Hi, folks, from London UK

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

"Peace cannot be achieved through violence; it can only be attained through understanding". Ralph Waldo Emerson

“It is far better to endure patiently a smart which nobody feels but yourself than to commit a hasty action whose evil consequences will extend to all connected with you.” - ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

“And sure enough, even waiting will end...if you can just wait long enough.” ― William Faulkner

"Never cut a tree down in the wintertime. Never make a negative decision in the low time. Never make your most important decisions when you are in your worst moods. Wait. Be patient. The storm will pass. The spring will come." - Robert H. Schuller

Hi, folks,

Yet again, I am working on a new poem; the spirit is as willing as ever, but it is a grim looking morning outside and inspiration is not yet quite ready to compensate for it. 😉

A bad night with the prostate cancer hasn't helped; even though it was not diagnosed as aggressive back in 2012, I was not prepared for years of broken sleep. Even so, I continue to feel encouraged and inspired by so many people across the world having to endure far worse circumstances then yours truly, not least the homeless and dying.

Many years ago, at school, I studied Shakespeare's King Lear for A-level GCE Exam; I was only studying two subjects, the other one was French, and I needed to pass both to go to Library Schools - for which I had been conditionally accepted. I failed the French exam, not once, but twice because my oral was not up to scratch. I was devastated and and left school in 1964 with no clear idea of what the future had in store for me. In those days, relatively few people understood homosexuality and were even less tolerant of LGBT+ folks than many still are.

It was King Lear that came to my rescue. Of all the wonderful quotes to be found in Shakespearean texts, perhaps the least likely, but one that has seen me through some tough times all my life, has been from Act 2 where Lear, raging against the cruelties of daughters, Goneril and Regan, cries:

"You heavens, give me that patience, patience, I need...!"

Now, I am a Sagittarian and it would take me another 12 years to get a university degree  and eventually qualify as a graduate chartered librarian, during which time, I needed to draw on far more patience than comes naturally to anyone born under a fire sign...

Generally speaking, attitudes towards LGBT+ folks then left much to be desired and, for a variety of reasons, I stayed in a dark, lonely closet for more years than I care to remember. Slowly but surely, attitudes are changing as more people begin to appreciate that sexual identity is not a matter of choice. 

As I have said on previous posts, one of the greater tragedies of modern life is that many world societies and religions have no understanding of the LGBT+ mindset; in my case, it was this that led to a nervous breakdown in the late 1970'swhich would ,in turn, lead to lead to my coming 'out' and starting the gay poetry blog.

Oh, but I do indeed owe King Lear, more than I could have dreamed or hoped for way back in my schooldays...!  wry bardic grin

So, too ,'new' reader, K W, who dismisses my regular use of quotations prior to the main body of my poetry-posts as "a load of literary b- shit" may understand why we must agree to differ...?

Bye, for now, dear readers, and I hope to be back with another poem very soon.

Hugs,

Roger

[Note: this post also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

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

Wreck of 'The Perfidy'

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

“If one tries to navigate unknown waters, one runs the risk of shipwreck.” - Albert Einstein

“Life is a shipwreck, but we must not forget to sing in the lifeboats.” – Voltaire

“Every Government has as much of a duty to avoid war as a ship’s captain has to avoid a shipwreck.” - - Guy de Maupassant

Whether or not Russia invades Ukraine, there are likely to be personal well as political repercussions for all concerned.

Much the same can be said for the Covid-19 pandemic; signs akin to post traumatic stress syndrome (PMT) may well manifest themselves in many if not most of us, and we need to remain alert to the possibility.

While the pandemic, is hopefully in decline, common sense alone would suggest that now is not the time to assume that all’s well that ends well. We need to stay on high alert for some time yet, maybe years. Even so, we can still get ourselves a life and make it well worth the having, yes?

Yes!

