A Feeling for Spring

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“Forgiveness is the fragrance that the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” - Mark Twain

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.” - Martin Luther King Jr.

“The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and deeds left undone.” - Harriet Beecher Stowe 

“For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Reader A. D. asks why I am “… so preoccupied with inter-communication between people, so-called ‘agreeing to differ’ and engaging in discussion even about personal issues where there are clearly radical differences of opinion. “Better for everyone, surely,” he or she suggests, “to let sleeping dogs lie?”  Well, we must, indeed, agree to differ, say so and shake on it. In my experience many if not most such 'sleeping dogs' are badly in need of a wake-up call; being left to sleep on,  thereby likely to inflict such damage on human relationships as not easily mended.

One of the greater tragedies of human nature is the inability or reluctance of many people to confront those against whom they may hold a grudge, invariably for fear of having to endure a bitter exchange of insults, commonly referred to as ‘home truths'.

Both parties are usually to blame, to some extent for broken relationships, but it takes only one to make a start on a healing process.  Many of us, including yours truly, have no idea how to make a start, whether it be with a family member, friend or neighbour, often for fear of being accused of simply making excuses for what has been perceived as unforgivable behaviour, but may well have been a misunderstanding due to circumstances left unshared. 

The longer any misunderstanding or genuine excuse remains silent, refusing to engage in any healing process, the longer any grudge will fester, mind-body-spirit, turning a deaf ear to whatever heart-and-soul is constantly mulling, even grieving over.

True, some broken relationships cannot be mended, but not for want of trying. Better to have tried and failed than never to have tried at all, though, surely? The problem remains, though, that some well-meaning efforts may well be misinterpreted, taking us back to square one. Even so, an aggrieved heart-and-soul may yet find a welcome measure of peace for having dispended with the futility of harbouring grudges.

A FEELING FOR SPRING

I am so much the sweeter taste
and fragrance of life, just for having
shed those darker senses
keeping heart-and-soul from engaging
fully, openly, positively
with a mind -body-spirit struggling
under the growing weight
of  ill-judged expectations or responses
plunging knives into You-Me-Us

Having been given no opportunity
to put my side of things as misunderstood
and left to fester, bad feeling
getting the better of any finer senses 
of fair play, never spoken,
kept hidden in recesses of heart-and-soul
feeding on bitterness,
happiness left to but make the best it can
of the contrariness of being human

I am as that first full kiss or spring,
come to relieve the pain of such wintry days
as we have felt obliged
to endure, no hint of  choice, no voice
for having been unable
to penetrate certain defences, both yours
and mine, now worn down 
by tears for such likely misunderstandings 
as deserving of happier landings

I am Forgiveness, making time for a fresh start,
finally come to flower in the human heart

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Bridges

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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

 

Smoke

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 “It is better to understand little than to misunderstand a lot.” - Anatole France

“We’re all islands shouting lies to each other across seas of misunderstanding.”  - Rudyard Kipling

“In the whole round of human affairs, little is so fatal to peace than misunderstanding.” - Margaret Elizabeth Sangster

Sometimes, we convince ourselves we are on the right track for achieving this or that goal; rightly or wrongly, only one way to find out. Invariably, this means communicating our aims and purpose to others, which, in turn requires bringing into play the process of communication. Sadly, we do not always communicate well, - especially with the written word alone - leaving ourselves wide  open to one of the unkindest life-death forces of all… misunderstanding.

Friends and family, for example, often  disagree . Now, agreeing to differ is one thing, but when certain perspectives on whatever it is people disagree about are distorted by misunderstandings, then any smoke in the eyes needs to be cleared, the fire put out while still manageable. 

More often than not, all it takes is a willingness to try and understand each other and talk things through, the life and breath of real communication, a life force so often killed by those of us unable to see clearly for the smoke of human egocentricities. Well, we can but try, bearing in mind that it takes more than one person to talk things through and someone has to make the first move or... 

Many if not most of us often need some signs of encouragement to make that first move; no encouragement, no positive thinking; another family member or friend lost to that old troublemaker,  Misunderstanding. 

As my mother used to say, when in doubt...don't be afraid to ask - or be quick to take offence at what you might hear, just get stuck in and talk things through.

Sadly, given that misunderstandings invariably give rise to false assumptions, those same assumptions only encourage more smoke... in which any need or desire to ask is inclined to go out of sight, out of mind.

