Ship of Fools

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

It’s bad enough that there are still those who insist climate change is some kind of global-political conspiracy theory, but to believe much the same of the Covid-10 coronavirus when the World Health Organisation has recorded a million deaths, and still counting, is just daft.

As for those who are protesting about their Human Rights being undermined by various governmental safety precautions worldwide, that makes sense of a kind but is just selfish; everyone has the right to take risks on their own account, but no one is entitled to take the same (or any) risks on behalf of others, leastwise not without their approval.

Friends who happened to be in central London at the same time as a so-called Human Rights protest about Covid-19 restrictions in Trafalgar Square were appalled by the size of the gathering, no one wearing masks or making any attempt at social distancing; later, of course, they all piled out into the streets of London just as they had all piled in, no thought as to whether they might be spreading the Covid-19 virus.

Most conspiracy theorists and the like are either simply afraid of the truth or cling to the notion that any excuse is better than none when it comes to not doing whatever it is they don’t want to do, regardless of any potential consequences.

As general rule, I wholeheartedly support Human Rights worldwide, but not when it means putting other people at risk.

SHIP OF FOOLS

There is a Ship of Fools
that has sailed the oceans wide
for centuries, only anchoring
in harbours of the world
to pressure more fools into joining
those already on board 

Conspiracy theorists swear
its survival on High Seas means
we really must pay attention
to whatever fake news
they may well be as up for spreading,
as motives for speculation 

Captaining a Ship of Fools
is Fantasy, patron saint of all those
plainly preferring to turn both
blind eye and deaf ears
to suspect goings-on all but knocking
at their own front doors 

Fools are as welcome to points
of view as anyone else, but should
refrain from forcing it on others,
as they do who rush landfall
without a mask, thereby risk spreading 
the Covid-19 coronavirus  

Each to his or her own, yes, true,
but there are exceptions even to laws
written in stone, given all humanity
has a right to fair play - if only
along the lines of agendas reading
better safe than sorry ...

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Take care, folks and stay safe,

Hugs,

Roger

 

Shades of Contemporaneity

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

We all want progress, but if you're on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive. - C. S. Lewis 

'If history repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, how incapable must Man be of learning from experience.' - George Bernard Shaw

'Technological progress has merely provided us with more efficient means for going backwards.' - Aldous Huxley

Years ago, when I was still at secondary school (I am in my 70’s now) I was only vaguely aware of a hearing problem that led to my often failing to catch all of what my teachers were saying, and making a fool of myself when asked to comment. On one such occasions, my English teacher, ‘Jock’ Rankin, put it to hoots of laughter from classmates that it’s making and learning from our mistakes that maps out our progress from ignorant to less ignorant to worth listening to … adding’ almost as an afterthought (which it clearly wasn’t) that any learning curve needs must leave us sufficient personal space in which to engage with what has to be (surely?) the most basic among human rights, agreeing-to-differ. 

I well recall thinking at the time it was as good an agenda for life as any. 50+ years on, I continue to find myself thinking along the same lines … although how far that constitutes any measure of my progress through life is for others to say and me to but speculate on (at best) an open verdict …

As every generation must discover for itself, life is a learning curve. We all make mistakes, given that we are but human, and we can learn from these or not; better, though, to consciously move up-down-up on it than let egocentricity get the better of us and turn a blind eye... surely? 

SHADES OF CONTEMPORANEITY

Humanity regenerating
mind-body-spirit, struggling 
to keep pace

Love comes, passes,
a posthumous consciousness,
upbeat heart

Upbeat hearts, tearing
at cloth ears for light at the end
of tunnel vision

Love-hate relationships
refusing to be redefined by ties
that conjoin

Nature and human nature
consigning past-present-future 
to the classroom

Life, death, a passing on
of files confessing to fake news
and stereotypes

Personal space abandoned
at the edge of reason where hope
lies bleeding

Endangered species
clinging for dear life to last straws 
of human conscience

Humanity regenerating
chips off tablets of stone recycled
in time and space


Copyright R N Taber 2019

On the Bitter-Sweet Politics of Being Human

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

War, more often than not, takes a cruel toll on Home Fronts as well as on the battlefield; it changes people, and in doing so can destroy relationships, inflict all manner of blows on family life, cause individuals to question the validity of any raison d’être on offer.

