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.

The Way Ahead

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

These are troubled times for us all as Covid-29 pursues its relentless course around the world, its variants hopefully indicating that its powers are diminishing, but as yet no hard evidence that such is the shape of things to come. We can but call on mind-body-spirit to lend us both hope and wherewithal to see us through our pain and see the hopeful heart emerge the stronger if not unscathed.

We face a difficult New Year ahead, but let us face it with a sense of collective responsibility, cautious optimism and that all-embracing hopeful heart with which this blog and its author-poet has been much concerned from its start, nearly ten years ago.

Here’s wishing you all as Happy a New Year as we can make it for family friends and those we have yet to get to know as well as ourselves.

Many thanks for dropping by, hope to engage with you again soon. (Yes, I am working on a poem to greet 2022.)

Hugs,

Roger

THE WAY AHEAD

A new year approaching,
as we can’t help but wonder
in fear and dread
whether or not it will be another
that’s Covid-19 led?

Everyday life, a struggle
with every safety precaution
taken by a majority,
wearing face masks still rejected
by a scared minority

Vaccinations, to protect us,
young, old and more vulnerable
in societies worldwide;
a race against Covid’s angry tide,
no one spared

Deaths soaring, hospitals
overflowing, staff left struggling
as more become infected,
so many businesses having to close,
no one unaffected 

Delta, a vicious Covid variant
overtaken by the Omicron mutation;
world scientists passing on
relevant data as it becomes available,
inevitable confusion

Meanwhile, world still turning,
all its peoples left weeping such crises
of nature and human nature;
inevitable stress, invariable fall-out,
past-present-future

Yet, there is a resilience among
humanity seeing us rise above the worst,
forces for good working
to lend us strength enough to alleviate
our suffering

Among the ruins of a life, engaging
with Love and Kindness, always
ready and willing to help us
bring the hopeful heart into play against
even a coronavirus

Mind-body-spirit, up for whatever task;
we have but to ask...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

Peace

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

We may or may not face a difficult winter with Covid-19 continuing to spread among our neighbours in the European Union, not to mention the risk of illegal immigrants passing through and crossing the channel from other parts of the world.

Myself and most of my friends here in England think it was madness to relax basic safety precautions such as wearing face masks in busy areas, shops and on public transport, especially when N.I., Scotland and Wales have had the good sense not to do so. I, for one, will continue to do so as I do not share our Prime Minister’s optimistic approach.

Yes, the vaccination program is a huge success and the booster jab will provide greater protection; science appears to confirm that effects of the first two vaccinations are likely to significantly diminish without it.

Meanwhile, I try to keep an image of the first Peace rose of spring in my head and let it inspire me to find and nurture peace of mind, whatever the coming winter may hold for any of us during these trying times.

PEACE

It’s a hybrid rose called Peace
come to carry spring into summer,
letting its petals fall in autumn,
like memories to shield human hearts
from the worst of winter

Coloured yellow, the Peace rose
is for reminds us of good times past;
where love, like a rose, endures,
so Earth Mother nurtures, promising
kinder times just ahead

At any time of year, whenever
we yearn to inhale love’s perfume,
the Peace rose feeds us images
to delight the eye, lifting other senses,
lightening other burdens

Sometimes, loved ones are called
to serve in wars, maybe never return;
if they do, never quite the same
person we knew before, human nature
left to endure to survive

If the awful reality and casualties
of wars across centuries their ghosts
try to warn us, and only fools ignore;
the Politics of Power is such that it cares
little for Peace roses

At such times, we must be strong,
take well-worn paths the heart knows
and loves, for where here’s love
there is always hope for a kinder spring,
and a new Peace rose

Copyright R. N. Taber c2010; rev.2021

[Note: An earlier version of this poem – written in 2009 - appears in my collection On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

On the Spot

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

I once saw a woman - clearly not young, but not old either - sent sprawling by a man in a hurry, weaving in and out of crowds on a busy railway concourse while chatting on his mobile phone at the same time. The offender didn’t even stop. 

