Catcher in the Eye OR The Insider

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

“Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.” – Confucius

“Beauty awakens the soul to act.” – Dante Alighieri

“Beauty is bought by judgement of the eye.” - William Shakespeare

“Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it not.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson  

Now, Reader. L J takes issue with my argument – with which regular readers will be only too familiar - that love comes in all shapes and forms. 

L J suggests that “… true love can only exist between a man and a woman and consummated as such.  Anything else is just passion for its own sake.”  Everyone to their point of view, of course, although, as a gay man, I would dispute the latter. 

Moreover, what is “true” love?   One dictionary definition of 'true' is "In accordance with fact or reality. "Take the love we feel for a pet, a work of art., a favourite place, the platonic love between close friends…are these not a reality for those concerned, an honest, sincere measure of love?  

As for the love expressed and shared between partners of the same sex who choose to spend their lives together, that has to be more than “just passion for its own sake" surely?

Today’s poem, could well be seen as companion to A Walk on the Dark Side that I published on both poetry blogs earlier this week.

CATCHER IN THE EYE or THE INSIDER

Not always in plain sight
for the world to enjoy at will,
but always there
for those to find who care
to nurture relations
with a mind-body-spirit set on
satisfying native desires
by pursuing its finer, ultimate goal,
within heart-and-soul 

I catch the eye that looks
beyond what attracts attention,
taking imagination
on a journey into sensibility,
catching the first light
of dawn where birds in trees
are waking, flexing wings,
preparing to fly clear or cloudy skies,
dry humanity’s tears

I nest in shy glances, take each
day as it comes, vaulting spectacles,
tugging nervously at hair
shining like a splendid dawn
you may well have missed,
preferring to keep your eyes shut 
for trying to hang on to hopes
of engaging with love in such a place
as called You-Me-Us

I am Beauty; in the eye of my perceiver,
a joy forever…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today.]

Up Against It

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

“The fearful unbelief is unbelief in yourself.” - Thomas Carlyle  

“Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness.”- James Thurber

“I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship.” - Louisa May Alcott

“We consume our tomorrows fretting about our yesterdays.” - Persius

“Fear makes us feel our humanity.” - Benjamin Disraeli

 Now, overheard in a supermarket: 

1st person:” I am so tired of feeling up against it all the time. First, the pandemic. Now, soaring prices and having to worry about putting food on the table, not to mention keeping a roof over our heads with flexible mortgages hitting the damn ceiling…"

2nd person: "You said it! Half the time, I don’t know whether I’m coming or going, any more than our new Prime Minister if you ask me…"

Yours Truly, guilty of earwigging again, yes! But... reassuring to know that other people are feeling much the same as I do… wry bardic grin

Fear of the unknown is hard to contend with at any time, and people are scared. Hospital cases for  Covid-variant  cases are reportedly on the rise again here in the UK and the cost of living crisis is hitting everyone hard, especially low-to-medium earners, among whom those with families to feed and care for are, as always in times of socio-economic crisis, the hardest hit.

As always, there are no easy answers. We can but keep looking on the bright(er) side of life and trust in a return to it sooner rather than later. In the meantime, we have a common responsibility to do our best to rise above the worst - whatever that may be - and carry as many people with us as we can.

As the shoppers went their separate ways, each flung the other a bright smile. However tough the way ahead is looking, best foot forward with a smile to match has to be a good start, yes?

YES. 

I shuffled on, my bad leg as determined to make the best of past-present-future, whatever, as the rest of me…not ready to welcome the Grim Reaper just yet. wry bardic chuckle 

UP AGAINST IT

I may test mind-body-spirit
through its storms,
while continuing to nurture
heart-and-soul,
far more than it seems to either
casual or intimate eye,
even as I am feverishly plotting
against it by way of doing my very best
to deprive my host of rest

I insinuate the weaker aspects
of all humanity, 
until mind-body-spirit feels
comfortable enough
with my presence to take me
almost for granted, all set 
to be led like a lamb to slaughter
yet, without reckoning on the homing call
of its native heart-and-soul

Confidently, I'll feel my way
through such various
calms and rages as mixed feelings
invariably impose,
only to underestimate the skills
of a human spirit
to catch me out, albeit (too) often 
at the last minute, thwarting my endeavours
to leave no survivors…

I am that fear of a darker past-present-future,
for want of care, resilience and nurture

