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

Sunlight, Harnessing Imagination

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2016 when I also uploaded the video/poem to my You Tube Channel;the video, as always, was shot by my best friend, Graham Collett. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=utcO8cKlA3o 

Like Graham’s video, the poem, too, invites the reader to focus the inner eye on whatever comes to mind and simply enjoy the experience of sheer imagination as inspired by sunlight among leaves. 

Imagination is a great gift, one that we all have if we only choose to use it, and better still, share it. 

As a means of sheer escapism, imagination can whisk us away from a world of terror and tragedy, and work the kind of magic on us that sees dark clouds make way for bright sunlight. Yes, there is an air of whimsy about the poem, but isn't that what imagination is all about?   

Never be deceived by whimsy; in a world of darkness and light, it has the power to bring light to even the darkest of darkness. Forget simile and metaphor. Whatever our reality, light will always be the greater life force even in death, whatever out colour, creed or sexuality, if only because the light of love is the greatest life force of all.

We take so much of nature for granted. Take sun nymphs among leaves on a tree tripping their very own light fantastic, for example, now there's a magic all its own...so we thought the video - leftover footage from material uploaded to You Tube on another occasion - deserved to be used in its own right. If you are interested in seeing what else we have uploaded, feel free to visit the channel any time: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

This poem is a villanelle.

SUNLIGHT, HARNESSING IMAGINATION 

Where poetry chasing Time away

in leaves of red, green and gold,

the children of Apollo love to play

Let myth and legend have their say,

the very spirit of nature take hold,

where poetry is chasing Time away

Where tears for fears would stay,

passing years see us grow old,

the children of Apollo love to play

Upon tides of life turning us grey,

return us bedtime stories told

where poetry chasing Time away

For halcyon hours of making hay,

rebel hearts breaking the mould,

the children of Apollo love to play

Come velvet night, allow the day 

its dream-time out of the cold;

where poetry chasing Time away,

the children of Apollo love to play

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Nature, On Cue OR Mind-Body-Spirit, Balancing Act

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

A new poem today. (Still working on a kenning.) I was in my kitchen, watching sunlight through trees in the garden glancing off the very table at which I was sitting...a poem forming in my head even as I watched foxes playing and sunning themselves on the lawn attached to the basement flat below. I had been feeling sorry for myself after getting little sleep due to both a venous infection harassing my left foot and my prostate cancer making demands on my bladder. As I watched, my spirits began to rise; it was as if surrounding positive life forces were urging me to get the better of despondency and re-establish affinity with the brighter side of life.

I took the hint, spent ages on the poem and an feeling much the better for it. Whether or not my critics may judge it a good poem is less important than its reconciling me with a love for nature and faith in human nature, often tested in a person's later years when demands of the day include having to rise about health and mobility problems, make at least some headway on the housework, negotiate mad, rushing crowds long enough get the shopping done and still manage to keep looking on that often elusive brighter side of life.

NATURE, ON CUE or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, BALANCING ACT

Sunlight in the trees

smiling down at me, encouraging

mind-body-spirit

to at least keep a balance where it teeters

on the edge of free fall

Apollo, whispering at my ear

to stay focused on what matters in life,

ignore conspiratorial forces

infusing better judgement with native fears

of rejection for any mistakes

Moonlight in the trees

winking at me, by way of reassuring

mind-body-spirit;

only human this tearful lying awake at night

fretting demands of the day

Selene, whispering in my ear

to sleep well, clear mind-body-spirit

of all nemeses,

conserve finer strengths, kinder judgements

on any demands of the day

Earth Mother, all around,

no metaphor for old gods and goddesses

but a consortium

of life forces to be seen, heard, drawn upon

at the edge of free fall

Look-see-listen-hear-feel

the trees relating a history of good-bad-evil

across a common humanity,

beauty and survival as good a personification

as any for its kinder side

Leaves, falling like flakes 

of light from the sky, the dark of humanity 

to see better by... 
for its history, a learning curve to its mystery, 
our Here-and-Now


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Love, a Leading Light

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

I always welcome constructive criticism; more often than not this turns on the fact that I rarely use full stops at the end of stanzas. Regular readers will know that it is a convention I prefer to ignore because, as I see it, they interrupt both the free flow of a poem and reader's thought/s relating to it. 

I recently asked one such critic if  my lack of punctuation had ever spoilt a poem for him. He conceded it had not while protesting that "You expect to find a full stop at the end of stanzas if only to allow the reader breathing space to consider what's gone before." 

"So what if the poet sees no need for a breathing space from start to finish, and beyond?" I asked. It's expected," he insisted again.

I rest my case.

Now, the heart always thinks it knows what is best for us, and often does; most of us invariably take its advice, for better, for worse, regardless of any arguments put forward to the contrary. Whether or not we make the right choice for ourselves, and any other parties concerned, they can be dark days while we try to think it through as reasonable people, well aware that reason cannot always be relied upon (or allowed, as the case may be) to get the upper hand... 

C'est la vie. 

LOVE, A LEADING LIGHT

Love, a guiding light

through life’s misty days,

come the dark of night

Though it takes fright

at humanity’s shifty gaze,

love, a guiding light

Invariably, it's hindsight

alerted to an enemy’s ways,

come the dark of night

Though doves take flight,

would douse sunset’s blaze,

love, a guiding light

Forces of wrong and right,

arguing the error of our ways,

come the dark of night

Head, it would see us right,

but Heart says where it stays;

love, a guiding light,

come the dark of night

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012. 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Love, a Guiding Light' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Darkness, the Poetry of Mixed Feelings

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

A friend who (like me) has not had a good year confided that he almost dreads the year  drawing to a close because he fears what next year may bring. He is 80, and (for years now) inclined to think every Christmas will be his last. In my book, that’s as as good as saying he’s afraid to wake up and face a new day in case it is worse than the day before. Oh, I get it, I really do, but negative thinking never got anyone anywhere they would prefer to be.