Several of us who had witnessed the incident rushed to help the victim to her feet; she was badly shaken, but fortunately unhurt while displaying a stoicism and spirit worthy of admiration.  "Some people, they just don't care!" she sobbed. "Thank you everyone," she added, "...it's good to see there's some kindness and consideration left in the world. Mark my words, we'll all pay the price for the lack of it one way or another...

 “Instantly, I could feel a poem coming on..

ON THE SPOT

Need to take a pride
in my life, chance any free fall,
all but driven mad
for having so lost my way
in bad times 

Shouldn't stay, but I do,
if only because I shouldn't care,
but I do, I do, I do,
and mind-body-spirit says
“Yes, yes, YES.” 

Could make a run for it,
but it's my world too, owes me
for being innocent
until proven human, if only
by default 

Could throw the fight,
since no guarantees, win or lose;
could try praying,
but if I can't believe in myself,
who can?

Time, cracking the whip;
humankind ever at its beck and call
for going any distance,
made responsible for whatever
on the way 

Humanity, making history...
claiming its spoils of war and peace
as par for the course
by way of reasoning the politics
of power

World without end, its poets
would have us believe, repudiating
humanity's suspicion
that its kinder arts but tell 
tall tales

Life and Death, putting us all
on the spot, having us make the case 
for salvation,
or concede mind-over-matter
its potential 

 R. N. Taber 2019; rev.2021

[Note: This poem began as a revised version of an earlier poem - Humanity, on the Spot’ - that I first wrote and posted on the blog a couple of years ago; it has since been deleted. I ended up changing it out of all recognition and giving it a new title.] RT

 

Addressing the Art of Positive Thinking

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

We have lived with the pandemic for more than a year now and everyone is feeling very fed-up if not depressed. Yes, the vaccines bring hope to us all, but these are still dark times.  

Recalling happy memories can be inspirational s well as sad, more than reason enough to look forward to being happy again; never in quite the same way, of course, but happiness comes in many shapes and forms, and better to be happy than sad, yeah?

ADDRESSING THE ART OF POSITIVE THINKING 

It’s down to us
to give the sad, weepy eye
reasons to smile again,
replace sadness with gladness,
bring such relief to any moody gloom
as lights up any room 

It’s down to us
to open up paths of memory
once skipped for the joy
of holding hands with loved ones
or off for a lively chat with old friends
where the rainbow ends 

It’s down to us
to smooth furrows in the brow
and give worries the elbow
long enough to allow self-esteem
to take pride of place in such company
as inspires all humanity 

Unable to find us?
Oh, but we are always on hand
to lighten loads,
brighten groundhog days, singing
in the rain, splashing in puddles as we go.
give Hell the old heave-ho 

We are memories
of the happy kind, as sure to put
any worse to rout
as the rabbit outwitting a wily fox
for refusing to let fear have its wicked way,
resolving to live another day 

Just one more day,
and who can ever take the measure
of its weather?
Kinder winds, as likely as not
to gift our past with a present even a future,
nature and human nature 

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2021

 

 

 

Getting the Better of Beasties

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

An experienced store manager was made redundant some months ago as a direct result Covid-19 fallout on the High Street. Having made countless job applications I vain, he was all but despairing of ever working again until his wife suggested he try something completely new. Sceptical, he took her at her word, has just started working for a security firm and is enjoying it, not least because his take-home pay is more than in his previous job.  Some might say he was lucky while others might feel inclined to award him full-marks for his perseverance and willingness to take on something new after 10+ years in a job he loved and expected to see him through to retirement. 