SMOKE 

The voice is clear
so, too, its sounds falling on my ear
even as they become distorted
by other voices in my head raising
doubts, confusing me
for their incompatibility with sounds
I expected to hear, the words
in my ear all but another language to me,
a growing incompatibility

The way is not clear
to make a reply to silences in my ear,
taken me by surprise by smoke
in the eyes where the only fire lit lies
within a heart-and-soul
unable to quite believe what it’s hearing,
questions put to life forces
prompting a need to engage in discussion,
only to change direction 

Having wrestled clear
of doubts, fears and other nightmares,
I continue on my way
as first mapped out by my convictions,
disturbed, but not deterred
by smoke, in other eyes now, failing to see
the alternative reality inspiring
me to go on, in pain for leaving you behind,
unable to read your mind…

Time, barely healing its cuts from our failing
to head off tragedies of misunderstanding

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Little Life Music

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Music gives a soul to he universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, and life to everything.” - Plato

Music acts like a magic key. To which the most tightly closed hearts open.” – Maria von Trapp

“The only thing better than singing is more singing.” – Ella Fitzgerald

Now, why you may well ask, am I writing up a poem-post about the joy of music when I can’t play an instrument, sing a note and have lived with a significant degree of deafness all my life? 

Good question, that. The short answer is that am always listening to favourite music and songs playing in my head; especially when I am feeling sad, lonely or scared enough for self-pity to take me to the very edge of The Abyss. Music reminds me why I shouldn’t jump. Oh, I’ve been pushed many a time, and fallen. But, who hasn’t, by giant shadows that mean us ill?  

Yet, even while falling, I’d hear sounds of music in my head returning me to terra-firma, if only to start living, learning and listening all over again…

A LITTLE LIFE MUSIC

My cap hides less hair than it did,
as well as mixed feelings, running riot
from time to time
when not invoking a passion for any music,
poetry or rhyme sure to give
savage breast and unquiet mind a welcome rest
from trying to reason after-shocks
of pleasure-pain imposed by its own and the world’s
least concealed flaws

Music, may well be the food of love,
left to play on even in the face of rejection,
human nature least inclined
to see a willow for its branches, falling
like tears for times hearts
all but broken by attributing such meaning
to feelings within as first
lit its fires, fanned its flames, only to have it all but die
without understanding why 

Mind-body-spirit thrives to the sound
of music, no matter how its life forces presented,
by humankind or Earth Mother,
amateur or professional, a confessional
of sorts where heart-and soul
may well fear to go, dreading what it may uncover
in such recesses as it may yet nurture,
while struggling to keep all but hidden even from itself;
mixed feelings on a lonely shelf

Yet, even the saddest heart-and-soul can
learn to sing again, to a little life music composed
in kinder times by friendly ghosts,
now lending it huff and puff enough to revive
half-forgotten dreams,
leading us, in turn, to doors closed to us far too long,
pleading we fling them open, let music
back in, in time to see the willow weep such tears of light,
as no darkness can ever snuff out

Though insight deflected by brilliant sunshine or heavy rain,
trust a little life music to see its way clear again…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Soldiering On

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Today’s poem only appeared early last year, but I was unhappy with both title and poem in spite of encouragement from friends to publish it here. Hopefully, readers will enjoy this version; I have changed the title and completely revised the end couplet. (So why post a poem here if I’m not entirely happy with it? Well, sometimes I am too close to the poem to see rather than simply sense what is wrong or missing; this is, of course, where any critical feedback comes into its own. (Academically, I didn’t do well at school I the 1950’s/ early 60’s, but had some excellent teachers; one of the most valuable lessons they taught me was to always face up to my shortcomings and mistakes, even if only to myself.)

I dare say most if not all of us have upset someone at some time or another with an accidentally inappropriate choice of words. I can think of several occasions when it has happened to me, and I’ve not always been able to mend fences with the person or persons concerned. Some people are quick to take offence and slow to appreciate that it well may be that no offence was intended.

Many years ago, I upset my secondary school English teacher by a using poor choice of words. I apologised, and explained I meant no offence. He accepted my apology, adding a word of warning that has stayed with me these past 50+ years. “Never, but never, underestimate word power, Taber. It can make or break or break any relationship. More often than not, you’ll never understand why unless you make the effort to find out. Even then, the chances are barely 50:50 that the other person will have a clue what you’re on about and will proceed to hold a grudge likely to prey on your mind for years. Most people, you see, forget that different words mean different things to different people. As for the spoken word, well, tone and body language are everything, and half the time we’re unaware how we are using either.”

Oh, but he was so right, and I have inadvertently found myself in that the same situation time and again, not least because I am partially deaf . Believe me, though, those of us who wear hearing aids are no more vulnerable to mishearing and/ or misunderstanding  than the average hearing person. Most of us who belong to the former category can usually tell from the other person's tone or expression that we have misheard and will act to prevent any misunderstanding. Sometimes an apology-cum-explanation can clear the air, sometimes it won’t stand a cat in hell’s chance of getting through to the offended person.

Language lays traps; it is always worth remembering the old adage advising us to think before we speak (write, e-mail, whatever) or risk its damaging the best of good intentions; its misuse is a common enough mistake that most if not all of us make at some time or another, grounds enough for appeal, surely, should we accidentally put a foot wrong? Sadly, such is human nature that it is (too) often inclined to turn a deaf ear.

