A Dawning

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

(Photo taken from the Internet)

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight, and his punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world." - Oscar Wilde

"The light that puts out our eyes is darkness to us. Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star." -Henry David Thoreau

"One may not reach the dawn save by the path of the night." - Germaine Greer"

Dawn: When men of reason go to bed." - Ambrose Bierce

Now, yet another reader asks “How on earth can anyone be expected to think positive in a world of negatives.” And as I’ve said before, we have but Hobson’s Choice, sink or swim…

As it happens, I can’t physically swim, but learned at an early age how to do so mentally. True, I have been at risk of drowning in my own mistakes from time to time, but much the same life forces that drove me to make them also rescued me. 

The greater mystery of life is indeed… mysterious; a mixed blessing, to say the least. What to make of it is down to each and every one of us, although our circumstances will vary, so we shouldn’t blame ourselves entirely for either wrong choices or missed opportunities; what we need to accept (better late than never) rather than blame ourselves for (or others) is our not always grabbing a metaphorical shovel and digging ourselves out of whatever mess we may find ourselves in.

Some people seem to sail through life, enjoy more than their fair share of fine weather and happy times. Envy, though, never did anyone any good; besides, appearances can be and often are deceptive. More to the point, it’s our life, our mind-body-spirit having to find its way, no ducking our responsibilities for long, however much we may try. 

Warring factions never did peace of mind any favours, and there are often as many of those within us as without.

What happens in the wider world affects us all, one way or another, not least  Putin’s war on Ukraine’s descending into new depths of depravity only yesterday with a missile attack on a crowded shopping mall in the central Ukranian city of Kremenchuk.

Oh, but yes, you are so right. I am not saying anything new, nothing we haven’t heard or thought before, so…why bother saying it? None at all if no one is taking it in, including yours truly. 

Taking it in or not, as the case may be, maybe it’s taking it on that counts, living by feelings for its making of us a better or worse person, wherever on its learning curve we happen to be in the course of any Here-and-Now?  As for any warring factions within and without us, the sooner they agree to differ, the better for everyone…but, like so many facts of life, easier to acknowledge than put into practise. 

Meanwhile, another sunrise making us promises it may or may not keep, depending on…?

A DAWNING

Waking with a heavy heart,
fearful of surviving yet another day
of medication, isolation, 
missing once favourite pleasures,
now barely memories,
bidding mind-body-spirit rise above it all,
recharge heart-and-soul

Can but rise to the challenge,
dodge arrows of despair as we dare
find ways to redirect 
negative thoughts into exit mode,
call on Imagination
to let us ally such with other spirited voices
making wiser, kinder choices

Earth Mother, ever here for us,
to lend a helping hand,
instruct the wind that we may be
privy to and inspired
by chicks in trees learning how to fly
in the face of global fears, learn peace songs,
lend meaning to safer landings

Rise, open curtains at windows
passing for human eyes,
give worldly sights and sounds benefit
of any doubt, take heart
just from living by learning how to fly
in the face of global fears, letting peace songs
lend meaning to safer landings

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

Dead Keen OR Recovery Position

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

Many if not most of us  have been there at some time or another. Now we’re dead keen to get on with whatever life has in store for us, now we feel it’s all a waste of time... so why bother?

Regular readers will know that I have suffered from depression most of my life. Now and then, readers email me to ask how I deal with it. No easy answer to that as I am not even sure myself. Yes, I do my best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset, but I still find myself confronting The Abyss from time and life forces out of nowhere invariably come to my rescue; how or precisely why, I have no idea, they just do...

Today’s poem attempts to convey the sense of being rescued that has helped me through really bad times; the nights are always the worst, but even now, having to deal with the prostate cancer and other health issues, my friendly shadows see me though even having to get up so many times to pee... and see that I go back to sleep sooner rather than later.

As a child, I used to suffer with earache badly, especially at night. My mother would often recite poems she knew by heart to lull me to sleep. I like to think my friendly shadows are the extensions of those same poems, come to haunt me in the nicest possible way.

Well, that’s a poet for you, fanciful to the nth degree...

