Shades of Grey

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

“Modern man talks of a battle with nature, forgetting that, if he won the battle, he would find himself on the losing side.” - E. F. Schumacher

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and Nature shall not be broken.” - Leo Tolstoy 

“The best friend on earth of man is the tree: When we use the tree respectfully and economically, we have one of the greatest resources of the earth.”- Frank Lloyd Wright

“Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.” - Mary Webb

Now, tomorrow will see us mark the end of 2022, each in our own way.  Across the world, people will be coming together to celebrate New Year’s Eve; a veritable feast of music, dance, relief at having survived another year and hope that the next will, indeed, be a happy one.  

We can, each and every one of us, only do our best to see our hopes fulfilled, subject though all of us are to circumstances beyond our control. All the more reason though, surely, to enjoy the Here-and Now, let it fill our lives with bright colours and inspiring sounds which, though they fade, even die, they, and the person they encouraged us to be, live on in every mind-body-spirit, heart-and-soul, they ever touched.

Oh, and again, many thanks for dropping by, much appreciated, and I hope you will join me again soon for my first post-poem of 2023… assuming that I can continue to rise above - if not quite get the better of - the mess in which ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left my thought processes.😉

SHADES OF GREY

The world around me,
various shades of grey, a sad, 
often lonely place…
Apollo having all but taken
his leave of us, trusting
we’ll manage gloomy days
as best we can,
let mind-body-spirit aid and abet us
in making wiser choices 

Weary, a natural world
sick of human nature abusing it
in the name of ‘progress’
without taking bold steps enough
to ensure its past-present
may yet anticipate a kinder future
than marks its pages,
colours its history, common humanity
but a chancer’s reality

Shades of green and gold
courtesy of Apollo’s rays of hope,
a brave one-upmanship
taking its cue from any You-Me-Us 
that haunts the history
of a humankind trying to find its way
through multiple shades
of blue-green-gold urging we'll get wise
to its potential demise

Though we suffer its every shade of grey,
trust heart-and-soul to save the day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poet-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

Starting Over

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

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.” – Henry David Thoreau

“The mind is its own place and in itself can make a Heaven of Hell, a Hell of Heaven.” – John Milton

“It is better to conquer yourself than to win a thousand battles. Then the victory is yours. It cannot be taken from you, not by angels or by demons, heaven or hell.” - Buddha

Now, overheard in a supermarket on Christmas Eve:

1st Person: “I so love this time of year. It’s so good to unwind, but it’s over too soon, and where are we then? I mean, where’s the excitement, the fun, in a whole new year stretching ahead that’s likely to stress us out all over again?”

2nd Person: “Life is what you make it. For my part, I love the feeling of starting all over again and being given the chance to put a few things right and be happy again. I can’t explain it, but it’s not a bad feeling, quite the opposite…”

I so empathised with that second person. Although I do not subscribe to any of the world religions, I am neither atheist or agnostic. Nature has always filled me with a sense of spirituality I cannot explain, even to myself. Maybe that’s why I write poetry, as an attempt to define the indefinable; not just a feeling, nor a religious faith, but a faith, no less. Whatever, it has seen me through some pretty bad times and some great times too. For better or worse, it has made of my life what, at surface level does not amount to much, but, a n ‘other’ self in me recognizes that it has been an incredible learning curve.

I guess it’s the same for everyone, although in my case it has taken 77+ years to even begin to understand what has to be, in no small part, the role of personal space in the overall meaning of life. As for hope, optimism, positive thinking - whatever we like to call it – maybe that, in turn is the role of the kind of faith that nature inspires in many of us?

For me, anyway, Spinoza’s sense of God and Nature being much of a one-ness, has seen me has seen me through more ups and downs of life to my late 70’s…and I suspect hasn’t finished with me quite yet. So, a new chapter looming in the shape of a new year, is scary, but curiously exciting one. 

Who knows that lies ahead for any of us? We can but trust that still, small voice that goes by whatever name we choose, whatever our personal space learns to feels OK with…? Having grown in the bigoted 1950’s, is it any wonder that it took me until my 30’s to listen to mine and tell the world I’m gay…?

STARTING OVER

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to plead 
for peace and goodwill
to take root in the hearts of warmongers
in high places left swivelling
on comfy chairs in plush, warm home zones,
rehearsing a Rhetoric of Peace
along with political ends, in keeping with a faux morality
that haunts a weary humanity

End of another year looming,
a global consciousness continuing to hope
for kinder times ahead
on the backs of the quick and the dead
left grieving losses, asking questions,
looking for answers where angels fear to tread
lest they encounter lost souls 
asking the way to a safe house heard tell of called Heaven,
Peace of Mind, second to none

End of another year looming,
mind-body-spirit busy working out
how best to survive;
in or lose, resolving to understand
just who we are
by the end of it all (one way or another) 
not least for listening, believing
in each other, and lending a helping hand, ear, eye, whatever.;
life force, human endeavour

Heart-and-soul preparing to get the better of our flaws again;
mind-body-spirit of being human

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2022

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my gay poetry blog today.] RT

 

A Nature Lover's Dream

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

“In nature, nothing is perfect and everything is perfect. Trees can be contorted, bent in weird ways, and they’re still beautiful.” - Alice Walker

“Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.” - Khalil Gibran

“Heaven is under our feet as well as over our heads.”- Henry David Thoreau

As a child, I had to attend Sunday School at the local Baptist Church. I once asked the pastor why trees had to die in winter. “It’s a time’s eye view of life…” he replied and went on to explain; I would have been about ten and the phrase has stayed with for the best part of sixty60+ years although I have never heard it again. Mind you, as regular readers know, I have had significant hearing problems all my life, so… wry bardic grin

I already had a problem with conventional religion even then and suspect it was during that very conversation that I began my journey into Pantheism, although it would be many years before I even came across the word... 

