Spelling it Out

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

“We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” Albert Einstein 

“The world helps you to keep evolving and hope it's for better. You have to rise above all the tragedies in life. You have to grow, and if you stop growing, you are old.” - Hrithik Roshan“

Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light.”- Helen Keller 

“Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.” - Paul Theroux  

“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty.” ― Maya Angelou

Now, after all the fun and fireworks, the early days of any new year can become daunting as we place our hopes in what lies ahead, no idea whether or not we will see them fulfilled, fail in the attempt or be outwitted by forces beyond our control…? A scary prospect.  The more we contemplate a whole new year ahead, so excitement and enthusiasm may well give way to a mind-body-spirit likely to leave us  less able to think straight than the worst hangover ever.  

So…? We may well need help. We may well need a sounding board. We may well need a good friend (who knows us well) to confide in and help our more positive thoughts to find a voice, give us feedback, help us through the hangover into whatever it takes to help us confront, make sense of and (eventually) rise above whatever is gnawing away at us…

SPELLING IT OUT

Old year done and dusted,
another to get through, for better
or worse, as we can but try 
to keep looking on the bright(er) side
of life, whatever challenges
invading our personal space demand
we meet them head-on, 
resolve to tackle each as best we can,
bring out the best of being human

We can wish our cares away
to no avail, side-step, put on hold
our worst fears in vain,
inevitably have them catch us out
when we are least prepared
for not having thought them through,
shared our feelings with a friend,
sought more than a shoulder to cry on,
called on the best of being human

Every worry, every sadness
needs to find a voice, similarly
every voice needs someone
to listen to what it has to say, hear
what lies beyond the words,
help us to understand our world,
(even make it a kinder place?)
bring such inspiration to personal space
as lets heart-and-soul set the pace

Another year of spelling out You-Me-Us;
keywords: patience, peace, happiness

Copyright R. N. Taber 2023

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today, given that feedback continues to suggest that many LGBT readers remain inclined to give this one a miss.] RT

 

The Rose Grower

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

Yes, another love poem. I guess I am a sucker for them, even though I have only been in love with someone once in my life, years ago. Short-lived, though, out time together, I will always rate it ten out of ten among other treasured memories of others whom I have loved - living or deceased -in other ways.

No happy memory is quite the same, nor even dependant on whom we may have shared it for there are times when we need to be alone, if only to think things through; it can be a lonely experience, it’s true, but it can also be an unforgettably spiritual one.  

Yes, yes, I know I’ve said much the same thing on the blog before, but as my mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating... to oneself as much as to anyone else, especially when looking on the brighter side of life resembles searching for a needle in a haystack, a feeling many if not most of us will be only too familiar.

THE ROSE GROWER

Find tears on my pillow
crafted from such memories
of loved ones I treasure so

Seeing tears on my pillow
I am inspired by every shared
yesterday-today-tomorrow

Times, made to last forever,
of flesh-and blood committed
to ensuring we stay together

Death, even, it has no claim
on a pillow’s happy memories,
a rose by any other name...

The truth is, love cannot die,
the proof, in m every heartbeat
as beside it, each night, I lie

Let flesh-and-blood part us,
but trust that we’ll stay together
in love’s ‘live’ consciousness

No personal space compares,
or company, the evergreen nature
of an eternity that’s You-Me-Us

No happy memory quite the same,
a rose by any other name 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

Love Letters in an Attic

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

A reader, J C has emailed to suggest I publish too many love poems on the blog and need to "get real about life." Well, any readers for whom love is not a reality has my sympathy.  Besides, I suspect most of us have hade our fill of having to 'get real during the pandemic. Me, I live alone, but the loves I have known in my life - in all shapes and forms - have saved me time and again from sinking into loneliness and despair.  

Once engaged in, the spiritual experience of love never dies, albeit may well reside in that part of us we reserve for our favourite memories; it can be a person, a place, a pet... whatever. (Yes, I know I have said this before, and probably will again; whatever J. .C may think, the blog is about life and the forces that not only help define us, but see us through thick and thin... of which the strongest and most influential has to be love, surely?