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

Keeper of the Light

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

“There are hundreds of paths up the mountain, all leading to the same place, so it doesn’t matter which path you take. The only person wasting time is the one who runs around the mountain, telling everyone that his or her path is wrong.” – Hindu Proverb 

“… where Beauty was, nothing ever ran quite straight which, no doubt, which was why so many people looked on it as immoral.” – John Galsworthy

“Re-examine all you have been told. Dismiss what insults your soul.” – Walt Whitman 

 “Beauty awakens the soul to act.” Dante Alighieri

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever.” – John Keats

Now, we all have good and bad memories, but the reason why happier times will always get the better of and rise above the worst is invariably due to an active inner eye and ear focusing on the kinder aspects of heart-and-soul which, by its very nature, will always home in on the positive rather than the negative; the key is, of course to keep focusing on the former, no matter how tough the going may get. 

Yes, sometimes we fail, but where there is life, there always  really is hope… in our hands, be it, no one else’s; any help along the way is always much appreciated, if not always acknowledged at the time....

KEEPER OF THE LIGHT

I see only what I can feel;
though my eyes may well argue
the truth of this,
they cannot win, for the inner eye
sees all that matters
to keep such true faith with me
as exists way beyond
any worldly processes of part or whole
that come to hunt us all

To know me is to love me 
or prove my enemy and yours,
a united front
comprising secret jealousies,
frustrations and rage
that can neither  possess me
nor find an equal
to compare with such mixed a passion
as the poetry of imagination

Hunted, haunted, good-bad
lost and found again, it is I inspires
a greater humanity
to endure, urging all its kind
keep faith with me; 
though Memory’s whim may take us 
here, there, everywhere,
it is for love of me that it can but prevail
for messaging heart-and-soul

I am called Beauty, humanity’s inner eye
on the kinder face of eternity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

Bridges

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As is the case for many, if not most of us, the paths I’ve taken in this life, more often than not with few (if any) alternatives to choose from have led me to the very edge of abyss after abyss. Even so, the choices were mine alone, and, for the most part, I cannot blame anyone but myself for my mistakes. 

From time to time, we may well face various issues over which we have little or no control, for reasons as likely to remain as much a mystery as such life forces themselves, as egg us on with no clear idea as to what or where.

Now, in my 77th year, I look back and, incredibly, can count more good times than bad, more very good times even than very bad, not least for coming into contact with some wonderful people who have helped channel life crisis after life crisis into something better, kinder and enduring.

We never forget bad times, but those of us surviving into old age need to draw on the good times to see us through the various issues we need to manage and rise above in order to keep faith with whatever it is in us that others have deemed worthy of their help and support over the years. Sadly we may lose touch with them, but it is never a case of 'out of sight, out of mind' and they continue to shape our lives for the better.

As for those whom we see - rightly or wrongly - as having failed us, we can hardly blame them for an inner eye that cannot see beyond appearances… well, can we?  Besides, appearances are often not as they seem and can lead to misunderstandings, which is why a frequent theme in my poetry has been the need for communication as a two-way process. Nor should it matter who makes the first move so long as someone does, and the other party or parties see that for what it is and responds in like terms. 

The importance of agreeing to differ rather than let any differences cause ill-feeling and subsequent division and/or estrangement; it is also why I feel unable to subscribe to any world religion and have come to think of myself as a pantheist

Needless to say, perhaps, one of my favourite songs is a recording by The Animals in the mid-1960’s of Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood; I was in my 20th year at the time and it resonates with me now every bit as much as it did then. 

BRIDGES

Life, it can get tough with us,
the more so when no one to share
all the mind’s eye gets to see
though windows on everyday scenery;
good, bad, ugly, and such beauty
as likely to motivate 
mind-body-spirit enough to reap,
nurture and harvest such hope and goodwill
as, in turn, recharges heart-and-soul 

Though the road be long or short,
mind-body spirit remains independent,
to no small degree, of any measure
of time as humanity would impose on it,
recharging its batteries
at every available opportunity arising
from taking each day as it comes,
inner eye invariably messaging personal space,
unhindered by either time or place

Many, the paths, our time is likely
to set us on while inviting us to try out 
many a potential resting place,
fulfilling a need to have us  enter, explore,
be they reeking of life, death,
or such things as much a mystery to us
as any Here-and-now seemingly
demanding atonement, suggesting the onus on us
to absolve any failings in our genes

