Hello again, folks, from London UK

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

"You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time." - Abraham Lincoln

Sorry, no poem again today, but soon...

While I have no Covid symptoms, I suspect the stress f the past 18 months or so is beginning taking its toll on ole Roger, just as it is on everyone else, worldwide. Yes, I feel a lot safer for having had my booster jab, but I am feeling very worn down by it all, as I suspect all of you are too. Writing poetry helps distract me and keep a sense of proportion, but inspiration is in short supply right now. Even so, I have high hopes for a poem that is edging its way into my mind and will hopefully find its way to expressing itself before too long...

As if climate change was all we had to contend with...!

So, how do we come through Covid and its variants and manage to maintain a positive-thinking mindset in the face of illness and death all around us?  Good question, no easy answers. I guess we can but do our best to support each other and try not to blow the short fuse many if not most of us have felt burning a gaping hole in our lives for far too long, if it hasn't already.

As regular readers know, I had a bad nervous breakdown in my mid-30's. partly for being gay and closet-bound, chiefly because I had no real sense of direction and was physically and mentally tired of drifting and feeling sorry for myself. Eventually, I saw sense and realised that whatever future I might have was down to me, no one else. At the same time, I needed help,  to be pointed in the right direction. I had to go to Australia to benefit from the wisdom of an old Aborigine and suffer the indignity of being repatriated (because I couldn't find a job) before I found my way in life, although it would be uphill for a few more years yet. Eventually, I found the self-confidence to leave the awful closet that certain  peers and family had made me feel I 'deserved 'while growing up in the 1950' and aim for the life that I wanted, not what other people might have or want. Selfish of me, perhaps, but we all have individual needs and have to recognise them, not be intimidated into being copycats.

With the support of some wonderful people, some hard work on my part and accepting that being gay is who I am and not only doesn't make me less of a human being, but also strengthened my resolve to help give the lie to the fake news and faux stereotypes that continue to haunt many corners of various societies and communities worldwide. Yes, I have said all this before, so why say it again? I guess the keyword is self-awareness; admitting to ourselves that we are a psychological mess is a battle half won already, victory in sigh; it is up to each and every one of us not to lose sight of just what 'victory' means - for us and for any family and friends closest to us, given that so much of what we do and say invariably affects them also.

So why am I raking up my pathetic past? Because our past-present-future is the sum of who we are; interdependent aspects of growing up, whoever and wherever we are in the world, and doing our best to learn from our mistakes as well as invariably having to pay for them, one way or another. Learning is strength, and strength is what will see us through the pandemic; not least, strength of will, purpose and character. We can, after all, only ever do our best; it will never be enough for some people, possibly even ourselves, but it is what keeps us on that learning curve, adapting to change as only mind-body-spirit can. 

We are all different, so our 'best' will invariably highlight our differences, differences that can  no more be measured in academic terms than the human spirit itself. Education and learning applies no less to the inner self than what appears visible to others in terms of what we may say and do; both words and actions are always vulnerable to misinterpretation, especially if we try to 'measure' them according to what we see as 'acceptable' rather then making an effort to understand what drives those whose 'best' bears little or no resemblance to our own.

The best advice my mother ever gave me was not only to try and take each day as it comes, but people too, no rushing to judgement as humankind is so often inclined. We can but try, do our best to give people the benefit of whatever reservations we might have in the course of any casual,  closer, even more intimate acquaintance. Alas, what drives the inner self will always remain something of a mystery, to ourselves as well as each other; the least we can do as we climb the various hills and mountains of this life is... yes, do our best.

Well, that's all my ramblings for today and many thanks, as always for joining me here on the blog. I only hope it helps prevent some of you losing the proverbial plot as it helps me, if only for doing my best to keep from falling into a cesspit of Doubt, Fear and various indescribable Unknowns that so like to tease Mind-Body-Spirit at such times as a pandemic or any crisis when many if not most of us are at our most vulnerable. 

