A Life in the Death of a Leaf

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

“Solitude is independence.” – Hermann Hesse

“In solitude, the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself.” – Laurence Sterne

“If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in bad company.” – Jean Paul Sartre

“Solitude is a good place to visit, but a poor place to stay”. - Josh Billings (alias Henry Wheeler Shaw)

“Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is the richness of self.” – May Sarton

Now ,even as a child, I enjoyed a close relationship with nature, the more so when on my own and unavailable to intrusive interruptions.  I did not need to be in a wood or by the sea or even outside my own room. Books and their authors were not only my friends, they were my mentors too; it would only take word or a phrase and I would be transported, across time and personal space, where alter ego would feel free to make a case for… whatever.

The only drawback was – and, I suspect, always will be – that I learned more about myself than anyone else would ever see; warts ‘n’ all….😉

A LIFE IN THE DEATH OF A LEAF

Alone and feeling lonely,
like the only leaf left on a tree
that’s been battered
by an autumnal wind raging 
at… what, exactly?
Whatever, having me empathise,
with a leaf on a tree
I'd barely noticed before, yet, suddenly, 
we are as one, we three

“It is but the way of things,
murmured the tree “that I lose
my dear companions
through those seasons of my life
that our Earth Mother 
would have  them kept safe
for future generations 
to look to see, hear to listen and pass on,
all the wiser for being reborn.”   

A fine calm and quietude 
came over me, lonely no more,
in a splendid solitude
for witnessing a gust tug the leaf
from its tree, each farewell
a burst of happy-sad 
on this heart-and-soul, grown closer,
in all truthfulness, to the bitter-sweetness
of evergreen life forces…  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

Tide, Turning

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

“Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.” – Emily Dickinson 

“Love is a springtime plant that perfumes everything with its hope, even the ruins to which it clings.” – Gustave Flaubert

“Life begins on the other side of despair.” - Jean-Paul Sartre

Now, we never feel so alone as when we despair, for whatever reason. It is an awful feeling, a sense of being adrift and close to drowning in personal space; at least, though, it gives human nature an opportunity to come into its own and set out to prove that mind-body-spirit can do better… if we but give it a fighting chance.

TIDE, TURNING 

All but drowning,
voices asking only that You-Me-Us
re-engage, left struggling 
to keep mind-body-spirit abreast
of vital life forces
separated from a heart-and-soul
gone absent without leave, 
adrift in personal space, seeking a lifeline,
to be restored, forgiven

All but drowning,
half-heartedly attempting to keep pace
with other fishes in a sea
of mixed feelings, pulling me this way
and that, a fickle tide
now consenting to keep me afloat,
now dragging me under,
arms, legs, putting on a show of emulating
the lesser art of living

All but drowning,
vague voices assuming greater clarity,
like a new moon’s rising,
penetrating even the cloudy darkness
of a mind-body-spirit
war-weary of ways of the world,
lost all faith in humanity
nor trusting promises of divine intervention,
yet...stirrings of motivation?

Positive thinking,
tide turning, a sense of its siding with me,
stinging like a sea anemone
but not fatally, as if issuing a challenge
I’d be a fool to ignore,
reminding me there’s no sense in giving in
without at least attempting
a kinder endgame, a chastened heart-and-soul
stepping up, getting real

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

Keyword, Pride

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

 “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.” - Tennessee Williams

“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.” — Jeanette Winterson

 “Personally, coming out was one of the most important things I’ve ever done, lifting from my shoulders the millstone of lies that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.” – Sir Ian McKellan

“I’m living by example by continuing on with my career and having a full, rich life, and I am incidentally gay.” - Portia de Rossi

Now, today celebrates fifty years of Pride, LGBT+ folks defying the prejudices of certain world societies and religions to demonstrate a sense of pride and spirituality in being human, nor any less so for their sexuality.

As regular readers know, I am in my mid-seventies and, like many others around the world, having to deal with various health issues as well as those that too often accompany the process of growing old(er).  I cope ok(ish), but suspect that I could not have done so had I not eventually seen my way to turning my back on the multiple, offensive faux stereotypes that attempted to define us when I was growing up in the 1950’s. I regret waiting too long to look the world in the eye as a gay mam, but... better late than never.

Tragically, for various socio-cultural reasons, many LGBT+ folks around the world still feel obliged to endure the appalling loneliness and pain of a closet existence.

Coming out of that closet, made me a better person, but not before it had wrought such psychological damage on me that, even now, continues to inflict such nightmares from time to time as I would not wish on anyone, anywhere.