Amongst other things, the coronavirus pandemic is attacking everyone’s self-confidence; none of us know what’s around the next corner. But, do we ever know? Come what may, we can but trust in the love in us - of which every heartbeat is a constant reminder - and the native resilience of a combined mind-body-spirit to see us through, for better, for worse. Trite, it might sound, but I have experienced the truth of it more than once in what will be all of 75 years in December. Seventy-five years in which I have been privileged to meet many ordinary men and women battling more odds than any poet can imagine, and making of their lives something that may rarely if ever made any headlines, but of which they can be justly proud. (No headlines, perhaps, but relayed in the spirit of many a poem and other art forms for centuries …) 

GETTING THE BETTER OF BEASTIES

Beastie is scary for any of us,
a shadowy figure obstructing our way
towards a better, kinder place,
where only kind ghosts go a-haunting,
no blots on our landscape
perpetually taunting us for past mistakes
and missed opportunities,
family, friends estranged if for no reason other
than failing to talk to each other 

Beastie knows us all too well,
aware that we’re struggling to rise above
its persistent call, ever foiled
by human nature’s natural predilection
for finding excuses, resisting
any positive direction it needs must take
for fear of failing when push
comes to shove, decisions left hanging on a rack,
for each step forward, another back 

Beastie, though, has its own fears,
not least the capacity of the human heart
to urge we put away our tears,
take a chance on seeing whatever it may be
we so need to see through,
do our best, no one has the right to ask more,
and even should we lose a fight
we’ll be sure to chance much the same another day
given human nature’s sense of fair play 

Wherever Beastie exposed as close kin to Self-doubt,
it proves no match for a resilient mind-body-spirit

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Mind-Body-Spirit, Custom Made for Positive Thinking

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

 At the moment, as the C-19 coronavirus remains an active heat around the world, it cam be hard enough just to maintain everyday momentum! Even when we know we must move on, letting go is never easy.

The trick is to never to even try and let go altogether, but let the good memories drive us forward while taking care not to let the bad one’s hold us back; cease resisting, and let mind, body and spirit work towards the same positive end. Loved ones may die and friendships drift, but there is a consciousness in all of us that defaults to the brighter, kinder, side of life and human nature; that, too, may well fade, even transform into wishful thinking, yet a positive mind-body-spirit will always default to it and see us remembered for it by any who may have been touched by its mentorship.

Such is the human consciousness (“live” or posthumous) that it has moved humanity on since the beginning of time, and so it will continue while all we human beings draw breath; not least, it is the natural by-product of a common humanity.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, CUSTOM MADE FOR POSITIVE THINKING

I can feel the ground shake

beneath my feet, walking down a street,

hands in pockets, lost in thought,

wondering how on earth I got here,

what on earth I’m doing,

where I’m going, and why 

I should even care anymore?

(No one else does...)

Ground still shaking, I stop,

look, listen out, for - what, exactly?

Another burst water main

on the High Street?  Can hear car horns

blowing, sad kids screaming,

woman yelling at a cyclist for ignoring

a red light, man with a stick swearing

blue murder while attempting to negotiate

rites of passage among baby buggies,

market stallholders holding up bargains

for waving at indifferent faces,

pigeons squabbling assorted crumbs,

confetti for a wedding party going through

the motions

Sound, dead. Watery eyes;

left counting the seconds, one by one,

drowning in a busy pool

on a sunny afternoon, everybody keen

to do their own thing even if means

doing nothing about crises in the deep end,

learners getting into difficulties,

copper (playing lifeguard) with hands full

sorting out a fight, kids on the grab

running off, their shrill giggles coursing

the veins like a funny story

folks, whose lives are falling apart,

turn to in denial of the mind-body-spirit’s  

losing heart

Sounds, sights, rushing back,

send me reeling, ground hurting my feet,

shaking the body, scaring the heart,

tearing the lonely soul apart who staggers

against a brick wall, struggling

to recover balance, find bearings,

arguing with passions nurtured

and neglected, wounded and nursed;

“Stop messing with my head.

I’m okay, can get by without you.

No way, did you say?

What do you know, anyway?” (No more

than I do, for sure, or we’d not have ended up

where we are

Treading water, eyes and ears

half shut to the world, wanting to be part

of all this, that, theirs, mine and…

Ah, yes, ours, but no ‘ours’ any more

(no one and everyone to blame);

looking hell in the face, cue for engaging

with a positive thinking mindset

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Cue for a Positive Mindset'  in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

When Winter Comes OR Mind-Body-Spirit, Never Say Die

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

Many of us, enjoy the colours and subtle nuances than falling leaves in autumn all the more because needs must we brace ourselves for what could well be a hard  winter ahead weather-wise. 

