A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

Name:
Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Thursday, 21 March 2024

Viva la Villanelle!


From Graham, Roger’s friend and ole’ drinking buddy


Greetings from sunny Essex, UK.

Spring has arrived in a delirium of birdsong and the intoxicating scent of cut grass. The sun flames low, setting the river ablaze like smelted gold; gilding trees and rooftops. My gaze lingers as a curtain of dusk draws down; a darkening vignette blushes vermilion, among peach and lilac clouds. Stirring a quixotic soul to reverie.

But meanwhile… throughout the two decades I’ve known Rogie he’s loved writing villanelles. You may have noticed there’s entire forests of them populating this blog (and even more in printed collections). His enthusiasm even extended to encouraging me in the art. Although I rarely dabble nowadays. There’s something quite satisfying in their construction. A bit like finishing a crossword puzzle or a Sudoku. They may even have wellbeing benefits, who knows? Stimulating theta brainwaves or something…?

Assuming you’re interested in poetry (and not here checking for offensive content), I’d encourage you to try composing a villanelle of your own. It’s a fun challenge and could help to while away the boredom of commuting? Or offer a welcome distraction from the banal babble, ear-piercing screeches and nose-picking forays of fellow passengers? Certainly preferable to bumping along in a packed carriage facing someone daubing makeup on in some bizarre homage to Picasso?

Rog sometimes bestowed framed villanelles to friends for special occasions. (I’ve included an example near the end; ‘Free Spirits’.) I hope this might offer an added incentive to get writing. Imagine… sending an amorous villanelle to your secret valentine, or a Mother’s Day tribute that would touch the heart. Alternatively, it could be a satirical vehicle on the growing global trend in demagogues and dictators? Whatever, your choice.

I’ve included a writing guide below:

 

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A lay-person’s guide to villanelles (by Prof. Phil E. Stein)


So I won’t bore you with stanzas, tercets and quatrains, blah blah…

Structure and rhyming scheme:

Simply, a villanelle is a poem of nineteen lines which is divided into 6 verses. The first 5 verses are 3 lines each. For each of these verses the first and third line rhyme. The very last (6th) verse has 4 lines - with the first, third and last line all rhyming.

A second (different) rhyming scheme is used on the second line of all 6 verses.

Line repetition:

From the first verse - Line 1 and line 3 repeat alternately on the last line for verses 2, 3, 4, and 5.

In the last verse things change. Line 1 and 3 from the first verse couple together – forming the last two lines.

It’s probably easier to understand structure if you search out some examples. Such as ‘Do not go gentle into that good night’, by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas.

Note 1 - on composing villanelles: I’m not aware of any limit on line length. So provided you can read aloud each entire line without gasping for oxygen then it’s probably fine.

Note 2 - on rhyming: ‘Internal rhyme’ can be used in the rhyming scheme, i.e., words with a similar vowel sound but not an exact rhyming match.

Tip: try jotting down two separate lists of all the words that work with your two rhyming schemes. You can then select from these while composing. And remember that line 1 and line 3 in the first verse need to make sense when placed together in the very last two lines. 


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As you can probably tell, I’ve never studied literature like wot Roger done. But I can at least pass on his verve for villanelles! I’ll leave you with some selected examples. And as a cheeky bonus I’ve even included one of my own.

Happy writing! x

 

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THE ZEN OF DISCERNMENT

Like ghosts, our years pass us,
(the mixed blessings of memory)
as hauntingly beautiful as stars

No lesser regard for science
than Earth Mother’s finer poetry,
like ghosts, our years pass us,

Images of laughter and tears
finest art can only ever but copy,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars

No hopes wing more precious
than family and friends in harmony;
like ghosts our years pass us

Come birdsong to fine old trees,
so joy and pain creating our history,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars

As centuries turn nature’s leaves,
so each human heart creates eternity
like ghosts, our years pass us,
as hauntingly beautiful as stars


Copyright R. N. Taber, 2011. Dedication: Jim Howard. From the collection Tracking The Torchbearer.


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FREE SPIRITS

To Earth Mother, joy among tears
wherever we run
the gamut of life’s fears

Keeping faith with friendly trees,
embracing every one;
to Earth Mother, joy among tears

Come glorious sunsets on pastures
pink and green…
the gamut of life’s fears

Choice, all humankind gladly frees
to be true to its own;
to Earth Mother, joy among tears

Peace (nature too) will find enemies
where its colours run
the gamut of life’s tears

Gay love, blessed by summer kisses,
a bid for freedom won!
To Earth Mother, joy among tears,
the gamut of life’s fears


Copyright R. N. Taber, 2012. Dedication: written for Paul & Rob to celebrate their Civil Partnership in Biggleswade, Saturday 11 July 2009. From the collection: On the Battlefields of Love.