KEYWORD, PRIDE

Drawn to a bar
neither gay not straight,
all-comers welcome,
a pint of beer calling me
I could not ignore,
a growing need for company
at the heart of me

Soon, engaging
with a stranger, not strangers
for long, but chatting
like old friends, laughing
over trite anecdotes,
welcome respite after a long day,
let slip, I was gay

Misreading his look
of surprise, a sense of déjà vu,
hackles set to rise
but for friendly lips breaking
into a wry, sensual grin,
makings of a non-judgemental
heart-and soul

“How long?” he asked
quietly, but with as casual an air
as if he'd been asking
if I’d had a good day at the office;
I felt my face turning red,
yet urged to answer the truth of it
by mind-body-spirit

“None of my business,"
it was his turn to admit, “but more
than curious if you get
my drift…?  " I merely shrugged,
ventured a shy grin;
we chatted on, twin passions invoking
mutual understanding

Lovers, exploring a braver new world,
keyword, Pride…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: This poem-post also appears on my G-A-Y poetry blog today] RT

Comfort and Joy, OR A Pandemic called Loneliness

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

"If you're lonely when you're alone, you're bad company." - Jean-Paul Sartre

They say you can be lonely even in a crowd. For me, that was never so true as during my closet years. Sadly even in this 21st Century of ours, here are still many LGBT folks who feel unable to leave that same, lonely closet for on reason or another. I respect those reason, of course, but urge anyone who feels they are caged-in, as I did for many years, to find the strength of will to escape it and trust that family, friends and peers will accept that we LGBT folk are only as human as they themselves.

Now, several people have expressed concern that I will be on my own over Christmas, but I welcome the solitude and an opportunity to engage with both a positive-thinking mindset and you, too, dear readers, especially any of you who might also on your own; a mixed blessing at the best of times, even more so  as Covid-19 and its variants continue to rage all around us. 7

As I have said many times on the blog, love comes in many shapes and sizes. I defy anyone to say they have never loved, and/ or  been loved; it may feel like it sometimes, but we only have to look within ourselves to realise we may well be suffering from blurred vision, invariably due to hard times...

I have only  just written this poem, off the cuff, to help reassure all of you, me too, that the world may well be a mad one, but it has a kind heart and a mind-body-spirit more than capable of overcoming any pain and fear if we but engage with and give it its head... Not always easy, true, but what in life is ever easy...?

Perhaps, after all, there is a lot to be said - in many if not most circumstances - for the old adage, 'No Pain, no Gain.'

COMFORT AND JOY or A PANDEMIC CALLED LONELINESS

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
surrounded by cards from family and friends,
marking where love begins
and any wallowing in self-pity ends
just for knowing they are there
and thinking of me, each part of a memory
that’s fresh and evergreen,
written and signed with such love on the heart,
as to comfort global mind-body-spirit 

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
fond thoughts traversing past-present-future
with thanks and hope
for things yet to come, feed inspiration,
even a salvation of sorts
in the eyes of whatever God and Earth Mother
engages with the souls
of all creatures great and small if only for trying
to give and make the best out of living 

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
a sense of peace and joy flowing through bones
that have taken knocks enough
over years of struggling to get by in a world
that would pass us by
if we let it, but for such enduring spirits as Love
and Kindness, invariably there
for us at times of need, not always on time (if ever)
but, true to say, “Better late than never...) 

Loneliness is a pandemic for which no vaccination,
yet, to love and have been loved its sure salvation 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: this post-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RT

 

 

 

 

  

A Lion in Winter

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

Overheard: “This pandemic, it seems to have the heart of lion. Let’s hope the vaccines are good hunters!”

Ah, but the human spirit, too, is more than capable of lending the heart of a lion to any of us whenever we need it most; it also has a lion’s skill in avoiding capture. 

A friend who lost his wife to breast cancer a few years ago, commented at her funeral “Of course, I’ll always miss her terribly, but love has the heart of a lion, and that never dies. Hers  is more than enough to see me through the rest of my life... for better, for worse”

A LION IN WINTER 

Find me in a very lonely place,
its corners dark and bare,
struggling to ward off fears
surging through my body,
snapping at my mind for thoughts
tossing me such ideas as not made to last,
leading nowhere - fast 

All things bright and beautiful
out of sight where windows
sparing me no signs of life-light,
the only shadows, my fears,
my only company, the sounds of mice
come to feed on what may yet be left of me
worth saving for... eternity? 

No place else to go but here, fear
stoking all but dead ashes,
mind-body-spirit as keen to bury
all traces of positive-thinking
as needing to break free of a Black Hole
carved out by the likes of regrets and despair
haunting past-present-future 

Suddenly, flickers of light all around,
growing in shape and form,
warning I not let them out of my sight
or risk returning to this prison,
left blaming Fate for such human flaws
as unable to rally lifeforces enough to restore
a lion grown weary of winter 

Slowly, but surely, inner eye (and ear) freed again
to rework the art of being human 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, rev.2021 

[Note: The original version of this poem appears in my collection The Third Eye, Assembly Books, 2004.]

 

 

 

 

 

Hi, folks, from London UK

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

Hi folks,

A reader writes that he cannot get into the blog: "When I click on to a title, I just get HTML. 

I had the same problem when I first logged on to the blog this morning. It appears that Google have made changes. To access the blog on a pc or laptop, clicking on 'view blog' in the left hand corner, should bring up the post-poem in the usual way. Hopefully, this will solve the reader's problem. (At the bottom of the page, you will see ways of accessing the blog on a tablet or smartphone.)

