Bridges

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

As is the case for many, if not most of us, the paths I’ve taken in this life, more often than not with few (if any) alternatives to choose from have led me to the very edge of abyss after abyss. Even so, the choices were mine alone, and, for the most part, I cannot blame anyone but myself for my mistakes. 

From time to time, we may well face various issues over which we have little or no control, for reasons as likely to remain as much a mystery as such life forces themselves, as egg us on with no clear idea as to what or where.

Now, in my 77th year, I look back and, incredibly, can count more good times than bad, more very good times even than very bad, not least for coming into contact with some wonderful people who have helped channel life crisis after life crisis into something better, kinder and enduring.

We never forget bad times, but those of us surviving into old age need to draw on the good times to see us through the various issues we need to manage and rise above in order to keep faith with whatever it is in us that others have deemed worthy of their help and support over the years. Sadly we may lose touch with them, but it is never a case of 'out of sight, out of mind' and they continue to shape our lives for the better.

As for those whom we see - rightly or wrongly - as having failed us, we can hardly blame them for an inner eye that cannot see beyond appearances… well, can we?  Besides, appearances are often not as they seem and can lead to misunderstandings, which is why a frequent theme in my poetry has been the need for communication as a two-way process. Nor should it matter who makes the first move so long as someone does, and the other party or parties see that for what it is and responds in like terms. 

The importance of agreeing to differ rather than let any differences cause ill-feeling and subsequent division and/or estrangement; it is also why I feel unable to subscribe to any world religion and have come to think of myself as a pantheist

Needless to say, perhaps, one of my favourite songs is a recording by The Animals in the mid-1960’s of Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood; I was in my 20th year at the time and it resonates with me now every bit as much as it did then. 

BRIDGES

Life, it can get tough with us,
the more so when no one to share
all the mind’s eye gets to see
though windows on everyday scenery;
good, bad, ugly, and such beauty
as likely to motivate 
mind-body-spirit enough to reap,
nurture and harvest such hope and goodwill
as, in turn, recharges heart-and-soul 

Though the road be long or short,
mind-body spirit remains independent,
to no small degree, of any measure
of time as humanity would impose on it,
recharging its batteries
at every available opportunity arising
from taking each day as it comes,
inner eye invariably messaging personal space,
unhindered by either time or place

Many, the paths, our time is likely
to set us on while inviting us to try out 
many a potential resting place,
fulfilling a need to have us  enter, explore,
be they reeking of life, death,
or such things as much a mystery to us
as any Here-and-now seemingly
demanding atonement, suggesting the onus on us
to absolve any failings in our genes

Ah, but not all generations will hold us 
accountable for whatever life forces lead
mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers
to lose their way in such houses of many rooms
as comprise facts and fictions offering 
potential rest and shelter,
even in the worst of weathers, as we pursue
this path or that, increasingly unsure, as often as not,
whether wiser to go on or stay put

On every journey this life may take us,
whether or not from choice, longer or shorter
than such dreams as egg us on  
to explore its various houses of many rooms, 
the human heart will find ways
to enjoy home comforts and peace of mind
if only for having experienced
the best of humanity, as neither fictions nor mere blips, 
but  shaping our loves and friendships

Where mixed feelings may well confuse, even see us lost, 
invariably, find bridges to be crossed and re-crossed

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

Hi folks, from London UK (again)

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

Hi, folks, it's me again😄

Many thanks for dropping by. No poem for you today, but I'm working on one so it should be ready for posting here tomorrow or over the weekend. To be honest, I was stuck for a theme until a nasty memory block caused me to forget how to log on to my computer. Although years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer messes with my thought processes, this is something I do every day and it left me all but demented until I remembered. I sent a frantic SOS to mind-body-spirit, pleading for a clue. Suddenly my thought processes cleared like an early morning mist, not only recalling my log-on, but suggesting a theme for a poem... addressing mind-body-spirit (yes, again!) and a title along the lines of 'SOS'  a provisional title for now, but I may yet keep it.😉

I am often asked how I cope with memory loss as I grow old, especially as I live alone; it may be predominantly associated with dementia/ Alzheimer sufferers but, believe me, it can happen to anyone. Me, I got into the habit even in my early 60's of writing notes to myself and leaving them on the kitchen table to remind me of any shopping I needed to buy or tasks I needed to set myself the next day... before I forgot. Needless to say, these notes are always left on the kitchen table so I don't forget where I put the darn things. Not an original idea, I agree, but it works well for me, so I guess it is part of my life for keeps now.😉 

Another reader, G L has asked me to say something more about my being partially deaf as he or she thinks they may have a similar problem. As regular readers will know, I have suffered with perceptive deafness since I contracted measles at the tender age of 4 years. There was no vaccination against measles available in those days, so I do urge parents to have their children vaccinated as hearing loss has made my life considerably harder than it might have been otherwise, especially during my long-ago schooldays.