Others may well face a testing winter of the heart, wherever they may be, regardless of time and seasons. Some may well argue it’s a case of the survival of the fittest, and there is a lot of truth in that, but the physically weak can also be emotionally strong; strong enough even to rise above  wintry blasts of depression, anxiety, everyday concerns …

We have but to give a natural lust for life its head and the chances are its predilection for positive thinking will, in time, rescue us from the pull of negative forces, bypass even the most heroic stoicism, and allow an innate optimism, Hope’s much loved bed-fellow, to once again play a leading role in our lives.

Wherever we may be in the world, whatever its weather patterns, day will always follow night just as winter will always follow spring on the calendar of nature and human nature alike; the latter, though, needs must find a way to turn on the power of mind-body-spirit to save its natural optimism from dying just long enough to rediscover that raison d’être which has to be as good a metaphor for spring as any other.

WHEN WINTER COMES or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT,  NEVER SAY DIE

Oh, but when winter comes,

I look around and see trees stripped bare,

and petals in tatters where flowers

once lifted this heart now close to tears

for having watched the swallows fly south

that once greeted its spring

Oh, but when winter comes,

I look around at snowfall on the ground,

see children playing, laughing,

making merry with each other instead

of being glued to social media in a world

whose seasons rolled into one

Oh, but when winter comes

find the days grow shorter, nights longer,

all the more so for a prevailing

north wind wailing like some lost spirit

of summer trying to find its way back home,

familiar landmarks wiped out

Oh, but when winter comes,

I’ll see robins give the lie to defeatism 

in as sweet a song as ever there was

to fill a sad heart with hope for a future

beyond any wintry landscape’s implying

positive thinking is a cruel hoax

Oh, but when winter comes,

I’ll get together with friends, make light

of any feelings of empty days

or lonely nights for hearts beating in time

to what is, after all, but an overture to spring

composed-performed by nature

Oh, but when winter comes,

may divided societies around the world

yet join hands and dance

to the music of its time, fan any flickering

peace-liberty-fraternity into a flaming spring, 

season of second chances...

Copyright R N Taber, 2017

L-I-F-E, Making the Case for Looking Forward

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

Even at 70, I am usually a very positive thinking person. However, after being made a captive audience at a neighbour’s recent rant about the problems commonly associated with old age, and how there is nothing to look forward to but death, I found myself struggling to rise above a growing sense of impending doom.

Dare I suggest that many if not most of us here in the UK are similarly weary in the wake of all the for and against arguments so passionately expressed by politicians doing their best to influence our vote in tomorrow’s EU referendum?

While browsing through some old papers, I discovered this little poem that I had all but forgotten, and it went a long way towards restoring not only flagging spirits but also a sense of proportion.

L-I-F-E, MAKING THE CASE FOR LOOKING FORWARD

Ancient trees sprouting new leaves,
old habitats harbouring new life;
ancient fields reviewing GM corn
where grasshoppers still singing

Old folks (like me) expecting to fly
with swallows come autumn;
old tales kept alive by winter fires,
tongues of flame poking at history

Memory, persuading young and old
to rework the poetry of its seasons
  
Copyright R N. Taber 2008

Positive Thinking (Getting the Better of Dark Forces)

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

[Update (Nov 7, 2016): Readers sometimes get in touch to ask just how positive t thinking person I am. Suffice to say perhaps that, having been diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2011 and treated with hormone therapy ever since, I still take a leaf out of Monty Python's book by always looking on the bright side of life. Indeed, I have opened a Just Giving page to help raise funds for Prostate Cancer UK with a poetry reading in London next year, and am optimistic that I will continue to elude the Grim Reaper long enough to deliver: https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Roger-Taber ]

Now, many of us have experienced hard times since the credit crunch began to bite and may well continue to do so for some time yet.

Recalling happier times can make us feel worse…until we pause to remember that what goes around comes around.

Happy memories are reminders of what we can look forward to again. Things won’t be the same, of course. Nothing stays the same for long, but develops and matures just as we do…for all life’s ups and downs along the way.