It is perhaps the greatest tragedy of humankind that it’s multi-ego has a problem with the notion of simply agreeing to differ

ON THE BITTER-SWEET POLITICS OF BEING HUMAN

At war, injury or worse for victory’s sake,

not all survivors showing its scars;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Back home, safe passage no piece of cake,

many survivors too weary for tears;

at war, injury or worse for victory’s sake

See the battlefield, its finest heroes make

of women from Venus, men from Mars;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

All roads to peace, too, their victims take,

for all we’re told an answer to prayers;

at war, injury of worse for victory’s sake

Where war makes waves across time’s lake,

find peace putting its faith in straws;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Shall history its peace with war ever make,

its windows on the world need no bars?

At war, injuries or worse for victory’s sake;

at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: Title (only) of the poem revised (2016) from the version that appears under the title 'War and Peace' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Potential for Victory OR Tackle the Weeds, Save the Garden

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

[Update (March 4 2017) Our thoughts are with the friends and families of all those killed and injured in yesterday's terror attack on the St. Petersburg Metro. At the moment, no terrorist group has claimed responsibility although official Russian sources are saying it was, indeed, a terrorist attack. A second bomb at another Metro station was successfully defused. The world's War on Terror goes on, a war its perpetrators cannot and will not win if only because they underestimate the human spirit's capacity for overcoming even the darkest forces. How ironic, though, that terrorism should bring out the best in good people everywhere, uniting us in grief, peace, and love even as other wars rage and divide us.]

[Update ( July 15 2016): I am sure readers will join me in sending heartfelt sympathy along with thoughts of love and peace to all the families and friends of those killed and injured during the latest terrorist attack; this time in Nice, only yesterday. May the eternal optimism and resilience of the French people help them through such terrible times. Indeed, it would seem that decent people worldwide must find a way to rise above the constant threat of terrorism if only so these psychopaths cannot claim victory over the better, stronger, kinder and more stoical elements of the human spirit that will endure long after all terrorists are less than dust in the wind, no matter how many lives they may have taken or whatever trail of destruction they leave behind; any suggestion that the name of any terrorist is in the least bit worth remembering is an insult to the memory of his or her victims.]

We can but hope common sense will prevail over politics and a two-way dialogue will (eventually) allow diplomacy to triumph sooner rather than later over the sub-machine gun, the missile, the roadside bomb, the suicide bomber, the likes of an attack by mindless fanatics on innocent commuters, a defenceless young soldier in broad daylight on a London street, worshippers in a place of prayer, tourists sunning themselves on a beach…

And so it goes on across the world...

The trouble is some people - especially the more vulnerable among us - are easily persuaded that weed flowers are worth saving, even nurturing. The good gardener, of course, knows better.

I guess all we ordinary men and women on any street anywhere in the world can do is just get on with our everyday lives, do our best to create ripples of peace, love, and respect for each other’s socio-cultural-religious differences instead of open hostility. Hopefully, these may spread far and wide enough to do at least some good. Wishful thinking…? Well, maybe, but worth a try surely?

No one is necessarily an enemy because they are 'different' in respect of race, religion, political outlook ... whatever. I have said it before and will keep saying it... our differences do not make us different, only human, and we are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity.

This poem is a villanelle.

POTENTIAL FOR VICTORY or TACKLE THE WEEDS, SAVE THE GARDEN

Where terrorism strikes fear,
encouraging the world’s divisions,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Inhumanity painfully clear
(election fodder for our politicians)
where terrorism strikes fear

Though survival cost us dear
following conscience-led decisions,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Dare humanity turn a deaf ear
to the in-fighting among its religions
where terrorism strikes fear?

Once mutual respect finds cheer
in spirituality’s common aspirations,
sense its victory, oh, so near

May peace songs persevere
with infiltrating all enemy positions;
where terrorism strikes fear,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

Pleading for the Planet

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

[Update : July 30th 2019: We are still reeling from a week of very hot temperatures here in the UK, worse in other parts of Europe. Naturally, people have rushed to the seaside. However, there is no excuse for the appalling state of some  beaches - litter strewed as far as the eye can see - where those responsible simply could not be bothered to take it home and dispose of it there or at least wait until they could find a litter bin. Whatever happened to social conscience? We are polluting our seas, killing off and causing pain to sea creatures who, sadly, have no say in the matter. Until we all start acting more responsibly, it is not only climate change that will damage civilization as we know it, possibly if not probably beyond repair.]

