Echoes of a Season Past

ROGER TABER - POETRY READING
21 March 2017 – Part 2

From Roger’s friend, Graham

Greetings from autumnal Essex, UK,

I’m sharing the second part of Roger’s poetry reading. Again, I’ve embellished the recording with imagery (including the occasional cheeky pun). I’m grateful to the photographers who’ve shared their work (public domain license) on the Pixabay, Pexels and Unsplash websites. Wikimedia has also proven really helpful.

Here’s the link: https://youtu.be/hs3aTILOdtU. Or find it by searching ‘roger taber poetry’ in YouTube if you prefer.

I was reflecting on my previous comments about performance poetry being more expressive than printed form. How it reveals the intensity, passion and human frailty of the poet. And yet, conversely, a soundtrack could be interpreted as the author’s impressing of a particular perspective on his work. I wonder if poetry, art or music is really more about multiple viewpoints…? And written verse, perhaps, remains more accessible to those differing interpretations. Either way, I still think the recording adds an interesting facet to Roger’s published work.

The selection contains some personal favourites – ‘Suggestions’ and ‘The Poet’s Song’ among them. I read the latter at Roger’s funeral as part of a eulogy. Although it’s not sombre - rather a celebration of the artform. After all, ‘look on the bright side’ was his mantra. Even on his poetic postcards from the abyss.

Inevitably, the project has left me with a sense of retrospection. Roger died back in March last year although, for me at least, his presence lingers. His connection to the world endures somehow in a continuum of past-present-future. Like a pebble cast into water, his life-force resonates through a sea of time…

Memory’s warming embers ever glimmer in the shadow of grief.

Thanks for reading/listening.

G x

 

*  *  *

 

‘I am hopelessly in love with a memory. An echo from another time, another place.’
Michel Foucault

‘No one is actually dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away.’
Terry Pratchett

‘As long as there are memories, yesterday remains. As long as there is hope, tomorrow awaits. As long as there is friendship, today is beautiful.’
Billy Joel

 

*  *  *

 

ROGER TABER - POETRY READING
Tuesday, 21 March 2017

PART 2

The Master Baiter
W-A-R, Crucible Of Remembrance
Spring Magic
Logging On To Life
Imagination, Painter Of Dreams or Masochist
National Trust Outing
Suggestions
Shades Of Comic Genius
Engaging With Nature or Living With Prostate Cancer
Patchwork
Ode To Apollo or Profile Of A Life-force
Heartbeat or Waking Up To The Power of Positive Thinking
Poems By Passing Clouds
The Poet’s Song
In Good Company

(CC) R. N. Taber 2017

A Tapestry of Life

From Roger’s friend, Graham

Greetings and welcome,

I hope that you’re thriving wherever you are in the world. A quick update - I’m still working on part 2 of Roger’s poetry reading for YouTube. In the meantime, I’m sharing some further reflections on his poetry.

A recurring theme in Roger’s work is an intimate relationship with nature. His narratives explore complex  interconnectivity between animals, plants, environment and self. Beyond the impressionistic imagery lies a deeper communion with nature aspiring to the sacred. Roger’s inspiration flowed from this affinity with the natural environment. He described it as pantheism - although it also shares ideals with Jainism.

Both Roger and I grew up under the yoke of Christian tradition - which we rejected in adulthood. But our reasons went beyond the insidious anti-gay and misogynist bigotry lurking in certain Old Testament tracts. It was the notion that humans stand alone in all creation as being divinely inspired; uniquely housing a ‘soul’. That flawed foundation of ethics which affords adherents free reign to exploit and enslave (so-called) lesser creatures and desecrate the environment - while obviating responsibility as to suffering or consequence. As with the other Abrahamic religions, Christian dogma conjures the illusion of separation from, and elevation over the rest of nature. (It also provides insight into ecclesiastical hubris.)

The enlightenment of science teaches us that this is fundamentally and evidentially wrong. We share 98.8% of our DNA with chimpanzees - with whom we share a common ancestor 6-7 million years ago. We can trace our evolutionary lineage on the tree of life back through millennia. Our origin and purpose in the universe aren’t inscribed on tablets of stone, but rather, recorded indelibly within strata of rock.

Humankind are not the animal kingdom’s divinely-ordained overlords – we’re it’s caretakers; bearing that weight of responsibility. We’ve close kinship to our fellow creatures. Who could gaze into the eyes of their pet dog, their cat or other domesticated animals and not sense their emotional complexity? Who could fail to acknowledge their affection, their joy or their pain? It offers an inkling that we’re part of something bigger… part of Earth Mother’s glorious magnum opus comprising all living things.

Roger’s nature poems recognise that we’re inextricably interwoven into the tapestry of life; that we’re but threads within the greater fabric of existence.

Take care,
Gx

 

*  *  *  *

 

ANTHEM PLAYED ON A GRASS HARP

Watery sun dripping through trees,
leaves sparkling like jewels in a crown
where we’d wander, my love and I,
ears pricking up at a chick’s first cry,
looking out for others flapping their way
on first flights through dawn rainbows
till gliding with ease as nature meant
for us all, although less so among humans,
a species well known for thinking they
know better than Earth Mother, wishing
them ill (and Hell) who resist straitjackets
and persist in walking tall

On a magic carpet of many colours,
among daisies passing for fairies
in a palace of dreams, we’d go free,
where all prejudices and bigotry
mean less than a fair breeze in the face,
Earth Mother’s caress in the hair,
reminding us how we are, one and all,
as nature intended, no one creature
any more or less precious than another,
each, in their own way, a ‘live’
testament to mind-body-spirit and a history
lending meaning to eternity

We arrived where the carpet
tuned into stone, where no sun shining,
only Shadows, a gathering of forces
preparing to take humanity on and win
any fight it may choose to pick,
no matter rights and wrongs (or alternative
points of view); for them, a certainty
that the world has no place for men, women
and young people whose sexuality
offends a majority choosing to make stand
on a Ship of Fools in a gale force wind, set on
making sense of humankind

Oh, but spring in our hair like jewels in a crown
Love takes for its own!

 

Copyright R.N. Taber 2010 from the collection ‘On the Battlefields of Love’. Revised 2021.

A Window in Time

 

(From Roger’s friend, Graham)

 

Hi everyone,

Over the years I’ve attended many of Roger’s poetry readings. Many took place in public libraries or art centres. Occasionally they were part of an events programme for LGBT+ History Month (February, here in the UK). Often, friends and old colleagues would attend.

I recently discovered a sound recording among Roger’s personal effects. A reading at the Society of Genealogists hire space, London, back in March 2017. Hearing his voice again was evocative. It made me recount those many convivial evenings enjoying poetry and wine. More interestingly though, it offers the listener an extra dimension. They’re more expressive and nuanced than mere lines of printed verse. The added intonation and emphasis illuminates and counter-shades the narrative.

