War and Peace

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

"Forgive and forget, but never forget to forgive. You may find a happier heart is the key to a happier life." – Mahatma Gandhi

"Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die." – Buddha

"Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes to sorrow it." – Cormac McCarthy

Many if not most of us fall out with friends and family from time to time, even lose patience with the powers that be for the way they have a major say in how our country is run; hence, people protesting in Russia at the moment over its aggression against Ukraine, even though they know they face a long prison sentence.

Given time, fallen bridges may yet be rebuilt, but needs must we remember that time can never be relied upon to so oblige us.

WAR AND PEACE

I am part of a healing process
to an open wound that seem to take
ages to close if, indeed
it ever will for festering at every move
I make towards understanding
how come it still hurts me so, even though
its damage done long since,
yet mind-body-spirit unable to go free, subdue
if not kill the rage in me

How to forgive anyone unable
to comprehend such damage done as
forgiveness seeks
reparation, if only they accept their share
of blame, where blame
on both sides invariably lies, needs
talking through, less concerned
with seeing home truths score hits than learning
the lessons they teach

At home, abroad, war or peace,
though agreeing to differ at the end of talks,
only fools resist
giving peace a chance to fly its colours,
high, and proudly so
for all to see, endorsing what may well
be perceived as compromise,
but one such as heart-and-soul would lend us time
to make us whole again

Country-family-friends, engaging in war or peace,
such is human variant of Choice

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

Starting Over

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

A reader asks how on earth I can encourage our nurturing a positive thinking mindset in the face of so life-threatening a coronavirus emergency as much of the world continues to endure.

 

Well yes, life can be cruel and no writer can ignore that. At the same time is it not kinder and healthier (mentally and physically) to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life and staying cheerful than mulling over the worst and being sad, even scared?

 

A great fan of his Catcher in the Rye, I am reminded of J. D. Salinger’s words from Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction (A single volume featuring the two novellas.): “I don't suppose a writing man ever really gets rid of his old crocus-yellow neckties. Sooner or later, I think, they show up in his prose, and there isn't a hell of a lot he can do about it.” I would suggest much the same applies to poetry.

In the language of flowers, the white crocus symbolises purity, innocence and truth; the purple suggests, dignity, pride and success; the yellow, joy and cheerfulness.

 

STARTING OVER 

I wandered woodlands
in the throes of greeting spring,
reached a sunny glade
surrounded by budding trees
in feisty song,
urging I roll back wintry days
and heed clusters 
of colourful crocuses suggesting
I re-engage with you-me-us 

We had first met here,
two strangers with the same idea,
to embrace nature,
enjoy, the first chorus of spring
for an audience
of crocuses in white, purple, gold,
imaging such joys
as humans take in the pride and truth
of love in its first flush of youth 

My heart, as if awakened
from far too long and deep a sleep,
saw the error
of its ways, forgetting we’re two
as well as one,
togetherness no remit for sameness
in every way,
but the occasional agreeing-to-differ,
leaving space for manoeuvre 

As if on cue, you emerged
from behind a tree after watching me
for a good while....
a knowing smile calling a truce,
and we kissed,
the wood expressing its empathy
with our reunion, 
the eternal Spirit of Spring blessing us
in the light of a new beginning 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life, Sunny Side Up

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

A reader has emailed about yesterday’s poem in so far as to ask “You have a gay poetry blog so what on earth is a gay poem doing on this (general) blog. If anyone readers are in the least bit interested, they know where to look. I enjoy many of your poems, but don’t expect to find gay stuff …"

Well, a poem is a poem is a poem, whatever the content, and if the reader cares to look closely, he will see that it is not a gay poem except in the sense that gay folks, like most if not all of us, are capable of jealousy; it is, after all, a common human trait. A gay man, I choose to write both general and gay-interest poetry not only for my own pleasure, but also to remind us all that there is more to any of us than our sexuality; readers are as welcome to make up their own minds about the poem as they are about the poet.

