Bridges

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As is the case for many, if not most of us, the paths I’ve taken in this life, more often than not with few (if any) alternatives to choose from have led me to the very edge of abyss after abyss. Even so, the choices were mine alone, and, for the most part, I cannot blame anyone but myself for my mistakes. 

From time to time, we may well face various issues over which we have little or no control, for reasons as likely to remain as much a mystery as such life forces themselves, as egg us on with no clear idea as to what or where.

Now, in my 77th year, I look back and, incredibly, can count more good times than bad, more very good times even than very bad, not least for coming into contact with some wonderful people who have helped channel life crisis after life crisis into something better, kinder and enduring.

We never forget bad times, but those of us surviving into old age need to draw on the good times to see us through the various issues we need to manage and rise above in order to keep faith with whatever it is in us that others have deemed worthy of their help and support over the years. Sadly we may lose touch with them, but it is never a case of 'out of sight, out of mind' and they continue to shape our lives for the better.

As for those whom we see - rightly or wrongly - as having failed us, we can hardly blame them for an inner eye that cannot see beyond appearances… well, can we?  Besides, appearances are often not as they seem and can lead to misunderstandings, which is why a frequent theme in my poetry has been the need for communication as a two-way process. Nor should it matter who makes the first move so long as someone does, and the other party or parties see that for what it is and responds in like terms. 

The importance of agreeing to differ rather than let any differences cause ill-feeling and subsequent division and/or estrangement; it is also why I feel unable to subscribe to any world religion and have come to think of myself as a pantheist

Needless to say, perhaps, one of my favourite songs is a recording by The Animals in the mid-1960’s of Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood; I was in my 20th year at the time and it resonates with me now every bit as much as it did then. 

BRIDGES

Life, it can get tough with us,
the more so when no one to share
all the mind’s eye gets to see
though windows on everyday scenery;
good, bad, ugly, and such beauty
as likely to motivate 
mind-body-spirit enough to reap,
nurture and harvest such hope and goodwill
as, in turn, recharges heart-and-soul 

Though the road be long or short,
mind-body spirit remains independent,
to no small degree, of any measure
of time as humanity would impose on it,
recharging its batteries
at every available opportunity arising
from taking each day as it comes,
inner eye invariably messaging personal space,
unhindered by either time or place

Many, the paths, our time is likely
to set us on while inviting us to try out 
many a potential resting place,
fulfilling a need to have us  enter, explore,
be they reeking of life, death,
or such things as much a mystery to us
as any Here-and-now seemingly
demanding atonement, suggesting the onus on us
to absolve any failings in our genes

Ah, but not all generations will hold us 
accountable for whatever life forces lead
mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers
to lose their way in such houses of many rooms
as comprise facts and fictions offering 
potential rest and shelter,
even in the worst of weathers, as we pursue
this path or that, increasingly unsure, as often as not,
whether wiser to go on or stay put

On every journey this life may take us,
whether or not from choice, longer or shorter
than such dreams as egg us on  
to explore its various houses of many rooms, 
the human heart will find ways
to enjoy home comforts and peace of mind
if only for having experienced
the best of humanity, as neither fictions nor mere blips, 
but  shaping our loves and friendships

Where mixed feelings may well confuse, even see us lost, 
invariably, find bridges to be crossed and re-crossed

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

 

Forewarned, Forearmed

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"Our life is what our thoughts make it." - Marcus Aurelius

"Forewarned, forearmed; to be prepared is half the victory." - Miguel de Cervantes

"Peace cannot be achieved through violence, it can only be achieved through understanding." - Ralph Waldo Emerson

"Peace we want because there is another war to fight against poverty, disease and ignorance." - Indira Gandhi

Now, human nature is no less subject to storms than the natural world; one-upmanship, even between friends, probably the moat common cause for a storm of fraught emotions breaking over many households. The harsher and stronger our emotions, the worse the storm and the longer (if ever) any sense of calm restored.