Many if not most of us take nature for granted and use it to our own advantage at every opportunity as if we have every right to do so.

Meanwhile, I suspect Earth Mother whispers much the same in many an inner ear. Ah, but, hey, anyone listening…? Whose conscience pricking them for taking social responsibility so lightly, if at all?

Who is the guardian of whom, I wonder? We of nature or nature of us? Better, surely, that we work with rather than against each other...?

PLEADING FOR THE PLANET

Listen to the rain

telling tales on people

killing each other

Listen to the trees

telling tales on people
disrespecting them

Listen to the birds

telling tales on people

shooting them down

Listen to the fishes

telling tales on people

poisoning the seas

Listen to the worms

telling tales on people

doctoring the soil

Listen to the wind

telling tales of people

on borrowed time

Listen to the people

pleading for the planet

before it’s too late

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Past-Present-Future, a Collective Responsibility

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

A reader asks why I often write past-present-future as one word rather than separating past, present and future.  The interconnection is so great that I see them as a whole; just as time is a continuum so all we say and do at any one time will like as not affect and reflect not only ourselves, but others too - one way or another, to a greater or lesser extent, but significantly all the same  (whether we or they choose to  acknowledge it or not) in any near or distant moment in time.

As for the world in which we human beings persistently express a penchant for destruction and division ... is it not high time we focused more on pulling together, accepting and respecting each other's differences instead of playing socio-cultural religious-political football with them?

Any tears in the ozone layer will not mend themselves unless we all become more pollution conscious and stop arguing among ourselves long enough to take an honest look as how we are inflicting all but irretrievable damage to the planet.

Those leading politicians, with fingers in various Big Business pies, may well choose to play down the long-term effects of polluting the planet, but need to cut the rhetoric and act NOW or risk plunging future generations into an Armageddon scenario…

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, A COLLECTIVE RESPONSIBILITY 

In the rain, an acid rain, you’re there

sharing the burden of my despair

Let the world roll out its history

consigning us to memory,

clouds forbid the sun, heavens weep;

in my dark, your light I’ll keep,

till this mere flesh no more can stand

and Death lends us a hand

as through a graveyard in a gentle rain

we ghosts will walk and talk again

In the rain, an acid rain, you’re there,

sharing the burden of my despair

Though our world blast into infinity,

consigning us to the galaxy,

yet seedlings shall survive, endure

in Mother Nature's loving care

till songbirds, in time, return

to the killing fields of Everyman,

redeem a so-sorry history of acid rain

till humankind ghost us yet again

In the rain, an acid rain, we’re here

sharing the burden of all despair

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

  

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Easing the Burden’ in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Rites of Passage or Overkill?

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

Life, death, it’s an eternal balancing act...for nature as well as for humankind.

It's down to us to maintain a reasonable life balance, but the rise in obesity among children as well as adults in western societies suggests we should, well....think again.

Let's not underestimate the power of the natural world either in compensating - in part, at least - for its own darker forces, of which humankind happens to be the worst. We may like to think we do as reasonable a job of compensating for its as well as our own way of life, but could it not be that climate change and endangering (if not eliminating) various species is a memo from Earth Mother, to each and every one of us, to...think again?

I am reminded a something a teacher told the class on my very last day at school. "Education is a learning curve. Try to leap before you have learnt, and you'll soon find yourself in deep shit." Everyone laughed but, of course, it is no laughing matter.

RITES OF PASSAGE OR OVERKILL?

On the crest of waves like surfers poised to head
for home in a swirl of raging sea

Nature re-birthing us, milk at the breast, feeding
the best traditions of human spirit

Dark forces, expecting Everyman to take a fall
against all evidence to the contrary

Everyman going it alone on a lion’s back asking
humanity to find it in itself to follow

Survival, greeting applause (hearts and minds)
if only for a sublime moment in time

History, inclined to lose its footing and leave it up

to the arts to restore a balance off sorts

Humankind, surfing a primeval wisdom, drafting
and redrafting pacts with its nemeses

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2017

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

Anatomy of Chaos

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

We may not be rich, but even those of us blessed with life’s simpler, everyday comforts need to count our blessings whenever, from time to time, they may seem somewhat thin on the ground. 

