A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

Name:
Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Sunday, 10 November 2019

The War Widow

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

Tody's post is from the archives of my gay-interest blog for November 2010 after ‘Edith’ (a lady in her 90s) kindly contacted me to say that she and another war widow friend were moved by it. It appears that the friend's great-grandson has taught them to use a computer and access the Internet. I have to say it is wonderful to be contacted by someone from an age group that often has reservations about using the Internet if only because they feel intimidated by new technology. I will be a mere 65 next month but it just goes to show that we are never too old to learn new tricks.

To my surprise, Edith also told me that she enjoys dipping into my gay-interest blog as well my general blog. It appears she has always felt and thought of herself as a war widow since the death of a female partner who joined the Wrens (WRNS) during World War 2. No one knew of their relationship at the time of course. As far as anyone else was concerned they were simply two friends sharing a home. Apparently, they met at school and were secret lovers for some years. She never married or found anyone else to share her life that way but says she feels blessed for having loved and been loved.

Edith, it seems, has led an active life and continues to ‘feel blessed by wonderful friends and neighbours.'

A sad story, yet, beautiful too. Many thanks for sharing it with us Edith. A lesson there, too, perhaps for those only too ready to rush to judgement on LGBT folks worldwide...?

THE WAR WIDOW

A soldier’s widow knelt at his grave,
their children by her side;
comrades-in-arms gathered nearby
wondering (never aloud)
whose turn next to shed tears
at whose grave

A soldier’s widow swore on his grave
to love him till the end of time,
raise their children to take great pride
in a father whose presence
felt with lasting passion nor less
for his absence

The soldier’s widow took the left hand
of a thirty something veteran
who had lost his right hand in Iraq
the first time around
before the Mandarins of Power
had second thoughts

The soldier’s widow rose, took comfort
from the young man’s smile
that shone like a beacon of hope
from his wheelchair
among the wreckage of a life
once thought inviolate

A war widow wipes her children’s tears,
the Last Post ringing hollow in the ears


Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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Saturday, 2 November 2013

Poppies, for Remembrance


Today’s poem was written in 2004 and appeared in my 4th collection the following year; it has also appeared in an anthology, The Colour of War, Forward Press, 2011.

I have written almost as many poems about the tragedy of war as I have about the inspiring quality of love, much influenced by the powerful poems of World War I poets like Rupert Brooke, Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon and Vera Brittain, to name but a few.

The irony cannot be lost on anyone. Given that the horrors of war have been passed on so graphically from generation to generation since, it neither prevented World War II nor this sorry world of ours remaining a battleground for various socio-cultural-religious-political forces worldwide.

Here in the UK, as Armistice Day approaches, many of us buy a poppy as a symbol of remembrance; the money raised goes to the British Legion, a charity that, for many years, has provided financial, social and emotional support to members of the British armed forces, veterans, and their dependants.

National anniversaries of remembrance rightly salute the dead, but the dead would not want those they leave behind or injured friends and colleagues who survive to be forgotten either. Charities like the British Legion  and Help for Heroes have stepped in where successive Governments much prefer not to tread.

Countless poppies, countless tears; hopes, shared by millions for a peaceful world while haunted by the growing sense of a twenty-first century no less inclined than any other to the rhetoric of peace.


  

Photo: Cenotaph war memorial, London (UK)


Created by ceramic artist Paul Cummins with setting by stage designer Tom Piper; ceramic poppies commemorating the centenary of the outbreak of World War scheduled to progressively fill the dry moat around the Tower of London until Armistice Day, November 11th, 2013.


Photo: In the war memorial Neue Wache (Berlin) the moving sculpture, 'Mother and her dead son' by the Berlin artist Kathe Kollwitz says it all...

POPPIES, FOR REMEMBRANCE 

In two world wars, and conflicts since, they died
for love of country, freedom and their own;
shells, mortars, bullets and bombs they defied
so we may reap the rewards they have sown

Let’s remember those who never came back,
(sitting comfortably, watching TV);
Somme, Dunkirk, Korea, Falklands, Iraq...
(So much for the lessons of history!)

The wounded, too, deserve our thanks and pride,
some forgotten, left but to fade away
in pain, loneliness, no one at their side
as fought with them so bravely, won the day

World in remembrance of hope, prayers and tears
for peace in its time to yet end its worst fears

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]



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Wednesday, 6 June 2012

War, War, War

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

D-Day June 6th 1945 was the beginning of what was meant to be an end; an end to World War 2, that is. And, yes it was....Ah, but an end to war? Fat chance!

Today and always, out thoughts, thanks and admiration go to fighting men and women around the world; to their families as well, left to fight battles of a different if no less anxious kind on Home Fronts just about everywhere...

It is one of humankind's greater tragedies that the cost of war in terms of its suffering is always so high, while any subsequent peace never quite enough.

Our hearts go out to men, women, and children caught up in bitter conflicts around the world and to the millions of refugees displaced by them...while those in whose hands Peace lies sleeping continue to play politics.

WAR, WAR, WAR

Great grandpa died in the First World War
alongside other brave men
who thought it was the war to end all wars,
but…it happened again

Grandpa was killed in the Second World War
alongside other brave men
who thought to win a kinder, safer, world,
but…it happened again

My father went to fight in the Falklands War
alongside other brave men;
mixed feelings about why they were there,
and…it happened again

My brother was injured in the First Gulf War
alongside other brave men
who little thought they would be coming back
to fight much the same war again

My sister is on active service  in Afghanistan
alongside other men and women
for whom bravery is all but second nature,
part of a job that needs to be done

War is always in the news, its men and women
immortalised in prayer and song;
My mother always says the doves of peace
are too scared of us to stay long

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]



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