I’ve opted to add some imagery. A simple slideshow really, which hopefully provides a suitable backdrop. My plan is to publish the entire reading in full on Roger’s YouTube channel. For now though, I’m including a link to the first part here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2klMtjNWuSQ

Happy listening and thanks for reading.

Graham

 

*  *  *

 

ROGER TABER - POETRY READING

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

 

PART 1

Close Friends, Distant Lives

A Short History of London

The Busker or Music, Spirit of Life

Last Take on Multiculturalism

Whatever Happened To Love?

The Ballad of Neighbour Joe

Darkness, The Poetry of Mixed Feelings or The Scenic Route To Daylight

View From A Church Window

Life At The Shallow End or Keeping Up Appearances

The Zen Of Counting Beans

A Family Connection or Time Travel Firsthand

Harvesting Imagination

Looking For Answers or Passing Comment On The Human Psyche

Mother Love

The Guardian

 

(CC) R N. Taber 2017

 

Shades of Comic Genius (and Quinquagenarian Angst)

 

From Roger’s good friend – Graham

 

Sap is rising, shoots are sprouting and buds are throbbing in anticipation…

Today’s poem ‘Shades of Comic Genius’ offers an amusing take on a couple who rediscover the passions of youth in their later years. A blaze of glory as they surrender to the unbridled urges of nature and cast away, if briefly, the burden of age. It’s an enchanting example of the whimsical aspect in some of Roger’s writing.

Speaking of age, I imagine that cresting past that mid-life hill can be daunting for many of those in my generation. Especially if they find themselves single and there’s an incentive to maintain that sylph-like physique of youth! Although that objective does become a bit of a pipedream, unfortunately, as years advance.

It’s an unsightly truth that age and gravity conspire to steer one’s finest assets on a southward migration. Looking in the mirror recently, I was reminded of one of those mudslide events that you might see in a disaster movie. Although I consider myself fortunate that I can still glimpse my feet between shoegazing moobs. (It’s certainly a stark contrast with the type of ‘hangovers’ I faced during my student days.) Sitting in the bath the other day was reminiscent of a baggy old armchair that had become waterlogged.

As if that wasn’t bad enough I was disappointed recently when my young niece asked me why I appeared to be frowning in some of the family photos. I had to explain that I was just facing down slightly and the mouth was sagging. She was kind enough to offer the assistance of a photo enhancer app although I gratefully declined. (Fastening a large bulldog clip to the back of the scalp might be more effective?)

I remember poor Rog complaining about ten years ago about his midriff getting wider. He was worried about becoming ‘bell-shaped’. I couldn’t think of anything diplomatic to say so I suggested that at least, he’d be the ‘belle of the ball’. Fortunately he was immune to my cheeky banter and laughed. Latterly, his avoidance of dairy products seemed to stop the expanding girth which was some consolation.

Much of the time we tried to laugh about our frailties and work around them. Or imagine, at least, that our salad days hadn’t entirely withered on the vine. Anyway, it’s good to throw caution to the wind sometimes; budding with memories from the bloom of youth…

 

*  *  *

 

‘She said she was approaching forty, and I couldn't help wondering from what direction’. Bob Hope (British-born American entertainer).

 

*  *  *

 

SHADES OF COMIC GENIUS
(For old[er] people everywhere)

We stripped naked under a leafy sky,
saw our bodies turn gold,
for a while forgot about growing old

Rediscovering youth’s feisty passion
we surfed its glorious tide,
put aches, pains and home truths aside

A balmy breeze gave us its blessing
and songbirds sang amen
while halcyon days revisited us again

Though years pass and take their toll,
the spirit of adventure remains
to seize the day, throw off its chains

If love is the greatest adventure of all,
sex is but half the story,
a shared empathy, its power and glory

We dressed quickly, nature applauding
bodies frayed at the seams
acknowledging its comedy of dreams

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010. From the collection On the Battlefields of Love

 

*  *  *

 

I’ve also included a jokey poem that I found in an old email which never quite made the grade for publication (‘Senior Moments…’) . However, it ties in so well I’ve included it. I think older readers will appreciate it...

 

SENIOR MOMENTS or GROWING OLD WITH CHUCKLES
(And, no, Chuckles is not my cat.)

This little poem of mine
may well be missing the occasional line
since senior moments with me
are as common as sugar or milk in a cup
of coffee or tea

Whenever out and about,
I rely on my trusty walking stick’s support,
but will often raise the alarm
when I put it aside and it chooses to hide
(usually on my arm)

An easy to follow recipe
(meant to impress old friends visiting me)
might well prove a mistake
when I get proportions sufficiently wrong
to make us all feel sick

I have hurried for buses
only to find I’m soon counting my losses
for its heading (miles) away
from whatever destination I’d had in mind
and forgetting that anyway

A positive thinking person,
I refuse to let senior moments get me down,
but love to laugh at them
among friends over a few drinks in the pub,
ever toasting, ‘Carpe Diem’

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Spring, Lockdown and the Joy of Birds

  

From Graham – Roger’s close friend (and tipsy cameraman)

With the burgeoning of spring comes a renewed joie de vivre. As nature’s pulse quickens, sunlight streams into my small flat, warming the skin like Apollo’s sensual kiss. Outside an ensemble of sparrows sing their odes to joy as grey squirrels frolic in the sway of radiant daffodils.

I descend three flights of stairs clutching a selection of nuts and grains. Awaiting me, in lofty foliage, an array beady eyes ogling me expectantly. An excited twitter erupts. Magpies cawing, pigeons cooing and the trills of sparrows. At the shrubbery I set out a bird-buffet. A squirrel scampers up to me and I throw him a husked peanut which he grasps like a trophy. He’s joined by a magpie, then a flurry of feeding to a stirring chorale of birdsong.

I return to my apartment happier, elevated somehow... My daily ritual feels sacred and imbued with symbolism. Some traditions believe birds to be messengers of the divine. All I know is that the illusion of separation falls away and I’m at one with nature, the universe... Offline, but connected.

Roger and I discovered the sublime joys of bird-feeding during the Covid pandemic lockdown in 2020. He’d festoon his kitchen window ledge with breadcrumbs and be amused by the argy-bargy of gobbling pigeons. (London pigeons aren’t known for their social graces.)

We explored other avenues to alleviate those gloomy lockdown blues. Our daily ‘whinge-therapy’ phone sessions played a major role in maintaining both morale and sanity. (How I miss them.) I suspect Roger had a checklist of gripes which unerringly ended with a whodunnit. A gripping saga featuring Detective Inspector Taber - hot on the heels of a dastardly dumpster desperado abusing a recycling bin.

