Past-Present-Future, Chameleon on the Doorstep

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

I well recall the father of a friend, way back in my childhood, relating how much satisfaction he took from giving local puppet show, “not only in making kids happy, but being in control, manipulating his puppets towards that very end. Sometimes,” he added with a wry grin, I feel like a god out there, pulling the strings..."

The tragedy is that the attraction of power and the potential opportunity to ‘play God’ attracts too many in the adult world for all the wrong reasons...

Terrorists are probably the best examples of such people, convinced they are acting with the best intentions, albeit (literally) as a devil in them drives, but they appear in all shapes and sizes in most if not all areas of modern life, wherever the better part of human nature is inclined to lose its way, often without even realising it.

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, CHAMELEON ON THE DOORSTEP

I come in peace, a force for good,
yet am often abused, ill-used by those
unable to channel the full force
for better rather than worse, opening
personal space to private ambition,
Time left to make of what it will,
if not any final say, given all history’s
various ways with words, not to mention
measured invention

I bring hope where weaker forces
sure to fail, yet so easily misunderstood,
misled even into enemy territory,
where mixed feeling would threaten
to confuse issues, take control
for illicit purposes harbouring agendas
comprising a measured tissue
of lies that will, to all intents and purposes
tick all the right boxes

I offer stability wherever promising
enterprises are in danger of foundering
along with all invested interests;
at the same time, I am easily tempted
to play the hero, persuaded even
by my own convictions that any potential
for universal gain has to come
before settling a lasting peace and happiness
upon my personal space

I dress the bones of history with flair,
who am that old chameleon, Power

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2012; rev. 2021

[Note: The original version of this poem was written in 2009 and was first published under the title ‘The Designer’ in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Guess who's Coming to Dinner OR Party Piece

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

Time changes many if not most things about us, for better or for worse, yet there are aspects of human nature that remain steadfast; whether or not we choose to let them see the light of day or keep them under wraps, though, is another matter.

An American acquaintance returned to the U.S. last year. In latter days, whenever I visited, his delightful budgerigar's cage was always covered with a cloth. Once, I asked why. He grinned, and confided that he often talked to it and it had been known to name names along with random aspects of conversation best left for his own ears only. Among other things, he had very strong views about Donald Trump's presidency which I share; I would have so loved to lift that cloth, but sadly the bird died before an opportunity presented itself. 

Why hasn't the man spoken out about years of injustice towards African-Americans and other ethnic minorities, vowed to stamp out police brutality all but commonplace in some parts of the U.S.? He clearly can no more judge the mood of the people any more than a significant number of other senior politicians around the world.

“Strong minds discuss ideas, average minds discuss events, weak minds discuss people.”
― Socrates

This poem is a kenning.

GUESS WHO’S COMING TO DINNER or PARTY PIECE

My favourite party piece,

lives in disarray, any willing

to help clear up the mess

giving up in despair while others

would steal my limelight

with various blotted copybooks

and dirty laundry like bailiffs

banging on doors, demanding dues

(to even old scores?)

Everyone's worst enemy,

often inflicting pain even when 

a person's best interests 

at heart. Ah, but whose? Few, indeed

can look me in the eye,

swear altruism, no ulterior motive,

for playing mind games

with hidden truths too close to home

for comfort

Colour me right or wrong,

add subtle shades of light and dark.  

as appealing to the con artist 

in us all as acknowledging the efforts

of a creative spirit privy 

to the heart's persuasion, called out

for a coward when playing safe, 

yet hedging my bets, anxious to play fair

for appearances sake

Call me Gossip, everyone’s favourite sinner,

an open invitation to dinner

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020