Partners for Life

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

“The great thing about getting older is that you become much more mellow. Things aren’t as much black and white and you become much more tolerant. You can see the good things much more easily… “  - Maeve Binchy 

“Aging is not uncomplicated. Creativity is an extraordinary help against destructive demons.” - Ingmar Bergman

“We are not victims of aging, sickness and death. These are part of scenery, not the seer, who is immune to any form of change. This seer is the spirit, the expression of eternal being.” - Deepak Chopra

“The ordinary experiences of aging alter and clarify your view of past, present, and future.” - Edith Pearlman

Now, many if not most of us have to cope with various health issues as we grow old(er). Never easy. The trick is not to let it obscure our perspective on the bright(er) side of life, especially as it is reflected in the kinder side of human nature

PARTNERS FOR LIFE

Growing old,
quality of life much the poorer
just for that, barely 
in touch with a mind-body-spirit
often losing its way
among mixed feelings forever open
to misinterpretation,
of positive thoughts persistently overtaken
by naggings of disillusion?

Looking back
over some shadowy shoulder
at inspiring dreams
left unfulfilled like litter on the streets
where I have lived,
expecting more of a Here-and-Now
than it was able to give,
left wondering what Time may yet yield me
other than... a lonely eternity?

Alternative voices,
familiar enough to any heart-and-soul
having had to rise above
such negative thoughts as sure to haunt
even a positive thinker
whenever life take a turn for the worse,
(as often as not)
tasking us with the greater art of being human,
in starting over, yes, yet again

Oh, mind-and body!
unable to win through, but for letting in
and partnering a native spirit
defying description, invariably taking its cue
from a natural world
no less under threat than a heart-and-soul
continuing to be inspired,
forever working through stages of regeneration;
come mind-body-spirit, in unison.

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2023

[Note: I have been very unwell, but  working on another post-poem has contributed, in no small measure, to my starting to feel a lot better and more positive about looking on the bright(er) side of life...😉 Oh, and I hope some of you will have enjoyed browsing the post-poems in the blog archives during my absence, and will continue to do so.] RT

 

Hey, it's Snowing!

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

"If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?" - Percy Bysshe Shelley

"Laughter is the sun that drives winter from the human face". - Victor Hugo

"Autumn arrives in early morning, but spring at the close of a winter day." - Elizabeth Bowen 

"Advice is like snow - the softer it falls, the longer it dwells upon, and the deeper it sinks into the mind."- Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Now, winter can be a cold, miserable season, especially as we grow old, comfort and joy over festivities relatively short-lived. Yet, the simple sound of children having fun building a snowman can warm the cockles of even the most sceptical heart among us…if we but make time to let it.

As much of the UK experiences its first winter snowfall, even many a disgruntled commuter and shopper is also  discovering that it is better to take snow in their stride and wear an infectious smile than be a miserable so-and-so, adamantly refusing to look on the bright(er) side of life...😉

HEY, IT’S SNOWING…!

Gardens covered in snow
trees all-a-glitter in the morning sun,

Everyone moved by the view
from a cosy indoors
until they need to venture outside
to go to work, school, 
whatever the reason, now having 
to do battle with a freezing winter’s day,
come what may

Motorists menaced by fog
obscuring even the sharpest vision;
icy surfaces demanding
extra care, pedestrians under no less
threat of injury from falls,
especially the old and frail, welcoming
a steadying hand now and then
as sudden, bursts of the white stuff strike 
young and old alike 

A thin spread of ice on ponds,
and lakes inviting, but best avoided
for safety’s sake,
better to build a snowman, sounds
of fun and laughter
warming the cockles of hearts worldwide
seeking respite from the cold,
looking to engage with sunnier memories
to relax, find peace

Inner eye, following footprints in the snow
where spring flowers are preparing to grow

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

Hello again from London UK

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

“Remembrance and reflection, how allied. What thin partitions divides sense from thought.” – Alexander Pope

“We all need to get the balance right between action and reflections. With so many distractions, it is easy to forget to pause and take stock.” – Queen Elizabeth I I

“A Memory is a beautiful thing, it’s almost a desire that you miss.” Gustave Flaubert 

Hello again, dear readers, from London, UK,

Sorry, no poem today as I write this post from a UK in mourning for the loss of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 11 who died at her beloved Balmoral home yesterday. 

To say she was a remarkable woman has to be the understatement of decades. She was poetry in motion, a stable presence in an ever-changing world. Indeed, I suspect that even those of us who never knew or met her, will feel her loss more deeply than they might have expected.

Meanwhile, our condolences and heartfelt good wishes go to the Royal Family as King Charles 111 prepares to take on his mother’s mantle and wear in in a way to make her and this world of our proud.

For many if not most of us, our journey through life can be tough at times. It is as such times when we need to do as Her late Majesty’s quote above suggests – pause and not only take stock but take heart as well. 