A NATURE LOVER'S DREAM

There is a mountain,
I would have climbed if I could,
if only to stand
on its splendid snow-capped peak
be lord of all I survey;
spirit willing, but flesh weakened 
by fear and self-doubt,
even as it embraced mind-body-spirit
day and night, year in, year out

I’d visit the mountain,
gaze in awe at its magnificence,
envy climbers
with the courage and determination
to achieve their goal,
only ever vaguely aware of the earth
beneath my feet,
a breeze in my hair, birdsong everywhere,
asking only that I but look-see-hear

To reach the mountain,
I had first to negotiate woodlands,
the snowy peak,
my guide. my passion a life force in me,
reasoning not the need,
fuelling imagination with a desperation
vying for my every heartbeat
where I chanced to fall on a carpet of grass
in a cathedral of leaves

Once, I lay there awhile,
listening to a choir of wildlife sounds 
washing over me
like a light, sweet-smelling seasonal rain
watched butterflies,
heard crickets chirping, sat up to glimpse
a fallow deer peering at me
through a veil of leaves, a curious empathy
bonding us all too briefly

Slowly I found my feet again,
loath to leave so beautiful and natural
a creation, a heaven
of sensibility on earth, hand in glove 
with Earth Mother;
above, below, within, heart-and-soul 
delivering an epiphany,
conveying the presence of a live' spirituality
quantifying all humanity

Less fearful now of Time’s eye, even death,
for being promised to the earth

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

The Rose Grower

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

Yes, another love poem. I guess I am a sucker for them, even though I have only been in love with someone once in my life, years ago. Short-lived, though, out time together, I will always rate it ten out of ten among other treasured memories of others whom I have loved - living or deceased -in other ways.

No happy memory is quite the same, nor even dependant on whom we may have shared it for there are times when we need to be alone, if only to think things through; it can be a lonely experience, it’s true, but it can also be an unforgettably spiritual one.  

Yes, yes, I know I’ve said much the same thing on the blog before, but as my mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating... to oneself as much as to anyone else, especially when looking on the brighter side of life resembles searching for a needle in a haystack, a feeling many if not most of us will be only too familiar.

THE ROSE GROWER

Find tears on my pillow
crafted from such memories
of loved ones I treasure so

Seeing tears on my pillow
I am inspired by every shared
yesterday-today-tomorrow

Times, made to last forever,
of flesh-and blood committed
to ensuring we stay together

Death, even, it has no claim
on a pillow’s happy memories,
a rose by any other name...

The truth is, love cannot die,
the proof, in m every heartbeat
as beside it, each night, I lie

Let flesh-and-blood part us,
but trust that we’ll stay together
in love’s ‘live’ consciousness

No personal space compares,
or company, the evergreen nature
of an eternity that’s You-Me-Us

No happy memory quite the same,
a rose by any other name 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

 

 

 

 

Life and Soul

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

"The soul is placed in the body like a rough diamond, and must be polished , or the lustre of it will never appear." - Daniel Defoe  

As I have said many times before, I respect anyone’s deeply held religious beliefs, but reserve the right to criticise certain aspects of it and/or their interpretation, just as likewise, they are free to criticise my own perspective.

There is nothing sinful or abusive in agreeing to differ, so long as it is not conveyed in an offensive manner; sadly, it is not a point of view I have found in many people where their religion is concerned, yet I’m expected to accept being called a blasphemer, or worse, without being given much (if any) opportunity to defend the how-and-why of my own feelings.

There are exceptions, of course, and I have felt privileged to meet a good few throughout my adult life; people with a natural warmth and interest in others, regardless of ethnicity, religion (or non-religion) and, yes sexuality too.

I have said as much before on the blogs and I will say it again, that it is a tragedy how, in this 21^st century of ours, such prejudices persist, not least in certain religions in failing to see how they lay themselves wide open to accusations of hypocrisy.

Religion literally puts the fear of God in many people, to the extent they are scared of dying in case they are called to account for... whatever haunts them. Appearing before a court on Earth is a traumatic enough experience, but the expectation of a Judgement Day, and possibly ending up in Hell for all eternity with no leave to appeal.... that is terrifying.  A former colleague once sympathised with the certainty of my going to Hell because I am gay, and she may well be right, but when I commune with nature, I sense more love than retribution in the sense of spirituality it conveys to and settles on mind-body-spirit.

 It is through nature that I came to pantheism, the ides that God is nature, not its creator. The message I have always taken from nature is one of nurture and hope, even for the likes of we fallible human beings. So, I don’t fear death, only a prolonged dying and the pain of it, emotional as well as physical. It is why I have supported the Dignity in Dying campaign for some years. Some readers may care to look it up at: https://www.dignityindying.org.uk – even  make a donation...?