Meanwhile …

Today’s poem touched on a theme to which I return to time and again, the enduring power of love and its related consciousness - ‘live’ or posthumous - offering any mind-body-spirit a safe and happy haven from its worldly woes.

LIFE, SUNNY SIDE UP 

There is a place I know
where the sun always shines,
children playing,
adults engaging in cheerful chat,
where all time spent is sheer magic
nor any Covid-19 to spoil it

There is a place I know
that lets human spirits go free
from troubled minds,
encourages human hearts to look,
learn, love, even be happy, no lifting
it from a favourite storybook 

There is a place I know
that’s an open secret between
family and friends,
lovers, too, accessible to any of us
who believe in a common humanity,
for all its common weaknesses 

It’s a place I got to know
during early years, kept as close
as hand on heart,
no need for any rose-tinted glasses
just a growing sense of live and let live,
a global shortage of glass houses 

So, what and where, a place
any loved one can rediscover joy,
this dream-come-true?
it’s that home from home intimacy
that endures just for sharing it with you,
within and beyond living memory

Where time invites us to enter its portals,
choose well, and revisit love’s immortals

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

L-O-V-E, Bridges over Time

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

My heart goes out to any readers who may be in Spain and will now need to self-isolate for two weeks on their return. Hopefully, at least a return flight will be available as the travel industry is, understandably, in some disarray at the moment. 

Now, I am often asked for the link to an interview I gave Benjamin Richter, a student in multimedia journalism earlier this year. I have added it to several blog posts, but here it is again for anyone who may have missed it might be interested: 

https://r224e31251.racontr.com/index.html

Love and hate are among the strongest of human passions, and can always be relied upon to leave a deep impression on us; so deep, it can last a lifetime and beyond. Whoever we are, wherever, and whatever our gender or sexuality, love, in all its shapes and forms, is by far the more enduring and will always have the edge if only because it is a positive force for good; positive forces for anything less may well survive the test of time in terms of a human life span, but not necessarily across that posthumous consciousness which - knowingly or unknowingly - embraces us all.

A kind act here, a wise word there ... these affect each and every one of us  and, in turn, others with whom we  come into contact - casually or intimately - during our lifetimes, ensuring that a part of us survives as a sense of posthumous consciousness in which we play a 'live' role long after our deaths.  

L-O-V-E, BRIDGES OVER TIME

One summer we lay beneath a willow tree,

gazing at a fluffy, leafy, sky,

passionate branches like arms around me,

enduring river flowing idly by

Time then to laugh, play, see kingfishers dive

for shimmering scales defying capture

in vain, an inspired will to stay alive

to the last breath, like love’s gasping rapture

Daring to dream, we made that summer ours,

let joyful birdsong drown the river’s sighs

till autumn’s beating at heaven’s towers

brought us, half-listening, to the world’s lies

Wherever tablets of stone that would see us part,

find a willow tree weeping the human heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of his poem appears under the title 'Separate Stones' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

D-O-G-M-A, Templates for a Divided World

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

Today, the recently revised version of a poem that last appeared on the blog in 2014. To those readers who have kindly asked when the new collection will be ready, I had forgotten how much hard work is involved and have several health issues to contend with at the moment (no Covid-19 though) so am aiming for publication around mid-late September.

Now, integration is the key to a successful society so why are there so many ghettos and pockets of people from around the world determined to follow a policy of separatism wherever they settle? Here in the UK, I have expressed the view for many years that Faith Schools, for example, have a lot to answer for in this respect. Dogma of any kind is fine, just so long as it allows for  - rather than discriminates against - anyone's human right to agree to differ; if others can be persuaded, fair enough, but forms of indoctrination by way of suggesting that any alternative is sacrilegious (or worse) are tantamount to threats, and beneath contempt.

Children and young people are the citizens of tomorrow. How can they, as adults, be expected to properly integrate when so many have been encouraged to feel they have the moral high ground over those of other faiths (or none at all)?