Whatever, readers have to remember that I am in my mid-70's now and have difficulty using Internet technology these days. not least after years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer; it plays merry hell with thought processes and memory to such an extent that I often feel as if my whole identity is gradually being eroded. 

Other readers with prostate cancer - and other health issues that they find increasingly difficult to rise above and get on with their lives - get in touch from time to time, mostly asking how I manage. Well, with difficulty, I have to say, especially as I also have to cope with several other health issues at the same time, as many of us do. I try to take it all in my stride, make the most of each day as it comes along, and hope for a good day. 

How do I cope with bad days? Again with difficulty, but finding ways of distracting myself from whatever part of me is playing up the worst... always helps. In the absence of a garden, writing up the blog, dusting off and watching a favourite DVD or tuning into a the next episode of  favourite TV series... all these things help, but only temporarily.  Seeing friends is the best therapy for lifting flagging spirits, which is, of course, one reason why the pandemic has been so hard to bear; being unable to see family and friends as often as we'd like, sometimes not at all.. 

Tragically, some of those closest to us have died during the  pandemic, so how do we cope? Yes, with great difficulty. It is hard enough on families who have lost loved-ones without being able to say goodbye, but no less tough, either, on those who live alone as I do. Fortunately, I remain in touch with my best friend and 'bubble partner' by phone and email, and we get to meet up from time to time. Some people, though, feel very isolated and lonely, especially some old people who are not Internet savvy and perhaps cannot hear well on the phone. Sadly, not all neighbours are good neighbours and some people find it increasingly hard to cope.

So let's all try and be good neighbours, yeah? And keep an eye on - better still befriend - any neighbours we suspect of struggling to get by on a daily basis, at any age, for whatever reason, especially in the big cities and certain suburbs, well-known to be less friendly or neighbourly than more rural areas.  (So we risk getting  the brush-off, so what?  That's their problem. At least we tried...)

My stomach is now telling me it's high time I got myself something to eat, and I never give my stomach the brush-off... 😉

Take care everyone and be sure to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Back with a poem soon,

(Digital) Hugs,

Roger

Hello again, from London UK

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

Hello again, from London UK

No poem today, but I hope to have one ready for you fairly soon. I don't expect everyone to like every poem, of course, but I feel encouraged that many of you continue to stick with this struggling senior as, like many of you, I struggle with all the changes in everyday life that the coronavirus has imposed. 

A reader asks if I practise what I preach with regard to nurturing a positive mindset. Well, I do my best and manage to do so most of the time, but like all of us, I have good days and bad days.  I can only speak from the perspective of an old codger living alone; different people will have different problem. Partners will have each other to share any difficulties with, but in the kind of circumstances imposed on us by the coronavirus, tempers may well fray. Families will have encountered a different spectrum of problems altogether, especially those with young children. For many if not most  older children and young people, not being able to mix with friends and peers will have been a waking nightmare.

Now, living alone and growing old ain't easy at the best of times. Everything takes so much longer and I get tired so much more easily. Everyday tasks - like stripping a bed and turning a mattress - are a challenge; it takes me ages to replace a duvet cover now too.😊

I coped well with the first lockdown here in the UK, but the latter stages of the second were a nightmare. I often felt lonely, and scared too, a though the latter has more to do with the hormone therapy for my prostate cancer as it can have that effect on some people sometimes. An ear infection and mobility problems haven't helped. So, how do I cope with it all...? Well, better some days than others, that's for sure.😉 

I try to keep reminding myself that there are so many people in the world so much worse off than myself, some of whom I know personally. I tell myself that if they can cope, so can I. Writing up the blogs and posting poems when I can has been a godsend; it distracts me not only from my own problems, but the whole coronavirus scenario. I think everyone needs to find ways of distracting themselves from any personal problems anyway  (coronavirus or no coronavirus) whether it's pursuing a hobby or just watching a favourite video/ TV programme. Me, I avoid News programmes apart from catching up with the headlines. While I am interested and concerned about what else  is going on in the mad, mad world of ours...there is just so much a person can take when so much of it is so depressing.

Now, although lockdown restrictions are being lifted here in the UK, we still have to deal with the threat of a so-called Indian variant, already prevalent in parts. Yet again, all we can do is take care, and (yes!) nurture a positive thinking mindset. We won't always succeed, but just trying can make all the difference.

As I have said on past blogs, I honestly think a healthy diet is a huge help when it comes to dealing with stress.

At the end of the day, of course, we are all different and needs must find our own way through our own waking nightmares. As my mother used to say, though, we should never be afraid to ask for help, never think anyone will think the worse of us for doing so. Each of us, in our own way is, vulnerable; if counselling is not an option and there is no close friend on hand or at the end of a telephone, call The Samaritans. Even simply talking (or writing) about our worst fears can give us an entirely new perspective on them. If I had confided my problems with being a gay man so someone years earlier, I may well have avoided a nasty nervous breakdown in early 30's.