WRECK OF ‘THE PERFIDY’

I am no ‘fate’ pitting us
against stormy seas, rather dare
or circumstance,
feeding our personal space
with such ideas...
whether perceived as serving history,
pecuniary advantage,
or simply needing to chase a heart’s ambitions
any repercussions, down to us

I will throw a lifeline
of sorts to any mind-body-spirit 
in such distress
as it cannot begin to assess
the risks involved,
concerned only with breaking free,
seemingly a second chance
to turn a life around that’s run aground
on ever shifting mud flats

A coastline in full view
suggesting such safety and security
as only troubled souls
shipwrecked on such a shore
as deceit-pretence
dare thrive, in the thick of a gullibility
and ignorance
to which the least discerning among us
offer little or no resistance

Time, though is no lifeline
to the mind-body-spirit seeking ways
to finally escape
the perfidious lie left to gnaw away
at the heart and soul
of one led astray, unable to (ever) confess
for fear of exposing
its pillar of society for hypocrite-fraud,
intentionally so or not

No permanent safety in sight,
despite attempts by family and friends
to make of me more
than an object of curiosity
and suspicion,
left but to reason the how and why
came The Perfidy here,
meant to sail into history with honour, pride,
only to beach on mud flats

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Past-Present-Future, Ringing the Changes

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

Overheard recently, two macho-looking guys pausing to light cigarettes while wheeling prams on a Saturday morning: 

1^st man: “I’m sick of hearing about climate change and how we all need to all do our bit to save the planet. It’s been us against the planet for thousands of years and it’s still messing with us, but we’re still here and so’s the damn planet so... what’s the problem? We’re survivors, right? I mean to say, you’ve only got to see how far we’ve come. I mean, it’s History, right, moving forward and all that? History isn’t suddenly about to put the brakes on, well, is it, I mean to say...” 

2^nd: man: (Shrugs) “History is as the likes of you and me do, I guess. We’ve got things wrong in the past and you only have to listen to The News to know we’re still not getting everything right. (Shrugs again) So maybe we need to take a long, hard look at what we are doing and start pulling together instead of trying to put one over on each other all the time... 

Babies start crying 

Both men (Laughing): “Saved by the bell!” (Moving on) 

What can I say? Two machos wheeling prams and Climate Change getting a look-in has to be good start... right?  Or... yes, what...? 

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, RINGING THE CHANGES 

No wind in the trees,
not even the lightest of breezes
to cajole human ears
into listening out for ethereal voices
expressing peace, love,
and that old standby, hope, waiting
for mind-body-spirits to call
them in from as bitter and lasting a cold
as lives but left to grow old 

No flickers of light,
nor even the faintest hint of sun,
moon or stars
to suggest the planet is even alive still,
or else as indifferent
to pain inflicted by its own sense
of crisis, as its better parts
to the pleas of a collective consciousness
for a greater self-awareness 

World, keeps turning,
all humanity ringing its changes,
meaning to sing is praises
while being put through its paces sooner
than later, a nagging need
to keep up appearances taking priority
over its harsher realities
rather than demand its global powerhouses
confront certain home truths 

Re-awakening, the spirit
of past-present-future configuring
human history,
doing its best to fire such engines as keep
a global consciousness
more in step with a common humanity
than have its vanities
see those home truths continuing to mutate
by way of political debate 

Now, feeling, the lightest
of breezes come to reassure me
that I, Reasoning may yet
get the better of all human nature seeks
to divide and let fall,
any picking up and reworking left
to an innate mind-body-spirit
encouraged by regenerative powers of nature
(ill-defined by human history.) 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

 

 

Lines on the Psychology of Dreams

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

As I grow old, (in my mid-70's now) I become more and more frustrated with things I need to say, feelings I need to express. On reflection, though, it is not an entirely new experience, but one with which I have been afflicted all my life … for reasons shrouded in mist, revealing but shadows that could be anything or anyone; they are, of course, those parts of me I cannot reach for reasons best known to that 'other’ self, a twin subconscious if which I am aware only of a nagging presence, details to which self-awareness may or may not be made privy in the course of a lifetime...

LINES ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DREAMS

Once, I flew a blackbird’s wing
all length and breadth of global space,
saw much, understood little;
misty doors, some left ajar for glimpses
enough to fire the imagination,
others opening up by way of an invitation,
many, though, remaining shut,
suspicious, perhaps, of any unasked-for attention
or if something to hide … what? 