Millions of people worldwide are struggling to survive in appalling conditions; floods, drought, famine, lack of clean drinking water, overcrowded refugee camps, extreme poverty, war…We may catch glimpses of these on TV and spare them a thought, only to go on and watch a movie, fun quiz, chat show or whatever…

There is no point in feeling guilty, just very fortunate, and if awareness of the world’s ills does not help us keep a sense of proportion, it damn well should.

ANATOMY OF CHAOS 

Carpet stains
greeting the dawn,
yawning
away with bare feet,
flip-flops,
mouths dripping
coffee,
cornflakes, butter
on toast…
chair legs banging on
about
how chaos rules
OK

Carpet stains,
epitome of a life
enjoyed,
fibre heart strings
singing along
with garden birds,
grasshoppers,
teenage rock moves
and ma
performing a star
turn
at the kitchen
sink

Carpet stains,
alive, but only just;
sunset
soaking its fibres
with shades
of red and yellow,
like autumn
saying its goodbyes
to faces
at windows looking
for ways
to make the best 
of things

Carpet stains,
put to bed with wine
and candles,
left to soak up
evidence
of home comforts,
world politics
redirecting its refugees
via short-cuts
to Paradise Road,
splinters
of broken glass
overlooked

There will be blood...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Promises, Promises...

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

Several readers have been in touch to question the wisdom of my repeating historical posts on Google Plus.  I had the idea after readers said they would like to read some of my poems again but did not have time to browse the blogs. Feedback suggests that my contribution to Google Plus is quite popular so I will continue, especially as I am not too well these days so not often up to writing new poems. (Even so, I hope to post some new poems from time to time.) Meanwhile, I hope readers will enjoy at least some of the poems I put on Google Plus, perhaps even take an interest in the historical nature of various preambles. Most post will remain on Google + for five days and return again every few months in the hope of catching new readers and keeping the attention of regulars.

Now, if life is a manic roller-coaster ride, love has to be its saving grace, for all its ups and downs. Since we have no choice but get used to the idea that we come into the world  to live and die , we can at least make the best of what falls in-between,  and if that involves entering into a contract of mutual responsibility with Earth Mother as well as the rest of humankind, so be it…

Easier said than done, of course, in a world where only too often nature is perceived as a slave to what humankind so likes to justify as ‘progress’…

PROMISES, PROMISES...

Among angry hills,

where I was promised to worms,

a storm burst

and I stumbled on slopes

of grassy mud

to which I promised every last drop

of my blood

if they would see me safely home,

and then the sun

came out again, opening my eyes

to birds’ wings

and other miracles of nature;

I got headily drunk

on a misty rain, bare feet stalling

where ragged stone

and thistles bent on re-aligning

my personal integrity, demanding  

I do… what, exactly?

Something, someone,

purpose, reason, sense of resurrection

once mist and rain

finally done, restoring the sun

to its crowning glory

though bits of sky haunted still

by clouds emulating

rocks, thorns, unicorns in scattered shapes

and various personae

yelling in the ears to keep running,

running, running…or miss

the last train, promising to get me

to the station on time,

deserves (surely?) promising

in return to see these feet

safely home, tucked up in bed

by nightfall, eyes closing, peace

(of sorts) descending

In dreams, weeping hills touch gently

upon mutual responsibility

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as it appears in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.

Weeping Ozone, Sleepwalking World

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

[Update July 29th 2019: The world s beginning to wake up to the threat of climate change. Better late than never, although some pf its major players (like US President Donald Trump, to name just one continue to insist it is fake news. Let's all hope it is not too late for future generations.] RT

It is GOOD that (at last!) the world is starting to take climate change seriously, and accepting some responsibility for it. Even so, I can’t help thinking it is too little too late…especially as humankind is, on the whole, inclined to put its immediate needs first; immediate, but often (well) above and beyond the basics. Food, shelter and affordable housing are constantly put at risk by corporate greed funded by the wealthy intent upon getting wealthier and supported by the kind of back-door politics at which so many politicians excel.