What else can I say for now but... good luck everyone, and bear in mind that most of the time it's down to each and every one of us to make our own luck... or not, as the case may be.

Take care, everyone, and many thanks for dropping by.

Hugs,

Roger

PS In the course of transferring about 1000 poems to a memory stick (so far unpublished except on the blogs) I have significantly revised more earlier poems that you will find in the blog archives. Do feel free to browse now and then, and I hope any revisions (including some titles) will meet with your approval...but won't be offended if they don't. 😉

Come, Springtime OR Let there be Light

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

A new reader has emailed to say, “… it’s all very well to wax poetically about hope, but when life takes a turn for the worse and there is no one to lend a helping hand, hope is inclined to fade like spring mist.” An appropriate analogy, if I may say so, given that once the mist fades, it is still springtime. 

Regular readers will know that I went into freefall some 40+ years ago and remained in the throes of a nervous breakdown for nearly four years. I did have some much-valued support from several people, and staring to write again proved very therapeutic, but I saw no future for myself, the chances of getting another job remote. I joined a local support group, which helped me re-learn how to connect with people; this, in turn, helped me recover a degree of self-confidence. 

Chance took me to a charity that helped people get back to work who, for whatever reason, considered themselves to be unemployable; within months, I was working again, albeit on a trial basis which later became permanent. 

They still haunt me, those years, and always will, but in a good way; they inspire me just as they have done throughout the pandemic and as I grow old(er). I am 75 now, and having to contend with various health issues that get me down sometimes. There are many people out there who are a LOT worse off than me, though, so I try take each day as it comes, just glad to be alive even if my quality of life is less than I would like. 

A teacher at my old school some 60+ years ago once commented that our limitations should not be seen as restricting us but as challenges, inspiring us to overcome them, each in his or her own time and way.

The blog archives are accessible from the right hand side of any blog page and ew readers are welcome to explore them; hopefully you will fine some poems  you like, bearing in mind the immortal words of Abraham Lincoln:

You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time.

COME, SPRINGTIME or LET THERE BE LIGHT

Once, darkness and cold,
as if winter had refused to surrender
to yet another spring;
with all the intensity of an impending doom,
it had me wandering
a maze of tunnels as lost and alone
as children waking at night, too scared even to cry,
too young to reason why 

Now, a glimmer of light
has me heading that way with a surge
of hope in my heart
offering all mind-body-spirit a potential lifeline,
reasons to dream
that had long since all but died, buried alive
under mixed emotions barely allowing room to move
or space to draw breath 

Yet, making slow progress,
every step as if my feet are unwilling
to chance arriving
at much the same awful place as had failed me
once already,
but for a yearning in me to see kinder heavens
smiling on us than have angry echoes of weepy ghosts
bringing us to our knees

Now, let there be light. Children of the Earth celebrating
the return of spring

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: In response to the reader who has just e-mailed me, no this is not a kenning; kennings comprise three stanzas of nine lines + a couplet; and, yes, this post-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RNT

 

 

Connections

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber 
It can take something like a pandemic to make us understand the difference between solitude and isolation. 
Not unlike many people, I used to think I was self-sufficient in so far as  I often enjoy my own company, forgetting the truth expressed in a poet's immortal words, "No man is an island entire of itself, every man/ is a piece of the continent, a part of the main..." - John Donne, Meditation 17. 
Yes, we have the Internet and mobile phones to connect wit each other 24/7, but what can compare with meeting up with friends for real?
In other words, "Solitude is fine, but you need someone to tell that solitude is fine." - ― Honoré de Balzac 

CONNECTIONS

Friends and family would often ask 

why I so liked to be alone, didn’t the loneliness

get to me, undermine

mind-body-spirit, leave me more asleep

than awake?

I would tell them I needed such time

for reflection, being and communing with nature,

confiding my concerns

to flowers and trees, the more reassured

by their responses 

In such good company, how could I

ever be lonely, such birdsong always at the ready

to suss out my moods,

empathising with and lifting me, gifting me

their joie de vivre

solitude and I, we were such intimates

that I all but forgot human beings are social animals,

much like those of a kind

in the natural world, no less inclined towards

inter-dependence 

Suddenly, my circumstances took a turn

for the worse, a pandemic striking us out of nowhere,

demanding we take care,

world societies, communities in lockdown,

if not self-isolation

among others least afraid of being alone,

I’d tell myself there could be no living in fear for me

of disease or death,

for didn’t I care so for Earth Mother that she, 

would care for me? 

Time passed, one day much like another,

solitude losing its attraction, its not being of my choice

nor anyone to hear

and (hopefully) connect with what I had to say,

empathy or no...