Suspicion, in turn, I was fed plenty;
even as I enjoyed taking up invitations,
joining celebrations, whatever …
The goings-on behind those closed doors
haunted mind-body-spirit
enough to subdue any fires of imagination
lit by random glimpses elsewhere;
nothing for it, but connive to get me a skeleton key,
if only to get the better of... fear? 

We flew low over a jackdaw’s nest
and I grabbed a key glittering in the sun
before we flew on to a door
we had passed before, made me curious
for various sounds inside
I could not (quite) identify, a sixth sense
warning this would not end well
even as I was turning key in lock, oh, but softly, softly
only, once inside … freefall 

Blackbird flown, left alone to answer
for the consequences of letting curiosity
get the better of cowardice,
nor was it the first time nor likely the last;
the door that says “Keep Out”
may well have our best interests at heart,
but the tone of its voice
on a sensitive ear, is a sure give-away, for giving intuition
right of way, no... choice? 

I awoke in my bed, as safe and sound
as I could expect after dreams taking me
beyond mind-body-spirit to places
I denied it for reasons shrouded in such mist
as those doors I would enter,
and may well yet if and when I am ready, able
to understand what goes on
within human heart and mind, its spirit too long kept wishing
and hoping for an invitation

Copyright R N. Taber, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Rule of Thumb

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

When I failed to get enough A-levels to take up the place at Library School that I had been offered, I was in despair as to what my next step should be. My English teacher told me “Never lose hope, Taber, or you will lose everything.” It sounded somewhat trite at the time, and I took little comfort from the sentiment, but over the years I have learned the wisdom of it. 

Emigrating to Australia in 1969 was more impromptu desperation than a plan, doomed to failure from the start. Even so, it gave me six weeks to think things over during a voyage on the good ship, Southern Cross. I couldn’t get a job, ran out of cash, and ended up sleeping under Sydney Harbour bridge. Then I met an old Aborigine who not only gave me hope, but also told me how to get back to the UK (without having to get into debt) and make a fresh start … which I did. 

A few years after I returned to the UK found me at university and doing OK.  Seven years later, mother died, the only member of my family who really understood the problems I faced with perceptive deafness and how it had contributed to my not having achieved as much as I’d hoped at the ripe old age of 30. Consequently, three years on found me doing battle with a nervous breakdown. Again, I am ashamed to say my first instinct was to run away and I took an overdose. Life, though, had other plans for me, demanded I get real, let hope back in and make the best rather than the worst of my situation. I started writing again, and that was a GOOD start. With the encouragement of several people in my life (not family) providing an invaluable support network, I eventually got another job as a librarian four years later, and stayed there until I retired in 2008, although I went part-time after 13 years in order to make time for more creative writing,  a life-saver  as depression was starting to take over again. 

I will be 75 in December, not a good age to find oneself in the midst of a pandemic, but I continue to seize the day, give depression the old heave-ho, and let hope take its course if only because there is no workable alternative. After my nervous breakdown, I had promised myself that I would never again wake up wishing that I hadn’t. So far, so good...

A RULE OF THUMB

Dour mist lifting,
late morning sun, a smile on its face,
rescuing us from doldrums,
whisking us to a better, kinder place,
encouraging divisions 
to reconcile, religions to come together
in the same love and peace
whose rhetoric its peoples would have us
engage with its principles 

Birds singing,
as if telling us not to despair of winter,
but remember best summers,
look to spring, when the chances are
Earth Mother will bring
new leaves for our trees, new flowers
to cheer home and planet,
a burst of incomparable colour
having us engage closer with Earth Mother
and also with one another

Humanity, waking up,
resolving to put aside any cares of the day
long enough to listen
to what mind-body-spirit has to say
about how best to rise
above dark scenarios closing in
on the Spirit of Morning,
re-engage with a sense of hope-faith-charity
that characterises humanity

True, we well may argue “Easier said than done …”
but that’s a rule of thumb for everyone 

 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]

When all's Said and Done OR L-o-v--e, (Human) Rights of Way

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

Ignorance is a darkness from which we can only hope to be rescued by the dawning of enlightenment’ the irony being, that relatively few of us recognize ignorance when it is staring us in the face so will not accept that they need rescuing. My parents were of a generation brought up to believe the worst of same sex relationships, and passed these stereotypical sentiments on to me. I, hated the closet darkness imposed, but lacked a mentor to show me that these sentiments were simply untrue and I had no need to feel ashamed because I am gay. The dawn of enlightenment was a long time coming for me, and I did not come out to the world as a gay man until my mid-thirties.