Sadly, storms can arrive and break seemingly without warning, not least because human nature is such that we often miss the tell-tale signs that all is not well; before we know it, the unexpected strikes and we are left to find a way through it if we can, not always possible unless we sit down and talk about it, something some world leaders and families are least willing to do... possibly because they haven’t a clue where to start?

Where weather forecasters can help us plan our days, there is no one but ourselves to help us plan our lives; all the more important that we take time to spot the clues, try to understand each other more, learn to avoid the worst storms altogether, talk peace before war has a chance to tread us into the ground…

The greater human tragedy of the war in Ukraine - for both sides - is it may have been avoided had Russia's president Putin seen the need for talks before assuming he had the upper hand anyway, so... why bother?

Such is the Landscape of Power, littered with as many false assumptions as good intentions; small wonder, then, that humanity loses its way from time to time...?

FOREWARNED, FOREARMED

Stormy weather,
scary flashes of lightening
brightening the gloom
with ominous glows now and then,
here, there, everywhere;
landscapes of fear in you-me-us
across the world,
expecting no less, even through tears
for far kinder yesterdays 

Storm, relaxing
its grip on all we creatures
great and small;
Apollo, trying to give any remaining
sense of doom and gloom
a welcome lift, child hands greeting
sunshine come to enlighten
mind-body-spirits in every corner of a world
left struggling to survive

Storm passing,
sky turning a mellow yellow,
clouds a shade lighter,
for a sense of Apollo taking our side
and working hard
to remind us all that not every day
can enjoy fairy tale endings,
up to love, lovers, flowers and evergreens
to keep turning our pages

Any tomorrow,
as likely as not, starting off
in much the same way
as yesterday, but for dawn’s early light
a shade brighter,
mind-body-spirit all the lighter
for a personal space
now primed to look on the brighter side of life,
forewarned, forearmed

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

For Better, for Worse

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“I’m not upset that you lied to me, I’m upset that from now on I can’t believe you.”  - Friedrich Nietzsche

“The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them.” – Ernest Hemingway

“It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.” – William Blake

It has happened to most if not all of us at some time or another, either as innocent victim or thoughtless perpetrator... a valued trust left in pieces, possibly reparable, given time and mutual understanding, but never quite the same again.

FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE

I take my time
to make friends and allies
with whom to bond
mutually, steadfastly and true
for better or worse,
as nature and human nature
treats us on good
and bad days, those lonely, sad days too,
our world, various shades of blue

I try to give as much
if not more than comes my way,
along such lines
as humanity in its finest hours
offers support
as a matter of course, no waiting
around while close ones
dither on what, whom, even whether to ask,
but instinctively up for whatever task

I will accompany
any friend or loved-one wherever
a last mile may lead us,
as he or she will, I know, do the same
for me, confiding
our hopes and fears for all our years,
whether or not
likely to flower, blossom, bear fruit enough
to sustain, inspire mind-body-spirit

I am Trust, among the strongest life forces of all,
yet, time and again, left in pieces by betrayal... 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Cocktail

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Another new poem today, prompted by a nasty wave of 'spiking; in UK nightclubs. I have to confess, though, that while I struggle to write poems these days, it helps to clear my thought processes which years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has left damages, to say the least. Many thank, dear readers, for continuing to look in on my poem-posts.

Like most people, I am shocked and appalled by the current wave here in the UK of ‘spiking’ young women’s drinks in nightclubs or injecting them without their knowledge, thereby putting them at risk on what was intended to be a good, safe night out with friends. A well as being a criminal assault, it is also a betrayal of trust; every woman has the right to expect any nightclub to provide a secure environment. Clearly, security at the door needs to be tightened as well as any perpetrators who are caught given a sentence to match the severity of the crime. 

Sadly, the betrayal of trust happens all too often in life. While it is true - as with ‘spiking’ - that some perpetrators may be mentally ill and need help, all too often it is done with well thought out intent. Victims ,though, must never blame themselves .but find the strength of character to put the assault on their person behind them; easier said than done, but the ability of the human spirit to rise above, and thereby get the better of dark forces, should never be underestimated. 