There are, of course, a lot of good people out there if outnumbered by the bad. (The expression, 'the smile on the face of a tiger' springs to mind…)

It will be down to future generations to make the best (or worst, as the case may be) of the mess we have made and  continue to make of our planet with whatever resources available and, hopefully, a generous dose of sound common sense.

Whatever happened to priorities? It is bad enough that many people continue to bury their heads in the sand and pretend global warming is a fiction. How a significant number of those same people can continue to rage against gay relationships, for example, while playing down if not ignoring what has to be one of the greatest threats to the human race we will ever face is beyond my comprehension.

WEEPING OZONE, SLEEPWALKING WORLD

Terror in the sky, likely to bring
about the destruction of our planet;
rivers run dry, poisoned plants,
beasts of the wild starved of a will
to live, birds of the air unable
to take wing, too weak to sing even;
fishes in the sea, last to survive
nature’s very own Armageddon,
no end of tears in the ozone

Fear enough to melt glaciers,
seed mountains, valleys, urban oases
of wishful thinking among
fortune hunters quick to seize the day,
make a killing for profit (or kicks)
in human as well as animal trade-offs,
heart sleeves of the best cloth,
faux promises dead in the water,
potential eulogy for humanity

Panic in forests stripped of trees
meant to protect us in mean streets,
 androids forced to their knees
by silicon gods competing to be first
to clone eternity, any semblance
of morality but a vainglorious sterility
glossing over forsworn obligations
to generations left rummaging nature
for crumbs of survival

To the earth, a relentless rush of pain
its peoples shrug off as acid rain

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 under the title 'Under Threat'; rev title 2018.]

Making a Start

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

Sometimes everything but everything seems to be going wrong and is almost too much to bear. Then it’s time to take a step back and consider what to DO.

Tell someone, preferably a close friend or relative who knows you well. A trouble shared really is a trouble halved.

Seek practical / professional help and advice. If you don’t know where to get it…ask. (Your local Citizen’s Advice Bureau is always a good start if you have money worries).

Come on, folks. Nothing is ever quite as bad as it looks.

Try resolving things instead of letting them get on top of you. If they cannot be resolved, try making the BEST of things instead of the worst. True, it’s never easy, but always worth making the effort. Don't try and muddle through on your own either. We all need help and support sometimes. There is no shame in asking. Besides, most people - especially those closest to us - LIKE to be asked.

Remember, if no one knows we need help, no one is in a position to give it. We have no right to complain that no one cares about us if we insist on keeping our troubles to ourselves. Yes, sometimes people let us down, society too. We can but try. More often than not, being positive achieves positive results.

So come on, folks. Let’s get a life instead of letting it get to us. [Could it be that Earth Mother has the same idea? Now, there’s a thought…]

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, EVERYTHING TO PLAY FOR

Up to the eyes in debt,

split with lover,

redundancy rumours

hitting harder

than media hits on war, 

famine, floods,

earthquakes, disasters

breaking hearts, 

taking lives, and blaming  

global warming

when we’re not blaming

each other for never

getting it right no matter

how we might vote

No ozone hole to blame

for street crime,

racism or homophobia,

beggars (all ages)

haunting shoppers, kids

all but running riot

in supermarkets because

parents afraid to say

no, stop, don’t, mustn’t

or you’ll grow up
with few social skills

and even less hope

of getting parole halfway

into a life sentence

Must start to get real, nurture

a better, kinder world...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Making a Start'  in Accomplices to  Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Body Positive

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

Both poems have appeared on the blogs before, but as my dear mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating …

Today is World AIDS Day. Let us not only remember its victims but also be thankful that continuing research into HIV-AIDS at least means people are living much longer with the disease and can enjoy a better quality of life than in earlier years. We can but hope a cure will eventually be found.

Meanwhile…let’s have fun, but play safe, yeah?

BODY POSITIVE

Life, death!

Floods me, goads me,

leads me beside hot beaches

where I run, a dazzling sea

cheering me on, and I wonder

where the lark has gone

that fixed me so with its cheer

before abandoning me here

like a forgotten toy filled with joy

for its having all but played

me out before going about nature’s

own business

Life, death!