LIFE AND SOUL

Religion can but point the way
to its own interpretation of spirituality
as defined by its own agenda,
but Mind-Body-Spirit as per each of us
is as likely to encourage
a self-awareness that, in turn, lends us all
the spirituality we call ‘soul’

A soul may or may not lend itself
to the poetry and prose of any religion,
be persuaded by the rhetoric
of certain preachers to their followers,
while the human self
in all walk of life, is blessed with a capacity
for an all-inclusive spirituality

Where congregations in any place
set aside for any sentiments of worship
may well bring comfort and joy
to those who come to seek and find it,
the human soul needs only
that we take heart from the same life forces
as united to give birth to us... 

It is a sense of and hunger for peace
and love in all humanity that does battle
with its demons of all persuasions
that may well appeal to its baser desires
effecting a takeover
refusing to acknowledge or give any priority
to the spirituality that is humanity

In nature and human nature,
a kind of poetry to be sought and found,
by whomsoever cares to bid
their native senses ignore worldly rhetoric,
whatever it takes
to discover - or rediscover, as the case may be,
an all-inclusive spirituality...

 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Hello from London, UK (Yes, it's the old codger-poet again!)

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

Hello again from London UK

No poem to day, but soon... if my messed-up thought processes can rise to the occasion.  My prostate cancer isn't painful, but...oh, I have such fond (if distant!) memories of getting a decent night's sleep!

Straight people, all ages, sometimes ask what it's like to be gay and "not in the swim of everyday life." A silly question, if only for assuming that LGBT folks are not in the swim  of everyday life. We are, after all, human beings and, as such, no less a part of a common humanity than anyone else.

Sometimes people, all ages, also ask me how I cope, not just with the prostate cancer, but also with growing old in general. To be honest, I'm not sure, but on the whole, I just do... I suspect it's down to Mind-Body-Spirit pulling together as good friends will during hard times. 😉 Body is likely to prove the weaker link at any moment in time, but especially after it has been around long enough for a good many years to leave their mark, but - more often than not - Mind and Spirit act as pacemakers, and Body feels encouraged to press on...

Ah, but what if Mind falls foul of the darker of human temptations and  gets too close to The Edge of it all, cannot find the will to draw back, prevent freefalling into that same darkness? It is at such times that the human Spirit comes into its own, encouraging native willpower to see the trees in the wood for the beautiful species they are, find a way through to a place of such potential reassurance as to offer a good chance of our being able to enjoy the flowers and birdsong that the inner ear is pleading with us to  hear and take heart...

That's all very well, but what if the human Spirit, too, has lost its way, become confused, unable to see any wood for its damn trees that seem to be closing in on it, their motives unclear although an encroaching darkness s a sure threat, no comfort there, no sleep to rescue us from despair with sweet dreams and memories of how things were before... whatever. Mind may well  struggle to restore Spirit to its senses, Body too, but what chance of success, Spirit being by far the stronger of the trinity?

Ah, but let's not forget the power of  life forces from which Mind-Body-Spirit engages all the time, whether we are aware of it or not; the sheer Poetry of Love; family, friendship, images of  the natural world that have made such an impression on our sensibilities that we hear them calling to us through time and space . True, we may yet play deaf to the call and teeter over The Edge, but Mind-Body-Spirit, will inevitably pull together and do its best to persuade us otherwise... if we will but pause just a moment from  feeling sorry for ourselves, engaging with the politics of blame long enough to listen . Yes, finding our way through the woods may well be  a hard slog, maybe even impossible...BUT...worth a try, surely?

So much for life forces concerned only with our well-being, whether we choose to engage with them or not, but what of Death's lack of concern for our survival, able to  take us away from the Poetry of Life and Love at the blink of an eye? Well, there is a Poetry of Faith that may or may not be related to any religion that assures us of a place in an all-embracing Mind-Body-Spirit that defies even life itself, sure to carry us into the hearts of any with whom we have shared the Poetry of Love in whatever form it may have taken; it is called Remembrance or Personal Space (Memory) in it more intimate form; sense of spirituality denied no one. I suspect that Personal Space archives memories of it own that even dementia patients are able to take heart and comfort from. even though they may not be consciously aware of their evergreen presence within the deeper, inner self, able to select happy times and leave any bad times to fade like autumn leaves.; such, too is the Poetry pf Spirituality...

"Stuff and nonsense," do I hear some readers say? Possibly so, but there is a life-force within even  of  certain 'Stuff and 'Nonsense' wherein even the most troubled heart can find a degree of peace... if it chooses to look for it; easily enough done if we choose to freely and frankly engage with Mind-Body-Spirit whenever we find ourselves at the end of our tether... for whatever reason.

Take care, folks, stay safe and many thanks for dropping by,

Hugs,

Roger 

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.]

A Hymn to Pantheism OR Redefining the Spirit of Nature

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

I live alone and am in my mid-70’s now so, like many if not most of us, have struggled with various health issues and to nurture a positive thinking mindset during the pandemic. Having had my Covid booster and flu jabs recently, I am starting to feel more confident when out and about in crowded places, shops and on public transport where I continue to wear a face mask; it is glaringly obvious that we are not out of the proverbial woods yet. 