It is perhaps worth bearing in mind that any betrayal is likely to haunt the perpetrator all their lives, especially in later years as, looking back on life (as we all do from time to time) it invariably sticks out like the proverbial sore thumb. 

“Betrayal is the only truth that sticks.” - Arthur Miller

COCKTAIL 

You will take your time
to know me, as is the human way
until your instincts
place me above and beyond
any random suspicion 

You will give me your heart,
close in on me as if we were meant
to be so from the start,
answer to everyday prayers,
killing off worst fears 

We’ll share mind-body-spirit,
no less a captive of the world’s pain,
for its being bearable
in so far as meeting it head-on,
together, not alone 

I am your comfort, your crutch;
though the world would break us up
into insignificant pieces,
we shall rise above, win through,
just for staying true. 

Yet, no one is entirely immune
to worldly temptations likely to fuel
even worthy ambitions,
feed us mixed emotions, a cocktail
of lively suspicions 

Needs must, as the world’s devils
seek to harry us, convince and drive
any random one of us
to break with principles and honesty,
betray our humanity 

So, what of commitments made
to each other, daring we look mentors
in the eye, one of us at least
having sold them down the river, lost
their goodwill forever? 

Second chances are rare enough
in a world where people are seen to be
as good as their word;
for whomsoever breaks faith with me
the sentence will be just 

Betray me, and you may well lose
everything and everyone you hold dear,
for I am called Trust,
nor think me some second-rate life force,
who am first among equals 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

 

 

 

 

Points of View

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Rising above a deteriorating quality of life these days, mostly due to various health issues, I am rarely in the mood to reply to emails unless they are from friends and/or about poetry or such passions as also provide mind-body spirit with creative therapy as well as a healthy emotional diet.  However, someone who signs themselves ’an elderly male reader’ has expressed despair at being “...unable, for various reasons, to make love to my partner of nearly thirty years.” and worries that the partner “... is already  looking elsewhere, and I will be left alone...”

I am in no position to advise as I have been without a partner for the best part of a lifetime, but I have been in love and I strongly suspect that this reader has nothing to fear. It is important, though, that he and his partner talk about this. Too many of us fail to discuss our more intimate concerns with loved ones; either we are embarrassed and/ or fear the possible outcome. Whatever, it is always better to know than just suspect; the latter can only loose all manner of demons upon us, not the least being jealousy.

As regular readers will know, years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has left me with no appetite for sex in any form; even porn mags don’t turn me on. At first, it left me feeling emotionally inadequate, and I missed the sheer pleasure of lovemaking. Now, though, I take pleasure even more pleasure in such simple delights as meeting up and putting the world to rights (as if!) with friends and/or visiting places I love, whether for real or in my imagination.  

While I don’t miss sex anymore, I can appreciate that it's not the same for everyone, nor do all men of a certain age lose either their appetite for sex or their ability/ inclination to perform. Even so, the expression ‘making love’ is something of a misnomer, to say the least; love is not made, it is created between soulmates who are mutually inspired by letting it grow and mature. 

There is great pleasure to be taken from sex between partners who are physically attracted to one another, and nothing wrong with it at all, but whether or not they fall in love, that is something else altogether.

A heart-to-heart between this reader and his partner will establish the emotional paths both need to take; should the partner need to continue satisfying his or her sexual appetite the reader should try not  see this as a poor reflection on their love for one another. Easier said than done, I agree, but life is rarely easy in every way. Such are the ways of love that they, too, are no less inclined to test mind-body-spirit from time to time, trusting it to pass with flying colours... or not, as the case maybe.

POINTS OF VIEW

At open windows by the sea,
listening to waves telling and retelling
stirring tales of derring-do,
discovery and exploration, lifting
spirits while breaking hearts
of those left counting days and nights
before any returns on dreams
likely to leave pride in tears, love in pain,
time after time, and time again 

At open windows on cornfields,
leafy woodlands and all manner of bird
and beast sure to nurture
its natural surroundings in the time left
before the human race,
cocksure of ways and means to match
any end-of-world scenarios,
continues to confuse its images of progress
with paths of peace and happiness 

At open windows on the world,
expecting even more from its seasons,
in demonstrating our worth,
nature and human nature, each as vulnerable
as the other to kindness
and neglect, pride, disrespect. even violence
as weathered during Earth Mother’s
labour pains for both peopling and colouring
landscapes worth the nurturing 

At dead of night, left to reflect
on such life-forces as have inspired us
to let love light up our lives, thereby creating
a kinder, wiser personal space, addressing
past mistakes, shying away
from a Here-and-Now that’s dependent
on algorithms as may well suffice,
but never replace innate sensibilities, life forces
defining Earth Mother for centuries... 