Me? As regular readers know, I try to take my cue from Monty Python, always looking on the bright side of life, no matter what, even when the view is a wee murky.

Besides, where some people take inspiration and comfort from religion, I take mine from nature…and doesn’t spring always follow winter?

DARKNESS, THE POETRY OF MIXED FEELINGS

In the absence of light,
not a soul in sight, nor star or moon,
yet whispers
in a passing breeze urge calm
as kind ghosts return
to fill a lonely heart with love
and urge us all
to seek peace of mind, be at ease
with ourselves

Does the heart play deaf
for fear of pain returning to haunt
a mind hosting
too many regrets that so relish
any prompting
to haunt, taunt us, make us
feel small
where no shadows even
to take our side?

Oh, but listen, listen, listen
to what friendly ghosts have to say
about seizing the day,
the better to let sweeter dreams
drive the Bogeyman
far away, unwilling to return,
risk further humiliation
where happy hauntings sure
to drive him out

Though a mind be as restless
as a wintry sea on some lonely shore,
let the heart say its piece,
hear it out, let it ease  body’s aches
and pains, inspire
the human spirit to picture moon
and stars looking down
on us with a twinkle in each eye,
anticipating a new day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Humanity, a Self-Portrait in Shades of Light and Dark

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

Now and then, readers get in touch to say they will be visiting London and ask to meet up for a chat over a coffee, beer, or perhaps a meal. I have met people from all over the world, male and female, gay and straight, and it has always been a delightful experience. 

It is not only very encouraging but also fulfilling for a poet to meet his readers, and I hope more of you will feel free to meet up with me. Oh, and fear not, I appreciate plain speaking and don’t expect everyone to like or even agree with everything I write. Needless to say, I always enjoy a friendly argument…

Feel free to email me any time: rogertab@aol.com

Meanwhile…

On wintry days (not necessarily of the seasonal variety) it can sometimes seem as if darkness must inevitably get the better of us, such is the nature of things, that we human beings will never shrug off its nightmares for long and any light of day revisited but a cold one.

Ah, but never, never, say ‘never’ or underestimate the capacity of the human spirit for love and light in all its shapes and shades…or the enduring power of either. While there is no greater power of remembrance than love, there are aspects of character and personality in all of us that are likely to make an impression on others to form part of a posthumous consciousness that lends us a sense of immortality, passed on from person to person, generation to generation, ad infinitum ...

Photo: from the Internet

This poem is a villanelle.

HUMANITY, A SELF-PORTRAIT IN SHADES OF LIGHT AND DARK

Though death’s dark canopy,

our lives may obscure,

to light, the final victory

Along thorny paths of history

let us tread with care,

though death’s dark canopy

If few life choices made easy,

consciences left clear,

to light, the final victory

Among triumphs over misery,

to light, the greater share,

though death’s dark canopy

Where shades of inhumanity

feed on hate and fear,

to light, the final victory

Let self, its own worst enemy,

love’s true colours wear;

though death’s dark canopy,

to light, the final victory 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2015

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title Darkness and Light in  Expressions from London and Home Counties, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Frost On The Glass

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

I well remember how, as a child, I would wake some mornings, sun shining on my window where Jack Frost had painted all manner of shapes and scenario; these would fill me with such a sense of wonder and delight that I was sure to be thinking positively by the time I jumped out of bed, game to take on a new day, whatever...

Nothing has changed. but for the wintry realisation that I'm more years older than I either feel or care to count.

FROST ON THE GLASS

Snow leopard 
pacing its territory;
Eagle circling
its prey, wolf howling 
to its kin

Avalanches 
stirring, poised 
to destroy
even as we watch, 
listen, wait 

Abating now,
dark winter's cruelty;
humankind
left hugging pillows,
half an eye
on window panes
writing up the poetry 
of winter

Consciences
stirring, poised
to wake up
if much preferring
to sleep on

Yet, not too late 
for Apollo
to light up
our darkness, see us
through it


Copyright R, N. Taber 2009

Autobiography of a Light Bulb

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

People often tell me they have a feeling for poetry and would love to write a poem but never seem to find inspiration. Well, look around you. As I have often said, you can write a poem on just about anything,  I have written poems about tables, chairs, even puddles...

A reader has challenged me on this. Only a few days ago, he contacted me to suggest I could not write a poem about a light bulb.

Never let it be said I’d duck such a challenge.

Too many of us, I suspect, remain in the dark about so many things, including ourselves, but it is never too late to switch on, and take a good look; thereby lies the path to discernment and understanding...of ourselves, others too.We may be a diverse human race, but no one person in or facet of it has a monopoly on the human spirit; it is common to us all if less common is how, when or whether we ever choose to acknowledge and address it.

[Image taken from the Internet]

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A LIGHT BULB

I have coloured the cheeks of a child
at a birthday party

I have seen quarrels turn into beatings
and draw blood

I have watched over students yawning
for trying to concentrate

I have watched over meetings ringing
with raised voices

I have followed the progress of lovers
with delight

I am privy to secrets a journalist would
die for

I have been amused by such melodrama
as politicians love to stage

I have been moved by a significant few
brokering for peace

I become incensed by folks playing safe
for a quiet life

I despair of clerics reworking scriptures
to exonerate themselves

I empathise with poets transcending light
to justify darkness

Yet, party as I am to the whole sorry mess,
at least I can switch off

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010