Religions and philosophies will drive and comfort their own follower; for the rest of us, we can only do our best to rise above the worst of things, even if it means having to go with the flow until we get to swim freestyle again...

Take care, everyone and remember that we can only do our best, whatever circumstances in which we find ourselves. or may yet find ourselves; it may not always seem enough, but it has to beat doing less or nothing, surely?

Bye for now, take care and let's all do our best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset...yes?

Hugs,

Roger

[NB Apologies if the spacing between paragraphs appears too wide. I have all sorts of problems when trying to edit posts on Blogger sometimes.]RT

Where the Keyword is Self-Awareness

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A new poem today, probably brought on by my having too much time to think during such days of Covid-19 coronavirus that the world is waking up to every day, but none of us know how any day will end; even so, 'Hope springs eternal' ...  which definitely has to be my all-time favourite among corny truisms. wry bardic grin

Some of us, for whatever reasons, get off to an uneasy, if not downright unhappy or bad start in life; some blameworthy fate seems to have it in for us.  I felt this way for years as a teenager and young man, not least because I was gay and same sex relationships were illegal at the time; other influences, too, mostly from family and peers, saw my younger self in something of a psychological mess for which it suited me to blame some existential fate rather than take responsibility for myself.

Eventually, I came to realise that any hell I was in was of my own making; it was the start of my finding a way back to a self with whom I was (and still am) more comfortable.

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.” 
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”  often attributed to C. S. Lewis

WHERE THE KEYWORD, IS SELF-AWARENESS, 

There is a part of me

that no one ever gets to know

for my living out

its fantasy, a nightmare fiction imposed

on mind-body-spirit

Mind, it can but fight

as best it can to get the better

of forces as unremittingly

as uncaringly infiltrating the human body

time after time

Spirit, it can but resist

until worn down by nightmares 

passing for home truths

by certain elements of human psychology

worn on its sleeves

The better part of me,

struggling with secrets and lies

it’s made to house

in a heart hell bent on betraying appearances

behind closed doors

The years, they but pass

in tears for needing  to break free

of a mind-body-spirit

that would ransom me to Reason, but Reason

is having none of it

Finally, Reason pays up,

returning me to the kind of self

that is a kinder person,

if vulnerable to life forces that can get the better

of you, me, anyone

I grow old, but less haunted

by secrets and lies putting me down

than by other ghosts, 

old allies in adversity come to rescue me again,

and dry my tears,

That's life, and human nature;

we may well seek to nurture a natural 

predilection for peace 

and love in a world open to taking on all-comers,

but… who knows…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

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

Damper, In-out-In ... OR Tempering the Human Consciousness

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Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2016; it was slightly revised in 2003 (for my collection the following year) from an earlier [1980's] poem, and you are invited to make of it what you will.

Now, in my 70's, I still find myself recalling the words of a song from early childhood:

Well, you push the damper in and you pull the damper out,

but the smoke goes up the chimney just the same…

I well recall what a teacher once said (n the 1950's) when I asked about philosophy, having read the word in a book and found a dictionary of little help. (I was 11 years-old.) ‘Philosophy,’ he mused, possibly more to himself than to me, ‘…is a vehicle for language devised by human nature to fire its passions without its having to commit to any responsibility other than just that. Think of the fireplace damper in your living room at home; the more it is opened, the more air to fuel the fire. So it is, as I see it, with philosophy. The more open a mind you apply, the fiercer the passions of intellect are sure to burn. On the other hand, if it’s absolute proof or even meaning you’re after, that is tantamount to the damper being closed and the fire left to go out. Either way, we have to be prepared for some smoke in our eyes ir not our Does that answer your question?’ It did not, of course (and I'm pretty sure he knew it) but I hadn’t the nerve to say so. Besides, my head was already swimming.

Years on, I begin to see the appropriateness of the simile although I should perhaps add that, as I progressed from first year to 6th form, I came to see my teacher, for whom I had much affection and respect, as something of a devil's advocate. As for philosophy, I am still inclined to see it as wisdom's get-out clause for explaining away everything and nothing.