Happy memories can make us sad, but only if we let them rather than be not only comforted, but inspired. by them. No happy memory can ever be repeated or replaced; happiness, though, can be repeated  - time and again - in various scenarios as we pass through the seasons of life;  it is a common mistake, though, to compare what or whom has made us happy with whatever or whomsoever may yet make us happy again. 

Time passes, the world changes, and so do we. Even so, if  happy times have helped make us who we are now, who are we to deny our future the same opportunity? 

Brooding on the loss of happy times is only natural, but we risk losing sight of even those; a counsellor once advised me  - in the course of my having a nervous breakdown some years ago - that the trick is to harness the spirit of happy times and let it move us on, leaving nothing and no one behind whose part in our lives not only endures, but having shown us happy times may well do so again... if we let it...

LOVE LETTERS IN AN ATTIC

Wings of a dove
trailing us, centuries
of pain, love;
many tears shed,
taken as read;
so, glides our history,
Time's passage;
all sadness forsworn,
(for the most part)
any madness forgiven,
mind-body-spirit
bravely moving on,
accompanied only
by thoughts and desires
of the tender kind,
nor leaving anything
no, nor anyone 
behind

Such feelings!
Caress me, thrill me,
enduring bird,
each faded quill,
a tender word;
our love and laughter,
 a symphony,
ever inspiring us,
cheering us on,
we lovers pairing;
twin doves,
winging personal space,
deserving far more
than these outpourings
like acid rain
bent on
having me lose you
yet again

World turning,
moving us on through
 a personal space
as only love inspires;
no boundaries,
just a continuum
wherein we run
a gamut of life forces
letting us win some,
lose some,
but all the while sending
 messages of hope
(defiance, too)
challenging us to see
life through,
the wiser
for having known
each other

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2001; rev. 2021

[Note: This poem was written in 1993, first published in my collection, Love and Human Remains by  R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; revised, 2021.] RT

Addressing the Art of Positive Thinking

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

We have lived with the pandemic for more than a year now and everyone is feeling very fed-up if not depressed. Yes, the vaccines bring hope to us all, but these are still dark times.  

Recalling happy memories can be inspirational s well as sad, more than reason enough to look forward to being happy again; never in quite the same way, of course, but happiness comes in many shapes and forms, and better to be happy than sad, yeah?

ADDRESSING THE ART OF POSITIVE THINKING 

It’s down to us
to give the sad, weepy eye
reasons to smile again,
replace sadness with gladness,
bring such relief to any moody gloom
as lights up any room 

It’s down to us
to open up paths of memory
once skipped for the joy
of holding hands with loved ones
or off for a lively chat with old friends
where the rainbow ends 

It’s down to us
to smooth furrows in the brow
and give worries the elbow
long enough to allow self-esteem
to take pride of place in such company
as inspires all humanity 

Unable to find us?
Oh, but we are always on hand
to lighten loads,
brighten groundhog days, singing
in the rain, splashing in puddles as we go.
give Hell the old heave-ho 

We are memories
of the happy kind, as sure to put
any worse to rout
as the rabbit outwitting a wily fox
for refusing to let fear have its wicked way,
resolving to live another day 

Just one more day,
and who can ever take the measure
of its weather?
Kinder winds, as likely as not
to gift our past with a present even a future,
nature and human nature 

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2021

 

 

 

Love, an Enduring Light

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

Some lovers are lucky enough to grow old together while the rest of us must be content with focusing on happy memories.  

For the inner eye, though, the line of vision is always the same, on love, as it was at the start and always will be ...

Oh, and who cares if the writer of a love poem is gay or straight? For that matter, why should anyone mind about someone else’s sexuality anyway? As for those who so love to bring God into the debate, if God created humankind, He (or She) also created our differences and is hardly likely to reject anyone for those differences since it is, after all, our differences that make us ... no, not different, just human.

