A Walk on the Dark Side

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

“Opinion is the medium between knowledge and ignorance.” - Plato

“Where ignorance is our master, there is no possibility of real peace.” - Dalai Lama

“Where there is charity and wisdom, there is neither fear nor ignorance.” - Francis of Assisi “Prejudice is the child of ignorance.” - William Hazlitt 

“Violence isn't always evil. What's evil is the infatuation with violence.” - Jim Morrison

“My mother said I must always be intolerant of ignorance but understanding of illiteracy, that some people, unable to go to school, were more educated and more intelligent than college professors.”- Maya Angelou

Now, few things encourage anger among populations worldwide than instability and where there is instability, there is invariably a rising discontent which, in turn, encourages anger, even violence. The world is anything but stable at the moment, especially with the war in Ukraine resulting in an economic crisis just about everywhere.

Here in the UK, Rishi Sunak has been voted our new prime minister – our third this year! – by Tory MP’s, while other parties and much of the population had been calling for a General Election. While I, personally, think Sunak is a good choice, the fact remains that he does not have a mandate; the political argument put forward by the Conservative Party that it does have mandate, having been voted into power at the last General Election, neither impresses nor convinces most people. After all, the world is a very different place than it was in May, 2019!

We have seen a significant rise of violence on the streets as well as domestic violence since Covid-19 arrived. Given the further threat of a possible flu/ Covid pandemic this winter, as well as a world financial crisis, it is hardly surprising that cases of reported violence appear to be rising. As for unreported cases... who knows?

A WALK ON THE DARK SIDE

I listen, but do not always hear,
look, but do not always see what is there,
only what I expect to find
in the deeper, darker recesses of a mind
fed half-truths and fake news,
manipulated by destructive life forces
supposedly meaning well,
while making use of such stereotypical images
as would rewrite history’s pages

Born innocent, only to be exposed
to a cowardly rhetoric of prejudice and hate
insinuating mind-body-spirit
with misinformation, fake news and such views
as expounded to win over
the less perceptive, least enlightened
among humanity, nurturing
prejudice and violence to home in on a humanity,
with a predilection for profanity 

I turn common sense on its head, sanity
made to give way to such false interpretations
of self-education, perpetuated
by the absence of love, kindness, caring
for one another, all virtue
portrayed as weakness to the vulnerable,
by any who walk on the Dark Side,
waging war with and for every human heart-and-soul,
manipulators and manipulatable

I am Ignorance, listening out for a wiser, kinder voice;
peace or violence, an all but interchangeable choice

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[Note: this post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today, as I feel it is relevant and feedback suggests that many LGBT readers remain cautious of only having access to shared computers.] RT 

The Enemy Within

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“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”- Sylvia Plath

“Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win,
by fearing to attempt.” - William Shakespeare, Measure for Measure 

“I had some ambition. I meant everything to be different with me. I thought I had more strength and mastery. But the most terrible obstacles are such as nobody can see except oneself.” - George Eliot. (Lydgate in Middlemarch)

“Nature knows no pause in progress and development, and attaches her curse on all inaction.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Now, I have been plagued by self-doubt all my life, not least for having been put down during my childhood for my perceptive deafness and a cleft palate resulting in a bad lisp. I managed the jokes at my expense with a ready sense of humour, appearing content to laugh at myself along with everyone else, no matter how I felt inside. It was not until early adult years that I would ne diagnosed with the perceptive deafness, which made a huge difference as would speech therapy to tackle the lisp. Knowing the physical reasons why, improved my self-confidence. Even so, few people grasp the implications of perceptive deafness, so I still had a battle royal on my hands on that front. As a child, I also wore awful spectacles which didn’t help matters…

The best thing about my childhood, and which has been a close ally ever since, remains a sense of humour, now less necessary as a form of self-defence but enjoyed for its own sake. It has certainly helped me through the past ten years of having to deal with my prostate cancer. 

As for self-doubt, yes, it still plagues me, but I now shrug it off more easily these days and focus on the brighter side of life…

True, with hindsight, I could have made more of my life, but - as we all know - there never was any point in crying over spilt milk, so…better to make the best of the Here-and-Now than brood on how past-present-future might have panned out but for… whatever. Besides, life is a learning curve and where we find ourselves on that curve, at any moment in time, is down to us, no one else and no excuses, however feasible the latter may seem. I have met some wonderful people, felt privileged to have enjoyed some great friendships (and still do) so... I prefer to count my blessings and  take my cue from them rather be a miserable old git. LOL

I hope you like the poem.

