The Gambler OR 'If' Revisited

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

The poem below first appeared on the blog in 2016; along with other recent posts, it has been removed from the archives and (significantly) revised in order to re-publish here today. For anyone interested, though, there are many poems in the archives that will remain there so feel free to browse any time; I am only removing any that I feel, years on, need some revision (either the poem itself, its title ... or both.)

I am no gambler in the sense that I rarely bet for financial reward, but line most people I have nursed ambitions, followed my heart, fought my share of battles as a direct consequence, and ... yes, won some, lost some. Years ago, I had three driving ambitions; to look the world in the eye as a gay person, be a librarian and a poet. I have managed all three, but it took time for mind-body-spirit to take each proverbial bull by its horns and reconcile myself to as well as accept responsibility for any consequences. While nothing in my life has worked out quite as I had hoped, I remain, at 74, content enough to have,on balance, won more wars with mind-body-spirit than battles lost; it is how I deal with the threat of Covid-19 ... as just another battle in just another war ... and what will be, will be. 

Now, I get angry when people comment along the lines of someone’s having no ambition, just as I get angry when, as often as not, it is the same people who criticise another person's lifestyle and/ or sexual persuasion; it is none of their damn business.

Ambition means different things to different people and cannot be measured in terms of ‘success’ or ‘failure’; far too often these things are measured in terms of fame and/or fortune without taking into account someone’s success as a well-meaning, decent person; in the latter category, you will often find some of the poorest people in the world. 

Gambling on our potential to make a success if an idea or even a relationship is a win-win; even if circumstances conspire against us, we will have done our best; others might not see it that way, but if we are honest with ourselves, we know the truth of the matter. Yes, we may wish we had done certain things differently, made different choices … but, that’s life … and hindsight is not something we should beat ourselves up over. Hopefully, we will not only learn from our mistakes, but also pass them on to help others avoid them too; if there is a silver lining, the latter has to be it.

At the same time, we are all but human, fallible, and not infrequently vulnerable. Few things goad a person into taking a misguided path in life (if - initially, at least - for all the right reasons) than self-criticism for failing to live up to someone else's expectations, especially if that person is a loved one.  We think we need to 'prove ourselves'.  Sadly - as in the case of many a gambler for purely financial gain -we not only risk losing ourselves, but also much of if not all we hold dear along the way.

My late mother, to whose words of wisdom I often wish I had listened to more while she was alive - she died 40+ years ago just months before my 30th birthday - would often say when I confided this or that life plan running circles in my mind - "Always have a plan B, dear, just in case if things don't quite work out as you hoped." Fortunately, I did listen some of the time, and many a Plan B has been a lifesaver.

This poem is a kenning.

THE GAMBLER or 'IF' REVISITED

I can be a friend or foe, take me as you will

to a corner of your heart and let me stay

to whisper sweet words of love and desire

in your ear, bring precious respite

from life’s trials, wars and sleepless nights

for worry, fear, dread of what the day

may yet devour. I can light your darkness.

Only, dare dance with me on the shadow line,

win some, lose some? 

I can be a friend or foe, take me as you will

into a corner of your mind and let me stay

to whisper unkind words of lust and desire

in your ear, rarely offering any respite

from life’s trials, wars and sleepless nights

for worry, fear, dread of what day may bring,

rain or shine. Enough. Time to go along 

with whatever inner forces insisting we have
something to prove? 

Yes, the human whole comprises such parts

as may be taken for partner, friend or foe;
whatever, it insinuates the self, feeds on it, 
driving mind-body-spirit for good or ill,
has no respect for any self-awareness of 'easy'

money as fool's gold, while neither taking 
every dreamer for a fool who feels the need

to live for such tomorrows as may never come
but just might, if ...

Call me Ambition. neither saint nor sinner,

but self-styled winner (or loser)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: This post/ poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today; an earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Dirty Dancing' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Keeping-Up-Appearances

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

Not so long ago, I spent an evening with a couple about my own age (68) who are so obsessed with looks that they have resorted to cosmetic surgery on more than one occasion. Ironically, the results are none too flattering. Besides, its's personality that counts more than looks, and don't let anyone tell you different. 

Respect comes into it to, doesn't it? Personally, I have more respect for the person who lets nature take its course and stays young in at heart than for the man or woman who prefers to kid themselves they have discovered the secret of eternal youth. The body may be a slave to time, but that doesn't have to be true of the spirit. The mind may well be vulnerable, but a strong dose of positive thinking and avoiding daytime TV has to be a good start. Couch potatoes do not age well in my experience.

Now, I ask you. Gay or straight, let;s stay young at heart by all means, but what’s wrong with growing old naturally?

Surely, it's enough that so many celebrities love to make fools of themselves by trying to turn back nature's clock without we ordinary men and women playing the same silly game?

On my opinion, cosmetic surgery is only ever justifiable in cases when people may have some kind of visible disfigurement that causes them distress. [It would probably cause them less distress if other people were less obsessed with outward appearances and more concerned with the person behind them.]

This poem is a kenning.

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

I’ll make a hunchback of you,

both feet arguing with waistline,

whitened teeth making tongue

abort any truer word in the offing

as if you have no real affinity

with the fix you’re in, only dimly

aware of any discomfort, unable

(or unwilling) to follow it through,

and carrying on regardless

I’ll make a fine fool of you,

object of scorn (though tempered

with compassion among family,

friends who may well stay silent,

fearing you confuse concern

with interference, pity, jealousy,

for preferring home truths

stay backward in coming forward

in case anyone notices

I’ll make a poor loser of you,

unless you choose to take me on;

recognize the enemy within

for what I am or else go as a lamb

to slaughter at the altar of vanity,

always seeking shelter from life’s

worst storms in love’s harbours,

but as a guest, no sense of belonging,

only a hungry yearning

I am foolish pride, oblivious to the fact

that my folly is perceived a poor act

Copyright, R. N. Taber 2007; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title Obsession in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; this rev. version, 2019.]