We should never lose sight of the bright(er) side of life; though it may well seem we are peering at it through a thickening fog, be sure the fog will clear and we will feel the light and warmth of the sun on our faces again. 

As regular readers will know, I consider myself a pantheist and agree with Frank Lloyd Wright whom I have quoted on the blog before as saying “I believe in God, only I spell it Nature.” 

God is Love, God is Nature, a living, permanent presence in us if we choose to let it in and help us on our way through the good, the bad and uglier aspects of the landscape that is life. 

Take care, everyone and many thanks, as always, for dropping by.  In the absence of any new poem-posts, you may enjoy dipping into the archives....?

Thinking of and rooting for you,

Hugs,

Roger

A Word to the Wise

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

"Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.” – Charlotte Bronte

"You don’t stop laughing when you grow old. You grow old when you stop laughing. – George Bernard Shaw

“Age isn’t how you are, but how you feel.” Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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

“In three words, I can sum up everything I’ve learned about life: it goes on.” – Robert Frost 

Now, I started to say that, on the whole, I am not enjoying old age…until I looked again at that telling phrase ‘on the whole’ and realised that age is but the sum of its parts, just as we are the sum of ours. 

Having always had to take the rough with the smooth, better, surely, to keep the smoother in view and put the rougher behind us…?

Smooth is good and life, at any age, is invariably a mix of good and bad, though not forgetting that old standby, muddled…

I well recall that, as a schoolboy in the 1950's,  I once considered the prospect of 'fate' as something to be scared of until I heard Doris Day singing Que sera, sera (What will be, will be) in such a bright, fun, lively way that it never seemed anywhere near as scary any more, just something to muddle through, for better or worse, as best we can; in the case of the latter, once through, best learned from and  moving on...

So, yes, in the course of writing this preamble, I have reached the conclusion that old age is a bit of a muddle. Since mind-body-spirit has always urged yours truly to muddle through whatever and keep looking on the bright(er) side of life, I guess that’s what I’ll continue to do… 😄

You may well ask what  sexuality has to do with growing up and/ or growing old. What, indeed...?

A  WORD TO THE WISE

Growing old, faster than I would
ever have believed it
of as feisty a mind-body-spirit
as always as a part of me,
tugging gently but firmly at the heart 
strings, reminding me 
I’m gay, and nothing wrong with that;
no matter some folks may call us perverse
it’s good, it’s cool. this you-me-us

Growing old, time passing at a pace,
I’d never have though it,
for making the most of mind-body-spirit
in such ways as obliging
its everyday calling in such life forces
as cheering heart-and-soul on
in what has never been a competition,
just ordinary folks but doing their damnedest
to enjoy the best, endure the worst

Grown old, confirms a birth certificate
that’s but a piece of paper,
not a record of its owner’s path in life,
whether or not ever able
to make any sense of such flaws 
in certain life forces set on 
debasing our humanity for so interpreting
various moral agendas as would have us seen 
an enemy of ‘what-might-have-been’

Where age a measure of potential from the start,
come winners all, the young at heart

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today; after all, we all get old, and we’re as old as we feel… like Methuselah some days maybe, but, on the whole…] 😉RT

 

The Lilac Tree, no Fairy Tale

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

“I’ve not much interest in the important things of life. Only in the beautiful things. Just” this lilac here makes me happy. – Erich Maria Remarque (Three Comrades)

“The smell of moist earth and lilacs hung in the air like wisps of the past and hints of the future.” – Margaret Millar

“Philosophy: A purple bullfinch in a lilac tree.” – T. S. Eliot

There was, indeed, a lilac tree in the garden of the house where I was born in Gillingham (Kent); true, too, it was still there when I made a point of passing that way during recovery from a mental breakdown in the 1970’s. True, also, that its fragrance filled me then, as it always has and always will, with the life force that is hope; for every blind alley, a kinder alternative.

THE LILAC TREE, NO FAIRY TALE

Once upon a time,
a lilac tree grew in the garden
of the very house
where I was born, lived and played
with friends and family,
would see birds and butterflies attracted
by its fragrance in full bloom,
extending a poetry of spring into early summer,
memories to treasure

Come winter, pruning
would bring tears to the eyes
of family and friends,
less hardy than the little lilac tree,
more vulnerable
for having to weather less-than-kind
ways of the world, eager to give it
a fighting chance to thrive, stay safe, be strong,
lend us a focus for living

Grown old and weary,
yet no less spirited for all that,
a whim took me treading
an alleyway in time and personal space
to the same garden gate
of the very house where I was born,
first felt the fragrance of lilac
encouraging heart-and-soul to weather whatever
in nature and human nature

In one corner of a stranger’s garden, I can still see
my lilac tree, sweet smell of eternity