DEAD KEEN or RECOVERY POSITION

Sometimes, I feel shadows
on my bedroom wall, closing in on me,
but never menacingly,
as if they know instinctively
I’m in a bad place,
needing to be comforted feel reassured
that it cannot last long (surely?),
an awful, chilling loneliness, descending on me
like a shroud in a mortuary

I start to shiver and shake,
the shroud all but poised to cover my all,
make a cadaver of me...
until the shadows force an entry
into the tiny space
still letting me breathe, admonishing me
for having the gall
to surrender a mind-body-spirit well able to resist
any sense of abyss to the last

Yet, there I sway at the edge
of an abyss, and dare I say I am tempted
to let myself fall,
but for shadows having none of it,
urging without voices,
reciting poems that have a familiar ring,
playing feisty music,
no seductive harp, but pulses of sound to dance to
the whole night through...

Merging into one, the shadows
tear at the shroud as enthusiastically
as I sit up and propel
myself to the floor, a new lease of life
recharging me
as never quite before when they have always
come to my rescue,
these dream shadows, kin to the lively mind-body-spirit
of a depressive poet

Come morning, throwing off the duvet, ready to take on
the world again, dead keen

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: Everyone has their own ways of getting to sleep, of course, but counting sheep has never worked for me. A friend, long since passed away, used to imagine his pet tortoises racing each other. He'd often relate how they were so slow that he could always guarantee he'd  nod off to sleep from sheer boredom.... 😀] RT

 

Home Sown

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

“In any moment in time, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing you can do is the wrong thing and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” – Theodore Roosevelt

After two years of having to cope with the stresses imposed on us all by the ever=present (but hopefully decreasing) threat of Covid-19 many of us are on a short fuse; frustration, anger, and confusion just three of the triggers to a flame that could see any one of us light the darn fuse any time...

Somehow, we need to bear in mind that where there are negatives, there are invariably positives, even if the latter appear to be in short supply in any Here-a kinder future beckons us all as mind-body-spirit knows only too well as it encourages us to focus.

Focus but a blur? We can do a lot worse than take our cue from Earth Mother, promising any winter of the human heart yet more of the joys of spring... all in good time, rarely just when we need them most, although a promise is a promise, a lifeline in any crisis.

 Oh, and no, this isn’t just a poet imposing the gloss of pretty rhetoric on hard times, but the voce of personal experience. Testing times, indeed, certain darker life forces, but Mind-Body-Spirit can and will overcome them; we but need to focus on and believe in the power of positive thinking to see us through to happier times.

Yes, dear readers, I draw yet again on the old adage ‘Better late than never...”; trite, indeed, it may well sound, but so true...

HOME SOWN

One sunny wintry day,
messaging a not-too-distant coming
of another spring...
we’d take stroll, just you and I,
in leafless woods
where home birds would be singing
in its trees, a hint of buddings here and there
alleviating human despair

A long winter, it had been,
dragging us, protesting loud and clear,
to abyss, after abyss,
free-fall, but a (very) near miss,
leaning on each other,
holding hands, not least to get the better
of any doubts, nurture hopes, treating any fear
with tender loving care...

Apollo, always smiling through
the troubles of world and personal space,
messaging the hope
of kinder days yet, rescuing us
not least from the worst
of ourselves, giving misty-eyed hearts
cause to open wide, let in the world – and focus;
the rest, down to us...

In winter, be sure that any silver linings to be seen
are home sown...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Way Ahead

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These are troubled times for us all as Covid-29 pursues its relentless course around the world, its variants hopefully indicating that its powers are diminishing, but as yet no hard evidence that such is the shape of things to come. We can but call on mind-body-spirit to lend us both hope and wherewithal to see us through our pain and see the hopeful heart emerge the stronger if not unscathed.

We face a difficult New Year ahead, but let us face it with a sense of collective responsibility, cautious optimism and that all-embracing hopeful heart with which this blog and its author-poet has been much concerned from its start, nearly ten years ago.

Here’s wishing you all as Happy a New Year as we can make it for family friends and those we have yet to get to know as well as ourselves.