THE ENEMY WITHIN

No one has perfected the art
of inaction such as I,
who am that cloud across the sun.
threatening a storm,
sending you scuttling for cover,
finer endeavours on hold,
mind-body-spirit excused
its responsibilities, for now at least,
well-deserving of rest

Time enough, indeed, to throw
your hat in the ring,
let your finest rhetoric take shape
before translating words
into action, proving their worth,
taking credit where due,
when you judge the moment right,
confident of that measure of success
sure to guarantee happiness

 Ah, but there are no guarantees,
once I have you
by the neck; no stranglehold, it’s true,
but having you wrestle
in vain to be free of me, achieve
your heart’s desire,
recover its finer, intuitive senses
from a mind-body-spirit so wary of a fall,
as deaf to heart-and-soul

I am Self-doubt, the unseen enemy within,
targeting all things human

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022 

Hello from London, UK

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“In order to carry a positive action, we must develop here a positive vision. -  Dalai Lama 

“Correction does much, but encouragement does more.” - Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

“A good laugh is sunshine in the house.” William Makepeace Thackeray 

“Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.” – William James

“Life is not easy for any of us. But what of that? We must have perseverance and above all confidence in ourselves. We must believe that we are gifted for something and that this thing must be attained.” - Marie Curie 

"What we have once enjoyed, we can never lose. All that we love deeply becomes a part of us." - Helen Keller

Hello from London, UK

No poem today as I am very unwell, but while my body may be ailing, my spirit is as strong and resilient as ever, so… expect a new poem soon.

Now, all is not well here in the UK, as in so many other parts of the world, but our thoughts are always with those so much worse off, not least the people of Somalia suffering the effects of a devastating drought. Ukraine, too, deserves our support and compassion, especially those families losing loved one in the course of Putin’s cruel invasion. 

The ordinary folks of Russia loom high in our thoughts, compassion too, for they are not to blame for the machinations of Vladimir Putin’s dictatorship.

Across much of Europe and, indeed. the world, Putin’s invasion of Ukraine continues to badly affect everyday lives; a duel energy- financial crisis deepening everywhere.

Here in the UK, our politics does nothing to ease anyone’s fears of a tough, rough winder ahead. Few people I know, myself included, have any faith in our new Prime minister’s economic policies. Liz Truss - and the Conservative Party generally – are, as usual, high on rhetoric and all but negligible on detail. A neighbour who attended the recent Party conference says she had the impression that no one was coming away with much, if any, confidence.

People hate uncertainty, it scares them and makes them feel unsafe. Liz Truss’ maiden speech as Prime Minister, did nothing to allay such fears; again, high on rhetoric, low on detail. Certainly nothing to alleviate the average family’s fears regarding, energy costs, mortgages, and how to afford to put food on the table in the light of rising prices for essential groceries and travel costs.

Nothing I can say can do much to allay anyone’s fears, except perhaps to trust in the power of mind-body-spirit to unite with heart-and-soul to help us rise above the worst and keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Never easy, I know. But… we have a choice?

Take care, everyone, I am thinking of and rooting for you all. I can offer little comfort to those in distress, except to urge you to be resilient, never give up on hope or underestimate the power of the human spirit to see us though to kinder times.

Here’s wishing you safe, well, and nurturing a positive-thinking mindset, no matter what your circumstances. 

Hugs,

Roger

Hi, folks, from London UK

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

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.”  - Emily Dickinson

Hi, folks from London UK

Sorry, no poem today, but I am working on a new poem that I will post here once completed.

Meanwhile, feedback suggests that both gay and straight readers dip into both poetry blogs , so...a friend’s work colleague recently recommended the poems of Richard Bruce Nugent, a gay American writer/painter:   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Bruce_Nugent   

I love his poem 'Shadow’: https://poets.org/poem/shadow  At the time, many readers believed the poem was about race, but in a 1983 interview, Nugent explained that, “I intended it to be a soul-searching poem of another kind of lonesomeness, not the lonesomeness of being racially stigmatized, but otherwise stigmatized. You see, I am a homosexual.”

Now, a yet another gay reader has emailed to ask why “… you only seem to post poems on your general poetry blog these days?” well, sorry about that, but if you explore the blog archives, there are many gay-interest poems there that you may well enjoy; as I have explained before, I don’t enjoy good health these days and my energy levels leave much to be desired. Besides, many of the poems in my other blog have been essentially inspired by my experience of life, not least being an ‘out’ gay man unable to forget the traumatic days of living half a life in the closet.  Indeed, I feel very encouraged by the occasional email from those readers who enjoy dipping into both poetry blogs.

The ‘sister of a gay man’ writes that: “My brother is a changed man since he started reading your gay poetry blog, having felt encouraged to let family and friends know he is gay. He is more confident and sociable where, before, he was very withdrawn.” What can I say but many thanks for that… and refer to the Emily Dickinson quote above.

As regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, growing up in 1950’s Britain. which was very homophobic and racist, made a coward of me regarding my sexuality. I did not see my way to coming out as a gay man until my early 30’s.  Sadly, both homophobia and racism persist in various communities worldwide, far less so among young people, though, in whom rest our hopes of an end to all prejudices in time.