Ah, but not all generations will hold us 
accountable for whatever life forces lead
mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers
to lose their way in such houses of many rooms
as comprise facts and fictions offering 
potential rest and shelter,
even in the worst of weathers, as we pursue
this path or that, increasingly unsure, as often as not,
whether wiser to go on or stay put

On every journey this life may take us,
whether or not from choice, longer or shorter
than such dreams as egg us on  
to explore its various houses of many rooms, 
the human heart will find ways
to enjoy home comforts and peace of mind
if only for having experienced
the best of humanity, as neither fictions nor mere blips, 
but  shaping our loves and friendships

Where mixed feelings may well confuse, even see us lost, 
invariably, find bridges to be crossed and re-crossed

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

Art Forms, Life-Forms

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

People have often asked me why I write poetry. Another friend, a painter, is often asked why he paints. Why does anyone get involved in any of the arts whether it be creative writing, music, acting, dance or floristry... whatever, the answer is essentially the same. 

Any art form invariably makes the artist feel good, not only about participating by way of communicating, expressing something of the inner self that needs to make itself seen and heard, but also, in turn, being explored by inner eyes and inner ears, among any who care to look and listen. 

We may well disagree with what we see and hear in an art form, but it will invariably give us food for thought. 

Now, I know I have said as much in previous posts and the reader who emailed yesterday to tell me off for repeating myself too often makes a good point. At the same time - and the same applies to the creator and/or participant in any art form - if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. 

As for agreeing or disagreeing with whatever point/s are being put across within it, that is part of the art process, drawing us in. Even artists often find themselves at odds with themselves as they pursue whatever it is they are trying to say, struggling perhaps to give it form and meaning; to this end, they may well play devil’s advocate, not to confuse, but lead us to consider our own position and just where we stand in relation to... whatever. 

It may be a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music or a floral display... take any art form lightly, and we risk losing a sense of enlightenment as likely as not to influencer our lives for the better, whether minimally or substantially. 

ART FORMS, LIFE-FORMS 

During formative years,
I’d shed tears for feeling unsafe
in a world teaching me words
to help me guard against the threat
of mutual misunderstandings,
arts of communication as divided
by as many reasons swung
like axes of the proverbial kind
as human remains left behind

 Grown older and wiser
to ways of a world as excited
by the intimacy of playing
word games in any public arena
as lovers testing out dreams
in such open (or closet) scenarios
as may or not work out
for better or worse, blessing or curse.
in a private-cum-public space 

Grown old, the more so
for having had to agree terms
with strangers in my mirror,
shadows haunting dining tables,
or cosy corners for family,
friends, lovers indulging in rites,
acting parts in good faith,
so kinder worlds may yet save a heart
whose faith in one, fallen apart

Find me in all art forms, asking we consider
the good and bad of all we may yet deliver

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Now-you-see-Me, Now-you-Don't

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

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

I once asked a friend who died a few years ago how she managed to stay so positive even while she was suffering from cancer. Her response was inspiring and I would like to share it with you all today, especially while we are still in the grip of Covid-19. She said, "I take each day as it comes and hope for the best, the best being not only a stronger, kinder world, but also a stronger, kinder me. Too many of us forget how kindness not only makes us stronger, but spreads as well. I can't save the world, but I can do my damn best to save myself. If I die, well, at least people will remember me for being a positive thinking person, and hopefully some of that will rub off on them too." The coronavirus continues to spread around the world, albeit, hopefully, on the wane despite resurgent spikes; let's hope the sense of mutual suffering shared by a common humanity will spread more kindness in the world too; certain socio-cultural-religious groups that preach love and peace while practising a separatist agenda/ dogma might bear that in mind.

In any situation that poses a particular problem for us, there is likely to be a bigger picture than that we zoom in on with an inner eye whose view will be biased from the start. In my experience, the only way to extend our inner vision to accommodate other points of view is to to discuss it with the friend least likely to agree with you for the sake of it and unafraid of causing offence by playing devil's advocate. Some people, of course, take offence at any point of view expressed that doesn't tally with their own. (Religious orders spring to mind.) 

Friends know us better than strangers, are familiar with most if not all he parts that make what is invariably a complex whole; for this reason, a friend would always be my first port of call although I would never rule out seeking the objective opinion of a counsellor. 