Now, the heart may well be familiar with an autumn that turned into winter far too soon for its liking, burying memories of its finest summers under layers of sadness and longing. Ah, yes, but we can always look forward to another spring, nature bursting with the joys of life and music, inspiring us to go with its flow, recover poor, damaged hope along the way, and set about the task of making it whole again. Besides, memory knows better than to ever (quite) let go of better days even during the worst of times.

I guess we just have to allow for hard times by ensuring we pave ole Memory Lane with more than enough good times to compensate…

[Did I say it was easy?]

This poem is a villanelle.

POSITIVE THINKING (GETTING THE BETTER OF DARK FORCES)

Where angry winds blow
scary smoke rings,
a bold spirit, too, may go

Harvest home, we know
but sadness brings
where angry winds blow

Where naked fear on show
(peasantry among kings?)
a bold spirit, too, may go

Nature, daring us to follow
(dove or hawk’s wings?)
where angry winds blow

Where too few flowers grow
as dark winter clings,
a bold spirit, too, may go

Bonding with a late swallow,
of spring, a robin sings…
Where angry winds blow,
a bold spirit, too, may go


Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2016

Waking Up to the Power of Positive Thinking

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

Please remember that my blogs do not accept comments, but I always reply to emails. Some readers have said they have problems using AOL; in which case try taberroger@yahoo.com. I look forward to hearing from you.

Now, who hasn't despaired now and then of even getting up in the morning?

People sometimes tell me that they have given up on love. I tell them, never even think about it.. Love can happen along just when you least expect it. Besides, as I’ve pointed out many times on the blogs, love expresses itself in many shapes and forms; it doesn’t have to be sexual. Love between lovers is special, yes, but then any love is special; for family, friends, pets, even places.

Give up on love and we might as well not bother to get up in the morning, for all life is worth without love in it. We just have to see what’s on offer and GO for it. Take me, for example. On days when I feel down and there’s no one around to talk things through with (or I may not feel like talking to anyone anyway) I’ll most likely take myself off to be by the sea for the day, often Brighton (Sussex) because I love everything about the place and always feel so much better for going there.

Oh, and as regular readers will know, just because I am not religious and don’t accept the God as portrayed by various religions, doesn’t mean I'm not receptive to succour from a sense of spirituality. Only, I get it from nature, not religion.

This poem is a (yes, another) villanelle

WAKING UP TO THE POWER OF POSITIVE THINKING 

No heart beating in vain
under anaesthetising darkness
at a new dawn

Left wondering when
(if ever) its turn for happiness…?
No heart beating in vain

Will sleep’s half-open
portals close on or let in distress
at a new dawn?

If dreams bring pain
where life and death paths cross…
no heart beating in vain

Late invitation
to troubled souls seeking redress
at a new dawn

Where light bursting in,
nature filling us with its life-force,
no heart beating in vain
at a new dawn

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2015

[Note: Revised (2015) from an earlier version that appears under the title 'Heartbeat' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Something to be said for Karma

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

It is only human nature to worry about life's unknown factors, especially when they directly concern us and we have little or no control over either their presence or potential development.  A few years ago, I started worrying about a lesion on my leg as to whether it might be skin cancer or a sign of diabetes or whatever…until I fancied I could hear my mother whispering one of her favourite sayings in my ear, ‘If you worry, you’ll die and if you don’t worry, you’ll still die one day so…why worry?’

My GP referred me to a dermatologist and a shot of liquid nitrogen did the trick. No cancer there.