DAMPER, IN-OUT-IN … or TEMPERING THE HUMAN CONSCIOUSNESS

Thoughts

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

ever homing in 

on us …

obscuring,

deluding and confusing

the senses about

who we are, 

where we’re going,

whatever will become

of us …?

Rumours

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there

everywhere,

ever homing in

on us ...

obscuring,

deluding and confusing 

rights and wrongs

keeping an eye on us

like buzzards

in a mist anticipating

our end

Hopes

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

ever homing in on us,

obscuring, 

resolving to get the better

of any delusion

or confusion driving us

to ask who we are, 

going where,

whatever will become

of us …?

History

drifting, circling,

sending us here, there,

everywhere,

feeding leftover dreams

to mind-body-spirit,

intending to reassure us

who we are,

and going where, if only

we can get it right,

wherever it is we need

to be going,

whatever will become

of us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was first published under the title Smokescreen in an anthology Sometimes I Wonder, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

Mind-Body-Spirit, Pendulum Swings

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Although hormone therapy since 2011 (for my prostate cancer) has taken its toll in various ways, my spirit remains as feisty as ever;. Even so, mind and body have been feeling the strain  - rarely more so than now as COVID-19 continues to dictate how we manage our lives.  How I miss seeing my friends now, the same who have been so kind, helpful and supportive. Without them, living on my own would have been so much more of a daily struggle. As it is (yes, even now when social distancing means we cannot even share a hug) their familiar voices - on the phone or in my head - lend me the strength to carry on..

Now, as regular readers are well aware, I subscribe to no religion. Every now and someone gets in touch to ask how can I live without religion yet claim to have a strong sense of spirituality. Well, for a start, I don't see religion as having a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit is independent of religion. Moreover, I see the world's religions as responsible for much if not most of its penchant for divisiveness, separatism and bigotry.

For me, ‘heaven’ and ‘hell’ are but effective metaphors for the better and worse aspects of life we get to experience.  At best, this may well be joy verging on the sublime; at worst, misery enough to all but bury a person alive.  

Having suffered from depression for years, and felt buried alive more times than I care to recall, I am grateful to both nature and human nature for regularly invoking joys worthy of another metaphor, namely ‘resurrection’. (I speak here as a poet and wordsmith and intend no offence to any who may use the same terms in a religious context.) It is worth remembering, I think, that religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit has a mind of its own. Mind you, I suspect all of it (and us) are subject to the whims of Time ...

 ‘Man! Thou pendulum betwixt a smile and tear’. - Byron  (Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto iv, Stanza 109)

'The pendulum of the mind alternates between sense and nonsense, not between right and wrong.  - Carl Jung

M-I-N-D, PENDULUM SWINGS

Life is what we make it

(a heaven, too, and even hell)

by choice or circumstance

as we ride out its pendulum swings

for better, for worse

Heaven is letting a sense

of spirituality keep a tight hold

on the heart, independent

of socio-cultural-religious comment

to whatever effect

Hell is dreading the dawn,

putting a brave face on enemy lines

(distress or worse)

in suffering its brutality at first hand

or a close second

Heaven has its moments

in any lifetime, the more so if shared
by two hearts

than one if better that than its beauty

should pass us by

Hell, a door left wide open

or ajar, ready to receive rich and poor,

all as vulnerable

to excesses of nature or human nature

as any one of us

Swings of the pendulum

ever sounding us out for our findings
along such passages
of time and space as mind-body-spirit
cares to venture

Pendulum's swing ceases,
human clock stopping, its face giving
nothing away
for its having measured out our history
in thought and deed

Pendulum (and clock) dead
to the world, although all is not yet lost,
some clock maker
left to work on their findings, similarly
a labour of love

                                                                                       

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017, 2020

[Note: A reader asks why I don't use social media. Well, relatively few people are into poetry so I am all the more delighted that many find their own way to my blogs; whether or not they like what they find is another matter, of course.] <<wry bardic grin>>

Engaging (positively) with Personal Space

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Since I hit my 70’s (five years ago) I sometimes find myself wondering … why bother? Living alone, even with the support of a few good friends, can often seem a heavy-going, lonely battle to rise above health issues and other slings and arrows of daily life.