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

The Witch's Hat

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

“To me, a witch is a woman that is capable of letting her intuition take hold of her actions, that communes with her environment, that isn't afraid of facing challenges.” - Paulo Coelho

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” – W. B. Yeats

“Our life is what our thoughts make it.” - Marcus Aurelius

Now, as a child in the 1950’s one of the places I loved to visit, along with other kids on the street in Gillingham, Kent where we lived, was a park playground that had a Witch’s Hat roundabout, so-called for its conical shape;  it was banned in the 1980’’s on Health & Safety grounds. I

A favourite ride for children across the UK, a new ‘safer’ version of The Witch’s Hat can now be found at Wicksteed Park in Kettering.                                                   

                                                      Photo (c1950's) taken from the Internet

THE WITCH’S HAT

Singing on a witch’s hat,
eagerly scratching our initials,
to show we were here,
winging clouds and sailing seas, 
hoots of laughter driving
all four winds, magic of childhood
in the blood

Other roundabouts to try,
at world fairs no less likely to work 
their magic, but leaving us
feeling foolish, even taking fright 
at (eventually) sussing out  
its secrets, fuelling mind-body-spirit
with self-doubt

Round and round, again, 
only vaguely aware of killing time
in the wake of successes,
failures, safe houses letting us down,
disillusionment set to move in
till kinder life forces inspired to revisit
the witch’s hat

Midnight, owls in full flight
sounding out various human senses
even as they sleep,
winging happy memories, breathing
new life into mind-body-spirit,
an inspired motivation all but restored
in the blood

High noon, heart-and soul
a new dynamic, working its magic 
on us, having us engage
with hoots of owls as coos of doves
for clues to making the best
of past-present-futures as last seen sat 
on a witch’s hat

R. N. Taber, 2022

Friends of the Earth

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

“Love is like a tree, it grows of its own accord, it puts down deep roots into our whole being.” – Victor Hugo

“He who plants a tree, plants a hope.” – Lucy Larcom

“Ancient trees are precious. There is little else on earth that plays host to such a rich community of life within a living organism.” – Sir David Attenborough

“Our destiny often looks like a fruit tree in winter. Who would think from its pitiable aspect that those rigid boughs, those rough twigs. Could next spring again be green, bloom and even bear fruit. Yet we hope it, we know it.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Now, email feedback for yesterdays poem was particularly encouraging as most if it had nothing but praise and admiration for Jake Daniels; A.G, “a straight reader” says he hopes the young footballer will inspire other sportsmen and women to come out and effectively become “role models for closet gay people everywhere.” 

Sadly, certain world cultures and religions will never condone same sex relationships, but human nature is not only resilient, it is inventive, the human spirit, too, so… where there’s a will to love, I suspect it will always find a way to live and let live…

FRIENDS OF THE EARTH

I have loved to walk among trees
I can now but enjoy, find love and peace
in such memories of you-me-us
as inspire every beat of this heart we’ll share
while a tree still stands, somewhere

There is a tree I see from a window
that grows in a garden that I cannot access
from my studio flat in London,
where magpies nest, bring us year after year
such songs of life as bind us together 

Soon, fledglings among its leaves
lend the tree a new lease of life in providing
sanctuary for young birds yet to learn
to fly, explore the skies, make ready to escape
the hostilities of a wintry landscape 

Less, lonely here, this sad heart lifted
by a wintry sun breaking through, promising
the return of my magpie friends
to the tree whose life forces gifted it by the earth,
gifting you-me-us, also, with rebirth

I have but to close my eyes to embrace you,
anytime, anywhere, let the warmth and beauty
of our love lend me a sense of eternity;
you-me-us, birds in a tree growing in a garden
in all weathers, lifeblood of inspiration

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Empathy with a Camel

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

"Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime, and, departing, leave behind us, footprints in the sand." A Psalm of Life - Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

The key to Longfellow’s often repeated quotation has to lie in the words ‘remind us’; for better or worse, we all leave our footprints in the sands of time, not only the famous (and infamous).

EMPATHY WITH A CAMEL 

Crossing a desert,
hump on the back, sniffing
out oasis and shade,
penetrating mirage on mirage
enough to attack
a hopeful visage, angry pricks
of sand, graffiti
on a human soul, left to the mercy
of fingers on a rag doll 

Crossing a desert,
hump on the back, sniffing
out oasis and shade
under the spell of a culture
of adventure,
needing to explore Dante’s inferno,
no matter vultures
invariably homing in like drug dealers
at a local disco 

Crossing a desert,
hump on the back,
sniffing out oasis and shade,
compensating for delusion
with illusion...
Lords of Misrule taking the blame
for any blisters
on the soul, although (trick or treat?)
it’s our call 

Making our way
across the sands of time, leaving
our mark, one way
or another, inspiring a generation
of hopefuls
with no intention of becoming food
for vultures to leave
misleading messages while raking over
bones of history? 

