Ancestral Voices

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2011.

I need to say a big thank you to those readers who have been in touch to wish me well with my prostate cancer from the start; biopsy, diagnosed positive, and subsequent battle with years of hormone therapy. It is good to know there is still a strong sense of common humanity out there.

Oh, there will always be bigots who love to pontificate on this and that if only because they are punctilious pricks huffing and puffing their own self-importance at the doors of anyone who’ll listen. BUT...there are also many decent people in the world, of all socio-cultural-religious persuasions, with open minds and open hearts.

Life is nowhere near as black and white as the world's media love to portray it. Oh, but thank goodness for that!

Meanwhile...

This poem was written in 1999. I have always been fascinated by the way we can look at history and form opinions that reflect and compare the way we were then and are now, even as we make and become history with each passing second.

Regular readers will know I have a passion for walking by the sea. Sadly, mobility problems prevent me from indulging these days, but I guess that's where memories and imagination come into their own. Oh, I love woodlands too. Wherever, nature has stories to tell that go back centuries for those who care to listen. For me, though, it is the sea that has a stronger grasp of humanity and how it has shaped Earth’s history for good or ill. A common thread running through all the stories is its capacity for survival.

Oh, people may come and go, fashions and attitudes change, but hard pressed and war weary as it may be, humanity (if not all humankind) continues to hold its head up high; and so it will always be, so long as nature passes on its story and sees to it that somehow there will always be some of us left to listen.

ANCESTRAL VOICES

Rise and fall, rise and fall, waves

whispering me …

Tell of Adam in the Garden,

Samson at Gaza, Clinton for president;

Boudicca in warrior dress,

Mother Teresa, an earthy saintliness;

Humanity, body and soul, History, stored

(and stirred) in a golden bowl

Oh, spare me your blushes

softly treading sky, retreat behind veil-mask

for naked come I to it all;

let me bathe in the twilight of half-gods,

engage with their history, legends, fantasy,

join them for a photo-call

Rise and fall, rise and fall, such waves

as whispering me ...

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eZLV23r6NdQ&t=40s

[Note: The video - looking a little jaded now, I'm afraid - relates to a different poem but several readers have asked me to repeat it, although I am not sure if yours truly, walking by the sea on Brighton beach some years ago, will be of much interest. wry bardic grin ]

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]

A Seaside Calendar

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

I spent another lovely day in Brighton, Sussex (UK) recently. I love it there and always enjoy time spent at the seaside. 

I have read poems ‘on location’ in Brighton for You Tube that some of you might enjoy although don’t expect the quality of the videos to be up to BBC standards; just follow the link and click on ‘videos’ to browse and view any that might interest you. (I read different poems on each Brighton video):

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Meanwhile, as a song goes with which UK readers especially will be familiar, Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside...

{Photo: Pendower, Conwall, taken from the Internet.]

A SEASIDE CALENDAR 

Laughter, on summer-scented air

bursts on jaunty wing;

glad eyes shine the dipping gull,

excite twin waves,

returns excelling. Sun on sand.

Oh world, on hand 

to greet me, make or break, 

whatever

Joy but hushed, the autumn year

devours the sky;

sad eyes shape the dipping gull,

endure each wave,

returns excelling. Sun on sand.

Oh world, on hand 

to greet me, make or break,

whatever...

Hopes reviewed, wintry ways

break their silence;

watery eyes applaud a lone bird,

brave each wave,

returns excelling. Sun on sand.

Oh world, on hand

to greet me, make or break,

whatever...

Comings and goings of n-o-i-s-e

in playful flight;

wide eyes consume a mating pair,

glide twin waves, 

returns excelling. Sun on sand.

Oh. world, on hand 

to greet me, make or break.

whatever...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2018

[Note: an earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Holiday Romance

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

I was reminded of this poem as I got chatting to a couple of students in my favourite seaside resort of Brighton in East Sussex recently. Both were on holiday from Italy with a view to going to London for Her Majesty The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations this weekend. Having only met for the first time earlier in the day, they were plainly so enjoying each other’s company.

Could it be love, I wondered?

Whatever, holiday romances are meant to be enjoyed to the full.

Photo: Northumberland coast, taken by Judith Rhodes

Oh, to be young and so deliciously romantic again...!!! Ah, but you don’t have to be young, either, to enjoy romance and more.

HOLIDAY ROMANCE 

There's a shadow on the sand

that points across the sea

to a distant land - where once

you walked with me,

your hand in mine, our laughter

like spray in a summer breeze,

desire sparkling like diamonds

all around, our joy the key

to such rapturous harmony

of sea and shore as ever seen

by lovers who have surely passed

that way before

Even now, in a holiday crowd

I hear you laughing aloud

as I hoist our flag upon

a castle in the sand, dreaming

of that distant land - where once

we strayed and dared to dream,

each for the other, wage slaves

baying for the moon, knowing

our time together would be over,

too soon, and we saved all our tears

till after I had flown

Shadow on the sand placing us

2000 years on...