My mother died in 1976. We were very close, and her spirit remains as much a part of me as it ever was. I am especially grateful for having inherited her positive approach to life,being able to put any negative thoughts on hold, close my eyes and wish myself back to better times, let them comfort, reassure, inspire me to understanding full well that nature intends that we live and die  so it’s up to us to make the most, each in his or her own way, of what lies in-between. 

Instead of brooding on woes, better by far (surely?) to count our blessings in the shape of those family and friends we have known and loved, any places we may have visited that are as flowers on the evergreen Banks of Memory whose perfume we have but to inhale to be transported away from whatever moment of contemporary crisis may have struck ... temporarily perhaps, but long enough to rise above its worse moments, pause the downward spiral into despair, self-pity, whatever … and rise above it all, slowly but surely emerging from the experience better equipped not only to start looking on the bright side of life again, but actively participate in it. 

I am so grateful to my mother for her philosophical approach to general well-being that has helped me through some of the worst periods of my life, never more so than now as we all struggle with multiple consequences of the coronavirus pandemic.

Did I say it was easy …?

ENGAGING (POSITIVELY) WITH PERSONAL SPACE 

There is a place I go

known only to me, where time,

no longer counting

along lines of arithmetic

or measure of its pace,

takes me beyond known parameters

shows me who I am

There is a place I go

whenever thought cannot reason

nor sensibility rely

on some abstract morality

to come to the rescue

if only to attempt justifying whatever,

or pointing a finger

There is a place I go

where bigotry on grounds of gender,

race, sexuality, creed

(and, yes, age too) but voices

falling on cloth ears

flagging up referrals for creative therapy

(hope springs eternal)

There is a place I go

where I am free to think just about me,

well-meaning advice

(from any perspective but mine)

given short shrift

by an alter ego weary of always being lost

in translation by ‘betters’

There is a place I go

where mind, body and spirit take a break

from running rings

around me, engage with each other

and help me connect

with that whole which is the sum of my parts

(amateur self-portrait)

It’s in my personal space

that I consider and reconsider my actions,

hopefully preventing

any future systems failure down

to taking fake news

for gospel and spreading it without due care;

(garbage in, garbage out)

Ah, but personal space

cannot be contained for long in any one

persona, but needs must

journey through time and space;

rites of passage

for artists, historians, anyone with an interest

in fitting jigsaw pieces

Copyright R N. Taber 2020

Mind-Body-Spirit, Learning Curve

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A slightly different version of today’s poem first appeared in an anthology, The Scene is Set, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2002, CC&D Scars Publications, U.S.) the same year, and subsequently in my collection; it also appeared in Ygdrasil, a Journal of the Poetic Arts (an on-line monthly webzine) in 2005.

I spent many years working as a librarian in public libraries. Young people would come in to do their homework and I would ask them how they were getting on at school. Their responses would vary from politely indifferent to openly hostile towards the school environment as they saw it. I would nod, smile, and try to sound encouraging. It was hostility, though, that would invariably trigger memories of my own schooldays when homework would inevitably get me thinking about matters other than what I needed to be getting on with for school the next day.

Homework taxes the brain and sends all kinds of messages into the mind, not all of which are directly relevant to the matter in hand; a stressful process, yet curiously liberating. It isn’t healthy to close our minds to what is going on (at any age) either in the world at large or, more importantly, within ourselves.

I used to wonder sometimes if teachers and parents understand how scary homework sessions can be. It would strike me that few do or they would be helping us answer more questions about life and human nature than any regular hypothesis considered suitable (by whom, I used to ask myself?) for homework.

