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.

Monday 27 June 2011

Road Signs OR Winging with Doves

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

Travelling hopefully, we make our way through life.

Go carefully, but trust your instincts and never be afraid to take any risks mind-body-spirit might suggest. Okay, so that might be a mistake sometimes, but better to make a mistake, surely, than live with a lifetime of regret? Besides, everyone makes mistakes so ... what the heck, so long as no great harm done (except maybe to the ego)?

ROAD SIGNS or WINGING WITH DOVES

It was a bright light led me to this place,
as I fought for breath in a mother’s womb,
painting dreams of peace, glory, grace,
winging with doves at a warrior’s tomb

Fading, a light that led me to this place
as I took my first breath outside the womb,
painting dreams of peace, glory, grace,
winging with doves at a warrior’s tomb?

It’s a long road that led me to this place,
some may call it destiny, other fate or doom,
but although my sight dims, I see a face,
lighting up with love over its womb-tomb

Who watches out for its peace, glory, grace,
journeys well from first to last resting place

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

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Thursday 23 June 2011

Blackbird Has Spoken

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

[Update 5/5/17: I am 71 now, have been living with the prostate cancer for 6+ years and still eluding the Grim Reaper thanks to hormone therapy. I still avoid social media, but all e-mails welcome and answered...except any trolls whom I simply delete!] RT

I have always made it clear that I will not post comments as I think they clutter a blog (yes, even the nice, intelligent ones) so please do not be offended when you receive notification that your comment has been deleted. Nor do I have time to go on Twitter or Facebook except to link my blogs as some readers have requested. [I will never return to social media having had experience of trolls.]

To be honest, on-line social networking never was my ‘thing’ but I am always happy to exchange emails if I have their email address or there is a contact button on their blog so I can at least thank them for their comment/s. I always reply to emails. (My email address is in the Blog’s introductory paragraph.) I have enjoyed a regular exchange of emails with some readers for several years now. So feel free to let me know what you think of either or both blogs and, yes, I can take constructive criticism of the chin.

I am doing fine with the prostate cancer treatment, but I’m 65 (born 1945) and get tired so need to rest a lot. I try to write up my blogs after discovering that I get withdrawal symptoms on days I don’t.... I am also struggling with writing Book Three of my gay-crime trilogy (Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption) as well as preparing new editions of my poetry collections (with revisions to some poems) and proofing my second Fred Winter novel in case Catching Up With Murder (2010) .sells at least moderately well. In addition, as I live on my own, there is always shopping, cooking, cleaning etc. to be done and I especially like to spend as much time with friends as possible.

Meanwhile...

Oh, how bright mornings can fill even sleepyheads a feisty passion that demands partners stay in bed a little longer ... if only on the pretext of caving in to the cat’s refusal to budge from its favourite spot on the duvet.

Ah, but blackbird has indeed spoken ... calling on everyone , especially in societies fractured by socio-cultural-religious differences to pull together and remember that our differences do not make us different, only human,.


BLACKBIRD HAS SPOKEN

Blackbird
on a leafy, swaying branch...
A forefinger coaxing
tired nipples...
Chirpy young sparrows rippling
our personal space

Feisty fingers
at shirts, belts, stubborn zips;
late spring scents
teasing far suppler thighs
than ours and, yes,
we’ll miss that train,
the board meeting
at ten - and leave the curtains
open, closing eyes 
for a blackbird’s renewed joy
at such a coming alive;
common body,
three-in-one, grave decisions
celebrating acts
of redemption, blackbird’s
finest hour, throat throbbing,
wings flexing

Now, in full flight,
flung free of tree and branch
to sweeps of sky;
will settle soon enough
but never for less again
than this

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2017

[Note: Slightly revised from the original version that appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

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Tuesday 21 June 2011

The Horse Whisperer

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

This poem has not appeared on the blog since 2008 and is repeated today especially for 'Clive and Kate' who have recently retired to live by '...the love of our lives, the sea.' Oh, but I am so jealous.

