Engaging with the Kafkaesquesque OR The Landscape of Nightmare

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

Today's poem has been slightly revised (from 2017) for inclusion in the new collection of poems that I am struggling to put together as my personal circumstances - along with everyone else's - approach Kafkaesque proportions from time to time; although restriction on mobility and retail are starting to lift as the Covid-19 coronavirus appears to be lessening its impact, it is still there, still a threat, and many of us are concerned we may be coming out of lock-down too soon, especially as we look at what is happening around the world, including countries that appear to have been hit by a second wave after coming out of lock-down. Oh, well, fingers crossed ... and let's all be careful out there.

Readers sometimes email me to say they find browsing the blogs a problem as there are so many poems. A good way is to use the search field in the top right hand corner to search under subject;

e.g. history, nature, human spirit, positive thinking, mind-body-spirit  etc. 

Oh, and if you enjoy at least some of the poems please recommend the blog to others... although I really do appreciate that poetry is not everyone’s favourite art form. wry bardic wink

Meanwhile…

I had not been long out of hospital when I wrote the poem a few years ago and on a high dose of antibiotics to keep nasties like sepsis at bay. I'd had a bad night and woke up suspecting I would have a bad day so decided to try and write my way out of what was not a promising start. Well, it worked, for me at any rate, and (who knows?) it may work for you, too. Indeed, the power of positive thinking never fails to amaze me. (Believe me, I needed plenty of it in hospital... )

If dealing with illness - or any dark forces - is a challenge for the human body, it is no less of one for mind and spirit; indeed, I am not sure the three can be separated, and regular readers will have noticed that often refer to mind-body-spirit as one life force in the blogs; add the combined power of love and positive thinking, and it should come as no surprise that many if not most human beings are up for whatever challenges we face, whether they image the landscape of horror, danger, whatever ...

ENGAGING WITH THE KAFKAESQUE or THE LANDSCAPE OF NIGHTMARE

Dark, my world,

animated shapes conveying

little or nothing

to ease a so-restless mind,

unquiet spirit

No cheery sounds

of laughter over corny jokes

or cheery singing

out of tune at the washing-up

after dinner for two

Nothing and no one

to home in on for comfort;

shoulders to lean on

but shades of wishful thinking

on scrap paper

Kafkaesque, dragging

on senses that, oh, but faintly

offer resistance,

yet creating just space enough

for breaking dawn

Light, proving a match

for its nemesis, now a gathering

of sun nymphs

inspiring wings of a skylark

to force an entry

Song, waking the heart

to possibilities and potential

enough for mind, body,

and spirit to be curious, wake up

to the challenges

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in CCandD poetry magazine v291, Scars (US) 2019]

Carnage in Nice, (More) Slaughter of the Innocents

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

There are really no words to express any decent person’s horror - whatever their colour, creed, sex or sexuality - at the senseless carnage in Nice On July 14 2016. Hopefully, though, someone somewhere who is perhaps harbouring thoughts along the lines of radical Islam, for whatever reason, may find this poem offers food for thought ... and think again. 

At least 84 people were reported dead in Nice and many others injured, many of them children; their crime, having the temerity to enjoy themselves on Bastille Day, a national event celebrating the storming of the Bastille during the French Revolution, July 14 1879.

In ‘The Age of Reason’ Thomas Paine (1737 - 1809) makes the point that ‘…the belief of a cruel God makes a cruel man.’ What would Paine have to say, I wonder, about of the image of the prophet Muhammad every radical Islamist wears on his or her sleeve?

CARNAGE IN NICE, (MORE) SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS 

[Nice, Bastille Day 2016]

World, head bowed, but only for tears

where terrorism has its way,

nations, left victims of its worst fears

Though its nemeses breeding for years,

to love and peace, the final say,

world, head bowed, but only for tears

Freedom, a crown of thorns, it wears

for any who get in terror’s way,

nations left victims of its worst fears

Wherever fundamental dogma rears

its head, the mad dog has its day;

world, head bowed, but only for tears

Humanity, for all its flaws, endures

if inhumanity briefly holding sway,

nations left victims of its worst fears

In radical Islam, true faith disappears,

so testify efforts to keep it at bay;

world, head bowed, but only for tears,

nations left victims of its worst fears

[London, July 15 2016]

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

W-A-R, Crucible of Remembrance

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

Now and then, I receive emails from ordinary men and women who have lost loved ones in one or other of the world’s a war zones, and seek peace of mind.