Then of course we were utterly enthralled by the enduring mystery of toilet roll shortages here in the UK. Panic buying - with toilet paper tumbling off supermarket shelves like roly-poly lemmings. Who was stockpiling and why - a conspiracy? Did coronavirus cause one to sprout an extra pair of buttocks? Or were there hordes of marauding bog-roll bandits wiping out supplies? Or was it being commandeered to mop-up the rising deluge of bullsh*t from a familiar Downing Street residence? A stream of consciousness is one thing - but this…!?

Rog and I certainly let our wildest imaginings run riot.

Sorry, my preamble turned into a pre-ramble. I meant to offer an upbeat commentary on renewal and springtime but rather went off at a tangent! I enclose two of poems on a spring theme.

 

*  *  *

NEVER GIVE UP ON SPRING

 

Once there was a time
it seemed like winter every day,
only a watery sunshine
streaking a sky that’s leaden grey 
life barely worth living,
past and present unforgiving,
catching me out
in what I took to be a loneliness
of old age as I’d read about
in novels, rarely taking notice,
forgetting the roots
of fiction lie in such harsh reality
as now had me in its grip,
leaving me to fret that only much
the same lay ahead, cruel
twist of fate by any other name,
delivering me into a spiral
of a leaden, grey depression wherein
I could see no hope of rescue
till into that shadowy place you came,
bringing light, warmth, and joy,
sending a long winter of the heart
into a feisty, overdue spring,
lending even its shadows a touch
of wry humour so alleviating
the burden of my distress that I could
make space for a happiness
of which neither age, sex, culture,
creed or sexuality may justly
claim a monopoly since everyone
has a right (fate?) to be as you
make me, finally (blissfully) content
to let unfriendly ghosts lie,
cease berating a rose for either its thorns
or the nurture of spring rain,
but dry my tears, and live, love, laugh,
feel young at heart again…

Though society find a reason to mark
its gay lovers, be sure our season will long,
outlive theirs, and even when life
is a burden that’s grey and unforgiving,
never give up on spring

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

*  *  *

SPRING, RITES OF PASSAGE

 

As a new leaf on a sad oak,
find a mind-body-spirit regenerating
greener centuries

As new buds on a rose bush
find all animal senses coming on heat
after a wintry frost

As new petals on a daffodil,
find emotions rising above their flaws
on a robin’s wings

As driftwood on home shores,
find young potential needing to be put
to better use than this

As seeds on a southern wind,
find life forces placing time and space
on a learning curve

As pilgrims to raison d’être,
find ghosts dead set on helping us live.
let live, have a voice

As fairy tales to a child’s mind,
find ancient legends wringing metaphors
from contemporaneity

As singing wires to cloth ears,
find rebel green campaigners messaging
the Earth’s naysayers

As ashes to ashes, dust to dust
find art and science reading the last rites
over tablets of stone

 

Copyright R N. Taber 2019. From an upcoming collection; Addressing the Art of Being Human.

Suggestions

 

From Graham – a close friend to Roger

It’s only from space the full extent of Earth’s environmental damage can be observed. Deforestation, receding glaciers, coastal inundation and the advance of deserts. From the flattened horizon of a human perspective, few witness the blanching of a coral reef or a river choked with plastic. The devastation remains somehow abstract… deniable.

It’s difficult to deny global weather patterns are becoming more anomalous and extreme. Or refute data that tells of rising average temperatures and collapsing biodiversity.

Venus, our nearest planet, suffered the fate of runaway atmospheric heating about 1 billion years ago when she still had surface temperatures akin to earth. This calamitous build-up of greenhouse gasses created a roiling inferno. A tormented celestial augur perhaps, foreshadowing the fate of her sister planet?

Just as our Earth’s marring is only framed in the bigger picture, the solution too, must be holistic. Political elites must be pressured to think pro-action over procrastination. Corporations must prioritise preservation over profit. And even wealthy religious organisations might be encouraged to save the planet rather than souls? They could even get real and recognise that their impending Judgment Day-cum-Apocalypse will likely be man-made rather than deity-designed. Surely this is the true existential crisis and moral imperative for all to confront…?

The onus is also on individuals to be the change through the choices they make. Small personal sacrifices for the greater good of our, and future generations. The cumulative benefits of driving a vehicle less, eating less (or no) meat and dairy, and conscientious consumerism should not be underestimated. The individual is not powerless to affect change by boycotting businesses that despoil natural habitat or cruelly exploit our fellow animals. Or to see beyond that acquisitional mindset fuelled by sly advertising.

Oh, but of course, there’ll always be climate change deniers - last seen at a Flat Earth Society meeting alongside creationist preachers and conversion therapists…

Roger loved this sun-kissed cradle of life we call Earth, Gaia, Terre... ‘Earth Mother’ features widely in his nature poems and was his foremost muse. He was captivated by her kaleidoscopic raiment in the ebb and flow of seasons. He took practical steps to conserve our precious planet too. He was ostensibly vegan and passionate about recycling – to the extent of policing rubbish bins where he lived. He’d leave curt notes in communal areas for offending parties who dumped non-recylcables in the green bin. And, believe me, Roger knew how to lambast even the most shameless slattern or slob!

When Rog was more mobile we enjoyed many a stroll on Hampstead Heath; communing with mother nature, imbibing ambrosial scents of wild, iridescent flora and savouring heavenly birdsong. Sometimes (pre-vegan days) we’d enjoy an ice cream and trace meandering lakeside tracks among coruscating sunbeams. We’d invariably climb Parliament Hill and gaze down on London’s sprawling cityscape then dive into a cosy pub. The Heath was Roger’s sanctuary and connection to his beloved Earth Mother.

This next poem of Roger’s appears in Accomplices To Illusion, 2007. I find it provocative.

‘The fact is that no species has ever had such wholesale control over everything on earth, living or dead, as we now have. That lays upon us, whether we like it or not, an awesome responsibility. In our hands now lies not only our own future, but that of all other living creatures with whom we share the earth.’ David Attenborough

‘Anyone who believes in indefinite growth on a physically finite planet is either mad or an economist’ David Attenborough

 

*  *  *

 

SUGGESTIONS

 

They suggest we try and save garden creatures
and ocean whales before it’s too late

They suggest our luxury choices are sure to leave
the generation of 3000 with none

They suggest parents are scared of their children
and raising monsters

They suggest religious leaders pay more attention
to compassion than division

They suggest politicians aren’t listening to those
who put them there

They suggest our multicultural societies are failing
themselves and each other

They suggest we start learning the lessons wars
should have taught us

They suggest we’re but living will and testament
of a dying planet

So who are they, daring to suggest humankind look
to its shortcomings?