That’s all for now, folks. I just wanted to let you know haven’t forgotten just how much I owe to being a gay man and wanting to share its positives. Male or female, we are who we are and what we make of ourselves, whether or not we are able to turn our dreams into reality. I used to think of myself as a failure because my dreams of becoming a ‘great’ poet/ novelist we clearly unfounded, but am more than content with a very modest degree of success. Whatever, as Prospero says in Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Bye for now, folks, and here’s wishing you all a feel-good day,

Hugs,

Roger

[Note: Most of this post also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RNT

Getting the Better of Hindsight

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

It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. - Benjamin E. Mays

It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. - Benjamin E. Mays

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. – William Burroughs

Something I have had to relearn as I grow old, is the art of relaxation. In later years, I’ve become, a good deal more dissatisfied with my life as it is now and as, at heart, if it has seemed for years. I am relearning fast, though, able more each day to make the best rather than the worst of things, my age - and various limitations it imposes - notwithstanding. While never easy to prevent any limitations at any age get the better of us… it has to be better than The Abyss, yes?

Yes, yes, YES...

GETTING THE BETTER OF HINDSIGHT

I wandered as lonely in a crowd
as when I am alone, invariably close 
to tears that refusing to fall.
 trusting mind-body-spirit to yet find
way through scary shadows,
restore light to a heart-and soul
left feeling abandoned
by all it's tried to believe in, never sure what,
would have me start out...

Love gave me life, lent me strength,
yet it was never quite enough to save me
From having to sleep rough
under bridges I’d dearly wish to cross,
but mind-body-spirit
had other plans for me, lessons words
cannot teach a heart-and soul
never sure what to do, where to go, in whom
to trust, a place called home

Time and again I' have followed paths
leading to much the same crisis, an abyss
into which I’d long to fling 
my whole being, sick of never feeling
that I belonged anywhere,
cowering in a corner, afraid to come out
even among friends,
abyss drawing me to its  edge time and again
for so wanting to end my pain

Yet, the lure of life and love find me
back in the full swung of this nothingness
offering me everything 
and nothing at all, mind-body spirit on hand
to comfort a heart-and-soul
ever fluctuating across an entire range
of human feelings and foci,
as happy as I could ever be, letting my tears flow 
for selves in me I'd never know

Suddenly, children’s voices in my ear
wave me to look around, listen to all I see.
feeling all the better 
for it, mind-body-spirit ever reminding me
that life was never going to be
a bowl of cherries, but other fruits on hand
to enjoy - whether by sharing
for real, in dreams making much of make-believe,
or on a well-manicured sleeve

Come what may, there's are lasting joys of living
to be had, our circumstances notwithstanding…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Another Open Letter to Readers

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

Hi Everyone, from here in London UK,

Sorry, no poem today, but am working on one...

Several readers have kindly emailed to ask how I am, as I am getting on a bit now and having to deal with various health problems, although not Covid-19, so I count my blessings.

My inner self is fine most of the time, I am happy to say; the pandemic leaves me very dispirited from time to time, especially when my bad leg &/or prostate cancer are playing up at the same time. By way of creative therapy, writing up the blog and making contact with readers around the world is not only a welcome distraction from my own problems, but hugely comforting too. So, many thanks to you all again, just for being there and taking the trouble read my poems.

Some days, of course, are worse than others, but I decided a long time ago that I would take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er)side of life. Years go, I did not expect to be having to deal with growing old on my own. As it turned out, I live alone, but have some good friends who keep me on my toes; hopefully, the feeling is reciprocal.

None of us can tell the future, though (probably just as well) so we have little or no choice but to deal with the ups and downs of life as they (invariably) happen or let them toss us into a quagmire of self-pity and despair.

Oh, yes, I  am familiar with that quagmire, been stuck in it many times over the years, but not for a long time, so... fingers crossed. I get fed-up, of course, don't we all? After a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, though, I have done my best to give it a wide berth.  Never easy, but well worth the struggle, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you. None of us should ever hesitate to ask for help, either; help is on hand in family friends, professional counsellors... all can help, but none are mind readers and I suspect there will always be times in life when we need to swallow any misplaced pride and learn how to get a life again...

For many people, everyday life becomes harder to contend with once retired, especially if - for whatever reason - they are unable to enjoy retirement as they had hoped and planned. An elderly friend - long since passed away - once warned me about retirement. "When you retire, be sure to replace your job, especially if it is one that has given you much pleasure and satisfaction, with something that gives you much the same level of pleasure and satisfaction," adding wryly, "We all need a purpose in life. When you retire, it's a case of sink or swim." Having been retired for nearly 15 years now, I am often reminded of those words, hearing his voice speak them in my head whenever I feel myself in danger of sinking into the quagmire...