As those of us well into our 70's and beyond, there is nothing romantic about growing old, especially if you live alone; it's tough; no older person would dispute that. At the same time, where there is love in the heart, a feisty spirit is rarely anywhere near as far away as it may seem to the casual observer; invariably, there is a life within that refuses to grow old ... even as it prepares to explore the Poetry of Mystery we call death. It is an open invitation we dare not refuse; whatever our ethnicity, sexuality, religion (or non-religion) the human spirit can and will survive anything life throws at it; we have but to sow and nurture its seed so that others may (or may not) appreciate its flowering long after our all our seasons have passed into remembrance.

My old English Teacher, 'Jock' Rankin once commented that "It may be down to us to write the chapters in life, but it is left to time to publish our biography." - words that meant little at the time, but have become more meaningful with each passing season.

LOVE, AN ENDURING LIGHT

If strands of grey in the hair turning white

and less subtle laughter lines in the face,

you smile, and my world is filled with light,

as tired limbs summon dignity and grace

If the voice sounding weaker than before,

its familiar lilt still as sweet on the ear,

and a heart that keeps listening out for more,

the happier for knowing we’re together

If time, it parts the world’s lovers too soon,

our nurture of nature will have its way,

and who seeks among craters of the moon

will find flowers we planted there today

In good times and bad, love’s light endures,

though Death's tears its vision blurs

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: This post/ poem will also appear on my gay-interest poetry blog today; an earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Line of Vision’ in Tracking the Torchbearer R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.] 

Happy Sad (Christmas) Memories

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

Christmas is not a happy time for everyone, not least because it is also a time for missing loved ones no longer with us. Remembrance, though, can bring a peace of its own making, but only if we let it.

Happiness may not last, but it is never truly lost. The trick is to take stock of happy memories and nurture that happiness (not add to a growing heap of regrets) thereby sowing the seeds of an inner peace and love for years to come…

Whatever Christmas may mean and bring to you, here's wishing everyone joy in peace and love always...the joy of an open mind, free spirit and kind heart, no matter what manner of hurt this life inflicts.

HAPPY SAD (CHRISTMAS) MEMORIES

I heard a robin singing
just as dawn was breaking
on Christmas morning,
its bells (as ever) promising
Peace on Earth

I saw a couple kissing
while noon happily chiming
as if applauding
true love (as ever) promising
Peace on Earth

Dark clouds gathering,
the air, it smelled of snowing;
home fires burning,
Christmas roses presupposing
Peace on Earth

I wept for your passing,
yet we had no sense of parting,
our love as enduring
as any Christmases promising
Peace on Earth

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Never Call Me Names

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

I left school many years ago feeling a failure, and that feeling stayed with me for years.

One night, a complete stranger and I were chatting at a bar. He was a successful businessman staying at a local hotel. ‘It makes me mad,’ he said, ‘when people talk about success and failure. Some people seem to get what they want in life and others don’t. For a start, though, appearances are often deceptive. Besides, it isn’t what we think we want in life that counts, but what we know we have. If what we have makes us happy, that’s success.’

‘The trouble is,’ he went on, ‘ so many people don’t realize what they have because they are too busy wishing things different. Take me, for example. I’ve done well in my career and worked hard for it, but I’m looking for another job because I’ve finally woken up to the fact that I hardly see my wife and kids for weeks at a time. When I think of my family, that’s when I feel successful, not when I am checking my bank statement. I’ve been too busy trying to give them everything they need that I forgot they need me too, just as I need them.’

‘Look at what you need to make you happy, man, and go for it. Everyone’s needs are different so it follows that everyone’s measure of so-called success or failure will be different too, right?’

I could only nod and think on…

This poem is a kenning.

NEVER CALL ME NAMES

I wear no medals for battles won

nor will I ever walk on a red carpet

while everyone around me

applauds, begs me pause and lend

my signature to whatever

association with fame and fortune

may haunt and taunt us

at every turn, poor companion

to self-deception

It’s unlikely I will journey into space,

walk on the moon, find water on Mars

or even help repair a space station,

cross from pole to pole, raise the flag

on a mountain, pose with royalty,

leave my mark on the century - but

for getting older, growing closer

to nature, letting its finer spirituality

define my sexuality

What care I if no one speaks of me

in the same breath as classic writers

musicians, dancers, inventors,

founders of religions before they lost

their way, politicians suing

for peace where all around them

confounded by lies? I care not,

only that none should speak my name

in fear, pain or shame

Out of sheer spite, some call me Failure

that live among those who know better

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Where Kingfishers Fly

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

‘Marie’ has been in touch to say she and her family enjoyed my poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square back in July 2009 and would I post the link again please. 