Among leafy choirs, anxious waves, nature rehearses
this world’s passing

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
[Note: Revised (2008) from the original poem as it appears in Accomplices To Illusion, 2007.]

A Walk in the Park

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

“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

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” – Leonardo da Vinci

“Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.” - Khalil Gibran

“We do not see nature with our eyes, but with our understandings and our hearts.” William Hazlitt

“Forever is composed of Nows.” – Emily Dickinson

Even as a child, I loved being at the heart of nature, not only for its surrounding, but also for the responses to it by mind-body-spirit, communicating sounds and poetry it would be years before I would even begin to define it as a sense of spirituality; years, too, before I felt able to go public with it through poetry. 

As my dear mother used to say, learning curves are not confined to the classroom...

A WALK IN THE PARK

Taking a long walk
in the park, sky many shades
in many moods,
spots of rain urging me pause
by a favourite tree
playing host to feathered friends
bidding me see-hear-listen,
let the indomitable Spirit of Nature
address past-present-future

Becoming more aware
of a Here-and-Now beyond 
rain and cloudy skies,
a part of me opening up, not only
to what it could see
but to feelings, asking questions
of heart-and-soul
it had not thought of asking,
confused by worldly turns of thought,
all but become a habit

Life is for all, no exceptions,
though we are sometimes made 
to feel we don’t deserve
a voice, simply for nurturing
visions of self-identity 
considered ill-suited to this society,
or that community,
for fear of any bullying powers that be;
none so blind as will not see 

Having listened to all the tree
had to say by way of putting lyrics
to the music in my head,
heart-and-soul's reawakened,
already reworking
its approach to everyday living,
less of simply tagging along 
for the ride, up for restating its position;
such is...the art of being human

Ah, but time to go home, hopefully share
all I have yet to make sense of here...

Copyright R. N. Taber (2023)

[Note: This poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

Hello, folks, from London UK

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

“Art hurts. Art urges voyages – and it is easier to stay at home.” ~Gwendolyn Brooks

“Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen.” - Leonardo da Vinci

“Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” - Robert Frost 

“How do poems grow? They grow out of your life. “– Robert Penn Warren

Hello, Everyone, from London UK,

Reader G H has emailed to ask if the personal pronoun ‘I’ in my poems is yours truly. Well, the answer is both yes and no.  The ‘I’ is multiple voices, including mine.

Over the years, I have met many inspiring people, had inspirational tales related to me by probably as many strangers I’ve met in passing as family and friends.  Much of what I have learned, I try to pass on to readers, hence a multi-vocal ‘I’.I daresay much the same can be said for the authors of all art forms.

Feedback suggests that readers are happy with this, and can see how it fits in with the multidimensional nature of what I am trying to say in many poems.  Hopefully, I succeed more often than I fail; in either case, it often depends as much upon whether or not the reader can relate to a poem at the time as the poet’s ability to draw the reader into a poem and let him or her work through and arrive at their own take on it. Needless to say, how they finally relate to it, if at all, the poet will probably never know…

The natural world  is a constant inspiration to us all, of course, especially to the gardener who has a special relationship with nature I have always admired, even envied. More than one gardener has told me how they so look forward to spring, seeing leaves return to the trees and listening to what they have to say as they rustle in a breeze or survive a storm. Oh, yes, there is a poet in everyone...

Do feel free to email me – rogertab@aol.com - any time. I try to reply or at least acknowledge as many as possible, but only read those with ‘POETRY’ in the subject field. Sometimes, I am feeling unwell  and manage to hit a wrong key, whereupon emails disappear, so apologies to anyone expecting a reply, but has not received one. 

As regular readers well know, years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has played merry hell with my thought processes and general memory, so I am not as comfortable with new technology as I once was, not to mention that I can't always see the letters on a my p c keyboard too well these days either. 😉

Can you wonder that I sometimes struggle to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life?😉 Ah, but the struggle always brings its own reward...😁

Take care, folks, keep safe and stay positive,

Many thanks for dropping by and I hope to be back with a new poem soon,

Hugs,

Roger 

“

 

Shades of Grey

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

“Modern man talks of a battle with nature, forgetting that, if he won the battle, he would find himself on the losing side.” - E. F. Schumacher

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and Nature shall not be broken.” - Leo Tolstoy 

“The best friend on earth of man is the tree: When we use the tree respectfully and economically, we have one of the greatest resources of the earth.”- Frank Lloyd Wright

“Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.” - Mary Webb

Now, tomorrow will see us mark the end of 2022, each in our own way.  Across the world, people will be coming together to celebrate New Year’s Eve; a veritable feast of music, dance, relief at having survived another year and hope that the next will, indeed, be a happy one.  

We can, each and every one of us, only do our best to see our hopes fulfilled, subject though all of us are to circumstances beyond our control. All the more reason though, surely, to enjoy the Here-and Now, let it fill our lives with bright colours and inspiring sounds which, though they fade, even die, they, and the person they encouraged us to be, live on in every mind-body-spirit, heart-and-soul, they ever touched.

Oh, and again, many thanks for dropping by, much appreciated, and I hope you will join me again soon for my first post-poem of 2023… assuming that I can continue to rise above - if not quite get the better of - the mess in which ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left my thought processes.😉

SHADES OF GREY

The world around me,
various shades of grey, a sad, 
often lonely place…
Apollo having all but taken
his leave of us, trusting
we’ll manage gloomy days
as best we can,
let mind-body-spirit aid and abet us
in making wiser choices 

Weary, a natural world
sick of human nature abusing it
in the name of ‘progress’
without taking bold steps enough
to ensure its past-present
may yet anticipate a kinder future
than marks its pages,
colours its history, common humanity
but a chancer’s reality

Shades of green and gold
courtesy of Apollo’s rays of hope,
a brave one-upmanship
taking its cue from any You-Me-Us 
that haunts the history
of a humankind trying to find its way
through multiple shades
of blue-green-gold urging we'll get wise
to its potential demise

Though we suffer its every shade of grey,
trust heart-and-soul to save the day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poet-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

Starting Over

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

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” – Henry David Thoreau

“The mind is its own place and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” – John Milton

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.” - Buddha

Now, overheard in a supermarket on Christmas Eve:

1st Person: “I so love this time of year. It’s so good to unwind, but it’s over too soon, and where are we then? I mean, where’s the excitement, the fun, in a whole new year stretching ahead that’s likely to stress us out all over again?”