It has been my experience that counsellors give 'advice' they expect you to take. Me, I never give advice, but will always offer an opinion if asked or when a friend chooses to discuss a situation with me that I feel he or she is handling badly. I can honestly say that I never take offence when people disagree with me; that goes for my poetry too, just as well as some friends always find fault with what I have to say in a poem. wry bardic chuckle

At the end of the day, of course, it is up to the person or persons immediately involved in any difficult situation to make their own choice as to how they can best resolve it. All parties need to bear in mind, too, the old truism that you can please some of the people some of the time, but not all the people all the time; those who offer well-meaning advice, only to take offence if it is not taken, would do well to remember that.  

We need to remember, too, how easily the written and spoken word alone can be misunderstood in the absence of body language. A former 'friend' once took offence at a message left on her answering machine where none was intended; instead of confronting me with it, and resolving the situation there and then, she chose to send a nasty letter and continued to harbour a grudge thereafter. I tried to make amends, but underestimated the extent of the latter so was wasting my time from the outset. Such are the complexities of human nature, including some friendships. Needless to say, I do not miss that particular 'friend' in the least.  wry bardic grin

This poem is a kenning.

NOW-YOU-SEE-ME, NOW-YOU-DON'T 

We are many parts

comprising a complex whole,

something of a riddle

to the less discerning person

preferring to home in

on sound, intonation, inflexion

of voice, whether theirs

or not, to having any bigger

picture in sight

Working well together,

as parts of a complex whole,

trying to compensate

when one fails to properly

connect, hopefully

learning its lesson where failing

to acknowledge

its place in the bigger picture

that’s human nature

Ever up against it,

all parts of a complex whole,

no ‘live’ sculpture

as Galatea to her Pygmalian

who thought he knew

everything about his creation,

yet could not see it
for a human spirit's bonding
with its human heart

I am human potential, ever present,

yet now you see me, now you don't

Copyright R. N. Taber (2016)

Past-Present-Future, Tales told by a Looking Glass OR Look and Listen

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

This is an early poem, written some years ago and only slightly revised some years later. 

Many thanks to those of you emailing to ask how I am getting on with compiling a new collection of poems. Progress remains slow but sure. Years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer having messed with my thought processes and want of a good night's sleep combined with the stresses we are all under due to the coronavirus pandemic ... well, they don't help. wry bardic grin But I plod on, not least because I have no choice but I genuinely enjoy writing up the blogs and compiling poetry collections, not only for the welcome distraction they provide, but because they encourage me to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Now, while many of us may well look in a mirror and see beyond the image confronting us, how many of us, I wonder, actually go there?  It took me a good while to understand that being gay is an integral part of who I am and to deny it meant letting voices from my past dictate my future. Those same voices were already responsible for a serious mental breakdown (some 30+ years ago) and the road to recovery led to my deciding that it was high time I found a voice of my own and let it take me wherever …

"If you go through life only seeing what you want to see and hearing what you want to hear, much of it will simply pass you by...," thus commented my old English teacher, 'Jock' Rankin on the subject of poetry appreciation during a lesson in which the class was not responding very well to a poem by one of my favourite poets, Robert Frost, that he had read out to us.

Education is hanging around until you’ve caught on. – Robert Frost

To be a poet is a condition, not a profession. – Robert Frost

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, TALES TOLD BY A LOOKING GLASS or LOOK AND LISTEN

Looked in the mirror, and what did I see?

Tears where a smile should be;

walked into the mirror, and where did I go?

Back to a place I used to know;

put an ear to the mirror, and what did I hear?

Nothing I had not heard before

Looked around that place, and what did I see?

Dark shadows ganging up on me;

(nowhere to run, hide or expect sanctuary);

fear would be the death of me;

put an ear to my heart and what did I hear?

Nothing I had not heard before

Such love in my heart, and where did it go?

Out of the closet I used to know;

closet slammed behind me, what did I do?

Began making things right with you;

confronting a sorry world, what did we see?

Home truths in the grip of hypocrisy

Looking love in the eye, and what does it say?

‘Never let bigotry win the day…’;

walking out in the world, where do we go?

Wherever its kinder faces on show;

put an ear to the world and what do we hear?