Among my teachers at junior and secondary schools, there were a few who taught me more than a relatively narrow curriculum allowed. I may not have been able to articulate on this particular learning process for years, but especially as a teenager - it sowed seeds of thought embracing mind, body and spirit that I sensed required nurture. By way of their many throw-away comments and occasional voiced opinions about all sorts, I accessed aspects of philosophy of which I would otherwise have been left ignorant, helping me to develop an affinity with various life forces providing lasting food for thought that has influenced, guided, helped and supported me through good times and bad all my life.

While all the rest made me feel much like a caged bird anxious to be free, this was a real learning curve, one which university would expand upon and help clarify way beyond the relatively limited scope of academia, truly an education for life…one which, of course, never ends.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, LEARNING CURVE

Photos by the bed,
posters on the wall, press cuttings
on a chair likely to hit the floor
if someone opens the door,
so the door stays shut,
while anxious faces (rightly) debate
prejudices, pollution,
nature conservation, education,
immigration, religion,
traffic congestion, political correctness,
safer sex, drugs, always having
to stay alert or be put down
by a clamour of everyday voices
kicking what passes
for an agenda for life (theirs, not ours)
like a football on a field
of play according to whatever rules,
conventions or dogma
happens to be match of the day,
conscience scoring an own goal as often
as not, but keeps quiet

So many questions, few answers, lies,
half lies, part truths,
and home truths like moths flummoxed
by a light bulb

Please, someone,
open the door (not meant to stay shut)
and let us out
to have our say, play our part,
prove the world
has a heart, beating behind closed doors
because children are meant
to be seen not heard
and teenagers don't have a clue
even though they always think they do.
(Oh, and says who...?)
Everyone has a voice, deserves an ear,
put right if wrong,
always up for discussion if only
to understand  the need
for whomsoever to understand the what
and the why, who's likely
to gain and who's as likely to lose
in games grown-ups 'betters'
so love to play ostensibly to save us
from ourselves

So who's kidding who, we would all
so love to ask and be told,
if we could but bring our classroom voices
to the outside world?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2018

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

Something to be said for Karma

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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

Potential for Inspiration

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A colleague once remarked, not a little facetiously, that poets think they have the answer to everything.

Oh, but I wish!

At school, some 50+ years ago, my English teacher, Mr Rankin, (a Scotsman) once commented to the effect that life is all about discovery, and that is all about asking questions. 'Stop asking questions,' he told us, 'and you might as well be dead.'

Oh, but YES.

So what is life all about? Why are we here?  Different people, different answers, but it’s asking the question that counts, and makes us who we are.

POTENTIAL FOR INSPIRATION

What is life, but to have lived at all?

What is death, but all we‘ve not missed?

What is love, but to have loved at all?

What is beauty, but its flowers in a mist?

What is desire but to know desire at all?

(What is loss but by its light never kissed?)

What are dreams, but a life unfulfilled?

What are regrets, but art’s timelines?

What are hopes, but the inner eye’s take

on seasonal colours?

What is life, but to have lived it all?

What is death, but refuting all we missed?

What is love, but to have loved it all,

the beauty of its flowers in a spring mist?

What is desire, but to have desired it all,

loss but shadows where its light has passed

in a dream, the stuff a common humanity

lets pass for peace where its regrets run

with its hopes along timelines recording

art’s penchant for copycat?

In being moved to ask just one question

lies the potential for inspiration

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Deep River OR Fishing for the Twinkle in Time's Eye

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A friend who, like me, lives on his own, commented that he would so love to find someone special with whom to share his life, but simply didn’t have the time, what with work and seeing to the shopping, laundry, keeping the house clean and everything else that needed to be done. Fair enough, but how often do we wonder how other people manage to find the time for leisure activities and generally enjoying life? If the answer is often, then we need to make time too or risk life dumping us in some metaphorical river carrying us along with the rest of its human waste…  

We are often told that the cut and thrust of modern life is all about prioritizing. (How managers and supervisors, not to mention politicians love that word!). Well, making time to get a life needs to be a priority, too, surely? Oh, of course things (relationships?) don’t always work out as we'd hoped (in my case, more often than not) but there is so much in life to miss out on; we need to pause for thought, and then make time to GO FOR IT. True, we all have our limitations, but as a teacher at my old school once pointed out, limitations are a challenge not an excuse.