In my imagination, I would try talking to trees,

confiding in flowers as ever, but having to stay indoors

meant I could not walk

among them, let the wind inspire them to respond,

by turn of leaf, lean of stem

As an alternative reality, the kinder inner eye 

has to be first among equals, sure to keep human nature

and Earth Mother,

in sync along such lines as coloured green,

(one for all, all for one)

I began to lose heart, not least for no one in whom

to confide even imagination, invite to share the intimacy

I so enjoy with nature, 

and slowly it came upon me, an emptiness

called loneliness… 

Now, though, I see trees growing leafy once again,

flowers opening up to spring, blossom like a gentle rain,

Earth Mother...

inspiring us all to defeat Covid-19 by way of an innate

capacity for renewal

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

 

A Light at the End of the World

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

For those with any kind of cancer in their system, it is a scary time. Having lost loved ones and friends to various cancers, I count myself fortunate that prostate cancer, unless it becomes very aggressive, is rarely terminal on its own account. Even so, living with it from 2011 - when I was 65 - into the heart of a coronavirus pandemic has given me some panicky moments. 

For many people, 2020 has been a tragic year, losing loved ones and friends to Covid-19. Someone recently commented on losing her mother to the coronavirus, that “I feel as if it it’s the end of my world…” 

I know that feeling well, but whenever it hits me, I recall something my mother told me many years ago when my grandfather died. “Always remember,” she said, “that love never dies. Whenever you feel the need to be with someone you have lost, close your eyes, picture them as you best remember them, and engage with them as if they were still here…”  

I confess I was sceptical, but have tried it many times since, and it always works, especially with my mother who died some 40+ years ago. Those we love and who inspire us never stop loving or inspiring us. 

There can, of course, be no substitute for the physical presence of those we love, whether we are separated by mortality or simply distance, but if love is what makes our world go round, it is always there, ready to support and comfort us, even (or especially) at such dark times as our world may seem to have ceased to turn. 

Try it, and see…? 

 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE WORLD

Allied to mortality am I,
no friend to mercy or compassion,
nor soul to keep me
from carrying out my worst intentions;
though my kinder host
will have it say, I’d have the last word
be mine, and mine alone,
only to be robbed of the greater epiphany
by such life forces as resist me 

I will seek out the innocent,
and drain the very life from them
without a qualm,
nor showing favour to any nobility,
age, gender, sexuality,
status or lack of it in the eyes of the world;
rich or poor, beggar or thief,
all are equal when my push comes to shove,
but the Spirit of Love resisting me 

My victory may well be assured,
but never complete, trust human nature
to see to that,
with its lust for life and affinity with love
in all its shapes and forms,
bringing to mind-body-spirit such a passion
for the meaning of things,
leave a trail for others to follow, as likely as not
a leading light in their darkness 

I am that cancer forcing mind and body to submit,
but even I cannot kill the human spirit

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

Life-saver

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

A few months ago, I called a friend on the phone who has health problems, just to say hello and let him know I was thinking of and rooting for him, especially during these troubled times of Covid-19. Like me, he lives alone, but has always been far more sociable than yours truly so I was surprised and not a little guilt-ridden to hear him say I was the first person with whom he had chatted all week. “No one gives a damn if you’re on your own,” he sighed, “They are so busy getting on with their own lives, they can’t even make time to give a friend a call.” I  confessed I had friends like that, but …

“Don’t wait for them to call, call them,” I said, “It’s not a matter of their not caring, more like they cannot imagine what it’s like to be lonely. People like us need to swallow our pride and just pick up the damn phone.”

“You get lonely too?” It was his turn to be surprised.

“You bet!” I laughed, “But if I start to feel forgotten then I know I need to give a few people a nudge. The chances are, I won’t have to wait so long next time, and if I do, well, I’ll just give them another nudge …”

“What about people who have no one to call or email?” he wanted to know.

“There are organizations that recruit volunteers to befriend others. You have a computer. Look some up and maybe even think about giving it a go.”

He did, and has enjoyed being a volunteer for some time, not least for the two-way rapport in making new friends; even if it’s a voice at the other end of a phone, the chances are that voice will become a friend.

LIFE-SAVER 

It was a scary hollow of the heart
keeping me from seeing my way clearly,
a sense of dying slowly,
no one near to hold my hand, understand
the depth of my despair,
reason barely clinging to kinder memories
on the wings of a child’s prayer 

Each breath I took was but sapping
mind-body-spirit, tossing away dreams
like human waste
without a care even where they might fall,
no pride left to save,
nor reassuring voice, or comforting hands
to help lift me from the grave 

Out of nowhere, a shrill bell ringing
as if calling on mind-body-spirit to recover
any discarded waste,
time yet to recycle, put it to as good a use
as invention can contrive
if fuelled by such friendly persuasion as leans
on the human heart to live 

I answered the telephone just in time
to let a voice from the past haul me back
into a Here-and-Now
I had all but given up on, lively conversation
putting despair in its place,
filling this hollow heart with joie de vivre
for turning its back on loneliness

No longer feeling scared, alone, in free fall,
and always first to make a life-saver call

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Lane Revisited (On the Sunny Side) OR The Great Escape

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

While the Covid-19 coronavirus is getting everyone down, various safety restrictions being imposed across the world are not helping, whether we agree with the necessity for and extent of them or not. Everyone is affected, one way or another, but older people who live alone are possibly finding it the hardest to cope with everyday life which is anything but ‘everyday’ as we knew it pre-coronavirus.