Now, a new poem today rather than  another revision of an earlier one, prompted by reader M J who emailed to say he and his wife enjoyed the poetry reading I gave on the 4^th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square back in 2009; it was my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley’s ‘live’ sculpture project, “One and Other.” M J also asks “Do you still consider yourself a Pantheist?” Well, many thanks M J and the answer to your question is - yes, I do. 

While I respect anyone’s religious beliefs, I had never felt comfortable with religion. Raised as a Christian in the Baptist tradition, I could never truly relate to a personified God, even as a child. I first read about Pantheism in my mid-adult years and instantly engaged with it. 

Pantheists believed that God did not create nature, but is nature. I have always been able to engage with nature and experience a sense of spirituality from doing so. For this reason, I have always rejected criticism of my poetry for talking about spirituality when many readers would argue that ai am an atheist or agnostic because I don’t subscribe to any of the central world religions. 

Incidentally, in the course of my plinth reading, I told the crowd below that I was both gay and a Pantheist. Interestingly, I wasn’t heckled once during the whole hour.  What would social media trolls have to say about that, I wonder...?

A HYMN TO PANTHEISM  or REDEFINING THE SPIRIT OF NATURE

Some pray to God, the Father,
who goes by many names,
yet, essentially, is much the same
in so far as He would have us learning
to love one another? 

Others lift up heart and voices
to Earth Mother, alias nature,
yet who’s to say the are not the same
in so far as both would have us at peace 
with one another?

Some say God created nature
upon whom we depend
as we depend on one another to see us
through our time here on Earth, nurturing
mind-body-spirit 

World religions would separate
such inspiring life forces
to which He and She would see us bond
and nurture, yet some say we  are all of us
in ‘it’ together 

So, what is ‘it’, nurturing, inspiring,
all past-present-future,
nature and human nature learning how
to live together (or not, as the case may be)
and making history? 

Some say, God and Earth Mother
are so closely bound in spirit
and nurture that to engage with one
is to engage with the other, all part and parcel
of a common endeavour 

To each our own feeling for eternity,
a sense of spirituality
(independent of religion?) for seeing how
the kinder parts of nature and human nature
are the stuff of its poetry

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: I don't relate to Pantheism simply because I'm gay, but my sexuality has certainly played its part since most world religions consider same sex relationships a sin. and would deny me the sense of  spirituality that, among other things, helps me cope with growing old, Whatever, this poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now & Then

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

Reader A. H. writes that his family disapprove of his choice of life-partner and says, “My family are everything to me, but so is the woman I love. What can I do?” 

The reader must make a choice, and I would not presume to advise. I would only say that if his family are as close as they would appear to be, the chances are they will come, sooner or later, to his choice of bride.  Sadly, it is a choice many LGBT men and women around the world also have to face. 

As I have often said on the blogs, in preambles and poems alike, love comes in many shapes and forms, but there is a common denominator – survival. Where strong and true, love can endure even the worst life throws at it, in life or death; where unacceptable to some, that is their loss. 

I have seen families split by life choices made by this or that member. Sometimes our choices prove to be at worst misguided, at best flawed, but all of us need to learn by our mistakes, and that works for everyone concerned. Closed doors can be re-opened, but there needs to be a clear will on both sides, not always there...so they remain closed, everyone left asking why, and expecting someone else to make the first move.  

Love never dies, but it is as capable of inflicting hurt and being hurt by human nature as any of us or nature itself. 

NOW & THEN

Once, I’d hide in an old tree
for an ages-old game of hide-and-seek
among peers grown young
with me, Apollo taking a peek
through leaves of spring
taking my side, a brisk south wind
up for playing its part,
while letting rip with a warning shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Once, I’d lie by that same tree,
feeling blessed for having you at my side
the two of us so happy
just to be together, no words needed
to express expectations
of a future to build, share and enjoy
in such ways as love brings
for letting rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Now, returned to that old tree
to share treasured memories of you-me- us,
revisit the dreams we shared,
ask why we were able to fulfil so few,
parted as we were too soon,
yet thankful, indeed, we’d found
in each other such life-forces
as inclined to let rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Among leaves of an old tree, hear Apollo shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!" 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021 

Hello again, from London UK

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

           Another reader has emailed to ask, “I don’t have prostate cancer, but get very depressed. How on earth do you cope as antidepressants don’t seem to help me.”. I have tried to answer this question before, but, as my mother used to say, if you think something is worth saying, it has to be worth repeating...

            For a start, I don’t avoid depression altogether; some days I feel very low and too near the edge of some psychological abyss for comfort. The poetry blogs help by way of creative therapy to keep despair at bay, and I would recommend it for anyone who has to cope wit any form of illness, be it a form of cancer or whatever. You don’t have to write poetry, of course; gardening, knitting... these can be as effective a means of distracting a person from everyday stress as any of the arts. Simply walking and taking in our surroundings can also provide a healthy distraction, often triggering precious memories of yesteryear. (I don’t entirely agree with those who take the view that looking back is pointless, the only way is forward.)

            Sadly, prostate cancer can affect the memory, as in my case, to such an extent that if I imagine mind-body-spirit as building, it feels like huge parts of my life are being removed, brick by brick. It is a frustrating and distressing experience, but one has to learn to live with it, and creative therapy encourages a positive-thinking mindset that can provide a way forward when, at times, there may well not seem to be one.