2nd Person: “Life is what you make it. For my part, I love the feeling of starting all over again and being given the chance to put a few things right and be happy again. I can’t explain it, but it’s not a bad feeling, quite the opposite…”

I so empathised with that second person. Although I do not subscribe to any of the world religions, I am neither atheist or agnostic. Nature has always filled me with a sense of spirituality I cannot explain, even to myself. Maybe that’s why I write poetry, as an attempt to define the indefinable; not just a feeling, nor a religious faith, but a faith, no less. Whatever, it has seen me through some pretty bad times and some great times too. For better or worse, it has made of my life what, at surface level does not amount to much, but, a n ‘other’ self in me recognizes that it has been an incredible learning curve.

I guess it’s the same for everyone, although in my case it has taken 77+ years to even begin to understand what has to be, in no small part, the role of personal space in the overall meaning of life. As for hope, optimism, positive thinking - whatever we like to call it – maybe that, in turn is the role of the kind of faith that nature inspires in many of us?

For me, anyway, Spinoza’s sense of God and Nature being much of a one-ness, has seen me has seen me through more ups and downs of life to my late 70’s…and I suspect hasn’t finished with me quite yet. So, a new chapter looming in the shape of a new year, is scary, but curiously exciting one. 

Who knows that lies ahead for any of us? We can but trust that still, small voice that goes by whatever name we choose, whatever our personal space learns to feels OK with…? Having grown in the bigoted 1950’s, is it any wonder that it took me until my 30’s to listen to mine and tell the world I’m gay…?

STARTING OVER

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to plead 
for peace and goodwill
to take root in the hearts of warmongers
in high places left swivelling
on comfy chairs in plush, warm home zones,
rehearsing a Rhetoric of Peace
along with political ends, in keeping with a faux morality
that haunts a weary humanity

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to hope
for kinder times ahead
on the backs of the quick and the dead
left grieving losses, asking questions,
looking for answers where angels fear to tread
lest they encounter lost souls 
asking the way to a safe house heard tell of called Heaven,
Peace of Mind, second to none

End of another year looming,
mind-body-spirit busy working out
how best to survive;
in or lose, resolving to understand
just who we are
by the end of it all (one way or another) 
not least for listening, believing
in each other, and lending a helping hand, ear, eye, whatever.;
life force, human endeavour

Heart-and-soul preparing to get the better of our flaws again;
mind-body-spirit of being human

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2022

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

 

Hello Everyone, from London UK

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

“Faith is a passionate intuition.” - William Wordsworth  

“Faith is taking the first step even when you don't see the whole staircase.” - Martin Luther King, Jr. 

“Faith is an oasis in the heart which will never be reached by the caravan of thinking.” - Khalil Gibran

“The belief that one's own view of reality is the only reality is the most dangerous of all delusions”. - Paul Watzlawick

Now, it is the day before Christmas wherever the birth of Jesus Christ is celebrated; a time, too, to reflect on just what any religious faith means to us, both personally and universally.

As regular readers will know, I consider myself a pantheist. Pantheists believe that God is nature.

Why do I think this way? I have no idea, except that I could never relate to a personified God, yet whenever I have engaged closely with nature, I have always experienced a sense of spirituality which I had always associated with religion, although religion had never given me access to the same experience; a very intimate experience, I should add.

No one person’s perspective on life, faith, whatever, will ever be quite the same, not least because we are all different.  That is not to say that one or other perspective is right or wrong, simply an integral part of who we are. 

Me, I find various religious dogma too prescriptive and often incompatible with my perspective on life as all-embracing, all-inclusive; no excluding anyone on the basis of gender, sexual identity, walk of life etc. Humanity thrives on our differences, differences we need to accept and respect. Religious leaders profess to agree, yet their dogma argues differently. Accordingly, many of their followers may argue differently too.

As regular readers will also be very aware, I am very much in favour of agreeing to differ in a spirit of peace and love, not the kind of divisiveness that causes, families to estrange, nations to declare war. <<wry bardic grin>>

Sadly, human nature is such that we often find ourselves caught on either side of various divides, that cannot or will not see where each is coming from, cannot or will not bring themselves to communicate and even try to understand and find common ground.

Human nature itself is complex, confusing, invariably expected to explain itself, when our actions cannot always be explained away; feelings are not necessarily the same as motives and do not lend themselves easily to the vocabulary of reason. From early years, we are taught that to understand ourselves and each other we need to be insightful as to what motivates, even justifies certain actions.  Yet, as the quotations above suggest, there are elements within all of us that even we, ourselves, are at pains to explain away.

Anyway, enough of my amateurish attempt to explain my deeper sentiments from which has evolved an all-inclusiveness that I try to inject into many of my poems. How far I succeed or not is up to the reader to decide.😉

It is Christmas Eve and, in the Spirit of Christmas, I want to thank you all for looking in on my blog posts and poems, it means a lot to me.

All that remains, for now, is to wish you all safe, well and hopeful always. Sadly, the ways of the world and human nature are such that this is not always the case. Even so, we can but keep looking on the bright(er) side of life and do our best to spread happiness, comfort and joy along the way; rarely easy, yet we can but try.

Whether we celebrate Christmas or not (I don’t) may the spirit of Christmas - one of hope, peace and kindness - be with us all.

Oh, and yes, I am working on a new poem, so do drop by again soon.

Take care, folks, whoever and wherever you are.

Hugs,

Roger

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

PS Many thanks to those readers who take the trouble to point out any print or spelling errors in some of my poems; I always take note, re-read the poem as it appears on the screen and make any necessary amendments.

Poetry Live

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

'There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
 There is society where none intrudes,
  By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;
  I love not Man the less, but Nature more…’ - Lord Byron [Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage]

“Beauty awakens the soul to act.” - Dante Alighieri

“Equality is the soul of liberty; there is, in fact, no liberty without it.” - Frances ‘Fanny’ Wright

“Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.” - Carl Sandburg

Now, yet another a reader asks why I write poetry “…in a world where, let’s face it, poetry is considered ‘old hat’ by most people?”  Most people, perhaps, but certainly  not everyone , given that blogger stats confirm this blog alone has had 212.000+ views since I started writing it up about 10 years ago; my gay-interest poetry blog, too, has had 160, 000+ views.

Nor is poetry 'old hat' in schools, as some people suggest, including a good many schoolchildren; it has its place, among all the arts, on the learning curve that is life

If just one reader enjoys a poem and it gets them thinking about, not necessarily agreeing with its contents… well, that is reward enough for any poet.

For me, all nature is’ live’ poetry; the more people enjoying it and thinking about its contents, I suspect the chances are the more likely they will want to play their part in keeping it alive for generations to come. Combating climate change, for example, is more than a rescue mission for the survival of humankind, but for a natural world that existed long before us and deserves better from us. Even the most indefatigable resilience  can be worn down over time, especially by circumstances (and people) working just as indefatigably against it, knowingly or otherwise.