2014 marked the 100^th anniversary of the start of World War 1, the war that was supposed to end all wars…

How much more fighting and suffering will it take, I wonder, for more of our so-called ‘betters’ across the world to understand that various socio-cultural-religious differences do not make us different, only human?

United, the human race may have a chance of surviving its Armageddon; divided, it stands little if any at all.  Common sense, you say? So whatever happened to common sense?

May more  socio-cultural-religious (and political) leader)s take note, be seen to emerge from their various boxes and rise above their rhetoric...while  the rest of us follow a basic instinct for common sense in doing our best to heal divisions within our communities... as (surely?) only to be expected of and deserving a common humanity.

World religions have as much if not more to answer for than the vagaries of world politics; both profess to promote peace and a common humanity ... while the divisions they create in the process across that same humanity are  as unsubtle any suggestions that we apply a sledgehammer to crack a nut.

Everyone is entitled to their own personal space and human nature is a diverse entity as a result. Why, oh, why can't more people  accept that, and agree to differ instead of letting loose poison various slings and arrows of antagonism and discontent...? We are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity, after all.

This poem is a villanelle.  

D-O-G-M-A, TEMPLATES FOR A DIVIDED WORLD

Unsubtle divisions,

tablets of stone;

our world religions

Dark contradictions

(sure conviction)

unsubtle divisions

Unholy conditions

(dogs at a bone);

our world religions

Fine godly lessons

few clerics learn;

unsubtle divisions

Posturing politicians

(daughter, son);

our world religions

Holy constitutions,

bloodily written;

unsubtle divisions,

our world religions

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Divided We Fall' in an anthology, Have Your Say, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2004 and subsequently in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Stressed Out OR Engaging with Covid-19

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

A reader has asked me to repeat the link to my YouTube channel where I read poems over videos shot my best friend, Graham; he is a graphic designer and we are hoping to exhibit some of my poems written during the C-19 pandemic along with appropriate graphic art-work. Fingers crossed …

Sadly, for various reasons, we have been unable to create new additions for some time:

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=UUSdhLgPQOsng2Xz8n5m0ViQ

Another reader asks how I can “… write about a ‘common humanity’ when so many of us are as different as chalk from cheese.” Well as I have continued to put it to blog readers for a good 10 years now, our differences do not make us different, only human; nor would humanity be so divided were more people and societies only more willing to agree to differ and find (other) common grounds for making peace instead of war.

Nothing exacerbates differences of opinion than being under stress so I suspect there is many a household across the world struggling with divisions erupting left, right and centre among family members and any friends whom social distancing allows them to see. A Muslim neighbour commented just the other day to the effect that in spite of all the horror inflicted by the C-19 coronavirus “We are all in it together, a Family of Man for once instead of a bunch of stereotypes causing more pain over a far longer period of time than any virus.” I get it, don’t you?

Hopefully, once we have either defeated or at least learned to control the spread of C-19 (rather than its controlling us) many if not most of us will look back on what continues to run like something out of a horror story and remember how we were, indeed, all of us in it together, regardless of ethnicity, culture, religious or (yes) sexual persuasion. One in the eye for the bigots perhaps, enough to cause a change of heart? Yes, well, they do say hope springs eternal …

Lines from a 19^th century novel seem to me to be as appropriate now as it was then:

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of light, it was the season of darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.” 
- Charles Dickens, A Tale of Two Cities

How can I possibly suggest that this could, in any way shape or form, be interpreted as ‘the best of times’? Well, we are all in it together, aren’t we? The pandemic is the worst crisis the world has had to face since World War 2; we pulled together then, too, and this time Germany is not the enemy, but pulling together with us; a common humanity that, hopefully, will continue to work together long after the Covid -19 coronavirus is a thing of our distant past.

STRESSED OUT or ENGAGING WITH COVID-19 

Another day,

rise ‘n’ shine, willpower

touching base

with an alter ego

that’s long since lost sight

of any get-up-go

Another day

of waking up to memory

playing tricks on me;

Where is whatever,

and who moved it anyway?

(Not me, surely?)