            A positive-thinking mindset can help us through any life-crisis if we but take a step back from it, take deep breaths, consider firstly its nature and causes and then how we might alleviate both our own distress and that of those closest to us. There are no easy answers but there is always a way forward; even if the only way forward looks likely to end in death, we can at least prepare ourselves for it. Those who have a strong religious faith, can take comfort and strength from it; those who cannot relate and therefore don’t subscribe to any religion can at least reconcile themselves to resting in pace. Me? As a Pantheist, I believe that God is nature; having not only always felt a strong affinity with nature, but also taken an indefinable sense of spirituality from it, I cannot believe that it means me harm.

            Mortality’s closes ally and human beings’ weakest link it is fear. Lose our fear of death, and it can only lose the battle for our lives while. the human spirit is left to win the war for an after-life of sorts, depending how we envisage it. I, personally, as regular readers well know, like to believe there have been more positives than negatives in my life; although the first may neither excuse nor compensate for the latter, I can only hope it is the latter that will endure in the mind-body-spirits of those to whom I have tried to pass those same positives on to remain an influence for the better and passed on, in turn, to others.

            Such is the posthumous consciousness that, rightly or wrongly, I envisage as a form of after-life; as positive a view of mortality as I can envisage.

            As for concepts of Heaven and Hell, I suspect many if not most of us experience both, each in our own way as we go though life. Death has to bring peace - especially for any among us who have felt constantly at war with our inner selves, for whatever reason – or life itself becomes but passing of seasons between birth and death, make what we will of them... or not, as the case may be.

            Whenever I have been close to nature, as man and boy, I’ve experienced a spirituality that reassures me as much now as it did years ago. A religious leader once told me that “Faith defies reason and logic, dependent as it is on true Belief, and therein lies its strength...”       Who’s to say that one Belief is truer than another? 

Bye folks, , take care, be sure to nurture a positive-thinking mindset and I'll be back with a poem soon, 

Hugs, 

Roger

The Times, they are A-Changing

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

It was January 1964. I had just left school, still living at home and contemplating my future the first time I heard Bob Dylan singing The Times, They Are A-Changin’ on the family radiogram in the comfort of an armchair. 

A violent storm was raging outside. 

Maybe it was the poet in me that started me thinking along much the same lines as I do now, 50+ years later, that nature and humanity are at risk... not least from each other?

THE TIMES, THEY ARE A-CHANGING

Sun glaring down
with the ferocity of a Greek god
at humankind’s
insistence upon pitting itself
against nature
in the name of progress,
any capital gains notwithstanding,
climate change but an incidental factor
in a universal picture? 

Forest fires, freak floods,
forcing whole families to take flight,
come day or night,
since nature has little respect
for those in denial
of meaning it harm by providing
greater elbow room 
as and when the need, any justification
met with regeneration                                          

Does the natural world
not deserve better that such Reserves
and Zoos as humankind
feels inclined to allow, if only to teach
its past and present
to students of world order, its future
looking as bleak
as theirs, its own life forces whittled down
by matters human? 

A worldwide pandemic,
regarded by many as beyond coincidence,
but Earth Mother’s way
of protesting at humanity’s inclination
to see wildlife as sport,
green spaces expendable wherever
developers see potential
in arguing for public as well as private gains,
so “Everyone wins...” 

Come a 21^st Century virus,
targeting the human race as indiscriminately
as it has seen fit
to target birds, beasts, fishes and habitats
in the name of self-preservation,
humanity deserving the greater share
for its sheer superiority
and monopoly on matters cognitive-spiritual
engaging with its soul? 

Who’s to say the natural world
is incompatible with a universal spirituality
when grief and loss
as well as celebration are plain to see
in species other than human?
Who’s to say, too,
that were humanity fail to survive
its own demands and prejudices, there would be
no new Dawn of History? 

Human mind-body-spirit, at risk for being in denial
of the natural world’s being part of its whole...

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

Hello again, folks, from London UK

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

Hello again folks, from London UK

No poem today, but I am working on one, not only for you all but for me too. As with most people, the pandemic continues to taken its toll on yours truly. As if growing old and living alone was not enough to contend with, I find myself struggling to rise above the kind of depression that comes with battling various health issues - not least, my prostate cancer - on a daily basis.

At least I understand the nature of what I what I am up against and do so with a hopeful heart. Some battles are beyond understanding, prejudice being one of them. Prejudice against another human being is a sickness I find very hard to understand, and I am not speaking simply as a gay man.

Those who nurture feelings of racism, sexism, any kind of hate form against another human being simply because they don't like colour of their skin, their gender or the  nature of their sexuality... or whatever... is beyond all understanding.

Not for the first time, I received complaints about my last post along the lines that "... a gay-interest poem has no place on a 'supposedly' general poetry blog." That may well be true, but the motivation behind a poem is every bit important as the poem itself.

There are many men and women out there to whom the faith in which they were raided remains important to them even if they discover during puberty that they are of an LGBT+ persuasion, which most religious dogma condemns. Homosexuality and gender identity are no less a part of the human condition than any  mind-body-spirit that identifies with and feels a compelling empathy with the religion in which they have been raised.

Another reader has emailed to complain that "As you say you are not religious yourself, how can you, a godless person, justify a poem that is a religious allegory - of sorts..."