I was 21 years old before my hearing loss was diagnosed and I started wearing hearing aids. A few years later I was confirmed as having perceptive deafness and the NHS here obtained special hearing aids  for me, made in Germany with perceptive deafness sufferers in mind. 

So, why did no one, including yours truly, pick up on the fact that I was partially deaf? Well, perceptive deafness is not so easily perceived because it is a 'pitch' deafness; how much I hear, for example, depends largely on the pitch of a person's voice and local acoustics as well as how clearly they speak. ( A lot of people mumble without realising it and heavy accents can be a problem too.) So, in school, I might hear the same teacher easily in one classroom but with difficulty in another because of different acoustics.  Similarly, at home, I would hear a family member ok in one room, but not in another, especially if there was also background noise from a TV or radio. My Chemistry teacher, a lovely guy, was Polish so I really struggled with his accent.

No one understood my hearing problem for years, many still don't even when I explain it to them whenever there is a misunderstanding due to my having heard incorrectly. Time and again, it would cause problems at home, especially with my father who was always accusing me of not listening to a word he said. At school, too, I was always being reprimanded for giving the wrong answer to a question because I hadn't been paying attention when, in fact, I hadn't heard the question correctly. I often used to sit at the back of classes to avoid being asked questions which meant, of course, that I would catch even less of what was being taught during the lesson!😉

Mind you, my schooldays were all the worse for my being selected by certain education powers-that-be to go to a Technical School when I have always been the least technically-minded person I know.😉

Please bear in mind that it is not only known deaf people who have a hearing problem; many, many others are partially deaf without realising it, so don't be too quick to take offence if the response you get to a question of comment isn't quite along the lines you expected. It may be that you simply need to repeat what you said, perhaps more clearly, not that the other person hasn't been paying attention or is being deliberately rude.  

Being deaf or partially deaf is, sadly, a fact of life for some of us; we don't choose it, if anything, it chooses us... as is the case with so many facts of life to which some people with good hearing do choose to turn a blind eye... or deaf ear.  

Back with a poem soon, folks, hopefully tomorrow if my day improves and inspiration doesn't desert me.😉

Take care, stay safe and do your best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset... whatever life throws at you.

Hugs,

Roger

PS I am delighted to hear that BSL (British Sign Language) is to be included among subjects taught in UK schools. Better late than never...and yes, I do feel guilty for not being familiar with it myself, but there was never a opportunity to learn it. 

Blur, Root and Branch

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

“Expectation is the root of all heartache.” – proverb (often attributed to Shakespeare)

Sometimes we see what we expect to see rather than what is there; in much the same way, our feelings are similarly clouded by not feeling what we expect to feel.

Another old saying about looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope springs to mind. The rogue root and branch in nature and human nature plays up to just such imperfections; we fail to spot them because we do not expect to find them there, any more than we are willing to see imperfections in ourselves.

Invariably, blurred vision will eventually clear and rogue elements exposed once common sense alerts us to using the telescope correctly, often than not with the assistance of those better able to focus than ourselves on whatever it may be that we are gravely misperceiving.

Nothing new about either sentiment, I agree, but, hopefully, as good a preamble to the poem as any...?

BLUR, ROOT AND BRANCH

How came by first seeds
to take root and nurture us ever after
through the various seasons
of such time and personal space,
as we can but suppose
was a well-intended force for good,
advantaging kindred also
in woods and gardens, in fields or wherever
thought best by Earth Mother

Root and branch, though,
rely in no small part on circumstances
and surroundings to encourage
growth and such appearance as likely
to appeal any who tend, observe
and take to heart, or not, as the case
may well be, even allowing
for any unforeseen flaws, in the taking care of it,
seeing its basic needs well met

Intended to bear such fruit
compatible with whatever circumstances
and surroundings they grow,
these may well change as time passes,
fewer admirers raising glasses
to toast any finer attributes, but seeing ways
of cashing in on such flaws
as lend temptations of flesh and blood credulity
among certain powers that be

Rogue elements, they mean
nothing personal to whom any harm be done,
led on by various permutations
that have abused their originals
across generations,
inclined to play fast and loose with nature,
the better to take their cue
from assorted but well-established powers that be,
self-interest, ever a first priority

In nature and humanity,
find various rogue species going their own way,
disrespectful of any code,
leading its society, unknowingly, by the nose,
yet, their come-uppance
assured, one way or another, caught out by chance,
word, deed or gesture, enough to alert
their contemporaries to such goings-on as needs must
be exposed for betraying its trust

For every rogue root undermining a species’ well-being,
find many, many more well worth the nurturing

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022