I wrote this little poem at the time and returned to it when I first discovered I have prostate cancer in February 2011. It’s not a particularly good poem (what is a ‘good’ poem, anyway?) but has proven very therapeutic. I can still hear my mother’s voice in my ear expressing approval. (She died of cancer in 1976)

SOMETHING TO BE SAID FOR KARMA

Worry, worry, worry,

will get us nowhere at all;

worry, worry, worry,

and we’re heading for a fall;

positive thinking

is the only way to go

before worry, worry, worry,

hits an all-time low

Worry, worry, worry,

gets our knickers in a twist;

worry, worry, worry,

(far too many woes to list);

a positive thinker

is the only kind to be

since worry, worry, worry,

won’t ever set us free

Worry, worry, worry,

and life is sure to pass us by,

all the best things in life

between earth, sea and sky;

positive thinking

(easy enough to say)

unites mind, body and spirit,

brings each into play

Worry, worry, worry,

and we’ll surely die one day

(when, who’s to say?)

so come, let’s make hay…

A positive thinker

is the only kind to be

since worry, worry, worry

won’t ever set us free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2015

Sword and Shield, a Fight to the Better End

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

[Update (Oct 18 2016): It is more than two years now since my fall that resulted in a badly fractured ankle. The warned me tt the hospital that, given my age, I might never walk again, but I was having none of that, kept religiously to a daily schedule of physiotherapy and can now walk quite well with the aid of a walking stick. Yes, walking is sometimes painful still, but it is a great feeling to be out and about. The prostate cancer, too, remains under control with hormone therapy. So...no worries that I cannot overcome by reflecting on my late mother's words, 'If you worry, you'll die and if you don't worry you'll still die one day so...why worry?' I guess we just have to keep a sense of proportion.]

Since my fall, five weeks ago, I have had to exercise a degree of patience I did not know I possessed. I am always out and about, but have been housebound as the front steps are too many and steep for me to negotiate with crutches. Unable to put any weight on my left foot, a Zimmer frame gives me greater mobility around my flat. It has taken until last week for a CT scan to reveal a fracture in the heel so now I have a cast and must continue hopping around on the Zimmer for at least another five weeks. The heel may mend or it may not. I must wait and see…

I live alone, but friends and my lovely neighbours in the flat below have been a godsend, helping with shopping and everyday tasks around the flat that I cannot do myself. Their support means everything. Even so, there have been moments when I have felt very low; it was at just such a time that I had a spirited debate with Pain and wrote the poem, a kenning.

SWORD AND SHIELD,  A FIGHT TO THE BETTER END

True, I am no friend

but do not mean you harm,

will arrive uninvited

(and most unwelcome)

yet do my best

to make my stay as bearable

as possible,

coaxing mind, body and spirit

to comfort, find peace

I may bring clouds

and wintry days, but always

call on spring flowers

and scents of halcyon days

to brighten dark corners

where you may well cower

from everyday hardship,

and a growing sense of bleaker

times yet to come

True, I am no friend,

but I have the power to make

stronger person of you

if you will only rise above

the worst and make

the best of our time together,

let mind, body and spirit

make peace with even a wretch

the likes of me

As Pain its makeshift sword wields,
so peace and love, lasting shields

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

The Tracker or Nature of the Beast

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

[Update 30/11/17: I have been living with hormone therapy for nearly seven years now as well as mobility problems since my fall. Believe me, it ain't easy. Even so, I get out and about as best I can and am still looking on the bright side of life. if only because the alternative is unthinkable. Besides, there are always people much worse off than ourselves. I have some good friends, my life and my blogs so count myself lucky.]

[Update 22/4/17: Following a bad fall in 2014, I was unable to do the Shine (Charity) walk again, but a friend did it for me  that year and we raised a tidy sum for Prostate Cancer Research UK. Earlier this month, I gave a sponsored poetry reading and, again, raised money on-line for Prostate Cancer UK via my JustGiving page. Hormone therapy continues to prevent my cancer becoming aggressive. More than six years on from being diagnosed, I remain a Happy Bunny...well, most of the time.]

To readers that email me now and then to ask how I am dealing with my prostate cancer, I can only say ‘so far, so good.’ I manage it OK(ish) by getting out and about as much as I can, drinking lots of root ginger tea, and making the most of being with good friends, ever thankful for their support; oh, yes, and writing up the blogs while adding new poems whenever inspiration strikes. (Any form of creative therapy is as good a safety net as any while we walk the tightrope that is life.) It will catch up with me one day of course, the cancer, but you can be sure that, in my own way, I'll have given it a good run for its money. Hopefully there will be some while will read my blogs, thereby make contact with my posthumous consciousness, and feel encouraged if not inspired to keep looking on the bright side of life... 