Another day

on old Forget-me-Not lane

(a wistful sigh);

logging on to images

that would mean the world

should I recall why

Another day

of shopping locally, list left

at home (of course);

chatting with folks

whom I do my best to place,

for better, for worse

Another day,

walking a few laps of the park

if only to keep fit;

social distancing

making sure of no seat in sight

for tired feet

No park keeper;

C-19 guidelines abused by egos

guaranteed

to defy regulations

likely to cause inconvenience

and hurt pride

Another day

of people being people, all things

left unequal

but for mind-body spirit’s

being equal to the task of rising

above it all

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Redefining a Common Humanity OR Diversity, no Argument for Separatism

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

As the world continues to struggle with the COVID-19 coronavirus, life goes on, and gears little resemblance to what we have come to expect as 'normal.' So too, though, does love go on and, in many cases, over and above what we may have come to expect from family, friends and neighbours. Yes, there will always be certain fences that refuse to be mended and bridges that will resist any rebuilding ... but that's life. Let's face it, if it's true that where there's a will there's a way ... the will is not always there, for whatever reasons, and the way continues to be blocked by all concerned. At the same time, it sometimes takes a time of crisis for the human spirit to come into its own, spreading its message of peace, hope and love wherever mind-body-spirit is up for receiving it.

For those of us managing to survive the coronavirus, rarely has that message been more important even - if not especially - where we have lost loved ones. Regardless of any religious beliefs, regular readers will know that I not only believe that love never dies, but also that it triggers a continuum in which we all actively participate across centuries; a posthumous consciousness in the form of precious memories inspiring mind-body-spirit to live and love in as positive a way possible, lending past-present-future a new dimension, bringing the best of human nature together for a common good.

Optimistic? Well, yes, maybe, but we free-thinking poets like to draw on a sense of spirituality that embraces everything and everyone regardless of any socio-cultural-religious dogma or philosophy. Since its helping my recovery from a bad mental breakdown back in the 1970's, I have drawn on that same spirit more than ever, and can but trust that - for all my human  flaws, faults and weaknesses -
I am a stronger and kinder human being it. 

(Well, they do say that hope springs eternal.) wry bardic grin

Thinking of and rooting for you all here,

Wishing us all love and peace,

Roger

REDEFINING A COMMON HUMANITY or DIVERSITY, NO ARGUMENT FOR SEPARATISM

Brought together
to help one another in such times
of trouble and strife,
come families, friends, neighbours,
(even strangers)
acting on better, kinder instincts
generated by an ecology
of human nature denied full nurture
under layers of psychology

Pulling together
whatever archives may have to say
about a chequered past,
since not every historian holds back
on assumptions
wherever evidence circumstantial,
open to interpretation
by various socio-cultural-religious bias
and political persuasion

Working together,
has to beat dragging each other down,
acting on a principle
of ‘better safe than sorry’ in a world
where walls and fences
invoke ‘live’ metaphors for separatism,
duly put aside wherever
humankind’s natural instincts for nurture
finds it acting for the better 

Coming together,
kindness, selflessness, good neighbours,
defying world prejudices,
recognizing we are a common humanity,
all in much the same boat
when all the lights go out, better to keep
them on while we can,
trust Earth’s finer life forms to safer hands,
a more forgiving generation?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020
(London UK, April 8^th)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You-Me-Us, a Growing Passion

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

I am not getting on too well with either my fractured ankle or the hormone therapy for my prostate cancer, but writing love poems always cheers me up. Although I have not had a partner for many years, the memory of our love always lifts my spirits whenever they hover at the edge of some abyss and contemplate going into free fall...

One of my favourite songs is 'All The Way', beautifully sung by the late, great Frank Sinatra in the movie, The Joker is Wild; it starts, 'If somebody loves you, it's no good unless they love you/all the way/ through the sad and lean years, and all the in-between years, come what may...