Humanity, making
what it will of its ever shifting
landscapes of sea,
sand, earth and sky, each to its own,
whether a camel
at home in a desert or human being
intending to flower,
last seen counting rings on a tree stump
and getting the hump

Whoever we are,
whether travelling on a train, bus,
sailing boat, private jet
or taking a camel ride into an inferno,
so will the Winds of Time
have us set out on yet another journey,
for better or worse,,
the richer or poorer, across multifarious
landscapes of memory 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2002, rev.2022

[Note: This poem takes its cue from an earlier poem that appears under the title 'Riddle of the Sands' in my collection, First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; it is a complete re-working of the original poem to the extent that I hesitate to call it a revision.] RT

 

The Rose Grower

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

Yes, another love poem. I guess I am a sucker for them, even though I have only been in love with someone once in my life, years ago. Short-lived, though, out time together, I will always rate it ten out of ten among other treasured memories of others whom I have loved - living or deceased -in other ways.

No happy memory is quite the same, nor even dependant on whom we may have shared it for there are times when we need to be alone, if only to think things through; it can be a lonely experience, it’s true, but it can also be an unforgettably spiritual one.  

Yes, yes, I know I’ve said much the same thing on the blog before, but as my mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating... to oneself as much as to anyone else, especially when looking on the brighter side of life resembles searching for a needle in a haystack, a feeling many if not most of us will be only too familiar.

THE ROSE GROWER

Find tears on my pillow
crafted from such memories
of loved ones I treasure so

Seeing tears on my pillow
I am inspired by every shared
yesterday-today-tomorrow

Times, made to last forever,
of flesh-and blood committed
to ensuring we stay together

Death, even, it has no claim
on a pillow’s happy memories,
a rose by any other name...

The truth is, love cannot die,
the proof, in m every heartbeat
as beside it, each night, I lie

Let flesh-and-blood part us,
but trust that we’ll stay together
in love’s ‘live’ consciousness

No personal space compares,
or company, the evergreen nature
of an eternity that’s You-Me-Us

No happy memory quite the same,
a rose by any other name 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

  

Hello from London, UK (Yes, it's the old codger-poet again!)

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

Hello again from London UK

No poem to day, but soon... if my messed-up thought processes can rise to the occasion.  My prostate cancer isn't painful, but...oh, I have such fond (if distant!) memories of getting a decent night's sleep!

Straight people, all ages, sometimes ask what it's like to be gay and "not in the swim of everyday life." A silly question, if only for assuming that LGBT folks are not in the swim  of everyday life. We are, after all, human beings and, as such, no less a part of a common humanity than anyone else.

Sometimes people, all ages, also ask me how I cope, not just with the prostate cancer, but also with growing old in general. To be honest, I'm not sure, but on the whole, I just do... I suspect it's down to Mind-Body-Spirit pulling together as good friends will during hard times. 😉 Body is likely to prove the weaker link at any moment in time, but especially after it has been around long enough for a good many years to leave their mark, but - more often than not - Mind and Spirit act as pacemakers, and Body feels encouraged to press on...

Ah, but what if Mind falls foul of the darker of human temptations and  gets too close to The Edge of it all, cannot find the will to draw back, prevent freefalling into that same darkness? It is at such times that the human Spirit comes into its own, encouraging native willpower to see the trees in the wood for the beautiful species they are, find a way through to a place of such potential reassurance as to offer a good chance of our being able to enjoy the flowers and birdsong that the inner ear is pleading with us to  hear and take heart...

That's all very well, but what if the human Spirit, too, has lost its way, become confused, unable to see any wood for its damn trees that seem to be closing in on it, their motives unclear although an encroaching darkness s a sure threat, no comfort there, no sleep to rescue us from despair with sweet dreams and memories of how things were before... whatever. Mind may well  struggle to restore Spirit to its senses, Body too, but what chance of success, Spirit being by far the stronger of the trinity?

Ah, but let's not forget the power of  life forces from which Mind-Body-Spirit engages all the time, whether we are aware of it or not; the sheer Poetry of Love; family, friendship, images of  the natural world that have made such an impression on our sensibilities that we hear them calling to us through time and space . True, we may yet play deaf to the call and teeter over The Edge, but Mind-Body-Spirit, will inevitably pull together and do its best to persuade us otherwise... if we will but pause just a moment from  feeling sorry for ourselves, engaging with the politics of blame long enough to listen . Yes, finding our way through the woods may well be  a hard slog, maybe even impossible...BUT...worth a try, surely?

