On Cherry-picking Life-force Metaphors and Straws

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

As regular readers will know only too well, I like to think I have a strong sense of spirituality but find it - along with a sense of raison d’être - in nature, not religion. (I find dogma more imprisoning than enlightening.) At the same time, I am often accused of hypocrisy because I use religious metaphor in many of my poems.

For me, the more sensitive, imaginative, and spiritually enlightening passages in Holy Books are metaphors for humanity, its weaknesses and strengths.

Raised a Christian, I have never been able to take the Bible literally, but always found much food for thought in it and poetry to enjoy. I admire the historical Jesus of Nazareth as a man ahead of his time who spoke good sense and encouraged the kind of open mind and heart that many so-called Christians today would do well to follow.  

We have much to learn from founders of all the world’s religions.  So, yes, I often use religious metaphor in my poetry, and don’t consider this makes me a hypocrite.

Readers of my gay-interest blog often contact me on the subject of religion versus sexuality. Among them, ‘Julie M’ who wrote to say that she too ‘turned to nature for spiritual strength and reassurance after my religion failed me, a lesbian, when I needed it most.' Others have written to say they have been disowned by their family and friends for making life choices (not necessarily to do with sexuality) considered ‘inappropriate’ in the context of various socio-cultural-religious traditions.  [As the title of a poem of mine asks, whatever happened to love?]

This poem is a villanelle.

ON CHERRY PICKING LIFE FORCE METAPHORS AND STRAWS

Passive spectator to war,

the last tree left standing, evergreen;

God, a first and last metaphor

Tested like Adam (all the more)

by a world’s dark intentions unseen;

passive spectator to war

Eve called out for a whore

by busy minds hastily swept ultra-clean;

God, a first and last metaphor

Snake in the grass and more…

making of nature something obscene,

passive spectator to war

Behind the kitchen door,

preparing to feed off a television screen,

God, a first and last metaphor

Presuming to keep the score,

let one coin outshine a leaf’s dawn sheen;

passive spectator to war...

God, a first and last metaphor

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'God's Metaphor' in 1^st eds. of Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; 2^nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.]

Mentor For Life

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

Life, love, fear, pain, fame, fortune, memory...they all like to play games with us. Win or lose, it is how we play that counts, not the name of the game.

MENTOR FOR LIFE

When hard times force an entry
at the window, sorrows beating a path
to our front door, we can call upon
some God, nature, whatever...to save us,
wring our hands in bleak despair - or
put a shoulder to time’s wheel, no matter
how weakly at first, show the world
we’re far from done with it yet for all
its bitter-sweet subtleties

Though ill-favoured by fortune
for now, we’re far from being thrust out
of circulation as we take our turn
at the wheel, so it can be made to take
a detour in our favour, and if it seems
to have a mind of its own, so needs must
as anxiety guides its players by sun,
moon, stars, and peace candles history
has always lit for its martyrs

Time and again, we lose our way,
sight foxed by tears, other senses playing
fast and loose with a frail grip
on memories past and present, future
in freefall...till that moment sublime
when we find the strength to steer time
away from a raging Hydra
rearing its heads like ragged rocks
on a dark, indifferent sea

Brought slowly, safely into harbour
where a vaguely familiar shoreline offers
a helping hand if not sanctuary;
enough for now, for time won’t be rushed,
especially once forced to compromise
after trifling so with the disaffected spirit
of a would-be loser in its favourite
game of chance designed to trick us into
losing faith in ourselves

Self-belief, most precious of all mind tools,
mentor for life on a Ship of Fools


Copyright R. N. Taber 2011