Hopefully I have explained if not justified the reason for the poem in the previous paragraph and other blog posts. As for my being a "godless" person, I have never claimed to be one, except in the way most world religions would have it. Pantheists believe that God is nature, not its creator. 

Anyone who has experienced as intimate an affinity with nature as with a God that not only doesn't discriminate along such prejudicial lines as some human beings, but neither sees any form of  bigotry as a "natural" element of any mind-body-spirit. Over the years, I have meat many people who share much the same experience, albeit I dare say they my well prefer not to see themselves as pantheists... or poets, for that matter.

 How a person feels, how he or she fills their personal space, that is where human choice lies, and it is only human to make  bad choices sometimes; these can never (quite) rectified, but the capacity to recognise  and change is also innate to mind-body-spirit and it should not require religion to state the terms of  a sinner's repentance or forgiveness. If we can repent and forgive ourselves, it is my belief that the greater, natural part of mind-body-spirit will rest easier for that and form the better part likely to engage with an empathic consciousness in life or death. 

      I'm not asking anyone to agree with me, simply trying to answer (to myself as much as anyone) why poetry helps me get through bad times and lets me feel a sense of spirituality as well as sheer pleasure in better, kinder times. Not an answer that will satisfy some if not many readers, I'm sure, but like everyone else, I can but try to get to the root of such thought processes that many philosophers and many a finer poet than I has attempted to reach for centuries.

Take care, keep well and nurture as positive thinking a mindset as you can,

Back soon,

Roger

A Force to be Reckoned With

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

Today’s poem was written in much the same spirit as the one before for which I make no apologies.

As we grow older, our thoughts inevitable turn to mortality and what it means to us in an intensely personal way; sorrow for having to leave family and friends – at least in a physical sense – is only half the battle some of us wage within ourselves as we recall images arisen from threats and promises made during long-ago formative years that are rarely as easy to shrug off as we might wish.

Over the years, I have met gay men from all walks of life and religion; the latter imposing far more guilt and despair on them than they deserve for their rejecting certain aspects of dogma by which a defensive worldly agenda would exclude them from both faith and any sense of spirituality altogether.

While I mean what I say about respecting a person’s religious beliefs, I also mean what I say when I blame religion for so many of humanity’s divisions and flaws, including my own.

Recently, I got chatting with a  gay Catholic man, in his mid-70’s like myself, besieged with doubts and fears regarding a Heaven he never ceased to believe in, but spent the best part of a lifetime in a weepy closet, made to feel by family and peers that he had no right to believe in anything much, including himself.

At the risk of being reprimanded for repeating myself yet again, no religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

The human spirit will be guided as much by the body’s innate feeling for all things positive as the mind’s inclination to trust its own judgement. Together, all three are a force to be reckoned with as world religions are beginning to realise; the more LGBT+ folks who learn to have faith in themselves and each other, the less likely they can be made to feel denied or undeserving of either those aspects of religion with which they most identify or the sense of growing reassurance it brings that no one’s spiritual well-being is threatened by their sexuality alone.

Regular readers will know that, as a pantheist, I reject the kind of dogma perpetuated by most world religions. Many who, likewise, cannot relate to a personified God any more than I do, or the teachings found in Holy Books, may well think of themselves (openly or not) as atheist or agnostic. Whatever, the human spirit clearly does have a will of its own, is capable of generating a sense of spirituality among even the most irreligious of human beings, not least in our capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms; lose that and, yes, we may well be on the road to a living Hell of our own making...

A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH 

A young man stood weeping
at the Gates of Hell where he’d been told
told to wait by certain “betters”
among humankind until let in to join others
whom the Devil has taken
for his own, down to words said, deeds done,
no malice intended, but seen as sinning,
deserving the worst all God-fearing folks can imagine 
within the parameters of their religion 

An angel came out of nowhere,
asked the young man why he shed such tears,
and the young man replied
how it was the sum of all earthly fears to be there
at Death’s door, waiting to see
the flames of hellfire, be made to dive therein,
due punishment for such worldly sin
as being on love with another man, much the same as he 
for engaging with homosexuality 

“Love is love, whatever its nature,”
said the angel, hand to head in sorrow and pain,
“Nor was eternity intended
for such troubles as mortal minds are inclined
to inflict rather than agree to differ,
allow for such reality es as they cannot be a part,
its seeds sown and nurtured in the heart
by assorted mind-body-spirits, rejected by such religiosity
as imposes its own spirituality...” 

“Are you saying I might even qualify
for Heaven? the young man asked, barely daring
to entertain the thought,
yet inspired by the angel’s understanding smile
to hope for more from eternity
than either burning or being as alone as made to feel
for much of his time on Earth
as neither of Earth Mother or Father born,
but an outsider, a freak of humanity, if only in failing to see
religion's monopoly on eternity 

“We who are not of Earth are well aware
of all that goes on there, can see into a human heart,
the sum of all its many parts
as lending the individual any benefit of doubt,
sitting less in judgement
than in compassion, allowing for a sense of spirituality
as comprises a whole that some call ‘soul’
where others see a human spirit engaging purely and simply
with a feeling for what comes naturally 

The young man took the angel’s hand in his,
and flew realms of time and personal space he’d seen
only in dreams of a kinder world,
no one made to suffer for ways of life and thought
that some may well see differently,
but the human spirit deserves a place and say in a world
that, try as it might, cannot dictate
how a person should feel or believe in order to (ever) qualify
to go wherever angels have no fear to fly

Copyright R.N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Engaging with Conjecture

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

I recently met up with a close friend for lunch in a church garden; it was a lovely, sunny afternoon and we were joined by assorted avian friends (mostly pigeons) hoping for such crumbs as we duly obliged. 