The Department of Education here has finally seen the light too, and any school curriculum (from 2020) will need to include LGBT issues in a sensitive but realistic context of teaching education, even at primary school level. I would hate any child to go through what I went through so I applaud this step in the right direction. Sadly, many parents are demonstrating against this, at various school gates, on religious grounds.

One parent recently put it to me that it was wrong to put ideas into the heads of children “as young as five, for heaven’s sake!” My answer to that was “Never underestimate a child’s feelings or assume, as a parent, you know all you need to know about your own child. Even at 5 years-old, I loved dressing up and pretending I was a fairy or princess in a fairy tale. No, I did not grow up to be transgender, but I was - albeit unknowingly – touching base with sexuality; getting in touch with my feminine side would eventually help me understand that sexuality is not the prerogative of heterosexuals and, in time, would see me emerge as a gay man. The parent in question, insisted “that’s all very well, and I’m no homophobe, but what is a young child to make of being read stories around gender orientation or same sex relationships?”

I know lesbian and gay partners who have adopted children, not least to give them a loving, caring upbringing as opposed to the well-meaning but necessarily detached atmosphere of a Children’s Home. These children will go to school. One of the wonderful things about children is that they are entirely without prejudice…unless it has been passed on to them in the home. It is perfectly feasible that a five-year old with two mums or dads will be mixing with and chatting away with other children; the latter may well be fascinated, even excited to discover that such home situations exist. How sad then that ignorant parents are likely break up such friendships without giving them a chance to flourish. Some of my best childhood memories are of children with whom I used to play, including those from the only black family in our street; any adult prejudices simply went over our heads.

LGBT relationships have existed in societies worldwide since the beginning of time, albeit often behind closed doors; human nature, like nature itself, is – and deserves to be – an open door through which anyone is free to enter, regardless of culture, religion, ethnicity or sexuality.

‘How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said.' - ‘Victor Hugo (Les Miserables,1862)

“Veil after veil of thin dusky gauze is lifted, and by degrees the forms and colours of things are restored to them, and we watch the dawn remaking the world in its antique pattern.” 
- Oscar Wilde (The Picture of Dorian Gray. 1890)

This poem is a villanelle.

WHEN ALL'S SAID AND DONE or L-O-V-E, (HUMAN)  RIGHTS OF WAY

Home truths will have their say,

make themselves known,

enlighten us, come dawn of day

Where prejudices holding sway

in the name of (any) religion,

home truths will have their say

Listen, play deaf, come what may,

history will see its tides turn,

enlighten us, come dawn of day

No God to whom Believers pray

would have cast the first stone;

home truths will have their say

Human rights, too, deserve a say,

to make themselves known,

enlighten us, come dawn of day

To love, alone, all rights of way

wherever its seeds be sown;

home truths will have their say,

enlighten us, come dawn of day

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

Art, a Measure of Home Truths

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

An art teacher at my old school once told the class that we should not only learn how to look at art but how also to feel it. That was a good half century or so ago, but I am grateful for the tip to this day.

When we look at a painting, for example, it is obvious what we are looking at; less obvious is what lies behind the painting, how the painter saw his subject through inner eye and various absorbed impressions. The artist’s choice of colours and their shades, the force of certain brushstrokes, all are clues to what he or she is saying not only about his or her subject but  also about themselves.

The best art forms are not only delightful on the eye (or ear) but also draw us into them and thereby into ourselves. In this way, many art works survive centuries and a posthumous consciousness remains available to be tapped into by the discerning art lover who may not even be an expert, simply open to ‘live’ impressions. When we look at a work of art, we inevitably if subconsciously, look into ourselves ... and what do we see?

The Ancient Greeks, of course, produced one of the earliest well-developed examples of gay art. Going their own way from other ancient cultures, the Greeks considered free adult male sexual attraction to be both normal and natural. Gay people  like me were spared tortuous closet years imposed on us by public/cultural opinion; it is one of many modern tragedies that it remains the case for far too many of us worldwide.