Many thanks for dropping by, hope to engage with you again soon. (Yes, I am working on a poem to greet 2022.)

Hugs,

Roger

THE WAY AHEAD

A new year approaching,
as we can’t help but wonder
in fear and dread
whether or not it will be another
that’s Covid-19 led?

Everyday life, a struggle
with every safety precaution
taken by a majority,
wearing face masks still rejected
by a scared minority

Vaccinations, to protect us,
young, old and more vulnerable
in societies worldwide;
a race against Covid’s angry tide,
no one spared

Deaths soaring, hospitals
overflowing, staff left struggling
as more become infected,
so many businesses having to close,
no one unaffected 

Delta, a vicious Covid variant
overtaken by the Omicron mutation;
world scientists passing on
relevant data as it becomes available,
inevitable confusion

Meanwhile, world still turning,
all its peoples left weeping such crises
of nature and human nature;
inevitable stress, invariable fall-out,
past-present-future

Yet, there is a resilience among
humanity seeing us rise above the worst,
forces for good working
to lend us strength enough to alleviate
our suffering

Among the ruins of a life, engaging
with Love and Kindness, always
ready and willing to help us
bring the hopeful heart into play against
even a coronavirus

Mind-body-spirit, up for whatever task;
we have but to ask...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

Waking Up to Love

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

As I have pointed out many times on the blog, love comes in all shapes and sizes in both natural and human worlds, nor less natural in the latter for its being of an LGBT persuasion; sexuality is not a choice, but one of many elements of life and love that comprise the mind-body-spirit that makes us who we are.

In the past, many LGBT folks have been despised and become victims of prejudice and hate, not unlike many from ethnic minorities, albeit for reasons of race rather than sexuality, but no less horrible for that.

Even within similar arenas, prejudice has been (and still is) known to spread like a pandemic with which millions of people have been infected over centuries, relatively few given so much as a mention by name in any history book... even as history continues to write us up as its authors see (or don't see) its bigger picture.

As regular readers well know, I also have a gay-interest poetry blog which, like my fiction blog, can be accessed from this one. Tragically, such is the level of prejudice against LGBT folks in various societies,  communities and families worldwide that some dare nor risk accessing any such material that might 'incriminate' them; a tragedy, yes, because no one should have to live in fear or who (yes who, not what they are) as they struggle to make a life for themselves.  

The good news is that more LGBT folks across the world are having to struggle less to make their voices heard; the bad news is that far too many are still left struggling, not least due to the sheer hypocrisy of world religions that preach love, but only as recognised by their own criteria; anything else is seen as something to be condemned, as if any religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

If one person can learn to respect another person for who they are (whatever their faith,  or colour of their skin) why can't everyone?  Whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

Oh, and yes, this poem also appears on my gay-interest blog today so daresay I will be receiving the usual troll emails...which I will, of course, ignore. 😉

"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to hate so stubbornly is  because they sense, once it is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." - James Baldwin

WAKING UP TO LOVE

There's a tree in a field
that sings me a love song
every time I'm sitting
when, where it rises from the ground;
listen, and you'll hear...
the words of a love song hanging
on a dream lost and found

By a tree in a field,
we wrote our first love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, hanging
on a dream lost and found

There's a tree in a field
that watched us kiss and part,
not daring to believe
as we lay there on the ground
how gay love might yet
survive a world left but hanging
on dreams lost and found

To a tree in a field,
we returned to live a love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, a waking
dream lost and found

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; slightly rev. 2021

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Placing the 'I' in Perception

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Congratulations to all those participating in The Olympics. Only a fool would deny that it isn’t about winning and losing, just as only a fool would dare suggest it’s all about winning and losing; it’s the taking part that really counts, just being there. 

Much the same might well be said of life; it’s the being here that counts and giving it our best shot in whatever ways we can. So, some of us may fall short of the proverbial mark, so what mark might that be and who’s to say who put it there? Everyone will have an opinion, of course, and a world turning on opinions is healthy enough... until those opinions proceed to sow seeds of discontent, even aggression, doing more harm than good. 