Calls me, galls me,

urges me back, back to you;

but we are gone,

the taste of us honey on my tongue

where we romped and played

like tots in make-believe, heading

barefoot among jellyfish

for the Punch and Judy man

who’ll make us laugh

if anyone can before the sun goes down,

our time forgotten

Life, death!

Overtaken us now,

beckoning. I’ll not rush my pace

for we’ve already run our race,

won a place among same stars enchanting

same lulling swell.

All’s well. One lost toy recovered

and taken home. Punch and Judy

in a packing case,

sleeping it off at some Bed and Breakfast.

I, filled with a night too exquisite for words

like those we shared...

Before AIDS

Copyright R. N. Taber 1996; 2012

[Note: A slightly different version first appeared in August and Genet by R. N. Taber (Wire Poetry Booklet series) Aramby Publishing,1996 and subsequently in various poetry publications prior to its inclusion in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

None of us, gay or straight can afford to be complacent...

THE TEST

Didn’t test to see if I was HIV positive,

I was scared,

then my lover asked me outright

and I lied…

thinking I wasn’t really lying, believed

I was okay

but the lie began to haunt me more

each night and day,

especially when in my arms he lay

his body in my trust

I should find out, I thought, I must

have a test,

I can’t go on pretending like this

even as we kiss

that there’s no virus in me I can pass on

(as if I would)

but I cannot answer for the unknown,

need to find out

be worthy of his love and trust

or we’ll never last

Eventually, I had the test, it was negative,

I was relieved,

then I asked my lover outright

and he cried...

swore he hadn’t known when we first met

but discovered since,

too scared to tell me in case I got angry

(as I’d been he might reject me)

so what could I do but hold him near

plant kisses in his hair?

 

Yes, we’ve had the test, my love and me,

it set us free

from doubt and fear because, together,

we are strong,

can deal with whatever this life

dishes us…

beats treading on our dreams, left alone

and up against it;

above all its blessings, place trust

or love will fail the test

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

Requiem For A Skylark/ Nature Trail (Two short poems)

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

Enjoying nature has to be one of life’s greatest pleasures. Here in the UK, as elsewhere in the world, it is down to each and every one of us to save as many of its green and pleasant places and wildlife habitats as possible for future generations...or they will not easily forgive us, if ever.

REQUIEM FOR A SKYLARK

On tuneful wing, our seasons

scanning, circles and dips

anxiously a covenant

with Earth's poetry, where

once a nesting tree

grew tall

Now, a shopping

mall

 NATURE TRAIL

Follow leafy trails

into red and orange,

silver, green;

let the dew of life

wash clean our

dirty hands;

be still, antic winds

till nothing's heard

but an egg-bird;

a tear in the eye,

all our yesterdays

on standby

[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Suburban Hero OR The Good Neighbour

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

Today's poem has not appeared on this blog before. I have nothing to add, but will let it speak for itself.

However, I would say to the reader who kindly says he enjoys many of my poems but thinks my collections would sell better and that I'd probably acquire a higher media profile within the arts media if I 'scrapped the gay poetry altogether...' Well, yes, you may well have a point. [Do I care?]

The reason I insist on publishing both general and gay-interest poems is because there is far more to anyone than how their gender or sexuality meets the eye, especially the judgemental eye. Yours truly,  for one, gets fed up with the level of such short sightedness in societies worldwide.

It is not only gay people who are victims of HIV-AIDS, of course; another reason for posting this poem on both poetry blogs. 

SUBURBAN HERO or THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR

He was just an ordinary man, living
an ordinary life on an ordinary street,
and whenever we chanced to meet
he would always make time for a chat,
ask me (for example) did I know that
Mrs T at number ten had been ill again
with lumbago, old J at number five
caught a bug in hospital and was damn
lucky to be alive?