So much for life forces concerned only with our well-being, whether we choose to engage with them or not, but what of Death's lack of concern for our survival, able to  take us away from the Poetry of Life and Love at the blink of an eye? Well, there is a Poetry of Faith that may or may not be related to any religion that assures us of a place in an all-embracing Mind-Body-Spirit that defies even life itself, sure to carry us into the hearts of any with whom we have shared the Poetry of Love in whatever form it may have taken; it is called Remembrance or Personal Space (Memory) in it more intimate form; sense of spirituality denied no one. I suspect that Personal Space archives memories of it own that even dementia patients are able to take heart and comfort from. even though they may not be consciously aware of their evergreen presence within the deeper, inner self, able to select happy times and leave any bad times to fade like autumn leaves.; such, too is the Poetry pf Spirituality...

"Stuff and nonsense," do I hear some readers say? Possibly so, but there is a life-force within even  of  certain 'Stuff and 'Nonsense' wherein even the most troubled heart can find a degree of peace... if it chooses to look for it; easily enough done if we choose to freely and frankly engage with Mind-Body-Spirit whenever we find ourselves at the end of our tether... for whatever reason.

Take care, folks, stay safe and many thanks for dropping by,

Hugs,

Roger 

Lines on the Extraordinary Nature of Ordinariness

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

I am often asked why I revise a poem already published years later. Did I not have a sense of its being incomplete at the time?  The truth is, no I didn’t. As far as expressing a sense of what I was feeling at the time, I was happy enough with the original version of the poem below when it first appeared in my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time in 2005. Rightly or wrongly, I felt the feeling was worth sharing, giving readers food for thought that might even let them experience a similar sense of past-present-future as expressed in the most ordinary surroundings as I did then... 

I feel the same way now, 17 years later. as I have grown older and my feelings matured, so too has my sense of that same ordinariness, especially in so far as there is nothing ordinary about it at all. At the same time, my feeling for poetry and expression, too has matured, and I recognise this. Still wanting to share my experience with others, I find myself working on the same poem, but in a different way, choosing my words no less carefully than before, but making sense in ways that eluded me when I was writing the original version because, albeit unknowingly, I hadn’t yet reached the stage in my life when I had experienced just what it was and is I felt the need to express and share in the form of a poem.

Over to you, dear readers, and I can but hope you will enjoy the experience of time-travelling via magic of ordinariness as much as I do. 

LINES ON THE EXTRAORDINARY NATURE OF ORDINARINESS 

Clouds, magic carpet rides
to exotic places;
awakening us to a repeat
of bath time potential,
pop star, jazz player, classic musician...
bent upon making the world wake up, sit up, 
shut up and listen

 Grass, littered with daisies
sunspots of memory;
trees, waving leafy arms,
telling us off
for the many mistakes we’ve (all) made, 
never meant to happen, best forgotten, easier
said than done 

A broken fence, urging us
to revisit, repair
broken friendships, forgiving
from the heart, so...
who’ll get us off to a good start, forget rhetoric
and more besides by letting actions speak louder
louder than words? 

An old armchair, memories
of a special someone who’ll sit there
no more, words
in the air left unsaid, missed opportunities
for too often forgetting
how much we owe the living
when too late, but for in our dreams of course,
for better or worse 

Crisp, clean pillowcases
all to ourselves, nudging us to observe
a damp patch
on the ceiling, spreading, lending pictures
to half-closed eyes...
landscapes, seascapes, cloudscapes passing by,
letting sleep take over for a spot of joyriding – or
running for cover?

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2005, rev. 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ghosts, Prayers, Choices OR 'Powers That Be', the Finest Rhetoric in Town

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

The 2021 United Nations Climate Change Conference  - also known as COP26 - is being held in Glasgow, Scotland, UK between 31 October and 11 November; it is the 26th United Nations Climate Change Conference.

At the same time,  given record-breaking forest fires in Siberia, torrential flooding on the Black Sea, and a severe heatwave in Moscow this year, the refusal of Vladimir Putin to attend the conference says enough, I suspect, about those in denial of climate change to dampen any real hopes of world leaders reaching a consensus about how best to tackle it.

"We are the first generation to feel the effects of climate change and the last generation who can do anything about it." - Barack Obama, former US president.

 GHOSTS, PRAYERS, CHOICES or 'POWERS THAT BE', THE FINEST RHETORIC IN TOWN

Although our tears falling like winter rain
for revisiting our hurt and suffering,
let's rediscover springtime, put aside pain,
be hopeful again, happy and laughing

World leaders failing to assuage our fear
of global forces undermining our bliss,
let's recall the times we've made love here,
taking us heavenwards on wings of a kiss

Birds of a feather, forever may we glide
all seasons of the love we've sworn,
for as God is Love and all nature onside,
may we be as mind-body-spirit reborn

To all humanity, potential to have and hold,
sustain forever or... see us left in the cold?