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WATERWAYS OF BRITAIN: MAKING PEACE WITH PROGRESS 

On the waterways of Britain
(many neglected for years)
Man and nature as one again

Compensating for acid rain,
find honest sweat and tears
on the waterways of Britain

Ever mindful of loss and gain,
(Oh, spirited volunteers!)
Man and nature as one again

A testament to industry’s pain,
toiling through its centuries
on the waterways of Britain

Hosting the occasional swan,
even water voles and otters,
Man and nature as one again

Among such, pages written
of a nation’s finer endeavours;
on the waterways of Britain,
Man and nature as one again


Copyright R. N. Taber 2016. Note: I wrote this poem to accompany a video shot by Graham Collett for my You Tube channel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WA8VQoPgX2M


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A TREATISE ON EFFLUENCE
[or CONSUMERISM ANGST]

They’re feeding me crap
I’m the worm that turned*
I’m biting back

For our burger and bap
a forest burned
They’re feeding me crap

I am more than a stat!
Processed-mind; unlearned
I’m biting back

Your snake-oil snack
leaves my stomach churned
They’re feeding me crap

This consumerist trap;
my escape route discerned
I’m biting back

I’ll dump all these apps
Sail to Crusoe’s island!
They’re feeding me crap
I’m biting back


By Graham Collett, 2024. [Apologies for this vulgar effort!]

* ‘Even a worm will turn’ is an English language expression used to convey the message that even the meekest or most docile of creatures will retaliate or seek revenge if pushed too far. It was used in William Shakespeare’s play Henry VI. (Sourced from Wikipedia).

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Sunday, 1 November 2020

Teller of Tales, Second to None

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

What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall in the Corridors of Power, just about anywhere in the world! 

There is a saying, ‘Truth will out’ and it invariably will, if only in bits and pieces for us to make of them what we will, our own bias making no less a contribution to our interpretation of those same bits and pieces as whatever personal agenda various sources releasing them may be following. 

As England prepares to enter a second lockdown on Thursday, the local gossips are having as much a field day as party politicians. As ever, I can’t help recalling what my mother used to say of national politics and local gossip alike, “Never rely on one source, and always try to keep an open mind.”

This poem is a kenning.

TELLER OF TALES, SECOND TO NONE 

I mingle with the rich and famous
every day, but am rarely in the public eye
although you may glimpse me
on the telly now and then helping to set
the scene for an interview,
a silent witness never anything to say there
and then, although the chances are
you’ll hear more from me, and openly,
no 
anonymity 

Politicians have always had my ear,
along with icons of sport and other masters
of their art, whether he or she
be a movie star or small screen celebrity,
writer of novels, poems, recipes
to try at home or travel tales sure to tempt
even a diehard stay-at-home
to roam beyond house and garden, by courtesy
of imagination 

I rub shoulders with kings and queens,
help lift the lid on various world intrigues
(if better late than never);
I can travel past, present and future as easily
as hailing a cab, catching a bus,
free to fly air corridors, saol oceans wide,
summon emotions good and bad,
play such games with the human psyche anyone
engaging with me 

No more sworn to secrecy than bound by time
or place, your everyday bookcase

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Monday, 23 March 2020

Getting a Life


Having a good clear-out some time ago, I discovered a forgotten poem among a pile of old notes and scrap paper; it is what was then an unusual departure from my predilection for rhyming verse, and possibly – if subconsciously - why I have returned to blank verse more often in later years.

As regular readers will be aware, writing poetry is as much a form of creative therapy for me as an art form. Today’s poem was written during the latter days of a nervous breakdown I had in 1979, just as I was beginning to see a glimmer of light at the end of what had been a very long, all but pitch black tunnel. By the time I had finished writing it (albeit untitled), the glimmer had become brighter, clearer, and promising better times ahead; a promise that was fulfilled although it would take some time yet.

By the way, some readers might care to take a look at my fiction blog where I have serialised several of my general as well as gay-interest novels:

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” - ― Martin Luther King Jr., A Testament of Hope: The Essential Writings and Speeches

GETTING A LIFE

I used to so-dread storm clouds,
always ganging up on me

I used to slump as years flew by
wishing, hoping, regretting

I used to let one tear shipwreck 
an all but despairing self

I used to endure a so-heavy rain,
for its displaying empathy

I used to, oh, so fear a red sunset,
for signalling nights alone

I hated dawn for its insensitivity
to an ever growing distress

It took a blind child's bright smile

to change my way of seeing

I saw the moon, it has a kind face
and now let dawn embrace me. 

Storm clouds, precursors to kinder
times ahead (fingers crossed)

Inspired by nature’s kaleidoscopic
backcloth to the world stage

A single teardrop, cue for restoring
a more positive-thinking self

Heavy rain, leaving a misty rainbow,
icon of hope and peace for all

Sunsets, promises of peace of mind
and love, too, but seek to find

Come dawn's first light,a lark's song
welcoming a brave new day


Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2018

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