Me, I seek refuge in happier memories, taking care to avoid any unhappy ones. Hence, another new poem today.  (Friends can always tell when I am stressed out as I churn out poems. wry bardic grin)

THE LANE REVISITED (ON THE SUNNY SIDE) or THE GREAT ESCAPE

When the burdens of life
would have me on my knees in despair,
I have only to close my eyes
and enjoy a stroll down the sunny side
of Memory Lane, be comforted
by warm smiles, pausing for a cosy chat
with old friends, share a laugh,
invite the Here-and-Now to take its cue
from ghosts of a kinder past 

There is a house on The Lane
where I uttered my first cry on being made
to leave the safety of a womb
and take my chances in a world that would
rarely (if ever) offer the same
comfort and safety of a mother’s embrace,
rocking me gently, treating me
to so rare taste of love-and-peace as needs
must last a human lifetime 

There are friends on The Lane
with whom I bonded as my formative years
mentored me well
in the art of just taking people as I find them,
no rush to judgement
for being ignorant (as yet) of such cruel ways
of the world that would take me
on a learning curve comparable with a climbing
any of the highest mountains 

At the end of the Lane, barely time
to say goodbyes, and what is it now I can see,
but another road challenging me
to make whatever I will of wherever it may lead,
no fault but mine if I fail
to draw upon the same taste for love-and-peace
as will comfort and reassure
those who care to take a stroll down the sunny side
of life anytime, anywhere 

If my Here-and-Now no less a challenge
than before, at least mind-body-spirit rests easier
for knowing there is light after dark,
healing after pain, rainbows after rain, Earth Mother
rocking us gently, treating us
to so rare a taste of love-and-peace that may not last
a lifetime, but even a share now
and then, a dream for any human heart to keep as safe
as any worldly treasure 

Earth Mother, too, all but giving upon us now and then?
Our cue to live and learn on The Lane … yet again

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Forever Young OR Ghost, Life Force

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

A new poem today, the one I was working on before I started posting archive titles, but became too stressed-out with coronavirus-related events to continue. I remain stressed, but, as always, the creative therapy provided simply by writing (and finishing) a poem has significantly (if not completely) restored my positive-thinking mindset. 

Sadly, the Covid-29 coronavirus continues to take its toll on the world population, each death a personal tragedy for families and friends left behind to grieve, and ask “Why …”

Me, I still miss the person-to-person contact with those I have loved and lost, but their presence in me, by way of a posthumous consciousness, allows me to keep company with their ghosts whenever I choose.

A reader writes that “Ghosts suggest someone who cannot rest in peace for whatever reason. You should not encourage people to deprive the dead of their right to rest in peace, it is very selfish act.” 

We are all entitled to our points of view, of course, but this reader and I must agree to differ. I think anyone would know if the Spirit of Love returning loved ones to us in this way was unhappy about our calling on it to do so. None of my ghosts summoned by love have appeared in the least unsettled by the experience, quite the contrary. 

There are, of course, ghosts that may haunt us for reasons other than love, those that appear of their own accord, that we would much prefer leave us alone; that, in my experience, is a matter of conscience demanding to be squared, and up to each and every one of us to find a way to oblige.

FOREVER YOUNG or GHOST, LIFE FORCE

It was a so-bleak midwinter
of the heart,
the mind’s window on snow
falling, snow on snow,
the human spirit
in free fall even as it reaches out
for no idea what 

The cold invading my senses,
all but freezing
any desire to rise above feelings
of despair and loneliness
for your having left me
to tackle this cruel world head-on,
clueless and alone 

Suddenly, a breath of fresh air
finds its way 
into the prison of my despair,
assisting a breathing
gone as quiet as your grave,
for playing love’s evergreen song
on my heart strings 

I feel a presence where there
had been none
only moments ago, half turn
to see you standing there,
the same flower in your hair
calling on this heart to seek you out
across a crowded room 

Smiling now as you were then,
that long-ago spring,
your sweet lips shaping words
of love needing no sound
to make their meaning as felt
in me as its life force now homing in 
on mind body-spirit 

The vision vanishes as suddenly
as it had appeared,
but what the eye, it cannot see,
the heart, it will conjure up
Spirits of Love always,
its kindlier ghosts  looking out for us all
in the Here-and-Now

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today; our kinder ghosts are a part of us all, and we are (like it or not) a common humanity whatever our gender, ethnicity, religion, social class or sexuality.] RNT

 

Rites of Spring

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

Since the onset of the Covid-19 coronavirus, many people around the world - both sexes, all ages, especially those living alone  - are now experiencing loneliness for the first time in the lives; the need to self-isolate, social distancing, the loss of loved ones to the virus … all are impacting on our lives to some degree or another. Some of us feel supported by friends, family and neighbours while others are made to feel they do not even have that reassurance and comfort to draw upon. Whatever, we are all having to get used to living in a changed world … and change, itself, can be a tough nut to crack, even for the most resilient among us.