Neither love nor passion are reserved solely for people, of course; places, pets, books, works of art (creating as well as viewing) we can so easily fall in love with these, and over a lifetime such love can just as easily become a passion. Nor should we ever forget or underestimate the role of platonic love in our lives ... 

"Love is the wisdom of the fool and the folly of the wise."

- Samuel Johnson

"Love without passion is dreary; passion without love is horrific."

-- Lord Byron

Love, though, can be something of a lottery, and you have to be in it to win it.

YOU-ME-US, A GROWING PASSION

I built a sandcastle for you,

but you kicked it down with infant feet,

and made me cry buckets

I wrote a love poem for you,

but you threw a typical teenage tantrum,

and tore it into tiny pieces

I composed a pop song for you,

and everyone loved it except the person

for whom it was intended

I painted a portrait of you,

but you didn’t care for the way I see you,

and cold-shouldered me

I made a solemn promise to you

that I’d love you forever, no matter what,

and we kissed

We made love together, bonding

with eternity, transcending a born intimacy

and centuries-old creativity

Together, we built a castle

to withstand all temporal waves, reaffirm

the spirituality of creativity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: This poem first appeared under the title 'Making Sure of Love' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Spring, Blueprint for Life OR Never, but Never say Die

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

Spring may well be some way off yet here in the UK,but yesterday I spotted my first daffodils of 2020, and experienced a deep sense of relief that winter is all but done with us... for now, at least, although a winter of the heart is something else entirely.

Oh, my, how time flies! Scary, yes, but (as regular readers will know) I for one take reassurance in the fact that spring always follows winter…

Renewal, of course, includes reconciliation, not least with ourselves and consequently (hopefully) with each other and Earth Mother, both having a nasty habit of seeming to turn against us as winter proceeds, often harshly and uncaring, spreading discontent at every turn.

The genesis of this poem appeared in my secondary school magazine. I was aged 11 years at the time. (Are we really in 2020 already, and will I really be 75 later this year?) Oh, well, time waits of no one and we must make the best of what time we have, each in our own way, whatever our circumstances. 

Spring, too, may well rescue a human spirit in free fall; nor does religion  have a monopoly on spirituality since the human spirit may well choose a different path which we should attempt to understand before rushing to any judgement, especially given that our differences do not make us different, only human. (As good a reason as any for this poem appearing on both poetry blogs today.)

So, what am I saying? Well, I'm sure you will have worked it out, but in case you are left in any doubt ... whatever life forces are getting you down, never, but never say die. 

Yes, we do die, all of us, but, like nature all around us, we live on ... and will return in the hearts and minds of others, a posthumous consciousness that may not be equal to the real thing, yet is just that in many ways; whenever we need a comfort zone or are mulling things though, we are most likely to turn to those whose opinions we value the most, whether they be alive or dead.

We all have wintry days, and the need to seek inspiration, beauty and hope in the multiple life forces ever-present in a springtime... only ever a heartbeat away.

SPRING, BLUEPRINT FOR LIFE or NEVER, BUT NEVER SAY DIE

In the air, a sense 

of renewal, everywhere,

bluebells ringing out 

their message of peace, 

love and rebirth,

imaging a passage of seasons,

(shortcut to Eternity)

where every human heart

dares share its secrets

with Earth Mother for all

Time will (as likely as not)

cajole us to forget

Oh, but listen, listen

to a global consciousness

forever intoning rites

in the wind, summoning

all ghosts of love

and peace to haunt our dreams,

revisit their seasons, feed us 

hopes laid low by winters

come and gone, restored to life

by the Spirit of Spring

urging us to enjoy its scents,

and follow, follow...

Humanity, unequalled

in the art of shadowing nature,

ever anxious to pass on

its secrets and discoveries

in theories, treatises, 

stories and poems generations

will tell, retell and embellish 

(as likely as not) in its archives, 

revealing a hint (at least) 

how taking advantage of nature

still saw a forgiving Earth Mother

mindful of its future

Spring, all things bright and beautiful,

blueprint for human potential

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, rev. 2020

[Note: Subsequent to its appearance in my school magazine at the age of eleven, the genesis of this poem also appeared under the title 'A Hymn to Spring' in an anthology, The Joy of Spring, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2001 and later in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

A Mug's Game

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

Most if not all of us fall out with someone at some time or another and regret it, but wait for the other person to make the first move.