While chatting away, we’d sometimes address the birds directly; some would even seem to understand, if only in our imagination. Maybe they did understand, if not the words we spoke, the tone in which we spoken them? Who really knows what goes on in the head of any live creature, including human beings? It can only be pure conjecture, surely?

 

I put this to a psychiatrist once. To my surprise, he agreed, adding that it was not his job to know what goes on in patient’s heads, but to help them to know and thereby help themselves. “I’m trained to read signs, not to be a mind-reader,” he pointed out, “Before anyone can begin to deal with problems affecting their behaviour, they have to get to the root cause, rather like having to lift an invisible curtain they don’t even realise is there.  It’s my job to point patients towards it and help them find the wherewithal to lift the damn thing. Even then, it’s only a first step...”

 

A naturalist acquaintance once commented along similar lines about conjecture. We were observing a tortoise in his garden. “How does it decide which way to go?” I wanted to know.

 

“Natural instinct,” he said with quiet conviction.

 

“So how does that work?” I persisted.

 

“No one really knows for sure,” he chuckled, “... but we can learn a lot by observation of live creatures and their remains. Even so, all species are different and within any species there will always be individual differences. At the end of the day, even what a specialist learns is only conjecture, but as close to knowing as anyone can get.” 

It was s too complex a conversation for me, though, and I changed the subject...

 

ENGAGING WITH CONJECTURE

 

In a church garden,

two gay men engaging with nature

and human nature  

in such ways as its hosts would

deny us for our being

beyond both their ken or remit,

according to such dogma

as they would share as a ‘God-given’

insight to Heaven

 

Beneath leafy art forms

portraying dream-like cameos

of cloud shapes

and sun nymphs peering down

with watery eyes,

we ate our lunches, two old friends,

tossing breadcrumbs

now and then to birdlife come to share

precious moments there

 

Pigeons, various markings

and colouring, engaging with us;

avian and human,

birds of a feather come together,

truce understood,

a spirit of such caring and sharing,

as even divided species agree

on nurturing, if the going’s looking good

for credit and reward

 

Nearby, a crow has business

of its own with discarded food waste

in open litter bins,

deftly removing sandwich wrappings

and other crumb-potential,

scattering them across public gardens

for passers-by to deplore

such ‘litter-louts’ as never spare a thought

for the environment

 

Observing, though, how much

nature and human nature have in common,

for worse as well as better,

who’s to judge any species of creature

great or small for being

as they are, or any within the human race

made to feel outsiders

by any form socio-cultural-religious dogma

now and forever?

 

Such are ways to which life forms

are born, better (surely) to trust than see them

forsworn under duress,

reason the need any heart may protest

at being put to a test

it doesn’t even recognise as fit for purpose,

any more than do two gay men

in a church garden, engaging with local nature

and human conjecture? 

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021 

[Note: This poem-post also  appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.] RNT

Starting Out

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

I published today’s poet-poem on my gay-interest poetry blog yesterday and would not have published it here (for obvious reasons) had a “100 % heterosexual” reader who signs himself “Jay” not emailed to say that “My brother is gay and your gay poetry blog has helped me understand him so much better. He recently invited me to meet his new boyfriend. I took my wife along (for moral support) and the four of us had a great evening. It’s as you often say on the blogs, a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person, and neither deserve to be discriminated against on the grounds of any personal prejudices. So, come on, Roger, put your money where your mouth is (or poetry, anyway) and, who knows? Posting the poem on your other blog may well help other straight guys understand their gay peers and/ or family members better...” 

Well, that’s great to hear – and never let it be said that I’d duck a bardic challenge... 

So, here we go, the Full Monty from yesterday:

Not one of my better poems today, but I enjoyed writing it after a lively chat with a young man on the London Underground. 😉

We made an unlikely pair, two masked men, one in the first flush of a Here-and-Now still full of possibilities, and yours truly in the latter years of my Here-Today-Gone-Tomorrow...😀

We had once worked together when he was mostly stuck in the proverbial closet and he was keen to relate his experience of having come out of it...😁 

Sadly, my prostate cancer means I have been virtually asexual for some years now, but a guy can dream, can’t he, even at 75+...? 😊

Although most world religions love to impose guilt on LGBT folks for our being 'sinners', how can love be a sin, especially since they also insist that God is love...? As for enjoying sex, with or without love... well, that's just human. People can make what 'moral judgements' they like, but what gives any of us the right to do that?

No one should be made to consider themselves less than human, whatever their sexual persuasion; if their religion is an integral part of who they are, nor should they be made to feel any God of Love would exclude them from it...whatever anyone else might say. 

I can almost hear people snort, "Oh, and what does he know... but what do any of us really know?  Such is the heart of whatever it is we believe in;  it bypasses beyond all knowledge. 

As I have put to blog readers before... if those of us who feel unable to subscribe to any world religion, for whatever reason, can respect those who do, why can't we all simply agree to differ instead of taking offence?