Copyright R.N. Taber 2005; rev.2021

[Note: This poem takes its cue from an earlier poem written in 2004 under the title 'Memories, Prayers, Flowers' that appears in my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time, Assembly Books, 2005.] RT

Addressing Time and Personal Space

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

While out shopping the other day, I overheard someone say, "Growing old is bad enough without having to deal with Covid-19 as well..." I can empathise, especially as I will be 76 in December. Even so, I take the same view as Her Majesty the Queen who, at 95, recently turned down a 'Golden Oldie' award on the grounds that "You're as old as you feel."  Or as young, as the case may well be.

Mind you, I defy anyone to say they never feel their age. Some days...!

Here in the UK we need to put our clocks back an hour before going to bed tonight. Oh, and still on the subject of time...😉

ADDRESSING TIME AND PERSONAL SPACE 

I grow older,
my life is full of ghosts
inclined to taunt
and haunt me with its ebb and flow
of hopes and dreams

I grow older,
needs must find ways
to adapt to changes
progressively haunting, taunting me
with mixed feelings 

I grow old,
looking back in anger, love
and tears for all I am
that’s bent on breaking ties that bind
mind-body-spirit 

Young, once,
a part of me that will always
bask in a kinder
past-present-future that insists I stay
the course...

Younger, once,
on a learning curve that’s taught me
to keep looking
on the bright(er) side of life, whatever
it throws at me 

Younger, once,
discovering the art of letting laughter
get the better of tears,
happy talk giving alter ego more time
to swim than sink 

I grow older,
memory bent on playing tricks on me
while imagination
conjures up a positive thinking mindset
that’s ageless 

I grow older... so?
If youth and old age are but seasons
of life, let’s engage
more with rainbows than rain, roses
than snowdrops? 

Time, having us run
its gauntlet, reasoning not the need;
Earth Mother,
taking me to heart who has given it
my best shot 

Me? I am humankind,
evolving in personae after personae
as its 'live 'poetry
reaps the harvest of such memories
as it can bear 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

Togetherness, Poetry set to the Music of Time

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

Spring, summer, autumn, winter... mixed experiences, all weathers and feelings as nature runs the gamut of its potential. Likewise, mind-body-spirit as it passes through the seasons of its life on Earth.

If the finest of weathers is sunshine and the warmth it brings so, too, the finest of feelings has to be love... and who’s to say, in the winter of our years, whether or not we shall ever see another summer...?

Love comes in all shapes and forms and, yes, sometimes the illusion can be such that we mistake it for reality, but the spirit of true love never dies...

TOGETHERNESS, POETRY SET TO THE MUSIC OF TIME

Hope, rippling summer corn

like stirrings of a child unborn,

wondering in the womb

on whatever may lie waiting between

life and tomb...

I lift my eyes to a gorgeous sky,
loose more dreams, watch them fly
like the tail of a child’s kite
flapping bravely against nature's 
might till barely a flicker, 
waved out of sight with tearful eye
and puckered brow, the child
I once was, returning now across
shadowy years, watery eyes
less of a surprise in the summer air
than once having sought 
without finding, been hurt without
making a sound while caged
in a breast so often deprived of rest,
tired of hearing “it's for the best,”
weary of waiting for waiting’s end,
lonely for want of a dear friend,
finally found, only to sail off on a sea
of corn,  FREE – and you’re smiling
wistfully back at me who’s left to bear
a heavy heart, weather the pain
that has us part, your look that says
“We made our world a far, far happier,
and kinder place..." 

A summer breeze, making music 

like a piano player idling at the keys

with an artist’s ease, lulling Earth’s

so-restless womb before the breaking

of a storm that’s spreading alarm

amongst the corn; I spot a field mouse,

tiny, quick, soon forgot, needs must

hasten my own tread, the music growing

to a crescendo in my head, like LIFE,

LOVE... Instead, I’ll linger in this place

and to wind and rain, I’ll lift the face 

of one who’s glad he came to see-hear

our history passing into such beauty

as I’ll always cherish for being no less

a part of you-me-us than s the shoes 

I wear, though much worn through a world 

much torn in two, three, and more 

by envy, hate and war, I have to say, kneeling

now to pray (to what or whom, who knows

with certainty until we get to be part

of the poem that's eternity?) Now, though,

dear friend I cannot let you go without 

thanks for today,  its agenda

for lasting peace and love ringing all the truer

for our being together... 

Hope, rippling  summer corn

like the stirrings of a child unborn,

wondering in the womb,

at whatever may lie waiting beyond 

life and tomb

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001, 2021

 [Note: The original version of this poem was written in 1998 and was first published under the title ‘Once More, Dear Friend’ in my collection, Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; it has recently been considerably and significantly revised.] RNT

 

The Inheritors

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

Today's poem is one that was written in 1973 and had appeared in several UK poetry magazines before being included in my first collection, Love and Human Remains, in 2000; I have only recently slightly but significantly revised it while struggling to rise above certain health issues and compile new editions.