Easier said than done, of course, but what isn't in the struggle to make the best of circumstances we would have preferred to avoid...?

Oh, and my late friend also told me to be sure and practice what I preach, so I do my best. 😉

Take good care of yourselves, dear readers, play safe, keep well as we can but try to nurture a positive thinking mindset, whatever life throws at us,

Lotta digital hugs, many thanks for dropping by and join me again anytime,

Roger

Please, Listen

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Often in life, the more important and personal it is that we need to tell someone, the harder it is to find the right words; words that will not be misunderstood or fail to communicate our depth of feeling; a lesson for the learning, indeed, not least as as true love starts to flower and engaging in a relationship takes on a whole new meaning,...

Nor does the principle apply only to lovers. Expressing out trues feelings about someone or something we are anxious to communicate is a problem - if not a crisis of self-confidence - for many of us.

PLEASE, LISTEN

You lay your head on my shirt,
listening to my heart
and does it tell you all the things
I so long to say, but can never find
the words?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

Do you hear a love song taught me
by the birds, confessing
how I need you more, far more,
than I can say since love, it came
to stay?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

We were meant for one another,
soulmates forever,
life, love, dreams, looking out
for each other...
especially at times when it feels as if
the world is failing us, hope falling apart
at the seams

Now, listen and let this heart of mine
tell you how...

Come, passion’s heat, no hearth
simply smouldering,
but as lightening may well charge
Earth’s own heart in the course of fierce
summer storms

Ah, no need for words, the moment
taking us over,
our bodies engaging with each other,
in such passion and peace as bodes well
for You-Me-Us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; rev. 2021

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since I wrote it in 2001 and included it in my collection, First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

My Mentor is a Tree

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

Today’ poem is not strictly autobiographical, but the story it tells is one to which I could only too easily relate when told me by a friend many years ago; apart from having taken some poetic license, I tell it here much as it was told to me then. 

“Courage is fire, bullying is smoke.” Benjamin Disraeli 

There is no shame in asking for help. Nor is it ‘grassing’ to expose a bully, just common sense. You might even be doing them a favour; anyone shown the error of their ways stands a good chance of becoming a better person. 

It is not only children who get bullied, of course.  Here in the UK, a National Bullying Helpline offers help and advice regarding bullying in the workplace, bullying at school and online harassment; details online.

 

 MY MENTOR IS A TREE 

A local park, solitary tree
child looking up who should be
at school;
Tall, grown old, branches
reaching out by way of expressing
mixed feelings 

Small and sad, schoolboy
crying over a family photograph,
takes a penknife
to scratch a tell-tale heart
on rough bark, rain clouds closing in,
world growing dark 

Tree submits - no defence
against human nature when all’s
said and done;
Child climbs, terra out mind,
bully-fear soon starting to fall away
like autumn 

A hovering skylark lets out a cry
to chicks-in-the nest making ready
to fly...
Tears for Mum, Dad, and pal
teddy bear as well, but ready to leap
into freefall 

Earth Mother whispers in an ear,
“Look! Beyond a runny nose, a way
to live, FREE
of bully-fear. Tell someone,
then see the rats, how they do run,
their turn...  

So, I did just that, found a voice
to tell family and school, bullies outed
and humiliated,
all inhumanity but heading for a fall
once mind-body-spirit reasons ways to get
the better of it. 

It’s still there, the tree. Sometimes,
I revisit, whenever alien forces dragging
me down;
Sometimes, too, a skylark joins us,
with a peace song for all nature’s children
of whom I’m one  

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2021

 

[Note: The origin of this poem is ‘Heaven Can Wait’ that I wrote in 1998 and which appears in my first collection, Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; it would be incorrect to call it a ‘revised’ version as I have made substantial changes, so have chosen not to use the same title.] RT

On the Spot

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I once saw a woman - clearly not young, but not old either - sent sprawling by a man in a hurry, weaving in and out of crowds on a busy railway concourse while chatting on his mobile phone at the same time. The offender didn’t even stop. 

Several of us who had witnessed the incident rushed to help the victim to her feet; she was badly shaken, but fortunately unhurt while displaying a stoicism and spirit worthy of admiration.  "Some people, they just don't care!" she sobbed. "Thank you everyone," she added, "...it's good to see there's some kindness and consideration left in the world. Mark my words, we'll all pay the price for the lack of it one way or another...

 “Instantly, I could feel a poem coming on..

ON THE SPOT

Need to take a pride
in my life, chance any free fall,
all but driven mad
for having so lost my way
in bad times 

Shouldn't stay, but I do,
if only because I shouldn't care,
but I do, I do, I do,
and mind-body-spirit says
“Yes, yes, YES.” 

Could make a run for it,
but it's my world too, owes me
for being innocent
until proven human, if only
by default 

Could throw the fight,
since no guarantees, win or lose;
could try praying,
but if I can't believe in myself,
who can?