It can be a long wait…

A MUG'S GAME

We split and I missed you,
wanted to tell you so, but pride
got in the way

I missed our teasing banter,
the cosy intimacy and sensuality
of a couple in love

I sought sanctuary (in vain)
among friends, burning candles
at both ends

Love, though, refusing to stay
in some dark corner of my heart,
sought the light of day

Time and again, I willed myself
to pick up my phone and call you,
but pride got in the way

All attempts to turn a deaf ear
to body, mind, and spirit, failing
oh, so miserably

Before and after sleep caved in
to need, I’d reassure a wet pillow
I would call tomorrow

Day after day, I gave you a hug
and kissed you at favourite haunts
on Memory Lane

Yet, nothing could ease my pain
or begin to fill the black hole in me
but being with you again

Fearfully, I picked up my phone
and called you, and within minutes
you were on your way


Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Making Peace with Mind-Body-Spirit

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

Love does not always work out for us as we had hoped, but it can take a long time to fade if, indeed, it ever does.

Now, it well may be that love is a win or lose affair, but for any loser it is very real at the time; mind-body-spirit needs must make its peace with it - and all those concerned -  if we can hope to move on, whatever our socio-cultural-religious background.

MAKING PEACE WITH MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

I could  feel it licking at my heels

with every step I took;

it cast a feisty shadow every time

I chanced a look,

making me feel like a missing page

in my own history book

One day I waited, let it catch me up

then moved in,

seized it by the scruff of the neck,

and demanded it explain;

it wrestled me to the ground, left me

writhing in pain

I staggered after summer, still reeling

from its blow,

grabbed it by the hand, insisted I had

a right to know;

it laughed in my face, warned me not

to follow, or else...

Ah, but follow I did, down blind alleys

into a shady corner;

we glared at each other, sworn enemies

(forever...?)

but finally trapping jealousy, my shadow,

and love, my stalker

It was now or never. Grateful for a choice,

we made our peace,

and time since has been more than kind

to us. Though long ago,

that summer’s rogue flames still

a timely warning...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2019

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem appears under the title 'Making Peace with Love'  in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

This Frantic Earth

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

Readers (gay, straight, male, female, all ages) sometimes get in touch when they are visiting London and we meet up for a few drinks and/or a meal and generally put the world to rights. I always enjoy these meet-ups so never hesitate to email me if you want to get together for a friendly chat about… whatever. Email me anyway, if you happen to be in the mood.  I always reply to emails, but don’t allow comments because they take up too much space.

I must thank all those readers who emailed me when I was housebound for nearly six months after my accident last year. Our exchanges were a welcome relief from pain and boredom.

Now, men and women of all socio-cultural-religious backgrounds have fought for peace, and are still fighting towards the same end. Yet, I sometimes look around at the alcoholics, drug addicts, mentally ill and homeless people on our streets, not to mention those with a glazed look in their eyes as if they are not sure where they are going or why…and wonder, whatever happened to peace and is Armageddon perhaps closer to us here on the Home Front than any of us realize …?

We can do more for the less fortunate in our societies, surely, or could it be the case that the well-heeled among us, including many world leaders to be found in various echelons of various societies (not excluding political or religious) believe peace is little more than a public relations issue, well worth exploiting but as a distraction from self-interest rather than a permanent end in view?

And what is peace? It is not simply a matter of feeling secure. We may feel secure in our homes, jobs etc. if far less so in this Age of Austerity and the ever-present threat of so-called Islamic State and other terrorist groups, but how far are we ever at peace within ourselves? If we don't watch out, we may well meet our own Armageddon. (Regular readers will know that I believe positive thinking is the key to winning even those battles we may appear to have lost...in love, war, and all our other - less obvious perhaps, but no less significant - dealings with human nature, especially in relation to self-esteem.)