ART, A MEASURE OF HOME TRUTHS

Studying me, it’s likely
that far more
than all you see will touch
mind, body and spirit,
sufficiently firing imagination
to give inspiration
a voice for home truths
ghosting paths of times past
and present…

Observing me closely, find
the inner eye
homing in on brush strokes,
the lighter here
and heavier there, colours
chosen for warmth
or cold, and touches of light;
dark, dreamy twilight,
moody gloom…

Seeing is not always (quite)
believing that creativity needs
an audience;
desires one, yes, if only to share
impressions of mind,
body and spirit laid bare
in such a way
as to make a presence felt
that would out

Art, a psycho-creative presence
redefining subject and audience

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Something to be said for Karma

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

It is only human nature to worry about life's unknown factors, especially when they directly concern us and we have little or no control over either their presence or potential development.  A few years ago, I started worrying about a lesion on my leg as to whether it might be skin cancer or a sign of diabetes or whatever…until I fancied I could hear my mother whispering one of her favourite sayings in my ear, ‘If you worry, you’ll die and if you don’t worry, you’ll still die one day so…why worry?’

My GP referred me to a dermatologist and a shot of liquid nitrogen did the trick. No cancer there.

I wrote this little poem at the time and returned to it when I first discovered I have prostate cancer in February 2011. It’s not a particularly good poem (what is a ‘good’ poem, anyway?) but has proven very therapeutic. I can still hear my mother’s voice in my ear expressing approval. (She died of cancer in 1976)

SOMETHING TO BE SAID FOR KARMA

Worry, worry, worry,

will get us nowhere at all;

worry, worry, worry,

and we’re heading for a fall;

positive thinking

is the only way to go

before worry, worry, worry,

hits an all-time low

Worry, worry, worry,

gets our knickers in a twist;

worry, worry, worry,

(far too many woes to list);

a positive thinker

is the only kind to be

since worry, worry, worry,

won’t ever set us free

Worry, worry, worry,

and life is sure to pass us by,

all the best things in life

between earth, sea and sky;

positive thinking

(easy enough to say)

unites mind, body and spirit,

brings each into play

Worry, worry, worry,

and we’ll surely die one day

(when, who’s to say?)

so come, let’s make hay…

A positive thinker

is the only kind to be

since worry, worry, worry

won’t ever set us free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2015

V-A-N-I-T-Y, Conversations with a Mirror

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

How many of us, I wonder, and how often, dare look to our shortcomings and confront home truths...?

How many more of us, I wonder, act upon what we discover?

This poem is a villanelle.

 V-A-N-I-T-Y, CONVERSATIONS WITH A MIRROR

Mirror, mirror on the wall
all you see I'd share;

talk me true, walk me tall

Mind-Body-Spirit in freefall,

racing heart laid bare;

mirror, mirror on the wall

Pride, answering Ego's call

to pose with flair,

talk me true, walk me tall

Inclined to pose as the Jekyll

in Hyde’s lair;

mirror, mirror on the wall

To the toll of any warning bell,

I'll turn a deaf ear;

talk me true, walk me tall

Home truths haunting me still,

(lies, lies, I swear...);

Mirror, mirror, on the wall,

talk me true, walk me tall

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; revised edition in e-format in preparation.]

Figures in a Landscape OR Home Truths, Chief Protagonists in Art Forms

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

Regarding my You Tube channel, it appears that some viewers have not realised they should keep the sound on to catch the poems I read over the latter videos nor that the poem is also included in the description that accompanies each video. Hopefully, this information will add to your enjoyment as Graham and I have a lot of fun shooting the videos and writing the poems. We don’t have a state of the arts video camera, though, so don’t expect a BBC level production:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Meanwhile...

Among all art forms, it is possibly a painting that brings us closest to considering home truths we prefer to keep at bay...? Could that be because all art probes the secrets of nature and human nature that, as we connect with and relate to it, in one way or another, we cause at least some to surface? T

Art, indeed all the arts, are one of the rare occasions when time really does wait for us to make our mark (for better, for worse) and make ourselves heard... whether or not anyone chooses to look, see, hear, listen...