POETRY LIVE

Sunlight creeping through my window
roused my eyes to a far cheerful awakening
than an unhappy dreaming had led me
to expect, a welcome surprise after a night
of mind-body-spirit’s being tossed about
on such feisty, restless waves of broken sleep
as left heart-and-soul crying out for rescue,
growing more fearful of no help ever happening 
until it heard a skylark singing

Encouraged and inspired by Apollo’s
first kiss on the grassland where it nested,
it rose to greet the morning on wings
of a song bringing a sense of love and peace
forever crying out to be found
among shadows silenced by human fears,
left chasing the sun by day, moon
by night, invariably made to make do with echoes
of wishful thinking for centuries

Ah, but the Here-and-Now can see me
through whatever, if I will only but let it catch
a shadow or two, give the echoes
haunting mind-body-spirit substance enough
to make even half a dream come true,
much as the arts endeavour to do in music, 
poetry and painting, a creative therapy
inspiring such kinder life forces as it always will
an all-embracing heart-and-soul

For every human shadow, may its silences be heard
as pleas for peace around the world

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Needs Must...

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

“There is something in the human spirit that will survive and prevail, there is a tiny and brilliant light burning in the heart of man that will not go out no matter how dark the world becomes.” - Leo Tolstoy 

“We are all different. There is no such thing as a standard or run-of-the-mill human being, but we share the same human spirit.”- Stephen Hawking 

“All the art of living les in a fine mingling of letting go and holding on.” - Havelock Ellis 

“In solitude the mind gains strength and learns to lean upon itself.”- Laurence Sterne

“Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.” - Mark Twain

Now, as I grow old, especially perhaps as I live alone, I find myself taking greater meaning and strength from such common idioms as ‘mind over matter’ - the more so as even everyday tasks become more difficult and take much longer. 

As regular readers know, ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have really messed with my thought processes and memory generally. Even so, I find that exercising my mind even just by writing this blog and composing poems helps to lick some of those rogue thought processes into better shape in much the same way as physio exercises help the body.

I used to get so angry with myself - and with time itself - for the way I am. However, by the time I have taken a deep breath, begun to appreciate that I am still alive to tell the tale and how there are many people of all ages and walks of life in far worse circumstances than mine, I invariably calm down and give myself a severe telling-off for feeling sorry for myself rather than attempting to rise to whatever challenges present themselves in the Here-and-Now. 

From feeling lost in a wilderness, the decision to not only look for a way out, but finding one is music to deaf ears…

NEEDS MUST...

Within a mind-body-spirit
common to all humanity, a space
that’s ours alone to fill,
no matter how circumstances appear
to conspire against us
motivating our strengths or preying 
on some native weakness, 
known only to the heart-and-soul, urging us
to make wiser, kinder choices

Whenever circumstances 
make such demands of us as choices
are blurred by feelings
nurtured, cherished within inner selves
and painful to ignore
or even betray, then mind-body-spirit
may well fall apart, 
the faithful heart hurled into such confusion,
no real harm meant, much done

Needs must, we but trust
the inner self to know us way beyond
whatever faces society
may well often require us to wear if only
a façade for fear of being
made to feel, left out of things, unable
or afraid to raise a voice
in protest at this or that buzz of conversation
causing us consternation

The inner self knows us better
than we think we have got know ourselves
while journeying 
through the glorious and less glorious
passages of time, a wisdom 
beyond the confines of worldly demands,
licking us into shape,
an experience as defining an affinity with nature
as its past-present-future

As we pass through the seasons
of life, so mind-body-spirit aids and abets
our adapting to the changes
they ask of us, calling on heart-and soul
to call, in turn, on a native
willpower making us capable of far, far more
than we may have imagined, 
till needs must we rise above misgivings and pain;
no small part of being human

Copyright R N Taber 2022

You-Me-Us, Reason not the Need

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

“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” – Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve.” -Erich Fromm  

"The greatest tragedy of human existence is the illusion of separateness." – Albert Einstein

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being." – Carl Jung  

"We must not wish for the disappearance of our troubles but for the grace to transform them." – Simone Weil

Now, as regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, I will be 77 years old later this year. As old age continues to takes its toll on various health issues, I often find myself wondering what it has all been for and…why, me?  There are no easy answers, of course. 

The main question has to be, have all the extreme ups and downs been worth it in so far as they have, at least, taught me much and brought be to this Here-and-Now, albeit one with whose pace I am finding it increasingly harder to maintain an appearance of even trying to keep up… wry bardic grin

Well, on reflection, happy memories will always get the better of bad ones; I cannot ‘see’ many of those memories now, but I can still feel them and the joy they generated.

So, yes, on balance, I am glad to be here to tell the tale. Do I deserve to be? Well, let’s face it, I’m biased… wry bardic chuckle. 

Oh, and for the reader who emailed to ask if, by You-Me-Us, I mean human relationships, the short answer is ‘yes’, bearing in mind that we can enjoy a lasting relationship with anything and anyone, at any level, if it feels right; an affinity with people, pets, nature, works of art…

YOU-ME-US, REASON NOT THE NEED

We live to love
and find ways to be happy,
but human nature
does not always concur,
mind-body-spirit
not always able to keep pace
with a heart-and-soul
subject and vulnerable to override 
by its darker side 

Ah, bur humankind
also exists to do its very best
to nurture potential
for seeing mind-body-spirit
shine a light through
any darkness, compensate 
for its mistakes
wherever, whenever and however,
(better late than never)

Yet, Time will seek
to always have its wicked way, 
with You-Me-Us,
regardless of circumstances,
answerable only
to itself, leaving humankind
at the whim
of what some would argue as its fate, 
‘late’ always too late

Time, though rarely
reckons with the positive 
nature of humanity,
its inclination to encourage
better, kinder ways
to rise above negative thoughts
inspiring the worst
in us all, leaving us prey to biased hype
and cruel stereotype

Yes, Time’s no match
for either the sheer resilience
of a common humanity
or the power of human memory
to retain, nurture 
and learn from any misfortune,
no matter the burden,
urging heart-and soul to do its very best
to alleviate the worst

To some, the meaning
of life is a blur, any reasoning
unclear as we pursue
such dreams as everyone enjoys
(win some, lose some);
only heart-and-soul has the true 
measure of us, 
whether we find ourselves united or alone
for … being but human

In whatever keeps heart-and-soul together
lies a joy forever

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

Sometimes...