While hormone therapy continues to keep my prostate e cancer from becoming aggressive., I have to admit I get more than a little fed-up with having to pee so often, especially at night when all I want to do is sleep, perchance to dream... 

Now, fear and I are old adversaries; for the most part, we have the measure of, and more or less tolerate each other. Even so, we wage fierce battles now and then whenever it ventures out from that shadowy corner of self-awareness to which I would much prefer it was confined.  Eventually, it admits defeat and slinks back into its corner, but not before having taunted mind-body-spirit to near exhaustion. 

I once confided fear of something (I can’t recall what, but does it matter?) to a teacher at my secondary school 50+ years ago who commented to the effect that to deny fear is to deny the inner self that makes us human.  ‘Deal with it, Taber, and get on with your life,’ he said. ‘It may not go away entirely, but the chances are it won’t bother you anywhere near as much ever again.’ Wise advice, especially as it works...well, most of the time.

Participating in the London Shine Walk for Cancer last year to raise money for prostate  cancer research left me with such a sense of achievement for being able to complete a half marathon even in my late 60s (in 5.5 hours, with pit stops) that Fear retreated back into its corner and has yet to raise its ugly head again. 

This poem is a kenning, sometimes called a ‘Who am I?’ poem.

THE TRACKER or NATURE OF THE BEAST

I journey through life
with companions I would leave
but for clammy fingers
clutching at my sleeve and voices
I would prefer to ignore
demanding my attention, pity,
moral support and more
than I am willing to give, yet
can but do my best

I arrive at crossroads
with companions I would leave
to their own devices
while knowing they would be lost
without me, no map
supplied to help them decide
which way to choose
other than human instinct set
to following its nose

I journey on, on, and on,
companions that would leave me
to my own devices
as obsessed with my keeping track
of the world’s injustices
as with lesser vices charging
a vulnerable mentality
to take responsibility for mind,
body and spirit

Find me, Ego, feeding a fear-curiosity
that drives, and may yet kill humanity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Spring Magic

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

Whenever we are feeling down, there is always something in the magic of nature to lift us; summer holidays, colourful autumn leaves, winter sunshine, the magic of spring...

Now, it has been a long, dull,wet  winter here in the UK so I thought I’d write something cheerful. The poem is a little whimsical perhaps, but regular readers will know that I ‘do’ whimsy quite often.

If early March is hardly spring, at least we can remind ourselves it’s just around the corner. Besides, we have only to let the inner eye stray to some once-upon-a-springtime, and it’s here again already.

Thank goodness for the power of imagination, memory, positive thinking, and the spiritual quality of humankind’s more discerning affinity with nature.

SPRING MAGIC

As I paused by a tree,
I saw it weeping for me;
bad times, hard times,
ever-haunting back roads
of my memory

As I paused by a tree
I heard it laughing at me,
for ever dwelling
on darker, wintry, aspects
of my history

As I paused by a tree,
I heard it singing for me
while opening up
a gift-wrapped box of delights
we call memory

As I paused by a tree,
it covered me with kisses
of faery blossom,
working spring magic, life-force
of all history

As I paused by a tree,
leafy skies swooped on me
and spring cleaned
the darker, wintry, corners
of my memory

As I passed by a tree,
I heard it gaily cheering me
for moving on,
a new spring in every step
making history


Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Riposte to the Darker Side of Nature

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

While only some of my poems are semi-autobiographical, all are personal to some degree or another while I try to leave space enough for the reader to move about within them. 

Today’s poem is a particularly personal poem, given my non-aggressive (so far) prostate cancer, it is also an explanation (of sorts) to those well-meaning, religious minded people who have expressed genuine disbelief ,if not horror, that it hasn’t compelled me to seek out the God of Holy Books.

For a start, I have every confidence in the hospital team responsible for my (hormone therapy) treatment.  Moreover, only as a very young child did I ever enter into any conception of a personified God. My mother did, and I believed her until I was old enough to make up my own mind, convinced at an early age that we make our own Heaven or Hell here on Earth.