FIGURES IN A LANDSCAPE or HOME TRUTHS, CHIEF PROTAGONISTS IN ART FORMS 

Colours, plain enough

to see, tricks of light

portraying the same scene

if differently, discerning inner eye

homing in selectively

Familiar enough backdrop;

humanity busy scrapping,

hell-bent on settling old scores

under the very noses of arguably

elected ‘betters’

Society stripped of dignity,

its integrity left wide open

to question, hypocrisy ripped

away like ozone, ways of seeing

increasingly less clear

Earth Mother going it alone;

world conforming

to tribal identities, a conflicting

evolution, pictures in an exhibition

up for speculation

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Tell-Tale Mind

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

How many of us, I wonder, show ourselves to others as we really are rather than whom we would like them to think we are? Many people seem to think I am a strong person and very self-confident. Yet, nothing could be further than the truth. I portray a fictionalized version of myself in which I believe, because I have never quite managed to work out what it is about my real self that I can believe in.

Sometimes, when we are discussing mutual friends or colleagues with other friends and colleagues, even members of our own family with other members of the family, we are not infrequently surprised by what we hear and may even wonder if we are talking about the same person. I guess we present a different persona to different people. Yet, those personae are all the same person. So are we, I wonder, all caught up in our own fictions?

I have kept faith with my sexuality since I came out as an openly gay person many years ago, and am certainly not ashamed of being gay. At the same time, all those formative years of having to lie because being gay was a criminal offence have left their mark. In those days, I had to create an alternative persona in order to survive. On the one hand, there was the conscientious if not very bright schoolboy; on the other, there was the shy, scared teenager struggling to come to terms with an awakening sexuality and finding ways of satisfying it that would have shocked just about everyone I knew. I’d cruise for sex and love-hate every minute of it. I was like a good-bad character in a novel. My life, for years was a split reality. Even now, years on, no one knows or will ever know how much so or just how much of that split personality remains.

Oh, I am no Jekyll and Hyde, but if someone were to ask, ‘Will the real Roger Taber stand up please,’ it would be a motley collection of characters that step out of the storybook that is my life.

This poem is a villanelle.

TELL-TALE MIND 

I’d show the world what I would be

(as if make-believe pays)

but the mind, it tells tales on me

Terrified, as I confront adversity,

a sailor on angry waves,

I’d show the world what I would be

‘Be brave, go free,’ love told me,

quick to learn its ways,

but the mind, it tells tales on me

From nature, I take my humanity

(lost in a temporal maze);

I’d show the world what I would be

I have kept faith with my sexuality,

(mastering its ways)

but the mind, it tells tales on me

The heart, it seeks refuge in poetry

(from its nightmares);

I’d show the world what I would be,

but the mind, it tells tales on me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2011

[Note: Yes, I know I’ve been oversimplifying in my preamble and not saying anything original, but readers often ask what lies behind a poem, what prompted me to write it in the first place. Besides, I am writing a blog, not an essay on the human psyche.]

Shades of Hamlet OR Undertow

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

Update: (April 23 2016) William Shakespeare - The Bard - died 400 years ago today yet his plays and poetry live on; they are timeless if only because they embrace not only the human condition apropos the individual, but also its universality.

William Shakespeare

As well as wonderful poetry and great entertainment, Shakespeare’s plays positively buzz with philosophy.

Yes, ‘The play’s the thing!’ the Bard has Hamlet say. So what ‘thing’ is that then? To ‘catch the conscience of a king’, yes, but what else…?

If life is a play and we but players in it, perhaps Shakespeare hits closer to home when he has Macbeth cry: ‘…Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player/ that struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ and then is heard no more; it is a tale/ told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/ signifying nothing.’

William Faulkner takes up the same theme in The Sound and the Fury that has to be one of the great novels of the 20th century.

As for the rest of us, only a select few are likely to leave giant footprints, but when it comes to developing a sense of direction and purpose in life, there’s nothing to stop us at least trying to be guided by them…is there?  As for being male or female, gay, straight, bisexual or transgender, as I make the point so often in my gay-interest blog...our differences do not make us different, only human.