Time, cracking the whip;
humankind ever at its beck and call
for going any distance,
made responsible for whatever
on the way 

Humanity, making history...
claiming its spoils of war and peace
as par for the course
by way of reasoning the politics
of power

World without end, its poets
would have us believe, repudiating
humanity's suspicion
that its kinder arts but tell 
tall tales

Life and Death, putting us all
on the spot, having us make the case 
for salvation,
or concede mind-over-matter
its potential 

 R. N. Taber 2019; rev.2021

[Note: This poem began as a revised version of an earlier poem - Humanity, on the Spot’ - that I first wrote and posted on the blog a couple of years ago; it has since been deleted. I ended up changing it out of all recognition and giving it a new title.] RT

 

Hello again from London UK

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Reader A J asks if he or she can put the URL for my blogs on social media “since you seem to disapprove of social media and avoid it yourself...”

I don’t entirely disapprove of social media; it has its merits, but having tried it once, I have no wish to return to it. However, should any readers feel they want to share the blog URL, they are welcome to do so; all three blogs - general poetry/ gay-interest poetry and fiction + archives can be accessed from:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com

Anyone recommending the link may well wish to add that I do not publish comments, complimentary or otherwise. Neither do I reply to emails now - except from friends and regular blog readers - as various  health issues include poor eyesight.

Any LGBT poetry lovers may well be especially interested in that blog’s archives as I rarely add gay-specific poems these days, mostly due to lack of inspiration; years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left me sexually inactive and less able to relate to and enter into the spirit of the poem.

In spite of health issues, I am hoping to self-publish limited (print) editions of new collections which, as previously, will include a gay section as well as some poems of interest to LGBT readers in other sections; with any luck, these will also be available on-line at a later date. However, prostate cancer has a mind of its own so there will come a time - hopefully sooner rather than later - when there will be no more tomorrows for yours truly. Whatever, c’est la vie, so better to make the most of what we have while we have it, each in our own way...?

Years of hormone therapy may have played merry hell with my thought processes, but writing poetry helps keep them in some sort of order, so I will continue to add to the poetry blogs as long as I can.

Another reader asks if I intend to add to my fiction blog. Sadly, it is very unlikely as I couldn’t even interest any in my fantasy novel, Mamelon and don’t have the energy these days, let alone inspiration. Even so, I enjoyed my foray into fiction, so no regrets.

Meanwhile, I take each day as it comes, treat it as a bonus and do my best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset. 

I am working on a new poem, and hope to publish it on the blog soon. Sadly, poems take me a lot longer to write these days, but I enjoy making the effort; as I have said many times on the blog, it is a form of creative therapy I can throw myself into and temporarily forget health concerns, pandemic implications and other worries. As my mother used to say, “If you worry, you’ll die and if you don’t worry, you’ll still die, so...why worry?” 😉

Take care everyone, and try to stay positive, whatever life throws at you; time may not heal altogether, but - partnered with good sense and sensibility - it can do a pretty good job, if we let it...

Bye for now,

Hugs,

Roger

L-I-F-E, Dreams and Dragons

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I wrote today’s poem to help lift me out of a pit of despair, mostly due to years of hormone therapy for the prostate cancer, but with more than a little help from my landlord and certain neighbours. 

Fortunately, I was able to phone a close friend who encouraged me to rise above the worst of my feelings and hitch a ride on a dragon.

Yes, you've guessed it. Having learned long ago that crying over spilt milk gets no one anywhere fast, I made a stab at thinking and writing myself into a less torturous frame of mind. 

As creative therapy, it worked a treat As for what readers will make of the poem, I can but hope they will be less critical of it than I was a few hours ago of the same mind-body-spirit that came close to failing its host poet altogether... 

Among other things a wise old aborigine told me some 50+ years ago, "The only way to deal with despair is with patience. Look it in the eye, dry its tears, insist things can only get better - and they will... eventually."

L-I-F-E, DREAMS AND DRAGONS 

At the very edge of free fall
peering down into a bottomless pit,
all parts of mind-body-spirit
struggling to rise above such fears
as denied even any tears
for its more perceptive selves left dumb
by their own screams 

Teetering, too fearful even
to take a step either forwards or back,
no real sense of direction,
only an intense awareness of being
an abstraction of sorts,
all or nothing, depending how an inner eye
sees what it will 

A kaleidoscope of colours
attempts to perform art in a vacuum,
succeeds only in confusing
the mind, distracting a body left to rely
on some nameless spirit
to make something or nothing of what’s left
have us act accordingly 

Colours, now finding voices,
intent on transforming any senselessness,
bent on lending it images
such as inner-selves project on clouds,
dead eyes coming alive
for recognising a dragon’s head breathing fire
snatched from Apollo

Legs, recoiling instinctively,
stumbling, now arms flung out to save
from falling, dragon descending;
now clambering its scales, now astride,
flying low over landscapes
I used to know and love, inspiring such worlds
as the best dreams spin us 

At the very edge of nightmares,
waking to the sound of birdsong, sunlight
chasing shadows, creating art forms,
reminding mind-body-spirit (as one again)
that if nothing comes of nothing,
it well may be for failing to let inner selves loose
on the likes of dream dragons.

