Christmas, Hall of Mirrors

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

Yes, a new poem today, appearing on both poetry blogs.

We all like to think we have fewer flaws than the next person, but it is invariably true of many if not most of us. Let’s face it, human nature is flawed, not least because we often have reason to believe it has let is down, even failed us with its complex set-up of contradictions, deceptions and preoccupation with appearances. We can but do our best to overcome these, and most give it our best shot; sadly, this often falls short of its target or misses it altogether, not always our own fault, but down to our target being human and we human beings adept at misreading signs in any shape or form. Many a close relationship has failed dur to those concerned failing to see the bigger picture; indeed, often enough, any picture other than they expect to see it, regardless of how the other person’s expectations. Too few people talk things over, but prefer to think that appearances speak for themselves.  Oh, but appearances rarely do…

Now, what has this preamble got to do with Christmas? Well, as much as it has to do with daily life all year round, but more so because it is a religious celebration and religion I meant to be about love, peace, and goodwill to all, not just the select few that share and practise our own socio-cultural-religious views and/or approach to life and people. While sharing and caring bring people closer, it should not follow that ‘outsiders’ should be exempt from the caring aspect which, in my experience – especially as a gay man – if often the case.

Whatever, ENJOY the seasonal festivities whoever and wherever you are, regardless of religion, race or sexuality; like it or not, we are a common humanity, and more commonly flawed that many if not most of us care to admit, yours truly being no exception.

CHRISTMAS, HALL OF MIRRORS  

At Christmas past,

wary of all w
e might see. Memory Lane

not always the pleasure

we would have it be, certain moments

in time best left for dead

than revived, reawakened, reinvented,

turned into pulp fiction by a mind-body-spirit

arguing against redemption

At Christmas past,

revisiting ghosts, letting them stir us up

with wooden spoons,

mixing fairy tales, Santa Claus, and elves

into an indigestible fudge

of broken promises, missed opportunities,

playing blame games as leave mind-body-spirit

to filter the consequences

At Christmas past,

calling on ghosts to move on, leave us free

to travel Memory Lane

as it used to be, enjoy fun snowball fights

among long-ago peers,

gifts and fairy lights on Christmas trees,

messaging home comforts and joy to passers-by,

carollers, and rough sleepers

Christmas Here-and Now,

calling upon all we Children of Earth Mother

to embrace the twin spirits

of Peace and Goodwill, and play our part

(no matter big or small)

in showing the wariest and fragile of hearts

a global consciousness that needs must prioritise

an inclusive human kindness

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2019

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)