SHADES OF HAMLET or UNDERTOW

Time, time! A shifting, sifting play

on love and death - warring, scoring,

giving and partly giving;

urges better things, tugs at lesser

strengths, all finer struggle

caught in undertow

Now, sun in the water dazzles me

splendid heavens. Dove circling saintly

dives on a crumb;

willows weeping for each star fallen,

ebb tide grieves

me home

Home, home! A shifting, sifting play

on love and death - warring, scoring,

giving and partly giving;

urges us to better things, tugs at lesser

strengths, all finer struggle

caught in undertow

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2012

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000;  revised ed. in e-format in preparation].

Memo From Earth Mother

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

My thanks go to all of you who have been in touch to ask how I am getting on with my prostate cancer as first diagnosed in February 2011. Well, I saw my consultant yesterday and the news is very encouraging. The hormone therapy continues to do its job and my cancer remains at bay.

Oh, but  I will have a cataract removed from my right eye tomorrow so may not be adding to my blogs for a short while as I plan to keep computer use to a minimum in the early days while the eye settles down. I have to confess to being a shade nervous, but my best friend is taking a day’s leave from work to come to the hospital with me for which I am very grateful as I will need some moral support.  As I live alone, I’m a little nervous about coping during the immediate days following the cataract procedure, but I dare say I will cope. (Do I have a choice?)

Meanwhile…

Regular readers will be well aware of my passion for nature. Beautiful and inspiring in all its moods, dare I say that nature also reminds us of (mirrors even) our own strengths and shortcomings …?

MEMO FROM EARTH MOTHER

Grieving cliffs

Telling tragic tales
of grief and pain,
souls wracked on a wheel
that turns, turns,
and turns again until a time
all human misery
is shaped into pretty poetry.
all the better
for posterity and the ears
of youth than … truth

Stoic cliffs

Battered by wind, rain,
and sea,
keeping faith with a wheel
that turns, turns,
and turns again until a time
all humanity
is pressed like souvenir leaves
into well-worn pages
of science and spirituality
competing for … truth

Splendid cliffs

Bold, fantastic canvases
for sun and stars
to work the art of a wheel
that turns, turns,
and turns again until a time
all humanity
assumes the savagery and  guile
of an animal world,
its conscience and survival
said to rest on … truth

Coming at me…

Shadows across the mind
(people - friendly giants)
treading some Great Wheel
that turns, turns,
and turns again, until a time
fairy tale and myth
ally themselves with  history
in a Hall of Mirrors
reflecting its uses and abuses
of power and … truth?

Almighty cliffs, stark reminders
of life, death, and home truths


Copyright R. N. Taber 2013 

Engaging with Mirrors

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

It is not unusual for me to hear from readers - especially young people - torn between love of family and a respect for a culture in which the family may well have its origins, but which for them, as 21st century girls and boys, men and women living in the 21st century, has increasingly less relevance.

Nor is it only tough for gay people whose culture of origin may be intrinsically homophobic, Many more young people feel hogtied by certain traditions that are, to say the least, anachronisms in the modern world.

There are no easy answers, and I am not surprised that many young people, feeling unable to  choose between their family and the way of life they would prefer to follow, continue to pay lip service to this or that anachronism while desperately seeking a compromise. [I have often wondered why ‘compromise’ is often considered a dirty word when it is not infrequently a far better path to follow than where no one is prepared to compromise at all.]

No one should be made to feel they must choose between family and the life they want for themselves. Love sometimes means letting people go. Family members can show no greater love for their children or siblings than by trusting them to make their own way in life even if, in the light of their own upbringing, they may not quite approve.

Every generation needs to break free of family ties that bind. Invariably, by doing so, those same tied reassert themselves even more strongly than before.

We are not a world of clones (yet) so let’s all make the most of who we are and not only  encourage loved ones to do the same, but take pride in their doing so.

Yes, yes, I know I have said much the same thing more than once on the blogs and doubtless shall do so again. Regular readers may well recall that I often cite my mother’s pointing out to a young Roger T that ‘if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating.’

ENGAGING WITH MIRRORS

Looking in my mirror, all I can see
is a tear-stained face grimacing at me,
mouthing questions I can’t ignore
though asked them many times before

A still, small voice demands of me
I walk tall, be confident in my sexuality,
forget compromise as a real choice,
but make a stand, give integrity a voice

I tell the mirror, ‘That’s all very well,
and I agree I might just as well be in hell
for this pain and fear like a fire in me,
but what will I find if I walk tall, go free?’