My dear late mother once told me, ‘Always make time to reflect on life because it’s food for thought that makes the feast all the more enjoyable.’ Wise words, indeed!

DEEP RIVER or FISHING FOR THE TWINKLE IN TIME’S EYE

A man by a river is always there,

often fishing, now and then sketching

or gazing into the air as if watching

birds in flight only, invariably,

there are none in sight as light on a face

all grizzled and worn (at first sight)

seems to shed all trace of care,

take on a saintly profile, a beauty rare,

sublime, less in thrall to time

and place than the river passing us by,

emanating centuries of loving, dreaming,

despairing of ever finding whatever

we dare not cease seeking if half scared

of naming, growing weary of hoping,

trying to express in the ways we look, talk,

pressing on regardless, feeling alone

even in crowds, begrudging time to pause

for breath (forget positive thinking)

half expecting to find Someone ‘out there’

(but where, and if we do, what then?) 

‘A strange man,’ people mutter and move on,

few pausing to ask why he’s always there,

by a river, often fishing, sometimes laughing

or just gazing into thin air (at what, ghosts?)

deflecting a general incapacity of native curiosity

to translate into… an oral perspicacity leading

to whatever, but something (surely?)

that has to be better than this mere moving on

like a river ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note : An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Chariots of Fire

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I am reminded of a conversation I had many years ago when I was an egocentric teenager. I asked a teacher (as one does) what life is all about. Yes, well…silly question, I know, but I thought it sounded clever. More to the point, I thought it made me appear very clever.  I received what I thought was, in turn, a very silly answer, something about its being a bedtime story for grown-ups.

Now, though, I’m not so sure it was such a silly answer, and suspect it was too profound for my little poem to do it justice.

I recall telling my mother about that conversation. She just said, “He’s a very nice man if a little eccentric/ Mind you, there is always more to eccentric people than meets the eye just as there's nearly always something in what they have to say worth giving some thought to. Now, go and do your homework…’ Another very nice person, my mother . She, too, always had something to say worth giving some thought to. 

CHARIOTS OF FIRE

Sometimes, I regret my lost youth

but for its teaching me
my place in the world, neither high
nor low for racing chariots
of fire across a playground of dreams, 

skimming time and space,
grandest of all arenas least known
to Man

It’s enough, in the end, to land safe

and sound among moon shadows

bringing we charioteers such presence
of mind-body-spirit known only
to children hungering for fairy tales, 

now lost, now finding their way
in some otherworld to take up the reins
and race each other to cheers
and jeers, highs and lows, archived
to living memory 

Can it be, I wonder, that life is, after all,

a (potentially) feel-good bedtime story?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Overheard in a Cafe (A Sign of the Times?)

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

This poem reflects just what its title suggests, a conversation overheard in a café. I have included it in my new collection. I came away from that cafe feeling more than a little relieved that I am not alone in finding the various world religions divisive.

Societies force-feed us religion from childhood. It is reassuring to know that some people manage to take the better (kinder, more compassionate?) elements of religion while sidelining the rest, breaking away from the dogma while retaining its spirituality in the way they take other people as they find them...without rushing to judgment as so many religious-minded folks are inclined. It is not religion that is at fault, but many of those who preach it, selecting to home in on whatever suits their own agenda; an agenda that may well have far less to do with religion than its founders intended.

Let's be clear here. I am not knocking religion, only those who use it to their own advantage, frequently feeding a desire for influence and power that is contrary to all the principles upon which faith and religion are meant to turn.

It is to their credit that a good many followers of this or that religion are by no means as gullible as their self-styled leaders appear to believe, proving that religion does not have to be as divisive as their so-called 'betters' paradoxically insist.

As for me, regular readers will know only too well that I take my spirituality from nature.