Loneliness is not only a sad condition but can also make a person bitter if he or she is not careful to keep a balanced perspective. We poets write about it, but it’s every lonely person’s private hell and there’s nothing poetic about it all; the poetry comes with hindsight after finding that someone special, often when and where we least expect it.

Thankfully there are many ‘special’ people in this world; those who care enough to lend a helping hand (without being asked) or even just make contact by letter, email or much appreciated phone call where they sense it may well be needed. Far too many people either wait to be approached or take offence because someone hasn’t approached them; invariably, there are reasons behind human behaviour, about which many of us don’t think to ask or even consider before taking offence … and not the least of these reasons can be loneliness, a feeling that too few of us are willing to admit.

How long two lonely people having found each other will stay together may be anyone’s guess, but it’s a sure bet they will enjoy a taste of their own private heaven. Needless to say, the heart, too, has its seasons, of which the most joyful (at any age) has to be spring.

Ah, yes, I remember it well ...

RITES OF SPRING

It was a winter of the heart,

craving spring, hungry for summer,

wondering where they’ve gone,

those sounds of laughter haunting

the ear? Why a pillow by mine

and no one there? I’m walking down

a street and all I see is feet,

protesting about being on their own

too long, falling in with others,

insisting it is where they belong

Seasons passed, cycle of pain

turning me, clockwork clown, going

through the same old motions

of getting by (fixed smile, dry eye);

till one night during Happy Hour,

there you were. For a while we took

comfort in drowning together,

letting our glasses relate the way

life's meant to be, you and me

against the world till... (maybe?)

True to say, in each other’s arms

we agreed to stay a while, no weeds

deceiving passers-by but flowers

bright as daffodils after April showers,

tail of a comet on the Milky Way,

favourite songs played over and over

by a late DJ till everyone’s running

for cover but us, left savouring dreams

to share, richer for richer, no poorer

for chancing our luck then and there

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Sleeping with Ghosts

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2014.

Several people among my own generation (and younger) have told me recently that they are very  scared of growing old alone and especially of dying alone; the latter, significantly more so since the coronavirus pandemic. I can understand why.  Those of us living on our own cannot help worrying about what will happen if we develop symptoms …

Me? Well, if I have no one to hold my hand should I die with coronavirus, at least I will have my favourite ghosts. Our kinder ghosts will always be with us, if we let them, and we need to let them, not only for our own comfort and inspiration, but also because they can see to it that none of us need either grow old – at least in spirit - or die alone; no, even if we live to a ripe old age and have outlived everyone who ever meant anything to us in our lives.

Kindness may sometimes seem in relatively short supply these days, but there is plenty of it about. Be sure, too, there is such a thing as the kindness of ghosts, and our kinder ghosts will never abandon us.

As a child, I was afraid of the dark, and subsequently of dying having heard it describes more than once as an eternal darkness. As a child, I was also afraid of ghosts. One evening, come my bedtime, I confided both fears with my mother, poised as she was turn off the lamp beside my bed.
She left the light on, but pointed out, "No dark, no dreams. No dreams, no happy times coming back to haunt us like ghosts coming out to play," She did, however leave my bedroom door ajar in case I felt unwell in the night. I listened to her descending the stairs, feeling safe, and turned off the lamp, eager to enjoy playing with ghosts if, well, just a little apprehensive. Needless to say, I have never feared darkness or ghosts since.

Oh, I have my share of bad memories and unkind ghosts, just like everyone else. Sleep, though, is as much my world as any ghost's, and I will always have the last word in which ghosts I choose to play with; to any that would muscle in and spoil things, I only have to call on my nocturnal playmates to help chase them away.

SLEEPING WITH GHOSTS

I sit in a comfy armchair,

flicking through pages of a novel,

characters kind, unkind,

and none (I imagine) will come

to see me;

I stumble on a creaking stair,

look down at the hallway below,

kind ghosts waving,

but none (I imagine) likely to come

and give me a goodnight hug

I sit on the edge of my bed

flicking through a photograph album,

kind ghosts comatose,

and no-one (I imagine) coming

to hug me;

head, comforted by pillows,

surrounded by friendly shadows,

waving at me...

but none (I imagine) likely to come

and tell me a bed-time story

I snuggle under the duvet

recalling the clean smell of fresh sheets,

a safety-net of blankets,

as I revisit the many kindnesses

lent by years of make-believe

with an invisible cloak, magic enough 

in its seams to free me

from troubled times, if never 

(quite) enough to come through for me

 in a once-and-for-all fashion

Among the shadows, a figure

looms larger than the rest, elbows its way

forward, arms open wide

a familiar voice wiping away my fears

like a child’s tears;

I close my eyes, follow the Sandman

into a past-present-future 

where life is a copycat Heaven,

so many cups of loving-kindness on offer

that no-one need ask or beg

As for a cruel darkness, yes, I’d be afraid

but for Peace having the last word

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011, rev. 2020

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since it first appeared on the blog some years ago.] RNT

Priorities (Getting them Right)

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

Now, there is a saying that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Well, I disagree.