No easy answers, for sure. But maybe we should start asking the right questions?  No one wants to look in a mirror and see the enemy. If world peace is an elusive ideal, we CAN make peace with ourselves and each other, trusting its ripples to spread... or global warming alone is likely to get the better of us all.

This poem is a villanelle. 

THIS FRANTIC EARTH

Earth, a frantic heartbeat
its star-crossed lovers dying too soon,
body bags in every street

Short straws, open secret.
birds crying, fat cats calling the tune;
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

Apollo turning up the heat,
tears for fears on the face of the moon,
body bags in every street

H-E-L-P, can't ever compete 
with denials of acid rain any time soon;
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

So what's it all about?
(weather pundits tracking High Noon?)
body bags in every street

No-hopers on a rout,
(blaming God for bringing them down);
Earth, a frantic heartbeat

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem under the title 'Towards Armageddon' first appeared in an anthology Caught in Time, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2003 and in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Bargain Hunters or In the Market

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

How many personae do we take on during a lifetime, I wonder? More, I suspect that many if not most of us would care to admit. A friend once commented that everyone seems to have a mask for every occasion, and she may well have had a point. There is the interested face or mask we wear as and when called upon to do so, whether or not we are genuinely interested in what is being said or done, often to impress and earn admiration; most of us have a sympathetic expression, a cheerful one (a favourite)...whatever, as best suits particular circumstances.  Than goodness for those situations when we need no mask, but are free to be ourselves, with loved ones and close friends whom we do not need to impress or go along with to keep the peace...relatively few in the kind of crowded lives we so often lead, and all the more precious for that, even if human nature is such that we sometimes fail to let them know hot much we love and appreciate them.

Nothing comes completely free, of course; there is invariably a price to pay, in losing a friend or loved one either through their death or, worse, some fault of our own that results in estrangement; not always our fault, either, except in so far as stress  - in all its various shapes and forms - is to blame. Many people don't understand stress, but those who do, and can deal with the worst in others without being judgemental and still leave room for forgiveness...well, they are among the true treasures in anyone's life.

One of my greater regrets in life is that I have not only unintentionally failed people, in one way or another, but also compounded such failures by eventually recognising them without doing my best to rectify or at least try and compensate for them.  I have heard the 21st century referred to as the Age of Communication, especially with the advent of New Technology, yet my personal experience of human nature is that we are probably no more really communicative with each other now than human beings have ever been; we make assumptions, listen to gossip and make even more assumptions ..  and so the cycle of misunderstandings and missed opportunities on a personal level goes on unless or until someone breaks and mends it. Sadly, though, it takes two to break and two to mend, and it is not an uncommon trait of human nature that relatively few of us - myself included - are consistently adept at making first moves in any process of reconciliation, invariably misjudging the situation and all those involved - including ourselves.

Oh, but whatever happened to in-depth communication on that priceless personal level, and how fortunate are those better able to not only seize, but also make good the day.

BARGAIN HUNTERS or IN THE MARKET

End of Term sale;

two, even three for the price

of one mask,

bargains to keep everyone happy

for acquiring personae

that will see us go on our way

if more anxious

to take what (and who) it finds at face value

than be found wanting

End of Season sale;

more bargains to be had at prices

easy on the pocket

nor too hard on the mind-body-spirit;

whatever reservations

the human heart in stalling for time,

better to play games 

others like to play than be called out too soon 

for bending any rules?

End of Life sale;

rummaging stalls for what’s left

to keep the world

from guessing it’s been had

time and again

by personae anxious to fit hand to glove

(it takes one to know one)

but likely bargains already long gone for a song,

needs must, ego-driven

Market, closing down;

no stall holders left making their pitch,

only ghosts, anxious

to avoid seizing on human flaws

sure to incite poor choices,

but giving pride of place to the kinder side

of human nature,

for its proving the old adage that all the best things

in life are - free

Copyright R.N. Taber 2020

Guest Speaker

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

Here is another poem that I came across as I work my way though my later print collections in order to (eventually) post revised editions of all my collections online; it does not appear elsewhere on the blog... (Earlier ones will be more time-consuming as I have since revised many of the poems,)  Oh, and anyone interested will also find 'new' poems on my gay-interest poetry blog.