How often, as a child, I would wish I was an adult, especially whenever prevented from doing something for which I was considered too young! Invariably, my mother would wryly comment, "Be careful what you wish for..."

THE INHERITORS  

Man, discovering diamonds
in the sand, hastily gathers them up
in a greedy hand;
a breeze blows the fortune
in his face 

Poets, reflecting on diamonds
in the sand, love counting them out
in the palm of a hand,
then clouds happen along,
hijack the lot 

Lovers, dreaming of diamonds
in the sand, till enemies at the door
forcing our hands;
yet another lonely dawn,
and we’re gone 

Children, discover diamonds
in the sand, happy to share them  
among dear friends;
a fun day to remember, a treasure,
 for keeps 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2000; rev. 2021

Beautiful Dreamer

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

When we are young, many if not most of us like to think we are invincible, the world our oyster and every beautiful dream worth chasing. It may well be that we are able to make some dreams come true while others will invariably fall short of the mark. 

An elderly friend once commented along the lines that what he hated most about growing old was that dreaming becomes redundant. “Dreams are about the future,” he insisted, “What future is there for ordinary folks like me who have neither the money nor energy to pursue impossible dreams?” It was meant as a rhetorical question, but one I could not resist answering. 

As I see it, young people making their way in life have no more monopoly on beautiful dreams than religion has on spirituality. As we grow old, our mind-body-spirit is as likely to tune into our past-present-future just as it has always done- if we but let it. 

Aged 75 and living alone, I cannot pretend that old age is as I imagined it years ago, and I don’t see much of a future for myself. Yet, recalling the better, kinder aspects of my past and present along with those with whom I shared them, continues to fill what otherwise would be long, lonely days... nights, too. 

As I have said many times on the blog, love takes all shapes and forms; friends, places, and favourite pastimes as well as lovers. Old age may place limitations on any or all of these by way of various medical, issues, physical or psychological reasons, but they are part of who we are and that may well change outwardly, but not inwardly. 

The inner self is never too old to dream; if it cannot look forwards, it can always look back, and I defy anyone to say they have none of the better, kinder, things in life to look back on, not with regret for their having passed, but with thanks for their having come our way. 

Such is life; such, too, is the stuff of sweet dreams. So, you ask, what about nightmares? Well, many of us have those, awake and asleep; I guess the trick is letting the light of a sandman’s lantern save us from being overwhelmed by the shadows it throws. 

BEAUTIFUL DREAMER 

I am the glow
that lights up any dark
encroaching
on the mind-body-spirit
that’s edging
too close for comfort
to an abyss,
watching over us though we 
embrace or deny it 

I am close kin
to the star we wish upon
as darkness
threatens to leave us feeling
abandoned, scared,
just as we were whenever
we felt much like
ill-chosen pieces of a jigsaw in
an impossible dream 

I inspire the hopes
of things to come when life
is as likely
to fail us as we may well fail
even ourselves
and each other now and then,
by chasing rainbows, 
only to kickstart yet more storms
in tea cups or wherever 

I, am Love, as eternal a companion
as ever lit a Sandman’s lantern 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

Hello again, from London UK

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

           Another reader has emailed to ask, “I don’t have prostate cancer, but get very depressed. How on earth do you cope as antidepressants don’t seem to help me.”. I have tried to answer this question before, but, as my mother used to say, if you think something is worth saying, it has to be worth repeating...

            For a start, I don’t avoid depression altogether; some days I feel very low and too near the edge of some psychological abyss for comfort. The poetry blogs help by way of creative therapy to keep despair at bay, and I would recommend it for anyone who has to cope wit any form of illness, be it a form of cancer or whatever. You don’t have to write poetry, of course; gardening, knitting... these can be as effective a means of distracting a person from everyday stress as any of the arts. Simply walking and taking in our surroundings can also provide a healthy distraction, often triggering precious memories of yesteryear. (I don’t entirely agree with those who take the view that looking back is pointless, the only way is forward.)

            Sadly, prostate cancer can affect the memory, as in my case, to such an extent that if I imagine mind-body-spirit as building, it feels like huge parts of my life are being removed, brick by brick. It is a frustrating and distressing experience, but one has to learn to live with it, and creative therapy encourages a positive-thinking mindset that can provide a way forward when, at times, there may well not seem to be one.

            A positive-thinking mindset can help us through any life-crisis if we but take a step back from it, take deep breaths, consider firstly its nature and causes and then how we might alleviate both our own distress and that of those closest to us. There are no easy answers but there is always a way forward; even if the only way forward looks likely to end in death, we can at least prepare ourselves for it. Those who have a strong religious faith, can take comfort and strength from it; those who cannot relate and therefore don’t subscribe to any religion can at least reconcile themselves to resting in pace. Me? As a Pantheist, I believe that God is nature; having not only always felt a strong affinity with nature, but also taken an indefinable sense of spirituality from it, I cannot believe that it means me harm.

