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

 

Lines on the Accidental Life of a Raindrop

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

Another new poem today.

A regular reader has emailed to asks if I am not ‘slightly obsessed’ with rain imagery in some poems although he enjoys it, ‘given that it is one of those a positive life forces with which you also seem more than a little obsessed’. Well, I hope I don’t come across as ’obsessed’ in any of my poems.

Yes, I am fascinated by and empathise with various life forces; good, bad, ugly and sublime aspects of human nature … which I suspect applies to most of us if we are truly honest with ourselves. It is, after all, what the arts are all about as well as entertainment, the sciences, too, as well as looking for and finding answers; in the latter, science has an advantage since all the arts can too is make suggestions and offer alternatives to both entertain audiences as well as providing food for thought.

As a child, one of my elders and betters told me that art is the opposite of science; even at a young age, though, we had to agree to differ; in children and young people this is too often seen as being precocious. Different, yes, very different, but both are mentors to mind-body-spirit, each in their own way.

Much the sane can be said for nature and human nature; take a raindrop falling from the sky, catching both light and a child’s imagination, food for thought, indeed; where imagination entertains, invariably asking more questions than answering any …such observations may well not only stay with us  all our lives, taking us on a voyage of discovery that consciously or subconsciously  may well affect every move we make, every word we speak, who we are at any given time and whom we may yet become ...

No mean mentors, raindrops …

LINES ON THE ACCIDENTAL LIFE OF A RAINDROP

I watched a raindrop falling,

saw it splash on the ground without a sound,

and the silence, it was deafening,

killing the roar of traffic all around, leaving me

wondering who and where I am,

looking back at the heavens, asking questions,

needing reasons as to why

one minute I’m in a busy, noisy place, the next

travelling time and (personal) space

Silence, splashing my face

like thoughts that never seem to find a voice,

sailing through my head,

much like a summer breeze, every word unsaid

splashing on the backroads

of my mind, like raindrops fallen to the ground

only to conspire with others

to form puddles for children to make such faces in

as prompted by some native intuition

Years on, the boy I was that day,

a man now, but still watching that same rain fall

into much the same silence,

weirder now than ever for being so much rarer,

more likely to be swept along

by the rushing by of a Here-and-Now, little pause

to wonder where the time goes,

as likely breaking me for going with its flow had I not

listened to the silence, and never forgot

Old now, mind-body-spirit as full of pleasure as pain,

just for watching raindrops splashing Memory Lane

Copyright R. N Taber 2020

Puddles OR Cues for Positive Thinking

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2013.

Now rainy days are not uncommon here in the UK.

Ah, but there is inspiration (maybe even a poem) to be found even in a rainy day. I was once quoted as saying "there is a poem in everything around us" whereupon I was challenged to write one about ... yes, puddles!

As  I watch ripples in a puddle spread as far as its space allows, I can't help thinking how all we say and do are like ripples, spreading as far as global consciousness (or conscience) allows. 

PUDDLES or CUES FOR POSITIVE THINKING

Reflections of an angry sky

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Sulky mouths, creased brows

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Fearful fingers clutching collars

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Umbrellas, scoring points

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Bowed heads like sad clouds

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Better times around the next corner

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004

[From: The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

Seaside, through a Rain Cloud's Eye

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

More much-needed rain forecast across the UK today so stay safe , folks, as lock-down restrictions start to lift here in the UK and the rest of Europe even as new waves of the Covid-19 coronavirus breaking out in Beijing and elsewhere across the world..

in the course of deciding what poems to use in a new collection, I came across this one, first posted here in 2017 

I once asked a group of close friends what they love most about the seaside. One answer in particular summed up all the others. "It makes me feel alive, in all weathers..." my friend said to cheers and applause from the rest of us; it was ''in all weathers' that clinched it.

Sadly, my 70's have inflicted mobility problems on me now, but I have fond seaside memories - of Brighton in particular - and have but to close my eyes to revisit them (yes, in all weathers) for any sense of growing old and associated health problems to drop away and, yes, I take on a new lease of life that, one that will see me through thick and thin for as long as my memory continues to feed on happy times. That goes for most if not all of us, of course, regardless of gender, sexuality, ethnicity or religion, thus uniting a common humanity in a fractured world if only by way of mind-body-spirit.

"Corny, corny!" I fancy I can hear readers cry. Corny, yes, perhaps, but, oh, so, true...

Here's wishing you all your fair share of happy days as you journey through life, and never underestimate the simplest pleasures as a day by the sea come rain or come shine, especially when shared with close family and/ or friends.

If interested, the video attached to my poem 'Front Seat' (no longer on the blog) shows your s truly enjoying a solo stroll along Brighton Beach while best friend Graham manages the camera. I read two poems over the video:, of which 'Ancestral Voices' can still be found on the blog.

For my other poetry videos,  all shot by Graham: https://www.youtube.com/user/rogerNtaber/videos 

SEASIDE, THROUGH A RAIN CLOUD'S EYE

I spy breakers crashing on the shore,
seagulls circling above,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and a woman walking her dog

I spy an ice-cream van doing no trade,
heads busy dodging umbrellas,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and a beggar being moved on

I spy a windsurfer gathering speed,
seagulls cheering him on,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and lovers pausing for a kiss

I spy plastic shopping bags burst open,
their owners getting in a state,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and men at a Bookies in tears

I spy cinemagoers pouring into a street,
frantically reaching for phones,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and the lovers having a quarrel

I spy the woman's dog, not on a leash
believing it can catch a cat,
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
and the windsurfer taking a tumble

Now, filtering a watery sunlight through
heavens all shades of grey;
faces at windows of a nearby hotel
showing signs of coming alive

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
[Brighton, East Sussex]

Puddles

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

Rainy days are not uncommon here in the UK.

Ah, but there is inspiration (maybe even a poem) to be found even on rainy days. I was once quoted as saying there is a poem in everything around us whereupon I was challenged to write one about ... puddles!

As  I watch ripples in a puddle spread as far as its space allows, I can't help thinking how all we say and do are like ripples, spreading as far as global consciousness (or conscience) allows.

(Photo taken from the Internet)

PUDDLES

Reflections of an angry sky

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Sulky mouths, creased brows

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Fearful fingers clutching collars

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Umbrellas, scoring points

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Bowed heads like sad clouds

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops ...

Better times around the next corner

skimming the surface like ripples

from raindrops

[From: The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

The Dancer Upstairs

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

Love poems are for everyone. Does the sexuality of the poet really matter? A reader spotted this poem on my gay-interest blog in September and has asked me to repeat it here for her boyfriend's birthday today. [I have since revised the closing couplet.]

THE DANCER UPSTAIRS

I lay in bed
listening to the music upstairs,
no wish to sleep,
my thoughts dancing in tune
with pretty dance steps;
now gliding across my world
like an ice queen;
now gate-crashing my privacy
like a rock star

I lay in bed
in a frenzy, like the music upstairs,
growing more frantic
every second images of you
take the floor;
now introducing me to your world's
choreography;
now swinging us into an ecstasy
of rock 'n' roll

I lay in bed,
relating to gentler sounds above,
as if the music, like me,
had finally grown weary of passion
and seeks peace;
now lifting me on wings of grace
like a dove to nest;
now asking me with sweet echoes
that I submit to love

Hearts enthralled by a midnight rain,
we kissed again ...

Copyright R, N. Taber 2010