Past-Present-Future, 'Live' Art

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

In mind-body-spirit - or personal space - I am always revisiting people and places I’ve known and loved; invariably they inspire a poem. It is one of my favourite pastimes, looking back at my life and seeing how (albeit unknown to me at the time) interaction with certain people whether they be loved ones, old friends, casual acquaintances or total strangers with whom I may well have got chatting at a bus stop, on a beach, wherever…have directly or indirectly affected me, and how I have progressed (or not) since.

Each time, I go there, I see parts of whatever whole from a different perspective, but always making a connection between my Then-and-Now and my Here-and Now, while also speculating how it may yet affect any or all of my tomorrows…

Each of us are links in various chains of existence; our own, of course, but also other people’s albeit any or none made visible, even to the inner eye, at any one time.

Once, at school some 60+ years ago, our Religious Education teacher, M Partridge, was asked by a classmate what happened to anyone who did not believe in God. Why, he wanted to know, should we go to Hell over a difference of opinion? Mr P did not hesitate. “One way or another, we make our own heaven just as we make our own hell here on Earth,” he replied, “… regardless of what or in whom we believe.” “God goes by different names according to our religion, but no religion has a monopoly on God because, above all. God is Peace, something we all deserve and aspire to. (I, for one, believe that’s what Death is all about.) As for the manner of such peace, who knows…religion shapes it one way but who’s to say there aren’t alternatives we devise for ourselves as we go through life. Does that answer your question?”

It didn’t, of course, and probably wouldn’t to any 14-year-old, but it certainly gave the entire class food for thought; food on which I have chewed over time and again, alone and among friends.  Rarely do we reach a consensus, but we enjoy agreeing to differ, thereby – to my mind at least – driving home the principle that our differences don’t make us different, only human. It is a sound principle (surely) and one that, for me, has its roots in a 50 mins R E lesson in 1959.

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, 'LIVE' ART

I’ve strolled, with ghosts,

by rivers and streams, crossed oceans,

climbed mountains, lain

in green fields under sun, moon and stars,

recreating time and space

I’ve chatted with ghosts

about living for days passing too soon,

finding and losing track

of lesser dreams, harvesting the best,

leaving the rest to others

I’ve wept with ghosts

for missed opportunities, love affairs

lost to poor choices

made in good faith, yet proving nemeses

to all mind-body-spirit

We have made promises

to each other, my ghosts and I, some kept,

many broken or filed

among heartbeats last heard of skipping

multiple lost causes

I’ll sing along with ghosts

of joy and regret, lyrics by sun nymphs,

happy-sad ballads

orchestrated by wind and rain as if to sustain

a kinder Here-and-Now

They wait for me, my ghosts,

where I, too, will inevitably take my place

in a consciousness

loath to surrender any gifts of word-deed

inspiring a greater good

I will know them, my ghosts,

whatever truths they may yet bring home,

though but silhouettes

against a feisty sunset on any favourite places

mind-body spirit revisiting

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Tides of the Heart

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

Love can be as fickle as it is desirable, while sometime misinterpreted as fickle when simply unable to reach a decision for one reason or another.

Could it be that many of the world’s lovers (LGBT included) need to talk to each other more…? Even love can be guilty of taking too much for granted…

Whatever, can any of life’s challenges be tougher than faced by the long distance swimmer on tides of the human heart…?

TIDES OF THE HEART

Sat on a beach,

watching the waves

roll in, out,

and back again…

like love’s promises

to me

Just out of reach,

waiting for your love

to roll in, out,

and back again…

like the finest poetry

and prose

Winging, calling

to you among sea birds,

now high, now low,

nature’s wry comment

on humanity’s tides

of life

Alone on a beach,

its beachcombing hearts

on the look-out

for any such as ours,

among love’s flotsam

and jetsam

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Secrets, Ebb and Flow' in an anthology, As Waves Pass By, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2002, and subsequently in my own collection, First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]