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

Getting the Better of Beasties

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An experienced store manager was made redundant some months ago as a direct result Covid-19 fallout on the High Street. Having made countless job applications I vain, he was all but despairing of ever working again until his wife suggested he try something completely new. Sceptical, he took her at her word, has just started working for a security firm and is enjoying it, not least because his take-home pay is more than in his previous job.  Some might say he was lucky while others might feel inclined to award him full-marks for his perseverance and willingness to take on something new after 10+ years in a job he loved and expected to see him through to retirement. 

Amongst other things, the coronavirus pandemic is attacking everyone’s self-confidence; none of us know what’s around the next corner. But, do we ever know? Come what may, we can but trust in the love in us - of which every heartbeat is a constant reminder - and the native resilience of a combined mind-body-spirit to see us through, for better, for worse. Trite, it might sound, but I have experienced the truth of it more than once in what will be all of 75 years in December. Seventy-five years in which I have been privileged to meet many ordinary men and women battling more odds than any poet can imagine, and making of their lives something that may rarely if ever made any headlines, but of which they can be justly proud. (No headlines, perhaps, but relayed in the spirit of many a poem and other art forms for centuries …) 

GETTING THE BETTER OF BEASTIES

Beastie is scary for any of us,
a shadowy figure obstructing our way
towards a better, kinder place,
where only kind ghosts go a-haunting,
no blots on our landscape
perpetually taunting us for past mistakes
and missed opportunities,
family, friends estranged if for no reason other
than failing to talk to each other 

Beastie knows us all too well,
aware that we’re struggling to rise above
its persistent call, ever foiled
by human nature’s natural predilection
for finding excuses, resisting
any positive direction it needs must take
for fear of failing when push
comes to shove, decisions left hanging on a rack,
for each step forward, another back 

Beastie, though, has its own fears,
not least the capacity of the human heart
to urge we put away our tears,
take a chance on seeing whatever it may be
we so need to see through,
do our best, no one has the right to ask more,
and even should we lose a fight
we’ll be sure to chance much the same another day
given human nature’s sense of fair play 

Wherever Beastie exposed as close kin to Self-doubt,
it proves no match for a resilient mind-body-spirit

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Who do We think We Are?OR Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

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A reader asks  why I appear to differentiate between the human spirit and Holy Spirit and "clearly have no time for the latter". What can I say, other than I differentiate because they are not the same?
The human spirit has a mind of its own, and will sometimes lead s to make mistakes for which we have no one to blame but ourselves and/or 'fate' where is is easier to blame God. Whatever, while I respect those who sincerely enter into (any) religious point if view, we must agree to differ. As do not deny the existential presence of a God, but see God as nature, not as its creator, moreover an all-embracing life force, not the personification of a bigot who would see me in some existential 'hel'l for being gay.

Another reader asks why I post some poems on my general blog and not on my gay-interest blog, .and vice versa, especially as I often empathise that a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is ... whatever or whomsoever. Well, believe it or not some readers enjoy sipping into both blogs and my gay-interest poems are intended, primarily, help LGBT readers around the world feel GOOD about their sexuality, but also educate bigots in those societies and communities that would make us think think badly of t ourselves for it  - just as my own did when I was a teenager and young man, consequently made to journey to hell and back; sadly, many LGBT people around the world still never find a way back.

Now, we are not only creating our own personal history with every thought we pursue and every word we utter, but also recording it with every step we take; all the more reason to tread carefully, consider the feelings of others and avoid treading on toes we have no wish to tread on.

It is one thing to respect the right of free speech, another to bait someone with points of view directly opposed to their own. "No harm in that, either," a friend once commented, "so long as you can agree to differ and discuss amicably if spiritedly." A wise woman, my friend, and I, for one, couldn't agree more, although it is not always east to spot that someone is playing devils advocate; it can be a risky game to play, and can take even the best friendships to breaking point ...

Baiters are often critics of whatever stand we have chosen to take in life, on whatever; while we all need to be challenged, if only to be clearer ourselves as to the where-how-why we take certain stands, make certain choices that subsequently lead us along this or that path in life, we need to respect the other person's point of view even be prepared to modify our own.

Agreeing to differ can be as educational as it can be fun ... so long as neither party assumes he or she has an absolute right to theirs which, as regular readers of my blogs will know, is my problem with (any) religion.