STARTING OUT 

Dark blue suit, white shirt,
red tie, glossy black shoes, a hint
of yellow socks, perfectly groomed hair,
a slick, city guy for sure

He was chatty with everyone
in the bar, if going easy on the drinking,
“He’s into mind games.” a sixth sense said
as we had sex in my head 

I looked away and got chatting
to a barman while he expertly pulled me
another beer, the stranger all but forgotten,
fantasy kept well hidden 

Gazing absently into my beer,
till someone’s bending my ear, looked up
to see a pair of smiling eyes, coloured green,
looking directly into mine 

“You’re a quiet one,” he said,
a twinkle in each eye and lips relaxing
into a cheeky grin, “I’m only passing through,
and I really fancy you...” 

I laughed and flung arms wide,
“Why me, when you can have your pick
of anyone here?” His turn to ask with a grin,
“Is that a ‘no’ then...?” 

“Why me?” I asked again, playing,
for time, head acting out the same fantasy,
brain’s traffic lights on amber, body in a sweat,
my first time out... 

He told me his name, I told him mine,
and we made small talk over another beer
until he asked if I lived nearby and would I be ok
with making his day... 

“I’ve not done this before,” I blurted, 
expecting a roar of laughter, but he just shrugged,
leaned forward and whispered, “Frankly, me neither,
so, let’s be good to each other...” 

We were more than good to each other
the night he stayed over, and I’d wake next to others
in due course, never (quite) as in love, though, it’s true
as now when I wake next to you 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Felt Experience, Diary of an 'Other' Self

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

As we journey through life, the majority of us remain aware of our surrounding and relate to them accordingly; home, school, workplace... 

In what way ‘accordingly’ though’ given that all aspects of life are subject and vulnerable to change, for better or worse, at any given time? 

We can but do our best, on the face of it at least, to relate and adapt to change if only because common sense tells us that change is all but inevitable, part and parcel of life experience. 

How we feel about various changes in our lives, however, may well affect our perspective, not only on any physical change, but our relationship with everything and everyone it embraces, one way or another. Changes for the better will invariably improve our quality of life, not least for its affecting anyone in it who matters to us. 

Similarly, changes for the worse invariably have the opposite effect, worse still for giving rise to such feelings to which we may not be accustomed and make us feel out of our depth, a felt experience which we may be loath to confide in anyone, if only because – as we see it – it doesn’t reflect well on us. 

Sadly, many of us endure the darker aspects of felt experience alone, struggling against a rising tide of anger, shame and other self-deceptive life forces that needs must find an outlet or ‘target’ if only because it I no more the way of human nature to contain its negatives than to share and celebrate any positives. 

No one, even among close family and friends, can read minds; we can try, yes, but may well only see what we want or expect to see, leaving us none the wiser as to how best we can help someone in any given situation. 

Felt experience can make or break us and we need to share it; sometimes, talking to a stranger can be a good start or writing down how we feel to clear our thoughts sufficiently to help us communicate them, if only to ourselves. Whatever, it has to be a giant leap in helping us see how our own felt experience is affecting others and, hopefully, nudge us into devising a way out of the emotional closet in which we are feeling increasingly desperate. 

Nor do I use the word ‘closet’ lightly, so often associated with LGBT people unable to come to terms with their own felt experience of life, but as true of anyone, whoever and wherever they may be... 

FELT EXPERIENCE, DIARY OF AN ‘OTHER’ SELF 

As a child, I believed in fairies,
guardians of woods in which I’d play
with peers who, too, saw a fairy
in every flower, leaf, blade of grass
in which we trusted to keep us
safe from harm until such a time
as needs must we put aside childish thing
as run pretty rings around us 

Older, I tried hard to believe
in the God of more Sundays than I cared
to count, singing hymns to tunes
I'd often play in my head without words,
sing in my heart with silences
all but breaking it for being burdened so
by the absence of such music as I related to,
but never (quite) as expected 

Older, I tried hard to believe
in myself, for all that I’d plainly lost my way,
no clear idea what to do next,
how to reconcile a passionate inner self
with all but sterile masks it wore
as and when the need would (often) arise
to cast reality aside, magic me an alternative
I might even learn to live with 

Middle age saw me looking back
in more anger than pride for my overcoming
this and that worldly obstacle,
only to render mind-body-spirit a subject
of ridicule to its ‘other’ self
for believing it had found its own way
out of the Maze of Life when it had but begged
its guardians to point the way 

There came a time, I broke free
of life forces shackling me to everyday tasks
essential to survival, if not on terms
acceptable to the ‘other’ self in me, as needy
to find its own way out of its hell
as children hoping that fairies are a reality,
can see any real ‘me’ behind its many life-masks,
even if no one else does... 

Growing old, I look in a mirror
and ask my reflection “Why?” Now and then,
it will even reply, lips moving silently,
heart beating furiously, lashing out at mind
and spirit for abandoning teamwork,
expecting humans to get the better of fairies
by... turning to everyday socio-cultural-religious
and political face masks? 

“Whatever,” says the mirror,
whenever it has my ear, “what’s done is done,
no point in looking back in anger, regret,
sorrow, even fear of any mask or fairy taking
pot-shots at us in some after-life...”
“Earth Mother knows who and what we are,
more likely to judge us, surely, by good seeds sown
than any stones we’ve thrown?” 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021