Reminding nature-and-human-nature how progress
is best judged by its capacity for alleviating distress

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

Friends

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

Today’s poem - another villanelle - was first written in 2002 and published in an anthology the following year before I included it in my collection.

Why do I make revisions at all?  During the process of preparing my collection for publication to Google Play in e-format, I find myself dissatisfied with some poems for reasons not always obvious, even to me; most, it has to do with how a poems ‘flows’ – or doesn’t, as the case may be.

Given that I’ve never really got along with most members of either my immediate or extended family, good friends have always been especially important to me. (Yes, even those of the ‘fair weather’ variety.) As I grow old (71 now and live alone) I am, oh, so thankful to and for good friends. and value our friendship even more.  

FRIENDS

Come some dark, lonely night

or saddest sunny day,

find friends, making it all right

At one with moon and starlight

kept at bay,

come some dark, lonely, night

Wherever a so-weepy half-light

gone charcoal grey,

find friends, making it all right

Find home fires burning bright

(shaping our clay)

come some dark, lonely night

Losing out (again) taking fright

of facing another day;

find friends, making it all right

Oh, but no kinder end or respite

from worldly rites of way;
come some darkest, longest night,

find friends, making it all right

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Among Friends, Music to the Ears' in an anthology, Where the Words take You, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye (2004) by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Fallen Heroes

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[Update (July 24 2016): A report recently published by the McLaren investigation offers damning evidence of State sponsored doping among Russian athletes. However, the International Olympic Committee (IOC) has ruled today that the entire Russian team should not be banned from the Olympic Games in Rio de Janeiro; any decision should be taken by individual Sports Federations. World opinion is divided as to whether or not this was a good decision. Is the IOC simply passing the buck? Whatever, one cannot help but have huge sympathy for the many ‘clean’ members of the Russian team who will have trained hard over the past four years; they may well win events, but given the extensive publicity given to the report worldwide, there will be those who will wonder if that success is only down due to four years of hard training or…. No one doubts that Russia is not the only nation whose sports authorities - even at Government level - are inclined to encourage or turn a blind eye to certain athletes doping to win events on the world stage. It is SO unfair on those who would never take performance enhancing drugs. Sadly, though, that is the kind of world we live in; it is always the innocent who suffer, one way or another, while the guilty all too often appear to get away with ...whatever.]RT

Now, every generation has its share of fallen heroes; they come in all shapes and both sexes. It is invariably a very human tragedy for everyone, not least those directly concerned.

Only recently, a definitive report has upheld allegations that seven times Tour de France winner Lance Armstrong took performance enhancing drugs.

Here in the UK, admirers of the late Sir Jimmy Savile, a popular DJ with millions and much admired for his charity work, are having to deal with the appalling fact that his jovial mask appears to have concealed a serial paedophile; it is all the more horrific that allegations by his victims span several decades. The BBC and other organisations closely associated with Savile clearly have many questions to answer.

This poem is a villanelle.

FALLEN HEROES

Among those we place on pedestals
(custom made saints and heroes)
too few proven worthy role models

Children, especially, create portals
where the willing acolyte goes
among those we place on pedestals

Among adults, too, where little rivals
a need to rise above their fellows,
too few proven worthy role models

No fine aspiration immune to perils
(the heart vulnerable to blows)
among those we place on pedestals

Though we mortals create new idols
(where a media halo glows)
too few proven worthy role models

Sad to say, but true, when a hero falls,
hindsight quickly follows;
among those we place on pedestals,
too few proven worthy role models

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012