As I have asked on the blogs time and again, whatever happened to agreeing to differ?.

PARENT to CHILD: Why does it always have to be why this and why that with you? Why can't you just do as you're told?

CHILD (shrugs) Because...

PLACING THE ‘I’ IN PERCEPTION 

I have winged the world
by day and night, let its beating heart
move us, now to such tears
of pain as embracing life forces can bring,
now for such years of joy
as teach the heart to sing in finest hours
of a personal space left free
to follow mind-body-spirit whenever inspired
by soulful prose and poetry 

I have sailed angry seas,
skimming waves incited to wreak havoc
among such creatures
great and small as dwell below, swim above,
or simply seek to cool
the heat of such everyday anxiety as likely
to attack humanity
at its every twist and turn as it seeks to do or die
in its quest to answer – why? 

By what human right do we
outlaw and deplore what we cannot share,
for wont of persuasion
or inclination of mind-body-spirit to enter into
for reasons sound and true,
while bringing the full force of judgement
on any who refuse to comply
with aspects of human behaviour most favoured by
this community, that society? 

Why do religions persist
with agendas that deny human beings a right
to embrace as free a spirit
as gave us birth, let us bond with Earth’s
seas and skies, trees and flowers,
birds and beasts, encouraging such inner sight
as can penetrate surfaces
considered plain, even ugly, for left running scared
of all its formative years foretold? 

Life is life, death is death,
such is the way of all creatures great and small,
though human perceptions vary;
similarly, love is love in whatever shape or form,
nor ours to condemn
for its appealing neither to religious dogma
nor personal agenda,
but deserving thanks for sharing such fine showpieces
as wing eternal in its You-Me-Us 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

Edge OR Mind-Body-Spirit, the Ultimate Adventure

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

I posted today’s poem on YouTube some time ago yesterday while those of you who seem unable to access YouTube can also see the video below; the poem was written especially to accompany it; the alternative title was added later, on the subject of which several readers have asked why I "bother with alternative titles at all." All I can say is that a title is the reader's access point to a poem before he or she even reads a line; it sets not only the tone of a poem but gives it a framework of sorts in which the reader can freely move. Feedback often suggests that my first choice of title for a poem fails in ne or both respects so rather than revise the poem (although I do this, too, sometimes) I revise the access point. No poet should assume that how they access to a poem will necessarily apply to a reader; he or she needs consider critical feedback, and act on it as and when it feels appropriate.

For anyone interested, my YouTube channel is at:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Continuing my friend Graham’s video snapshot of Wiltshire, this is the second of three videos and poems relating to the Cheddar Gorge.

See how Graham ventures to the very edge at times while my poem attempts yet again to reconcile human condition and natural world.

Time and again we find ourselves at the edge of life, love, history ... even death ... and we need to call on all the power of positive thinking available to us to take us further or back, as the case may be ... or take a leap into the unknown now and then and trust our natural instincts to see us right. An artist friend once commented that life is all about being on the edge of a great adventure, one that the arts delight in taking us on. I get that, I really do. Any adventure will have its ups and downs; negotiating and surviving the latter on the best terms available to us is as important a feature of life as enjoying the former. Yes, I know only too well that hitting a rough patch is no 'adventure'; my friend would argue that it's getting through it where the 'adventure' lies if only retrospectively. 

Whatever, I discovered many years ago that positive thinking is a godsend, and encourages a sense of adventure through thick and thin. Better, I found out the hard way, to keep a sense of adventure than give up on ... whatever. 

Did I say it was easy?