Nothing we have not heard before

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2015; 2020

S-E-L-F, Living with the Enemy

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

Now and then we find ourselves confronting aspects of our past we would prefer to forget, especially any that may have caused distress - however unintentionally - to others.

Years ago, when I was a psychological mess and desperate for some time to think it through and work out a positive sense of direction for myself, I fled to Australia on the Assisted Passage scheme; in so far as any hopes that things would be different, even better, there, I might well have thought myself to be on yet another losing streak. For me, though, the redeeming feature of a venture doomed to failure from the start - not least because of the person I was then – was my meeting up with an old aborigine to whom – for the first time ever – I found myself able to confide my worst fears; I unleashed a string of regrets I had never quite faced head-on, probably because I was too busy blaming them for my state of mind.

He listened. He said very little, but listened. When I finally shut up, we sat in a very comfortable silence for some time until he said, “Regrets are part of life. If they come to haunt us, it’s but to teach us. Whether or not we learn anything, well, that is down to us, no one else.” It was such an obvious comment, yet made more sense than anything had made sense to me for years. (I was 24 years-old.) I could hear my old English teacher, ‘Jock’ Rankin, telling me much the same thing, and wished I had taken on the implications more, but does anyone in their teens?

Regular readers will know that thanks to my aboriginal friend, I flew home a few weeks later, hopefully a better person, definitely a changed one, and more importantly willing to learn from my ghosts instead of hating - and all but giving up on - the part of me that gave rise to them in the first place; a part that is still there, of course, but still learning, and hurting the less so for that.

S-E-L-F, LIVING WITH THE ENEMY

Regret is never enough

for the graver wrongs we do

as sure to haunt us

by day and night, ghosts

of an alter ego we got to know,

learned to hate, and finally cast aside

long, long, ago

Regret is never enough

to compensate for any mistakes

baying at our heels

like wolves, ready to pounce,

do their worst, gnaw to the bone

a body deserving no less for caving in

to being human

Regret is never enough,

cannot ever (quite) make amend

for any hurt caused,

by promises broken, trust betrayed,

a dark side of Everyman seeing to plans

haphazardly laid

Regret, for any impulses

of the worst kind, mind-body-spirit

long since redefined

by such confessions as no one hears,

meant only for the inner ear, and no one

to dry its tears

Regret, enemy-friend nobody wants know,

teaching us, ourselves, to know

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Note: Frequently, and as recently as only yesterday, a reader complains that I rarely insert full stops at the end of stanzas. I offer no apologies. For me, full stops mark an ending, and a poem has none; it does not even have meaning (for the reader) until he or she starts to take in whatever is meaningful about the poem for them. and thinks on…

Engaging with the Abstract

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

I have really never understood abstract art, but always been fascinated by it without knowing why. One day, at a Picasso exhibition, I commented as much to the person (a total stranger) standing next to me. “It’s not about making sense as we know it,” the woman said, “but letting it take us on a journey, wherever our senses choose to take us; it is the journey that counts, and at the same time completes the artwork. There's nothing like abstract art for giving the alter ego a wake-up call." She had moved on before I could quite digest this, but digest it I did, and have enjoyed taking more such journeys since. The mind operates along lines of its having to make sense of things' the heart, on the other hand, accepts that we don't.

Every time I engage with abstract art, it feels like it is taking me on a magical mystery tour around my inner self ...

I like to think at least some of my poems have much the same effect on those who engage with them, but maybe that's just wishful thinking ...

This poem is a kenning.

ENGAGING WITH THE ABSTRACT

I lead the mind a merry dance

across lesser known parameters

simply for their being red lines

drawn across localised elements

of human nature by ‘betters’

intent on feeding their own egos

(under the heading ‘Education’)

inviting any free, independent thought

to engage, comment, pass on

I invite the body to fly all time

and space, consort with pterodactyls

regenerating through time-space

to give poor history a pat on the back

for lending a poorer humanity

its spectrum of lost opportunities,

not only excused but redeemed

by all socio-cultural-religious dogma

ever written on tablets of stone

My task, to let the human spirit

enter into a global self-consciousness,

no matter its sensibilities fear

to see-hear-feel whatever hurt inflicted

on its own and natural worlds

by way of posing as a superior species

for its strength, intelligence,

or cunning wherever pure self-interest

put down to native ingenuity

Mind-body-spirit, actively taking part

in all that comprises abstract art

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

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.]