Every death deserves a poem. Sadly, though, the Muse cannot keep pace with it all. As for peace of mind, there is little enough of that to be found in a war zone, whether it be in Ukraine, Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, Gaza…wherever.

Let us give some thought, too, to the survivors of those life-or-death battles around the world in which involvement they may, rightly or wrongly, take pride, while I suspect they, like the rest of us, can but struggle to find words to justify it all. Oh, plenty of excuses under cover of various socio-cultural-religious-political camouflage, but justification in real (human) terms...?

We should also bear in mind, of course, that we are all but human beings trying to do what we think is right; there are casualties on both sides of any conflict, their loved ones, too, left behind to try and pick up the pieces of a fragmented life.

Tragically, while love may well nurture dreams that last forever, the world’s power-hungry vultures from various quasi-cultural/ religious/political backgrounds are inclined to do the same for its nightmares.

W-A-R, CRUCIBLE OF REMEMBRANCE

Blood on the grass, blood on the mud,

evening skies spilling the blood

of dying and wounded on sand, on sea,

sacrifices meant to set the world free

Blood on the hands helping comrades

to call out and challenge Hades;

blood on the pillow, blood on the sheet

where love’s worst nightmares meet

Blood on the ceiling, the lamp shade too,

bloodshot eyes still weeping for you;

bloody, the colour of your lips and warm,

defying nightmares to save a dream

Blood on the grass, blood on the sands,

rites of passages no one understands;

though it shed blood (in whatever name)

to a common humanity, the same dream

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2014

Giving the Lie to Glory

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

[Update, June 17th 2019]: Some readers have said they would like to read some of my poems again but either can’t find them on the blogs or haven’t time to look. Until recently, I was able to link posts/poems past and present to Google + but Google recently deleted its personal G+ sites, retaining only business sites.  A reader, Max, has kindly emailed me to say he misses my Google + site, but “Whenever I find a poem I really like, I make a note of any search words or phrases in the labels column and use them to find more poems …” Well, thank you Max, and I'm sure some readers will find the tip useful and time-saving. For the record, search words and phrases include  climate change, communication, creative therapy, culture, death, depressions, friendship, ghosts, guilt, history, human nature, human spirit, imagination, innocence, inspiration, love, mind-body-spirit, memory, peace, mortality, nature, past-present-future, personal space, posthumous consciousness, peer pressure, prostate cancer, religion, relationships, sexuality, society, time, war and young people, zen... among others. [Another reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one; it's because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better or worse...

Meanwhile…

I was in a bar once where an injured soldier was being asked about his experiences in Afghanistan. Someone mentioned the word, glory, which met with excited murmurs of approval and expressions of admiration. ‘Glory?’ the young soldier exclaimed in disbelief, ‘You must be kidding! Haven’t you people learned anything?’

Good question...

November 11^th is Armistice Day closely followed by Remembrance Sunday. Since we are only just into October, some people have suggested I should wait until then before posting any poem in remembrance of those who have given their lives in two world wars and subsequent conflicts worldwide as well as those bereaved families left to get on with their lives as best they can; remembering, too, those who have suffered physical and psychological injury and their loved ones who are helping them to live as full as life as possible.

Ah, but every day is an anniversary for those who bear the emotional and/or physical scars of love and loss, in times of war and peace alike.  

Armistice Day or Veterans Day or Remembrance Day, whatever  we call it is an important anniversary; an opportunity for people to come together as a nation to commemorate those who have fought to try and make the world a kinder, safer place in which to live. Nor do I exclude our enemies, most of whom were (and are) ordinary men and women fed the propaganda of unenlightened politics by those they are persuaded to look upon as their 'betters'.

'What passing bells for those who die like cattle?' - Wilfred Owen (Anthem for a Doomed Youth)

This poem is a villanelle

GIVING THE LIE TO GLORY

Sure to give the lie to glory

(for all its medals won)

who live war’s horror story

No contemplating bravery

(the job has to be done)

sure to give the lie to glory

Struggling with the futility

of a friend’s mind blown,

who live war’s horror story

Flagging up a bull for history,

red rag to a politician

sure to give the lie to glory

Proud aloud, scared privately,

in for the duration

who live war’s horror story

Blind eye, tight lip, testimony

to the injured and fallen;

sure to give the lie to glory

who live war’s horror story

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011