It isn’t only retired people who can feel lonely, of course; it can (and often does) happen to anyone who, for whatever reason, feels out of the social loop and has no idea what to do about it. Doing nothing, though, is not an option unless we are resigned to letting life pass us by. For retired people, daytime TV isn’t a satisfactory option either.

Focusing on the job in hand, many of us underestimate the importance of the everyday contact with other people that any work ethos offers. Suddenly, we arrive at the retirement we have looked forward to all our working lives; for single people, especially, that everyday contact may well no longer be there. Gone are the people that have been so much a part of our lives for so long; gone, too, a major focal point…the job itself.

I got chatting to a widower recently who hated retirement until he joined a local community group campaigning for better facilities for young people in his area. A former business executive  he  was able to bring his organization skills (among others) to the campaign and made lots of new friends, young and old. I asked him why he got involved in the first place. “I suddenly realised I was on my own, going nowhere fast and I’d be stuck with Jeremy Kyle if I wasn’t careful,” he told me with a grin. “I was out of the loop good and proper, and nothing was going to change unless I made it happen. I heard about the campaign, and have never looked back. If not the campaign, I’d have found something, you can be sure of that. I mean, you can’t survive on your own, can you…?”

How do I cope with retirement? Well, I took early retirement at 50 so I could spend more time writing. An isolationist occupation, you might think, but feedback suggests my blog readers enjoy many of my poems, and I have always found writing very therapeutic. Even so, I made a point of getting out and meeting people for many years if less so now as I have prostate cancer and a mobility problem following a nasty fall in 2014. Yet, I made some good friends and remain in touch with some, especially my best friend Graham, these plus my blog readers help me feel in a loop I’d rather be in than out so no worries there.

Many older people are unable to get out and about; for them – especially single people and those whose families are not on hand – loneliness can be a terrible thing. I recently heard of someone who takes retirement (and loneliness) in his stride by visiting lonely people and spending time with them. “It’s two-way traffic,” he told me when we met recently, “We support each other.”

Supporting each other… What better way to stay in the loop, eh?

I recall once complaining about being bored to my English teacher Mr ‘Jock’ Rankin who had asked how I was settling in at my new home across the river. ‘Life won’t come to you, Taber,” he said, “You have to go out and meet it head-on or you’ll not only be bored, you’ll be lonely too” Wise words in my ear, some 60+ years on …

PRIORITIES (GETTING THEM RIGHT)

Loneliness crept up on me,
had its feet  well under my table
before I knew it

No one calling on the phone,
no one ever knocking at my door
to ask how I am

No more cheery cards, letters,
remains of  kinder times dropping
on the doormat

No one stopping for a chat
while window shopping, desperate
to pass the time

Took a tumble in the street,
complete strangers rushing to help
piece me together

Faith in humanity restored,
I joined a local community project,
got myself a life

Self-pity, it had played dirty,
given Once-Upon-A-Time priority
over Here-and-Now

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

All Dressed Up and Nowhere to Go

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

Who has never been there, all dressed up and nowhere to go, making-believe we’ll have just as  good time staying in on our own, and who’s lonely anyway…?

Too right, it’s not a good place to be. (Most if not all of  us have been or will go there at some time or another in this life.)

So...?  Be positive. Find yourself a kinder place to be, and don't waste time thinking about it. Better, surely, to enter into the process of building self-confidence than pressing self-destruct?  If human relationships are a minefield, the trick is learning to avoid the mines not the relationships. (Did I say it would be easy?)

By the way ...

If there is anyone more boring than a whinger, it has to be a troll; to those well-meaning readers who suggest I promote my poetry on social media, I can only say I left it in the first place because of trolls and have no intention of returning. [I ignore trolls, of course, and some still email me from time to time, but they unimaginative to the point of being boring, and life is too precious to waste being bored.]

https://rogertab.blogspot.com  (General)

https://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com/ Gay-interest)

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html (Fiction)

ALL DRESSED UP AND NOWHERE TO GO 

Tables in a room, Happy Hour,

forced laughter booming like canon

across no man’s land;

lots of food and drink so let’s not think

about tomorrow, mind

the remains of a Here and Now  

flying past in the wind

Singing along to the radio man

(sure to cheer us up if anyone can?)

while old gods tease us

about the rights and wrongs of strings

we pull on those of us 

left banging on doors, crying to be

let in for pity’s sake

Dreams, footprints left by chairs

across a floor, toys seen better days,

their owners never (quite)

grown out of old inhibitions or found

better ways to spend an evening

than with life fictions sure to cut us

to the quick

There's a whole world out there 

waiting to be discovered, people too,

who need someone to share lives

that haven't measured up to expectation,

thereby stifling earlier aspirations;
Yes, time to get real, and no, it's never

too late ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 1997; rev. 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem under the same title 'first appeared in poetry magazines (Community of Poets, 5, 1995 and Reach, 5, 1997) before I included it in  Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2001.]