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.

Seagulls Over Brighton Pier

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

Given that it has a gay-interest story line, I am thrilled that feedback suggests many gay-friendly straight readers, including some parents, are also enjoying it.

Dog Roses comprises 25 chapters + Epilogue so I hope you will enjoy it through to the end; when a terrible tragedy strikes, Rob, its narrator, for all his flaws,  eventually finds new strengths among family, friends and colleagues, a wiser and better person:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/dog-roses-chapter-one_14.html

Meanwhile...

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2009 and is another favourite of mine. Regular readers will know that I have been visiting Brighton (East Sussex, UK) for many years, since I was about eight or nine years-old. (Born in 1945, I will be 66 later this year.) Its ghosts are never far away; a dear late partner, mother, cousin and old friends are always happy to keep me company here, there and just about everywhere. In this particular instance, it is the only partner fate has seen fit to allow me, if only for a short while; on Earth, that is, since our love has lasted for the greater part of my life and will endure beyond it.

So where do you meet with your favourite ghosts? [Never shut them out.]

Oh, but I’m being fanciful, did you say? Of course I’m being fanciful. I ask you. What use is a poet without imagination, and what use imagination if it cannot work its magic on anyone? When people tell me they have no imagination, I tell them to get in touch with their feelings (the power source for imagination) and go with the flow...

SEAGULLS OVER BRIGHTON PIER

I met a ghost once on Brighton pier,
greeting me warmly like an old friend,
lightly dismissing my fear;
although its features were blurred,
I recognized a cheeky catch in the voice
and my doubts disappeared

A passer-by wore a queer expression,
shook his head at us, no empathy there
with the poetry of illusion;
an old woman walking with a child
looked nervous and quickened her step;
the child saw us and smiled

Halcyon days rolled determinedly by
like a sure tide taking on Brighton beach
in time’s tearful eye;
I barely felt an embrace, only desire,
and your kisses left my mouth feeling dry,
my whole body on fire

I strained to hear such words of love
making a bonfire of all self-pity and grief,
smoky clouds above
absorbing us into a gull’s cry,
now circling, now swooping, lending us
its wings to fly…

With good grace, let’s soar and share
a lifetime of love as feisty as Brighton pier
in summer, even winter;
no more will halcyon days pass me by
since I know now for sure you’ll stay near
and seagulls don’t lie

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

A Shared Antipathy For Beer Can Rings OR Marine Life Under Threat

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

Regular readers will know I have always loved Brighton (East Sussex) and been a regular visitor there for more than fifty years. I often go there on my birthday even though it is in December; I started writing this poem there on my 63rd birthday and finished it on the train back to London.

Several readers have kindly contacted me to say how much they enjoyed the poems I read in Brighton for YouTube last December.

[Find these and others at: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber ]

Thanks for that, folks. Encouraging feedback is always gratefully received, especially as I find reading outdoors quite hard since there are always so many distractions.

I included today’s poem in my latest poetry collection. Regular readers will also know that all my poetry titles are listed on amazon.co.uk (with some readers’ reviews) if anyone is interested. They can be ordered at any UK bookstore. Alternatively, (signed) copies of most of my collections are available (now FREE + Postage) to overseas readers as my collections are only on sale in the UK. [Contact: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog Reader’ in the subject field.]

My poetry books contain a mixture of gay-interest and other poems, divided into themed sections for easy reading; there are about 20 – 25 poems per section so readers can just pick one and then try another section another time. [I should say that my critics complain I crowd my books with too many poems. I take their point, but readers seem to enjoy having six or seven little poetry books in one. So I think I’ll stick with my readers rather than pander to the critics for my next collection in 2012.]

On the whole, Brighton beach is kept remarkably clean and tidy; all the more remarkable for the way some people simply toss their litter away where they stand (on the beach or even in the sea; both present a danger to wildlife) rather than find a waste bin.

This poem is a villanelle.

A SHARED ANTIPATHY FOR BEER CAN RINGS or MARINE LIFE UNDER THREAT

We kept the most curious company,
watching waves clear beer cans rings away;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

A spring twilight glowing beautifully,
footprints unable though longing to stay;
we kept the most curious company

I wondered, what do they think of me?
Could we converse, whatever would we say,
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me?

Clouds, lamenting pollution, I dare say,
crab and gulls much the same of the sea;
we kept the most curious company

On one thing we’d be sure to agree,
the world doesn’t see things nature’s way;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

A sudden rush of waves hit me angrily,
a smoky dusk making a meal of us per se;
we kept the most curious company;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

[Brighton, East Sussex (UK), May 2008]

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

PS The use of 'per se' in the 6th stanza is yet another example of the liberties I often take with 'hidden' rhyme; i.e. sounds that are similar but not an exact rhyming match.