(Image taken from the Internet)

  

OVERHEARD IN A CAFÉ (A SIGN OF THE TIMES?)

What would we do without religion,

where would we be?

For a start, we’d have a kinder world,

less bigotry

What would we do without religion

telling us what to say?

For a start, commonsense might just

win the day

What would we do without religion

putting us in our place?

For a start, love and peace, not about

saving face

What would we do without religion,

no God to blame?

For a start, a common humanity living

up to its name

Where would we be without religion

separating us out,

Holy Books vying with each other to

put us right?

Where would we be without religion

promising salvation

for all the guilt, despair and grief

it feeds upon?

Where would we be without religion,

what would we have done?

For a start, arguing over some other

rhetorical question

Yes, waiter, more tea and cakes please

and…any answers?

[From: On The Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Proof of Life

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

Inspiration for life, love, hope, happiness…you name it…comes in many shapes and forms. But it's out there, folks, just waiting for us feel our way to it with mind, body and spirit, absorb its energy and let it go to work on our senses, including that old chestnut, sheer willpower. 

This poem is a kenning.

PROOF OF LIFE

When people ask who I am,

I tell them to look within themselves

and to each other, perhaps

uncover those mysteries that haunt us

as we journey through life...

How come we here, why, going where?

Questions on the lips, reason

at the inner ear brooking yet more,

answers found wanting

When people ask who I am

I tell them to look around, take in all

they see, feel, need to explain,

justify or change (but how?) perhaps

expecting me to provide

the cure for a sick world, solutions

to its failing societies,

religions losing sight of a vocation

to reunite who they divide

When people ask who I am,

I tell them to learn the body language

of family, friends, workmates

in the staff room, complete strangers

at bus stops, commuters on trains,

probe those subtle discrepancies between

what we say and what we mean;

stop playing a political correctness game,

give truth its proper name

Who am I? I am the philosophy

that defines who you are

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2019

[Note: The last couplet differs slightly from the version of this poem that appears in  Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

Spoilt For Choice

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

We face questions about the meaning of life and death almost daily. It is a rare person that finds any answers. However, we should not be defeatist. On the contrary, we should feel encouraged.

Yes, we run a gamut of emotions. The joys of life are constantly under threat by fear, grief, pain and loneliness. Yet if we look hard enough with our inner eye, we are likely to see more and more of that bigger picture of which we are but brush strokes on the canvas. It may not answer any questions but it affords us a glimpse of our purpose in life.

We are all aspects of the bigger picture and, as such, have a positive part to play as we find ways to deal with ways of living and dying. We can but hope that when others view the picture they may glimpse and take heart from our contribution.

SPOILT FOR CHOICE

Too often have I talked with Death

in green fields, by sandy shores,

under stars in the middle of the night,

on street corners in broad daylight;

conversation is always much the same,

along the lines of my losing a grip

on the meaningfulness of life and love

and He offering safety, security,

release from the anxieties of integrity;

let Death take responsibility for me

where others refuse, be a ghost among

shades of darkness, distanced from

the spoils and heartache of daily grind,

out of sight, out of mind...?

Too often have I talked with Death

during early hours, late strolls,

counting spring lambs frolicking in

fields of memory, listening out for

voices across the sea, once near, dear

to me, not so long ago it seems,

stuff of sweet dreams, laid low come

cold light of day, buried beneath

cracked paving stones, cruel highways

expecting me to carry on till I drop

exhausted, reaching for Death’s hand

rather than dare ask for help, seek

answers in prayers that always seem

to fall on deaf ears…

“No one cares,” Death so delights
in telling me, urging I turn

my back on spite, hate, jealousy,

poverty, hunger, war, a politics

of perversity, world religions busy

practising world division, quick

to condemn what (too often) they

can’t comprehend for refusing

to play a part in common workings

of the heart, keeping their distance,

awarding marks out of ten to any seen

to have stakes in a God they would

claim for their own and give a name

where no need for one...

Where voices would deny us peace,

let us explore the politics of choice

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]