This poem is a kenning

SOLDIERING ON

I’ll fight the good fight

with the very best of intentions,

yet often misunderstood

for a rogue devil in the detail,

invariably missed

by thought processes less familiar

with the subtler art

of meaning as regards prime destination,

a sensitive mind-body-spirit

Losing the good fight

has been known to hurt those most

whose side I would take

against the harsher machinations

of life, love, whatever

it may be seemingly conspiring

to set us at worse odds

than mind-body-spirit intends, but foiled

by its own commonest flaws

Winning the good fight

with the very best of intentions,

and getting the better

of some rogue devil in the detail

likely to throw a spanner

in the workings of any relationship

can be easily accomplished

for not assuming what’s good for the goose

is good for the gander

I, Word Power, expert in the art of persuasion,

nor less so in the nature of disillusion

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

L-I-F-E, Misunderstandings and Infinite Horizons

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Once asked to name my favourite song of all time, I had to confess it has to be ‘Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood, first recorded by the late, great Nina Simone and then by The Animals whose lead singer Eric Burden’s turn it was to lift it to  inspirational heights.

Why my favourite song?  I am a great fan of both Nina Simone and The Animals, but the song hits me where it hurts most. The curious thing about hurt is that it can be both awfully painful and inspirational at the same time.  (I suspect I am not the only one who has lost friends for their having misunderstood our spoken or written words.)

Rightly or wrongly, I have felt misunderstood for the greater part of my life. The fact that I have a hearing problem, left undiagnosed as a form of ‘perceptive deafness’ for years hasn’t helped, but that is no excuse. Indeed, there are no excuses. On the other hand, there is room for reparation and reconciliation if the offended party will only say why they feel offended, thus giving the other person an opportunity to at least try and clear up any misunderstandings. Too often, though, this simply doesn’t happen.  One could argue that it is down to anyone who can see they have caused offence to make the first move while, on the other hand, isn’t the offended person also morally obliged to say why they have taken offence instead of simply resorting to postures that are no less offensive if not more so for being deliberate?

Many if not most friends and family members fall out from time to time, but any friends or family members worth their salt will engage us in an exchange of views, however heated, which  - more often than not – will clear the air and effect reconciliation. Sadly, many people see taking offence as a means to ending a relationship which, for reasons best known (or unknown) to themselves they would prefer to discontinue; an act of shifting any and all all blame elsewhere that has been a socially acceptable get-out cause for centuries. Those of us to whom reconciliation is all-important will know each other well to make sure it happens, albeit probably after arguing who threw the first stone …

“Drop the people who do not value you, respect you. Life has infinite horizons. Accept yourself, love yourself, and move forward.” ― Amit Ray, Peace, Bliss, Beauty and Truth: Living with Positivity

L-I-F-E, MISUNDERSTANDINGS AND INFINITE HORIZONS

I rarely mean to say

how it’s taken what I mean,

and held against me

rarely asked to explain,

try repairing damage done

(end of conversation)

Friends all but strangers,

family members taking sides,

cue for body language;

Looks, casting aspersions

on the best of my intentions,

no one asking questions

Hurt feelings on a chatline

exchanging gossip and rumour,

(No one any the wiser);

I, left to mull (close to tears)

 a real mess-up of a diary filled

with smudges and smears

Yet, some entries in my diary

stand out, no smears or smudges

in sight, only what’s writ;

not always a misunderstood

child, teenager or senior citizen,

for embracing infinite horizons

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

The Gatekeeper's Song

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While we are all sitting on fences, tearing them down or maybe even trying to mend some, I wonder what The Gatekeeper thinks about it all...?

THE GATEKEEPER’S SONG

They turned their backs on me

or was it I who ran away…?

Memory, it so likes to play tricks

on us, rather than let us see

what really takes place in corners

of the heart we rarely seek out,

for fearing what we may find

in holiday snapshots and behind

words in letters read in anger,

birthday cards left unsent, never

recognising the danger of years

passing so quickly till we’ve only

such poor excuses and regret

as conscience cares to permit shine

in darkest corners of the mind

where, yes, we’d so return a while,

have love take us that last mile

where stubborn feet still refuse to go

though heart and soul never left,

and would set us free, let us see all

the heart deserves to know

No, not free from nature's finer ties

(never that) but, rather, set out

in tablets of stone, supposedly less

likely to break than any we shape

in a clay that may please human eyes

for moment in time, but hardens

(not as we imagined) to a perspective

on dark corners where sometimes

pain seeks solace, yet finding none

in unused icons of human hearts

left but to gather dust like old photos

Better, surely, to air home truths

(even after years of running away)

if only to deny the world its pleasure

in exposing us along tired lines

of letting live but to die another day,

no matter where any blame let lie

nor we (or they) be straight or gay?

Time to open the gate before it’s too late

to live to love another day…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; slightly but significantly revised, 2019.]