WHO DO WE THINK WE ARE? or NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

There’s a reality that is but a dream,

life stories told in quickly turning pages

(not the mediocre fiction it may seem)

tracking the poetry and prose of Ages

wherever ordinary men and women 

share life’s adventures (everyday heroes);

life’s ‘failures’ exceeding expectation,

its poor getting by on election promises;

the self, exposed to ever prying eyes

waiting to catch us out, see us take a fall;

minds, trying  to make sense of chaos,

human spirit, left to try and rise above it

Half the world pressing on with ambition,

the rest of us left trailing imagination ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in Ygdrasil, Journal of the Poetic Arts (December, 2004) and subsequently in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

A Gamesman's (live-in) Apprentice

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

Here in England, the hospitality industry will be open for business again from tomorrow. Have fun, everyone, but be careful out there because the Covid-19 coronavirus has not gone away. 

I have met many people who feel their past is somehow preventing them for having a future, be it a criminal record, a history of mental illness, or quite simply an honest mistake that had unforeseen consequences of the worst kind. Having suffered a BAD nervous breakdown in my early 30’s - among other examples of social mud inclined to stick, not least my being gay - I know only too well where they are coming from.

However, I don’t believe in good luck, bad luck or… whatever. We make our own , and where good people come forward to help, there has to be something within us as well as within them to make them want to help...or not, as the case may be.

When things go wrong, whether or not through any fault of our own, we invariably need help to get back on our feet, take a positive perspective, make amends for our mistakes as far as amends may be possible, get real rather than feeling sorry for ourselves and abdicating responsibility for our future to a world that appears to ‘have it in’ for us. 

True, help is not always on hand or if it is it's not always obvious; more often than not, we have to seek it out and want to seek it out. No, not an easy task, but always well worth the effort.

“It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.”  - William Shakespeare

“The only person you are destined to become is the person you decide to be.” 

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

This poem is a villanelle.

 A GAMESMAN'S (LIVE-IN) APPRENTICE

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be,

the past ever catching out what its future brings,

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny'

I love to act judge-jury over tea and sympathy,

reluctant to concede any conscience’s redeeming;

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be

Once the past a prison, all hope of breaking free,

but a dream for one who, (upon a rude awakening)

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny

Bad-done-good often thought beyond the ability

of even the creative mind’s more positive thinking;

(M-E spells how it is,and likely always will be?) 

Learning from our mistakes rarely comes easily,

where he or she who sets gossip tongues wagging

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny

Call human nature a fickle creature for essentially

choosing to feed (or not) on a rare bent for forgiving;

M-E spells how it is, and likely always will be,

apprenticed out to a gamesman called 'Destiny'

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

Sea and Sand OR Rediscovering the Art of Positive Thinking

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Todays poem first appeared on the blog in 2015. Now seemed as good a time as any to repeat it as there can rarely have been a time in the lives of many of us when positive thinking was harder or more essential as in seeing us through the Covid-19 coronavirus pandemic.

Sometimes, we do our best, and yet it never seems to be enough for some people while others simply take our efforts for granted.

Yes, it hurts when all we seek is a little encouragement, and all we seem to have to show for it is grains of sand.

It is so often the case that people do not mean to cause hurt, yet fail to see their comments as a parody of their finer feelings towards us.

We all need to think before we speak sometimes, learn to acknowledge and trust our better instincts, formulate our ideas with care instead of (all too often) falling prey to so-called 'public opinion'.

Easier said than done, though, this refusing to either rush to judgement on others or let ourselves fall victim to those rushing to judgement on us.

Whatever, praise is no endgame in itself but a by-product of succeeding - as far as anyone can - in finding and being true to ourselves as opposed to more or less repeating what others may have said and done, however much we may admire them for it; being inspired by someone enough to follow  in their footsteps, on the other hand, is something else altogether. 

I suspect Nietzsche makes a valid point when he says: “So long as men praise you, you can only be sure that you are not yet on your own true path but on someone else's.”  ― Friedrich Nietzsche

SEA AND SAND, INSPIRATION or REDISCOVERING THE ART OF POSITIVE THINKING

Alone on a beach

among restless white ponies

panting heavily,

rearing at me for they know

a storm is coming,

although not yet a while;

time yet to let me see

the Old Man smile as I drop stars

through tearful fingers

relentlessly measuring out

the rest of my life

Air hot and stale

like the stillness of a coffin,

funeral prayers

long since dead and gone,

tossed to playful waves

as we’d throw a much-loved dog

a bone and watch it run,

tail wagging, anxiously homing in

on its reward

for whatever, only ever needing

to deserve praise

No bones here,

only flailing limbs of ghosts

in dark water

striving for landfall, but sure

of nothing,

like flotsam and jetsam taking turns

to see which will

fall into loving hands anxious

to shape an art form

if for no other reason than leaving

its mark... 