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

 “And when it rains on your parade, look up rather than down. Without the rain, there would be no rainbow.” – G. K. Chesterton 

“…Remember you are half water. If you cannot go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.”- Margaret Atwood

"Like a welcome summer rain, humor may suddenly cleanse the earth, the air and you.”- Langston Hughes

The unseasonable heat, having got me down, I went for a walk in a welcome downpour yesterday. Not enough rain to ease the drought situation here in London, but enough to make me feel alive again, and up for whatever...especially after a friend caught up with me who was feeling much the same; we could not put the world to eights, but we managed a pretty good job on each other... 😁

SOMETIMES…

Sometimes, I lose myself
in dim passages, open spaces,
even on familiar trails,
a sense of loneliness for nowhere
to turn, no one to ask
whom I can trust not to mock me,
but understand why
I feel as I do, no Happy Wanderer, me,
but sad, anxious and lonely…

Sometimes, I need to walk
in the rain, let it soak me through
till even self-pity wearies
of getting nowhere fast. when a gap
in the clouds, lets the sun
sneak back in, grinning down at me.
not unsympathetically,
but as if anxious to remind the likes of me
there’s no salvation in self-pity

Rain teeming, sky seeming
to mock me for being, not a realist,
but a defeatist in the face
of such adversity that’s demanding
more of me than is fair,
given less of me to blame for seeking
inspiration from raindrops
as if they were ideas, but badgering my skin 
to let heart-and-soul back in 

Rain, easing, but teasingly,
as if calling on all mind-body-spirit 
to wake up and get real
with life as it is, not always as we dream 
nor we, ourselves only
to blame for it’s not working out for us
we can hide our tears
in the rain for just so long, before loved ones 
embark on wrong conclusions

Rain, giving way to Apollo,
long enough for sunshine and smiles
to light up a world
that can’t see its way to helping us out
unless we start confiding,
instead of hiding away in personal spaces,
making out we’re coping,
just pretending to get by, a fear of losing face
awarded faux pride of place

Out of nowhere, a friend suggests we find shelter;
soon confiding, laughing, feeling better...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

An Empathy with Nature (2)

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

“In the depths of winter, I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” – Albert Camus

“Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly he work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces that make it a living thing.” John Stuart Mill

“The temple bell stops, but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.” - Matsuo Basho

“This is my simple religion. There is no need for temples, no need for complicated philosophy. Our own brain, our own heart is the temple. The philosophy is kindness.” Dalai Lama

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” – Maya Angelou

The idea or metaphor of the human body as a temple isn’t exclusive to any religion, can also be found in various religious texts. One example is fasting, practiced in order to grow closer to some divine life force by distancing oneself from worldly dependencies, such as food and other pleasures. 

Sadly, this very distancing can encourage a degree of separatism within various societies / communities worldwide, where the art of agreeing to differ is more likely to light the flames of aggression than any candles of peace among those members who are (understandably if not always appropriately) more concerned with driving home their own point of view than agreeing to differ. 

Our sexuality is an expression of who, not what we are; for sure, it is not an attack on the temple of the human body since we are born this way; it is not a choice. The only choice is whether or not we feel encouraged to express it and look the world in the eye as we do so.

As regular readers of both my poetry blogs (my fiction blog too) will know, I was in my early 30’s before I finally emerged from the closet that had been my prison since I first realised I was gay at the age of 14 years (during what were overtly homophobic 1950’s here in the UK.).

60+ years on, I’d have hoped for a much kinder world, any perceived ‘differences’ regarding gender, ethnicity, culture or religion seen as making a positive contribution to a common humanity and welcomed as such. It is good to see this happening, especially among young people around the world, many if not most of whom deserve better than the awful prospect of being made to feel rejected - intentionally or not - by kith and kin.

AN EMPATHY WITH NATURE (2)

Some abuse me, say I sin
whose faith would condemn me
to serve a life sentence
for finding my own way, not theirs,
accessing a sense
of spirituality reflecting the real me,
(yes, warts 'n all);
no copycat stereotype, me, for a spirituality
that lets me BE

Consider mind-body-spirit
a temple to life forces, both worldly
and divine? In the latter
we can trust its promises to fulfil,
by way of heart-and-soul in good time;
i any other we can but hope
our judgement not in error, or else
we have but ourselves to blame, no comfort
 in hindsight…

Given life, a learning curve
my kind would do well to climb,
grow wiser to home truths,
give its kinder voices a say for the sake
of a common good,
respect various differences of opinion,
in all corners of society;
no life force has a monopoly on the humanity
that lets us BE 

Call me Sacrilege, in this heaven-and-hell world
where Peace so needs to have the last word…?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post appears on both my gay and general poetry blogs.]

 

An Empathy with Nature (1)

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

“Love has no gender - compassion has no religion - character has no race.” - Abhijit Naskar, [Either Civilized or Phobic: A Treatise on Homosexuality]

“Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly he work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces that make it a living thing.” John Stuart Mill

“In terms of sex between same-sex partners, the objection that "the parts don't fit" doesn’t make sense on even the most logical level. If the parts didn't work together, frankly, people wouldn't be putting them together.” -  Kathy Baldock [Walking the Bridgeless Canyon: Repairing the Breach Between the Church and the LGBT Community]

“Our common humanity is more important than all the things that divide us.” – Mairead Corrigan

"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment." - Ralph Waldo Emerson 

Now, as regular readers will know, some years ago, I began writing a trilogy, the title of each volume to be Blasphemy, Sacrilege and Redemption; it was never finished. I had been given to understand that an American publisher would publish it, but it transpired that he was only interested in breaking into the UK market. When Blasphemy failed to comply, he lost interest in any companion volumes.

Although I had already written Sacrilege, no UK publishers expressed any interest in a gay-interest trilogy. Moreover, a very rude letter from the American publisher, making fun of my self-publishing logo, “Assembly Books” left me loath to complete the trilogy. He clearly had no sense of irony which, regrettably, I took to heart at the time.

Later, I published Sacrilege along with Blasphemy and my other novels on my fiction blog, but was already having to deal with health issues that, dissuaded me from writing Redemption.

Why Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption? The enduring hope was to get across the idea that any form of prejudice is a blasphemy, just as physically and/ or emotionally abusing LGBT+ folks is a sacrilege and our ability to rise above it and come together in peace and love with the blessing of friends and family (gay or straight, kith and kin alike) is nothing short of a redemption. 

For my own part, those early closet years were a living death, nor ever have I felt so alive as when I felt the full force of mind-body-spirit prompting me to to get real and come out. 

Subscribers to conventional religions may well take offence; none intended, though, as my only intention has ever been to endorse the Human Right to differ. Besides, any religious argument that  God is Love loses credence in the face of any form of prejudice within the framework of a common humanity. Me, I consider myself a Pantheist, a feeling for God as nature rather than its creator, having always felt a closer affinity and sense of spirituality with nature. 