EDGE 

Where nature goes,

the human mind would follow

to the end of time,

yet there are abysses in between

where even human will

can but gaze from the edge,

look down at the hem

of Earth Mother’s emerald gown,

across to where others

have gone for having dared dream

of dancing on Mount Parnassus

to the Pipes of Pan, glad to let sun,

moon and stars guide them

across bridges only the inner eye

can see that seeks out a light signalling

their finest poetry

Where nature goes,

the human body would follow

to the end of time,

yet there are seas to cross, mountains

to climb, gorge and valley

waiting to see how far a body will go,

how much battering it can take

until it has all but achieved its aim,

to kiss the frayed hem

of Earth Mother’s emerald gown,

only to discover that sun, moon,

and stars may yet refuse poor humanity

a final bonding with eternity

till we dare look down from its edge,

and finally acknowledge the home truths

half buried there

Where nature goes,

the human spirit would follow

to the end of time,

make merry with the its ghosts

haunting corners of the mind

we may well choose to avoid in case

the body cannot take the strain

of having to confess a great weariness

with keeping secrets, signing off

in peace and love while so frustrated

at not being able to make sense

of it all, sick of seeing humanity put down

at the hem of Earth Mother’s gown,

rummaging its frayed edges to retrieve

sufficient bits and pieces of ruined bridges

to rebuild one

Where mind, body and spirit work together,

we may yet save ourselves and each other?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Note: This poem first appeared on the blog in 2012 under the title 'Edge'.

This Frantic Earth

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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.]

Tapping into Social Conscience OR Shaking Up Society

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

Few people set out to deliberately hurt others. It’s just a sad fact of human nature that some  are so blinkered to any if not all home truths that it’s just the way they are; we can take it or leave it. More needs to be done, especially in schools, by way of educating the blinkered among us to the harsher realities of life, an how we can combat them.

With several people who have played a significant part in my life, it took 20+ years before I finally decided to call it a day. Since being diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011, I have written off more fair weather friendships. 

There was a time I’d have been philosophical to the extent of being stoical and simply accepted the situation, telling myself I was being selfish and others had their own lives to lead and resuming the friendship once this or that crisis to which I had been subjected and they preferred to turn a blind eye had passed. Not anymore though. Since turning 60 (born in 1945) I decided that enough is enough, and time is too precious to waste on such people. .

So why do I feel so guilty about it...?

It is easy enough to jump to wrong conclusions or fall prey to false impressions passed on and further distorted by gossips, hackers and the like. I guess we need to give people - especially family and friends - the benefit of any doubt; it works both ways, though ... doesn't it?

[Update 2/2016: I still feel much the same way if not more so. Having spent nearly eighteen months learning to walk again after smashing up my foot in a bad fall during the summer of 2014, I now know for sure who my real friends are. I was housebound for five months during which relatively few so-called friends could be bothered to even pick up a phone for a chat, which would have meant a lot. Oh, I haven't given up on all my fair weather friends, but our association is much the worse for wear and I will see to it that I spend far less time with them than in future.]

This poem is a kenning.

TAPPING INTO SOCIAL CONSCIENCE or SHAKING UP SOCIETY

I’ve run the gauntlet

of love, life, fun, and tears,

trying to make the best

of things rather than complain

about the worst years,

struggling to rise above

the pain human beings

inflict upon each other time

and time again

I turn to nature

for comfort and brief respite

from a daily torture

humanity asks me to endure

with all the dignity

and stoicism of someone

always expected to put

other people’s needs before

his or her own

I lie awake at night

wondering who or what

is wrong or right

amongst all that’s been said

and done in the course

of whatever merry chase

mischievous Apollo

and outcast Cassiopeia care

to lead us on

I am that heartbeat of humanity
embracing its own vulnerability

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Trailing Roses

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

I have written several poems about roses; they were my late mother’s favourite flower, and are mine also.

  

TRAILING ROSES

Dawn, a golden haze

among trailing trellis roses;

trees, dripping rainbows

on grasshoppers signing in

another day

Rooftops, sheets of glass

where birds pause to preen

a feather or two before

taking off to help usher in

another day

Bubble wrap skies, cue

for sleepyheads to wonder

why on earth heaven

is raising the alarm for just

another day

Sun rising, world trailing

after trellis roses like a lover

left for dead…

yet to rediscover fool’s gold

another day

By noon, trellis roses

getting up the noses of those

who know no better

than to repeat their mistakes

another day

At dusk, nature playing

its daily nocturne to anyone

who cares to listen,

dares even show a sad world

another way

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

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