‘What if people choose to reject me
and I lose the love and respect of family,
friends, work colleagues, everyone…
lose face within my culture and religion?’

‘What chance of getting them to see
I didn’t choose my sexuality, it chose me,
and I’m the same person I was before
I chose truth, a refugee in lies no more?’

‘Follow your instincts,’ says the mirror,
though family, friends, creed and culture;
put love and peace to the ultimate test,
or how else can they, in you, find rest?’

‘Trust me,’ mouths the mirror, ‘A world
for whom respect seems so shallow a word
when it comes to healing its differences
will one day need to reassess its priorities.’

Dare I do as the mirror says in good faith,
knowing I so long to go its way, take a path
pointing me plainly in the right direction,
where I follow the rhetoric of deception?

Family and friends looking out for one another,
care you enough for me to see-hear my mirror?

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2012; 2013

[Note: An earlier draft (under the title 'It's Done with Mirrors') appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Open Road

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

It is so easy to blame everything and everyone for our sense of unfairness whenever life goes sour on us. Taking responsibility for our own lives can be something of an epiphany.

Some readers may be interested to know that I read this poem among others on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square back in 2009 as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s ‘live sculpture’ project One and Other. (It lasts an hour.) During that summer, 2400 people from all walks of life performed their ‘own thing’ on the plinth 24/7 for 100 days; the entire web stream is now archived in the British Library.

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 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

OPEN ROAD

Found myself one day

on a road I did not know;

kept walking anyway,

for no place else to go

Past fields once green,

houses an ugly, silent grey;

landscape obscene,

as if ash on the clay

Bend after bend, afraid

of all I knew I’d surely find,

down to landmines laid

of the socio-political kind

Sick of unholy collusion

contrived daily for His glory

(no matter our religion)

God, but pawn of history

So, no sign of salvation

or even a lifeline in prayer,

any hope of redemption

reduced to mere metaphor

Suddenly, I began to see

as if in a fog starting to clear,

it wasn’t the road but me

lost my way, going nowhere

Woken from a nightmare,

I was just in time to discover

home truths at one ear,

alter ego nagging the other

Sunlight, an open road,

from my folly took me away

as I walked unafraid

and briskly, into a new day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

Lonely Road

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

A few readers have asked why my visitor count appears to have gone down for my gay-interest blog and up for the general blog. The reason is I have removed the previous counter and inserted the widget for blog page viewing statistics; these only date from May 2010 and will give me a clearer idea of how well I am doing (or not, as the case may be) on a regular basis.

Meanwhile...

I saw my consultant the other day about my prostate cancer. She was very understanding and we have agreed a compromise. I will continue with hormone therapy for another nine months, and then stop for a while. If my PSA level does not shoot up, I will continue the hormone therapy, but if it does I will need to have radiotherapy. Even so, should the latter scenario arise, we can take into account my weak bladder next time so maybe it won’t be so stressful! Fingers crossed that the hormone therapy will keep the cancer at bay.
Meanwhile...

I am delighted that some readers who enjoy my YouTube channel have emailed o say how much they enjoyed my latest attempts at voice-over poems. My close friend Graham and I plan to use the same technique from time to time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT-qqOje4vY

[NB If the link doesn’t work, go to my YouTube channel, click on ‘see all’ and look for ‘Engaging with History’ (You may have to register with YouTube): http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber


Meanwhile...

The road through life can be a lonely one. Yet, if so, it’s only what we choose to make of it.

We all have choices. Yes, we may hit bad times through no fault of our own. Even so, whether or not and how far we recover from these is down to us. We can play the blame game as much as we like but, yes, we all have choices.

LONELY ROAD

Cats’ eyes…
penetrating the darkness;
Darkness…
penetrating the soul;
Soul…
penetrating layers of time;
Time…
penetrating all identity;
Identity…
penetrating all pretence;
Pretence…
penetrating our dreams;
Dreams…
penetrating home truths

Home truths, like cat's eyes
on mind-body-spirit ...

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, 2005]