He was such an ordinary man, living
such an ordinary life on such a street
as you might expect to find anywhere
if you care to look beyond dull fronts
of ordinary houses, could be forgiven
for thinking no worse fate (surely?)
than this spending one’s days in such
predictable ways, the stuff of suburban
myth for centuries

He was such an ordinary man, died
only a few years ago in a road accident;
no complicated will, only a pre-paid
funeral insurance, a few items to friends
and the house to an HIV-AIDS charity
that found everyone confiding how they
had suspected he was ‘one of those’
but …immaterial, and the whole street
turned out for the funeral

Such an ordinary man, nothing special,
simply a nice, neighbourly homosexual

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

Suggestions

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

There is much wrong with the world, and the planet itself is screaming a warning.

So what are we going to do about it?

Dare I suggest that we need a least one leader with real vision and a commitment to it that others might follow? Whatever, we all have a responsibility to future generations to act NOW before it is too late.

SUGGESTIONS

They suggest we try and save garden creatures

and ocean whales before it’s too late

They suggest our luxury choices are sure to leave

the generation of 3000 with none

They suggest parents are scared of their children

and raising monsters

They suggest religious leaders pay more attention

to compassion than division

They suggest politicians aren’t listening to those

who put them there

They suggest our multicultural societies are failing

themselves and each other

They suggest we start learning the lessons wars

should have taught us

They suggest we’re but living will and testament

of a dying planet

So who are they, daring to suggest humankind look

to its shortcomings?

Among leafy choirs, anxious waves, nature’s children

rehearse this world’s passing

  

[From: Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book 2007]

John Bull's Midnight Garden

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

Today’s first poem last appeared on the blog in 2008. Now, I have written several anti-drugs poems and reader ‘Marcel P’ has asked me to repeat this one ‘as a warning to a close friend.’ I only hope he makes sure his friend reads it.  I have added the second poem for good measure.

Drug abuse destroys lives so why are there relatively few rehab centres available, even in big cities like London? Why isn’t there more high profile anti-drugs promotion?

Drug addicts need help, not condemnation. Apart from young people who are targeted by unscrupulous drug pushers, there are others (all ages) who turn to drugs because they cannot cope with the pressures of everyday life. It isn’t long before they find themselves trapped in a vicious spiral of desperation and despair.  

Even so-called ‘soft’ drugs such as cannabis are not without their dangers. Smoking weed can help a person relax, but if he or she is smoking because they cannot cope with certain pressures, the chances are it won’t be long before they will try something stronger, always convinced they are not vulnerable to addiction...

Everyone’s body chemistry is different; take ‘designer’ drugs like ecstasy; for example one person’s high, another’s death. Yes, the latter is rare, but is it worth taking the chance? Besides, many of these drugs have not been around long enough for full research to be done into their long-term effects on mind and body. 

What’s that you say> It’s my life and I’ll live it how I want?  Fair enough, except drug abuse doesn’t only ruin an addict’s life but the lives of his or her family and friends too.

So be careful out there, yeah? If you can’t cope, for whatever reason, ask for help, don’t take the drugs route.

There is no shame in asking for help, only common sense.

JOHN BULL’S MIDNIGHT GARDEN

Blades of grass dipped in moonlight,

Old Man winking mischievously

at shadows chasing their own tails

across number ten’s garden;

Lights in a window peeking between

chinks in closed curtains, envious

of a night left in peace to play without

fear of interruption

Beyond the wall, a screech of tyres

leaves someone’s child dead,

wearing pretty ribbons of moonlight

dipped in a druggie’s blood;

Old Man pointing the finger of blame

at shadows chasing their own tails

from the garden of number ten,

preferring to be left in peace without

fear of interruption

Behind the Rehab Centre, closed down

because of local residents objecting,

a desperate company sniffing, injecting,

clutching at straws in a sea of moonlight

flooding the garden of number ten;

Old Man takes to hiding behind clouds

rather than watch shadows made to chase

their own tails where no peace without

fear of interruption

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2007]

CHARYBDIS MON AMOUR

Whirlpool

Anguish, mirrored

in eddies of shrapnel light;

Pain, caught fast

in a grip of mute supplication;

Loneliness, laid bare

in a mad rape

Round, round, this raving soul

chases its own dear folly

Life, long since perjured

for roller coaster thrills;

Love, all scratched

and bleeding after spills,

spread-eagled

on a cross

Lord, have mercy

on us

No screaming brakes

at Salvation’s door

left ajar;

Nor one kind echo

in the blind

drop

[From: Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]