            Mortality’s closes ally and human beings’ weakest link it is fear. Lose our fear of death, and it can only lose the battle for our lives while. the human spirit is left to win the war for an after-life of sorts, depending how we envisage it. I, personally, as regular readers well know, like to believe there have been more positives than negatives in my life; although the first may neither excuse nor compensate for the latter, I can only hope it is the latter that will endure in the mind-body-spirits of those to whom I have tried to pass those same positives on to remain an influence for the better and passed on, in turn, to others.

            Such is the posthumous consciousness that, rightly or wrongly, I envisage as a form of after-life; as positive a view of mortality as I can envisage.

            As for concepts of Heaven and Hell, I suspect many if not most of us experience both, each in our own way as we go though life. Death has to bring peace - especially for any among us who have felt constantly at war with our inner selves, for whatever reason – or life itself becomes but passing of seasons between birth and death, make what we will of them... or not, as the case may be.

            Whenever I have been close to nature, as man and boy, I’ve experienced a spirituality that reassures me as much now as it did years ago. A religious leader once told me that “Faith defies reason and logic, dependent as it is on true Belief, and therein lies its strength...”       Who’s to say that one Belief is truer than another? 

Bye folks, , take care, be sure to nurture a positive-thinking mindset and I'll be back with a poem soon, 

Hugs, 

Roger

Emissary OR The 'u', 'i' and 'y' of Humanity, Parts of a Whole

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

Overheard in a local supermarket on the day (widely reported in the media) when princes William and Harry recently unveiled a statue of their late mother, Princess Diana:

LITLE GIRL:     What happens when you die, Mummy?

MOTHER:          If you’re a good girl, you go to Heaven.”

LITTLE GIRL:   Is Princess Diana in Heaven?”

MOTHER:          I imagine so, yes.

CHILD:               And will I go there, too, when I die?”

MOTHER            If you’re a good girl, yes, of course.

CHILD:                So, will I get to meet Princess Diana?

MOTHER:           Well, err, maybe, who knows what lies ahead for any of us.

A long pause

CHILD:                So, if I’m bad, will I go to Hell?

MOTHER:           Oh, look, darling, there’s Penny and her mummy. let’s go and say hello...”

 As a child, I well recall being promised Heaven and threatened with Hell as according to this or that religious dogma, and 75+ years on it is still happening. No wonder I feared death then, before I discovered that the human spirit, too, has a mind of its own, and is less threatening than inspiring. 

People are entitled to their faith, and should be respected for it, but no browbeating religious agenda / dogma will ever get a thumbs-up from yours truly. 

As for Death, I remain pragmatic, but also hopeful that the better part of me will continue to commune with those I have loved (as they do with me) and any among humankind whose own mind-body-spirit is happy to let me in.... unlike the former work colleague (a clergyman's wife) who told me she thought it was a shame I'd go to hell (for being gay.) She is as entitled to her faith, as I am entitled to reject it, as I did...long before I realised I'm gay. 

EMMISARY or THE ‘U’, ‘I’ & ‘Y’ OF HUMANITY, PARTS OF A WHOLE 

Sooner or later,
I call on everyone everywhere,
sparing no one;
rich or poor, young or old,
none ever get to run
whenever I choose to appear
and make myself known,
nor do I need to wait for an invitation,
such is the nature of my mission 

Oh, many are they
who would slam doors in my face
rather than let me in,
having no time or use for me,
preferring to send me
on my way, were I to but listen
to what they have to say,
while I prefer to avoid any altercation,
such is the nature of my mission 

Misted-over eyes
of a wistful, wishful, woeful world,
see me as bad news,
not least for refusing to budge
on my demands;
some, though, make a good case
for staying put awhile,
and I'll mull over making due provision,
such is the nature of my mission 

While I can’t claim
to come as friend, neither am I enemy,
though assumed so
by kith and kin, neither ready yet
nor (quite) willing
to explore a universal truth with us.
the like of which
defies even the most creative imagination,
such is the nature of my mission 

We’ll pass on dreams,
beyond the ken of mortals, bid the portals
of those mind-body-spirits
we may have known, loved, touched
by word, deed, hearsay
or art forms invariably inspiring debate 
for centuries by courtesy
of empathies surpassing all expectation,
such is the nature of my mission 

I am the Spirit of Death,
come to restore, rework, reshape human life
whenever, wherever,
take it through personal space
into as evergreen a beauty
as grows from seeds of love and friendship,
(life-forms without equal)
sure to nurture remembrance and celebration,
such is the nature of my mission 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021