So here it is, a link to as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other 24/7 ‘living sculpture’ project over 100 days of an English summer. The entire web-stream is archived in the British Library, but the link below will take you to my (very informal) hour on a (very high and a bit slippery) 4th plinth.

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the British Library archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

Meanwhile...

Tip for the Day: Don’t spend a lifetime looking for the Bluebird if Happiness or the chances are you will never find it; lighten up, and let it come to you, and when it does, you’ll know it’s no myth. The human heart needs to find its voice and sing for love (if not a lover) to hear and come our way for it is inclined to turn a deaf ear to tears. Love comes in many shapes and assumes many guises; it may or may not linger long, but will remain a lasting inspiration.

  

WHERE KINGFISHERS FLY

Some say a Bluebird of Happiness

will swoop on loneliness

like an owl to prey, turn the foggiest day

into a blaze of spring sunshine,

negotiate mazes of a mind teetering

on madness, driven to despair

by a sickness of spirit, needing
to but spot one blue, fragile, wing,
and hear (even faintly) such sweet music
as only the Bluebird of Happiness

may ever bring, egging on our desire

for the simplest things...
like that first cold beer after harvest ends,

glimpse of a kingfisher’s tail

where the river bends, scent of roses

though autumn in the air

reminding of a fragrance of your hair

each time we share a dip,

a gladness of rainbows lending more

than light to your eyes,

along your nose, upon your lips,

(where I’ll brush mine),

tonguing your ear lobe, seeing to it

that love’s heat moulds us

into an image of lasting beauty

Bluebird of Happiness, circling our globe,

looking out for us...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.] 

The Third Eye is still in print. UK readers can obtain from any bookshop or directly from me; the latter also applies to overseas readers. UK readers may also find all or some of my titles listed in their local public library catalogue.

The Snowflake

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

A BIG thank you also goes to those of you who have expressed pleasure at the videos my friend Graham and I have uploaded to YouTube; we probably would not have continued without so much encouragement. Oh, the hits are relatively small compared to videos uploaded by others, but, yet again, surprising for poetry videos. I only hope you have enjoyed the poems as much as Graham’s photography: We only have time to publish a few each year but be sure there are more in the pipeline.
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

To those of you who are enjoying the fiction blog , I hope you will continue to enjoy the story lines I plan to serialise during the years ahead; there will be a mixture of gay-interest and general titles since, as with poetry, I don’t see them as separate genres within a genre. [It is always particularly rewarding when heterosexual readers get in touch to say they have enjoyed a gay-interest story like Dog Roses or a poem like Three Little Words]:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com

Meanwhile ...

Truly, a thing of beauty is a joy forever. Now, ever looked closely at a snowflake? It is beautiful, only for a moment in time, yet saved to our personal space forever ...

[Image from the Internet]

Here's wishing you all, dear readers, a greater share of happiness, peace and love... whoever and wherever you are, and whatever the season of your life.

THE SNOWFLAKE

I spotted a snowflake on a leaf,

watched it settle for seconds there,

and in those precious seconds saw the face

of my love appear

Eyes that glittered like the snow

smiled back at me as you used to do,

and in that smile I relived the happy times

we’ve  shared, sad times too

By the light of a solstice moon,

snowflake and leaf began to dance,

and their togetherness recalled how we met,

not quite by chance

Lips as red as a robin’s breast

kissed mine, like a breath of spring

gently insisting that you to me and me to you

are its life, love, everything

You were my snowflake on a leaf

seconds before a feisty white flurry

interrupted our waltz, Earth Mother insisting

we home in on eternity

I spotted a snowflake on a leaf,

watched it settle for seconds there,

and in those precious seconds saw the face

of my Christmas appear

[London; December 2011]

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011