinion, they should not go into politics who fail to appreciate the wisdom of Lydgate’s words. Most if not all of us have to compromise sometimes; it requires give and take on all sides to get the best deal available for everyone in what are inevitably circumstances enough to test anyone’s mettle. Sadly, fair play and politics (world, national and local) do not often go hand in hand; the rhetoric is there, and plenty of it - it's election fodder, after all - but sadly not always backed up by action.

This poem is a villanelle.

WAR OF WORDS

A war of words in everyone’s face,

fake news stirring up the media fray,

lending tunnel vision pride of place

Good intentions on everyone’s case,

rumours-and-gossip, Dish of the Day;

a war of words in everyone’s face 

Dead Cert, favourite to lose the race

(ever in the running, come what may)

lending tunnel vision pride of place

It’s a brave soul dares cut to the chase

once primed to keep home truths at bay;

a war of words in everyone’s face

Anticipation, needs must touch base,

providing the world with plenty to say,

lending tunnel vision pride of place

Should ever we fail to make our case,

it’s not the Devil we know wins per se;  

a war of words in everyone’s face,

lending tunnel vision pride of place

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019, 2020

[March 23^rd 2019]

Catalyst

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

So often in life, we think someone may be responsible for something, whether it be for good or bad, but circumstances suggest otherwise; it is so easy to convince ourselves that what is essentially a fiction in our heads is a fact. No or little harm done if our fiction has a happy ending for its main characters, but the alternative tells a different story altogether and may well have a detrimental, even catastrophic effect on those people’s lives who deserve better.

I have been the victim of the latter more than once, how about you? As for pleading  guilty to the same offence, I like to think not, but can any of us be sure that a word and/ or sentiment out of place hasn't done the rounds and acted as a catalyst for causing more damage than we could imagine ... ?

Hearsay is rife in any socio-cultural-religious context; it cannot move mountains but it can - and does - shake faith, trust and all manner of emotions ... in whatever and whomsoever, anytime, anywhere ... just as easily as it can restore.

CATALYST

I can be a friend

depending on how well you discern

the truth in what I say

in an ear less receptive

to my opinion for its having learned

of my penchant

for hidden agendas, how I so love

to sow seeds of dismay, lies dressed up

as hearsay

I can be an enemy

depending on any given situation,

whispering a warning

in an ear receptive to my opinion

and likely to bring you

heartache and misery for what I say

at face value

deaf-blind to signs of any hidden agenda

in my manner

Be on your guard

for the likes of me, sometime friend,

sometime enemy,

skilled in tactics tailored to my needs,

seeing to it

that human nature feeds on fake news,

insider knowledge

of home truths, invariably alerting me

to its flaws

Trust in better instincts, avoid me if you can

that am called Suspicion

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

The Crusher

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

This Age of New Technology is an Information Age like no other (so far) with information available to us at the press of a button. How much of this, though, is reliable or even correct? Although it is a good 50+ years since I left school, I well recall being taught how to discriminate fact from speculation, points of view from an extended imagination which only just falls short of pure fiction.

Often, I hear people tell me they like to speak their minds, and I am all for it. More often than not, though, they are repeating parrot fashion something they have heard or read about with which they happen to relate; relating, however, and agreeing are not the same thing. We need to investigate further in order to reach an informed conclusion.

While many of us have strong opinions on various subjects, we need to respect that others may agree to differ. Better still, we need to be able to support out opinions with information gained from reliable sources. At the same time, we should not dig our heels in to such an extent that we cannot be drawn into alternative arguments which may lead us to reach an altogether different conclusion.

If a closed mind is a dull mind, an open mind is a lively one although sitting on the proverbial fence is not an option and we need to feel confident about deciding where we stand, and be prepared to be counted; that way, the human animal remains free and primed to resists any attempts to cage it by  misleading information or propaganda. 

Where seeing is believing then sadly so, too, is deceiving at times, no one spared, neither political nor religious leaders, while social media targeting the likes of you and me as well.

THE CRUSHER

I will crush you in my grip,

but slowly, relishing the torment

of each victim fallen

into a trap of his or her own making

but deserving better (perhaps?)

than finding me there, rendering

any bid for freedom

no more or less than a pathetic

waste of time

If I show mercy now and then,

be sure it is but part of a dark design

intended to give more false

an impression even than I gave you,

who thought you knew better,

leaving yourself underestimating

your defences, vulnerable

to attack on all sides, quick thinking

your only recourse

I cherish any advantage over you,

relish reminding you time and again

of what deaf-blind vanity

has given you to me like a sacrifice

to Gods of Desire on hand

to enjoy their wicked ways with you,

only to toss their leftovers

where I wait to chew away at live flesh

on the bones

Call me Fake News, active and scary

in world societies believing in me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016, rev. 2021

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it last  appeared on the blog under title 'Enemy at the Door' 2016.] RNT

x

Rumour

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

I confess no poetry editors have ever shown an interest in today’s poem, yet it has always been well received at poetry readings and even stimulated lively debate.  So many people seem to have been the victim of rumour at some point in their lives or know of someone else who has fallen foul of gossip. Far too often, seemingly ‘harmless’ gossip has become exaggerated beyond recognition by the time it has run its course.

Now, it can be a sad as well as wonderful feeling when a reader makes contact to say how a poem of mine has affected them deeply because they can relate so intimately to it. A reader got in touch with me in 2005 to say how he had borrowed my collection form his local library and this particular poem brought back vivid memories. It appears that he had been forced to move away from his childhood home after neighbours circulated nasty rumours about him; these resulted in his being physically as well as verbally assaulted in the street and his house was also vandalised.  The rumours were unfounded, but even after a local newspaper printed a true version of events, completely exonerating him, tongues continued to wag and the harassment continued.

I am pleased to say that I have heard from this reader since. He has made a new life for himself and his family and his wife recently gave birth to their third child.

Tragically, not every victim of vicious rumour has a happy ending. I personally know of one who committed suicide.

Oh, but if only some people would think before they start apportioning blame to others for this or that before they have all the facts…!

RUMOUR

Closed, the curtains now,

graffiti on the sill;

no cheery sounds in every room

just gloom and an eerie chill;

no laughing at the budgerigar

or thinking about a new car

but cowering in fear at a banging

on doors, the yelling

of good neighbours

out in force...after rough

justice

Empty, the garden now,

daisies on the lawn;

no kids playing on the old swing

and the satellite dish has gone;

no dog chasing next-door’s cat

or neighbours at the gate

converging like wolves

on fresh meat, working up

a thirst...too late

to make a killing; the law

struck first

Media in on the act,

and prime TV;

parents puffing their points

of view, kids enjoying

the party...

All quiet now. Werewolves

slinking from the scene.

(Can’t get it right every time

and who's to say

what might have been? A job

well done.)

Budgie gets to keep its cage;

history skips a page…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: This poem has been (slightly) revised from the original as it appears in  First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Joker

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

Telling jokes about people is a cruel pastime in which too many of us are inclined to indulge. Humour is wonderful, and some jokes can be very funny...until they get personal and take on shades of malice; for the butt of the latter, life is no laughing matter.

We all know how cruel some children and young people can be towards peers somehow marked out as ‘different’ from others… whether by a disability or whatever. At least younger children rarely appreciate the gravity of their actions. We adults, on the other hand, have no excuse.

Let's be kind to each other, yeah?

JOKER

You dropped the joke into a humming pool,

let ripples spread

from merry chuckle

to sly whisper

I watched the whisper take its course

from eye to eye

until someone

laughed

Like a freak wave, that laughter came

tumbling upon the whisper,

dashing it to pieces,

scattering me

Everywhere

[From: Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]