Lakeside

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

“A lake carries you into recesses of feeling otherwise impenetrable.” – William Wordsworth

“Adopt the pace of nature; her secret is patience” - Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk around the lake.” – Wallace Stevens

“If there is magic on this planet, it is contained in water.” – Loren Eisley

While recovering from a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, I returned to my home county, Kent, often referred to as the Garden of England. I returned to a lake that my mother had taken me to visit many years ago; it helped (a lot) to renew a sense of positive perspective in me.

I guess, going back can help us move forwards, although not a good idea to stay too long and get bogged down in wishful thinking...!

LAKESIDE

One day, I went for a walk
in a local park not far from home,
a light breeze in my hair…
paused by a lake to watch fishes
glide by, glanced down
and experienced a stab of surprise,
failing at first to recognize
a face looking back at me as my own
for looking old, tired and worn

I’d always thought of myself
as one among the young at heart;
no traces of that here,
gazing back at me, all but accusingly,
catching me out in denial
of a Here-and-Now closing in on me
that I cared not to acknowledge
for fear of having to yield to and admit
a sense of loneliness and defeat

Mind-body-spirit then chose
to take me along paths old and new,
past sunny milestones
as well as weepy tombstones,
among sounds of laughter and tears
that have had me ride
such winds, earth and seas across
prose and poetry as have also shown me
a happy, sad ’n’ bad humanity

A face in the lake tossed me a wry smile,
made its peace with heart-and-soul

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

Where the Password is Peace

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

A reader has emailed to ask if I will post some poems that are included in my collections,  but not on the blog. Apparently, he likes to copy the poems and email them to 'an elderly relative who loves poetry but is 'only ok'ish with very basic IT, sufficiently to be able to open emails anyway.'

Meanwhile...

I included this poems in my collection with a place in mind that always fills me with a sense of peace. Before I hit 70+ and developed mobility problems, I'd often walk to nearby Hampstead Heath, at any time of year; once there, I would , enjoy a panoramic view of London from the top of Parliament Hill before wandering back down to sit by the ponds, or roam the woodlands, listen to incredible birdsong and, yes, find peace in the beauty of it all. Oh, but it is sheer poetry, believe me; of the kind no poet can do justice.


 Any readers who enjoy this poem might also enjoy 'On Hampstead Heath' which is also on the blog.

Hampstead Pond

Highgate Pond is a Nature Reserve on the Heath

WHERE THE PASSWORD IS PEACE

I am the rose dripping pearls

on a chamomile lawn stretching

across fields and woodlands

where trees tell tales wiser men

and women than you or I

have passed on since Creation

to the world’s poets, painters

and its music makers to re-create

in a spirit of celebration

I am the lame dove haunting

frantic urban streets reaching out

for a peace of mind as told

by the world’s poets, painters

and its music makers…

to still the restless heart, restore

a flagging faith in humanity

much like the rose dripping pearls

on a chamomile lawn

I am not whom you took me for

when first you tried to read my face,

unused as you are to seeing clear,

mistaking an iconic tablet of stone 

for a chamomile lawn stretching

beyond parameters of time and space

where the password is peace,

trees are heard telling tales and roses

seen dripping pearls

Look around and within all you see

to find me, who am called Beauty

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

The Walker OR Creative Therapy for Couch Potatoes

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

I can confirm that spring here in the UK is not the season it used to be; blame global warming, tricks of memory, whatever…

A neighbour remarked only recently that, ‘Before we know it, winter will be here. Our weather these days is not only unreliable, but so defeating...’

Defeating...? I beg to differ.

THE WALKER or CREATIVE THERAPY FOR COUCH POTATOES

I’ll walk among trees today,

watch leaves fall, even hear autumn

calling

I’ll cross green fields,

catch a flypast of swallows not (yet)

for turning

I’ll stroll a feisty twilight,

a soft, golden glow like altar candles

flickering

I’ll confess a world not done

with me yet on a moon, for its lovers,

still rising

I’ll take each season to task

for any joyless echoes among choirs

sweetly singing

I’ll resist any erosion of senses

by a north wind bent on giving tears

an airing

I’ll let Earth Mother embrace me,

feel loved where waves of loneliness

breaking

I’ll defy body, mind or spirit

to defeat me notwithstanding worldly
nemeses

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

The (Human) Jungle OR The Secret Life of a Nine-to-Fiver

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

This poem appeared on the blog in 2010 as 'Where The River Bends'. Readers ‘Petra’ and ‘Karl’ have approved the new title and suggested I repeat it to help make returning to work in rain, snow or whatever after the Christmas and New Year breaks just that little bit more bearable. True, and it used to work for me every time before I retired in 2008, and still does, especially when I'm having a bad day with various health issues ...

Oh, but isn't imagination a wonderful thing?!

THE (HUMAN) JUNGLE or THE SECRET LIFE OF A NINE-TO-FIVER

Tracking a path through a forest of pine,

nature music all around, leading me where

feisty river’s twisting here, turning there,

and I pausing at each bend to cock an ear

for a lyric like no other, hidden away

in a mystic mist hugging me as if to keep

me safe from surly giants on the prowl

though (for sure) they mean me no harm

Silver, the river, blending with mist and sun,

covering me so that I am like royalty dressed

for a state occasion, needing only a crown

to let me call this fairy tale kingdom my own

and if a part of me knows (for sure) I dream

I cannot resist but must follow, follow, for all

its twists, turns, glorious music and a lyric

I can barely make out, straining to interpret

Birds and beasts of the forest shadowing me

as if at Earth Mother’s command, she concerned

for me as I track the eternal river through

a forest of pine, alone, ill-prepared for its twists

and turns and a mist cloaking me in silver,

making me into something, someone, I am not

yet I love how it shines me against the dark

enough (for sure) to scare off any malign spirits

Oh, to walk free and safe among Nature’s own,

let my senses run wild yet still retain a keen sense

of proportion, equilibrium, a feeling for fair play

that lets the river run, the trees grow, the birds sing

and beasts live, learn, and teach before dying

about the meaning of it all; no exceptions, even

for the likes of you and I. Stop! Look and see

the concrete jungle we’ve chosen for our reality

No fairy tale ending. Magical forest and silver river

insisting I cross the damn road, get to work on time

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015