At the time this poem was written, multiculturalism was still finding is way in the UK; although it has been an aspect of society here for years, a growing immigrant population, and a mixed media reaction to it, meant everyone began focusing on the issue with increasing intensity and - as often as not - increasing criticism.Thankfully, most people accept multiculturalism as part of everyday life, but it continues to have its critics, especially where various socio-cultural-religious issues are concerned.

Why, oh, why can't people simply agree to differ and enjoy a feisty debate without recourse to race or gender issues that are no more relevant to the modern world than dinosaurs?

This poem is a kenning or a "Who am I?" poem as the kenning is often called.

GUEST SPEAKER

I am relatively new

to the world’s societies

bent on testing me

to the limits of tolerance

towards a diversity

keen to embrace everyone,

regardless of race, sex

or creed if on its divisions

determined to feed

I dare have my say

in public places, Holy Books,

political manifestos,

though adults (as a rule)

less likely to grasp

what it is we’re getting at

than the child at school

asked what he or she thinks

life is all about

We have to live together,

which means more agreeing

to differ, if only to defuse

rising discontent with animosity

dished up by this culture

or that religion vying for priority

with precious little respect

for a common humanity

Engage with me, Multiculturalism,

expose any Politics of Separatism

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title, 'Footnote to a Treatise on Abuse' in Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Answering back

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Today's entry is from my gay-interest poetry archives for June 2017.

Regular readers know full well that I do not subscribe to any religion. I consider myself a pantheist, , preferring to take a (strong) sense of spirituality from nature in whose life forces I do not discount the work of a greater power. At the same time, I respect all religions, even though few (if any) respect neither my being (actively) gay nor my agnosticism. We are all free to make our own choices in life and should not be so quick to condemn any into which we cannot enter ourselves…for whatever reason. (It has been my experience that many people who insist they are not judgemental, prove by way of word and deed to be among the most judgemental. We are all different and it is our human right to be different.

I have met gay people from various socio-cultural-religious backgrounds who remain in the closet regarding their sexuality for fear of offending religious leaders who cannot reconcile sex and sexuality with religious. My understanding f God is that no God would want these people to suffer as they do, some terribly, from a sense of guilt no God worthy of the name would impose upon anyone.

More than once it has been put to me that I should put aside my gay ways and reconcile myself to a way of life likely to find favour with God as laid down in Holy Books; in my case, the Holy Bible. God, though, did not write any Holy Books, humankind did, and who’s to say how much was lost in translation and/or shaped in such a way as most likely to appeal to select writer/s and readers alike.

ANSWERING BACK

Being gay is no sin
a priest told a gathering
of gay men, women,
and gay-friendly souls;
the sin, it lies
in practising (gay) rites
of sex, even worse
for taking such pleasure
in them as cannot
(ever) be justified in the eyes
of any God
according to any religion
whose dogma
needs must be respected
by all followers,
no exceptions made for a select
minority of gays

Being gay is a life force
in me, spoke up someone
among the audience,
just as that blessed sense
of spirituality
I have (always) taken not only
from my religion
but also such life forces
all around us…
as in nature’s predilection
for renewal…
nor less so in a common humanity
whose needs,
(spiritual as well as temporal )
deserve common respect,
no exceptions made  for a select
minority of clerics

The priest begged
to differ, quoting passages
from Holy Books
that rang hollow for being taken out
of context and century,
even dogma, given its intention
to underwrite  
a sense of peace and love taken
from life forces
common to mind- body- spirit,
bent on reinforcing
a spiritual well-being independent
of any religious dogma,
audience reserving a human
right of reply,
likely to fall on many a deaf ear
in Church arenas

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017