What to do?

Needs must…choose well

or wait for a stampede

to render me less than hoof prints

in the sand,

all human potential left

to natural erosion

unknowingly hastened by fishers

of men rushing to judgement

if for no other reason than needing

to deserve attention

Nothing for me here,

but rage and pain in a pool of stars

at my feet,

urging me to leap a feisty pony,

let it take me where it will,

escape not only storm but wreckage

as sure to follow as day

follows night and tides of humanity,

the course its nature sets us

if for no other reason than failing

to find peace...

Yet, treasures to be had,

sparkling views of sea, sky and sand

filing the inner eye

with memories of (far) kinder times

filled with faith in dreams

nurturing mind, body and spirit

no matter where the spotlight

on everyday lives may choose to fall,

urging that we follow the course

nature sets us if for no other reason

than deserving each other

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2020

contemporaneity, gender, human, identity, imagination, life, love, mind-body-spirit, nature, personal, poetry, positive, relationships, self-awareness, self-confidence, society, space, spirit, thinking

Mind-Body-Spirit, Only a Heartbeat Away

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Now, when all is said and done, advice given and counselling taken on board, the course of action we choose to take has to be ours, no one else’s; nor should we blame anyone but ourselves if things go wrong.

Sometimes, though, things have to go wrong in order to come right.

As regular readers will know, 1969 saw me ‘emigrate’ to Australia, but it didn’t work out and I came home, much to everyone’s delight who had advised against going and could now smugly say “I told you so …”

What no one understood, though, was that I emigrated in sheer desperation to get away from those same people. I was a psychological mess, not least for being a closet gay man, but many other reasons too; e.g. having failed one of my A-levels, I was unable to proceed with the career of my choice and hadn't a clue what to do next.

I had no one to talk to in whom I could have any confidence they would really listen or understand. Oh, they would try, but … have you ever noticed that when you are needing to talk in-depth about yourself to anyone, most people respond, not in relation to you but to themselves; they proceed to tell you what they think they would do in your situation, given their history and various sets of circumstances not what they think you should do given yours. Invariably, it is all very well-meaning, but little if any help. In the end, we just have to trust our own instincts.

Now, my emigrating may well have been a huge mistake, but it had the saving grace of buying me time. My ship -The Southern Cross - sailed from Liverpool via Panama and took six weeks to reach Melbourne. For the first time in my life, I had time to think, listen to mind-body-spirit and learn to trust my instincts. I had made so many mistakes, and there never seemed to be time work out how best to rectify them ... until Oz.

Subsequently, I returned home home, a different person and (hopefully) a better one. I knew now what I wanted (a professional career in public libraries) despite a significant hearing problem (no effective hearing aids for perceptive deafness were available then) and coming out to the world as a non-stereotypical gay man. Both took time, but I had achieved the former by 1975; it would take about another ten years, following the death of my mother and a bad nervous breakdown to achieve the latter. They were good years and bad years; it took a good 10 years - and more mistakes - before I would start to feel not only a whole person, but comfortable with that person. By now, I had learned to make time rather then let it break me.

Sometimes, looking after number one has to be a priority before we can really let numbers two, three, four or more into our lives and stand any chance of our connecting with them or they with us. Sadly, for all modern technology, really connecting with each other is not always human nature’s greater forte. We all have a responsibility towards one another, but as a wise R E teacher once commented to the class at my old school some 60+ years ago, "We can't expect to be of much help to others if we can't, don't or won't even take good care of ourselves." Oh, but so true, never more so perhaps than  during the COVID-19 pandemic. 

“The world as we have created it is a process of our thinking. It cannot be changed without changing our thinking.” ― Albert Einstein

“He who thinks little errs much…” ― Leonardo da Vinci

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ONLY A HEARTBEAT AWAY

World, in a hurry, 

no time to think things through,

making mistakes …

(Oh, and who’s blaming who?)

priorities blurring …

Need answers, can’t keep deferring

finding a solution

because Head says “Keep on going ...”

Heart, weary of trying

Folks, rushing by,

all needing things done yesterday

having to settle

for ‘maybe tomorrow’ if not too late

(as it often is …)

No one to blame, but so easier said

than done …

when the Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of hoping

Time, hastening on,

waiting for no one, haunting us all

as we try to fit in

with yesterday-today-tomorrow’s

agenda for life, death

and whatever else we can succeed

instead of failing

while Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, weary of waiting

Instinct, kicking in

where head-heart (far) from certain

regarding the best

course of action, keyword confusion,

given contrary advice

by those we thought knew us better

(rude awakening)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, "No surrendering

Human clock, ticking,

mind-body-spirit risen to the occasion,

taking chances

on what it perceives as the better option

for first person singular

if not plural of the species, taking action

(before it's too late)

where Head says “Keep on going …”

Heart, the faster beating

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018