As regular readers know, I turned to nature for spiritual reassurance many years ago. Nor do I honestly think it had anything to do with feelings of alienation as I proceeded to confront my sexuality. Possibly, what some call 'God' is nature although I dare say they would argue that He (or She?) created nature for human beings to enjoy. (Yes, enjoy, not attack and destroy.)

Who knows? Each to his or her own, I say. Oh, and isn’t it high time we all started respecting each other’s beliefs, life choices, natural instincts (like sexuality) and stopped fighting amongst ourselves over who may be right and who may be wrong?  Too many people so love to take the moral high ground, they lose sight of morality in the process. It has to be one of life’s greater ironies that sickness and disease provide a common humanity with the one common denominator likely to bring all sides together…if only until it has run its course.

My mother used to tell me that whenever the going gets rough, the only way to think is positive. It was GOOD advice, especially for a young gay lad growing up in a predominantly gay-unfriendly society. (I never make an issue of being gay, but neither do I see any reason to hide the fact, hence a gay-interest as well as general poetry blog because a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person ... regardless.)

RIPOSTE TO THE DARKER SIDE OF NATURE

Gripped by fear,

I could but direct it elsewhere,

yet it keeps returning,

this awful cancer stalking me

like a predator

Away, dark fear,

and let me get on with my life.

Go, feed elsewhere.

I’m only human, but no easy

prey for a predator

Seized by doubt,

I can but trust positive thinking

will yet prevent

this awful cancer turning me

inside out 

Away, negativity,

always the first to undermine me

wherever I lend an ear  

to voices arguing the wisdom

of my choices

Let me not resist a need

for comfort food and fiercer hugs

than ever before

to restore poor self-confidence,

give love its head

Come, Earth Mother,

and never let go of my free hand

as with the other I’ll sign

to mind-body-spirit and the world

we’re not done

Yes, I will survive

whatever this cancer throws at me,

instincts insisting I embrace

all a feisty spirituality has to give

in its place

Let nature have its way;

together, we will no more concede

any disease its V-Day

than see human beings put down

just for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Hope Is A Woman

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

Every so often readers ask me for a CD recording of my informal poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square back in July 2009 as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other ‘live sculpture’ project.  Sky Arts typically refused to oblige those of us who participated with a CD so I can only repeat the link for anyone interested. [The entire web stream - all 2400 hours of it - is now archived in the British Library.]

Be warned, though. The entire clip lasts an hour:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile…

The vanity of human beings is such that we like to think we are in control of our lives and nature has to play second fiddle to our intentions as well as in our affections.

I wonder about that sometimes…

Some people look to God as the ultimate male ego. The Ancient Greeks cherished Elpis, Spirit of Hope. Me, I prefer to look to Earth Mother for an inner strength of a quality that can only be female; therein lies the key to our survival. On our terms, as Masters of the Universe? Don't bet on it.

(Photo: Elpis, Spirit of Hope (copied from the web)

HOPE IS A WOMAN

To Mother Nature
we bared all as we were born;

since then, for good or ill,

(mostly) in good faith her colours
openly worn

Green, the grass,
defying threats of acid rain; 

Blue, clear skies turning

a blind eye to the human obsession

with temporal gain

Red, streaks of blood
across a sky, the throat of a fox

as the first hound’s claw 

finds its mark, and darkness shuts us
at random in its box

Yellow, the sun’s wounds

weeping through drought, famine,

and an outing of inhumanity,

in platitudes among record audiences
for prime television

Stumps, where we'd stood,

listening to a pretty wood, if deaf 

to every plea it made
and warning it gave, now all but dead
but for its grief

Grey, tear-stained profiles
among remains of a next generation
running scared in the face

of apathy from elders shooting selfies

before they were born

To Earth Mother dare we fall
on our knees, if only to beg Her stay
this enemy's execution,

given that any 'tomorrow is another day'
well past its use-by date

Copyright R N. Taber 2007

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appears in  Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]