As in all matters across the human landscape, we cannot expect to always accept or even understand some of the choices people make, simply respect them as we respect theirs, not cause dispute and irreparable division, especially in matters of the heart. No one should be made to feel a sinner, whatever their religion, for staying true to their native sexuality; nor, I imagine, would any God of Love judge us so.

Regular readers of any or all of my blogs will know that agreeing to differ, rather than fighting over whatever, it is a matter close to my heart.

So…such is the background to a proposed trilogy of poems,  Am Empathy with Nature (1), (2) and (3) of which the first appears below.

Now, I hope to complete (2) and (3) within a few weeks, but have to confess that health issues are proving a hindrance to just about everything I attempt at the moment, so there may be some delay.

Each poem will also appear on my gay poetry blog. Doubtless, some readers here will complain that my  Gay/ LGBT+- interest poems should be restricted to that blog, but a poem has something to say to everyone, just as prejudice is inclined to raise its ugly head anywhere and everywhere.

 AN EMPATHY WITH NATURE (1)

Some abuse me, say I sin
whose faith would condemn me 
to serve a life sentence,
prisoner of heart-and-soul,
unable to break free,
give the real me an opportunity
to be as faces in the moon
haunt my days, assure me night after night,
that no wrong could feel so right

No conventional religion
would concede me the spirituality
my imagination feeds on,
taking my cue from earth, sea and sky,
all things bright ad beautiful,
creatures great and small, like candles
to love-hope-peace, lessons
for the learning in nature and human nature,
to embrace, pas on, nurture

No true love can be a sin,
regardless of whatever any religion
might have to say,
nor yearning flesh to yearning flesh,
whatever gender, but set on
giving the poetry of mind-body-spirit
a voice; no ego calling,
only a spirituality made fearful of rejection
by strictures on kith and kin

It well may be that home
is where heart-and-soul comes alive,
leaving doubts and fears
for the love of one above all others;
yet, love is ever plural,
has room aplenty for family and friends,
whose love and understanding
may yet be still relied upon as freely given;
such is the art of being human

Call me Blasphemy, in a heaven-and-hell world
where Bigotry so loves to have the last word...?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Sleepy River

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

"I don't believe in failure. It is not failure if you enjoyed the process." - Oprah Winfrey

“There will be little rubs and disappointments everywhere, and we are all apt to expect too much; but then, if one scheme of happiness fails, human nature turns to another; if the first calculation is wrong, we make a second better: we find comfort somewhere. “ – Jane Austen

"Make failure your teacher, not your undertaker." Zig Ziglar

" To see a world in a grain of sand/ And a heaven in a wild flower, / Hold infinity in the palm of your hand/ And eternity in an hour." - William Blake 

Hi folks,

I hope you are all coping with the exceptionally warm weather, unseasonably hot in some places around the globe, even those accustomed to high temperatures. 

Now, today’s poem was inspired by a favourite song of mine, recorded by the late African-American, baritone singer and actor, Paul Robeson. 

Years ago, when I was still at school and living with my parents, I would sit at the dining room table and do my homework, then sit back and listen to his beautiful voice while letting this particular song lead me through a landscape of dreams. 

Ah, the dreams of the young, so accessible, we would engage with and be inspired by them, whatever the chances of their coming true; all the thrills of fame and fortune with none of the spills that real life so loves to dish us all from time to time...

Relatively few dreams/aspirations of mine ever came true, but I still revisit them, even as I grow old, if only for their remarkability to keep me young at heart... until I find myself looking in a mirror and wondering just where I want wrong in the pursuit of those same dreams. 

Yes. they haunt me now, such dreams that I had, but mostly as friendly ghosts, whose company I have enjoyed, notwithstanding multiple errors of judgement on my part along the way…

SLEEPY RIVER

Walking in the sunshine
by a sleepy river where years ago
we’d stroll, hand in hand,
engaging with a fantasy landscape
of daydreams, destined
never to come to such fulfilment
as mind-body-spirit
aspired, but such is life, and no worries
so long as there’s you-me-us

Reasoning not the need
we’d travel the world first class
among such cloud faces
as had the measure of us, but happy
to keep company with smiles
of intrepid aspiration
as invariably accompany young lovers
wherever and whomsoever
they may be, in all walks of life in a world
where survival is the keyword

Ah, but too often dreams
fall foul of misunderstandings, 
barefaced lies, excuses
and good intentions, like shipwrecks
of which the less said, the better,
fat chance of retrieving 
remains of relationships abandoned
for lack of true staying power, togetherness,
found wanting under duress

Now, I grow old, saddened
for having failed so many dreams,
gladdened, though,
for having battled to see them fulfilled,
nor any sense of failure
in having surrendered them to vagaries
overtaking me, not one dream
forsaking me, but still able to inspire, embrace 
the poetry of personal space

Sleepy river, every tide a collective you-me-us,
every ripple, every wave, a life force...

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

The Leaf

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

“In every change, in every falling leaf there is some pain, some beauty. And that's the way new leaves grow. - Amit Ray

“Storms make the oak grow deeper roots” – George Herbert

“Birth, life, and death - each took place on the hidden side of a leaf.” - Toni Morrison

Not a day passes when I am left wondering if I have another poem in me.  Yet, only a few days ago, I found myself observing a an oak tree leaf, left discoloured by a sustained heatwave, resisting a sudden breeze until finally in full flight from its host tree, dancing freely above my head. Moments later, a heavy shower brought it down and left it fluttering on a bed of dry grass but a few feet away. 

"A metaphor for us all there?" I wondered, as my thought processes began the task of assembling a poem...

THE LEAF

Sad leaf, shades of green,
yellow and brown,
grown weary of resisting
a fun, lively breeze,
employing summer’s wiles
to have it break free 
of host tree and season,
birdsong, a plea  to Earth Mother
to see it true to its nature

Oak, hungry for nurture,
no less thirsting
for rainfall than generations
of kith and kin,
budding flowers and fauna, 
keeping it company
in (far) better times and worse,
trusting Earth Mother to listen well,
as deserves heart-and-soul

Sad leaf, making its bid
for freedom,
persuaded by the breeze
to explore its time
and space within minutes
of welcome shower's
waking flowers and fauna
to a finer well-being, a light rainfall 
reworking heart-and-soul

Leaf’s delight in sailing
on the breeze
sadly, but only short-lived,
wind easing, raindrops 
forcing it to face home truths,
all kith and kin 
left weeping as it lay dying, 
regretting its having finally caved in
to the thrill of temptation?

Dead leaf, oft recalled by kith and kin
to any who care to listen...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: If you enjoy dipping into the blog from time to time, do tell  any others whom you think may also  enjoy some of my poems.  Thanks for dropping by today, much appreciated.] RT