Now, Regular readers will know that I have a passion for nature from which I take what I like to think is a strong sense of spirituality. For me, personally, religion offers nothing. At the same time, who’s to say the power and glory some attribute to ‘God’ does not belong to Nature? My understanding of God is that He is everywhere, but I cannot go along with the idea of a personified God or supreme power so all my senses feel inclined to embrace nature instead. I have felt this way since childhood, long before I became aware of my sexuality. [Just as well, I guess...]

Whatever, we should respect each other’s points of view instead of constantly sniping at them and fighting over them. [I am often accused of sniping at world religions, but if you read my preambles and poems carefully, you will see it is the hypocrisy and bigotry on which so many so-called ‘religious’ people feed - not infrequently with undisguised relish - that I am attacking.]

Incidentally, I started writing this poem on Brighton beach in 2007 and finished it on the train back to London the same day.

(Photo from The Internet)

THE HORSE WHISPERER

Foaming passions crashing down
on this, my art

God’s stallions on a last ditch run
of poetry…

Apollo, master-catcher, anxious
to break us in

Ghosts in the frame calling us out
in heaven’s name

Salty tears, a sandman’s labours
all but won

Lead palomino rears, cries, bows,
spirit unbroken

Leaning forward to bend its ear,
I, the horse whisperer

[Brighton (E. Sussex, UK) September 2007]

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

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Wednesday 25 May 2011

Swan Lake

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

I have started posting my most recent YouTube recordings. If interested, you should be able to access my YouTube capers at any time from my YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber 

Treatment for my prostate cancer means I have to rest a lot either side of an active day out at the moment, but it is well worth it. Brighto, for example, has always been an inspiration for me since I was a kid, and it only takes an hour to this seaside town on a fast train from  London.

Meanwhile...

This villanelle has not appeared on the blog since 2007 and is here today especially for ‘Roseanne’ and who says, ‘I adore ballet and am training to be a ballet dancer.’

Here’s wishing you every success, Roseanne.

Me, I loved Tchaikovsky’s music long before I knew he was gay. (They don't tell you that at school.) What has sexuality to do with talent, anyway, or greatness for that matter? [After all, there have been many great gay men and women throughout history.]

SWAN LAKE

A love story on stage;
nerve strings of its composer
turning each page

As a bird flies its cage,
so music in glorious colour;
a love story on stage

Let dance, our pain assuage;
ensemble, solo, or pas de deux
turning each page

See art display the courage
of humankind’s old enemy, fear;
a love story on stage

Performance, paying homage
to the divided heart of its creator,
turning each page

Dancers, their talents engage
to read into art all human nature;
a love story on stage
turning each page

[NB.  Written after a brilliant performance by the Harlow Ballet Association at The Playhouse, Harlow, April 2007.]

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

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Wednesday 11 May 2011

Classic Somerset

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I remain very positive about my prostate cancer, but can’t deny it gets a little scary sometimes. Right now, writing up the blog, I feel fine. (Yes, I do, really!) I expect to have good days and bad days, but remain determined that the latter shall be kept to a minimum. Physically, I am in good shape and have no pain whatsoever. The battle is more of a mental one; living with the knowledge that the cancer is there inside me. I will take my cue from Monty Python and, yes, look on the bright side of life... Should I falter, a long, leisurely stroll on lovely Hampstead Heath, barely fifteen minutes walk from my front door, invariably restores me to positive-thinking mode.

Meanwhile...

While I am pleased that my new novel seems to be holding its own, I have no illusions about myself as a writer of fiction. I am not a great novelist and never will be, but I’m glad some people think I tell a good story. I certainly can’t compare myself with  writers of the world's classic fiction. All my novels, published and unpublished are available in serial form on my fiction blog. For more details, go to:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Now, one of my favourite novels as a child was Lorna Doone by R. D. Blackmore and it was from was this romantic adventure novel that I developed a love for Somerset. It is some years since I visited Doone Valley, but some friends have recently returned from visiting it while staying with relatives in the surrounding area. I felt inspired to take down the novel from my bookshelf, blow away the dust from its cover and devour it as eagerly as when I was a child.

Some readers may be interested in other poems I have written about Somerset that I also included in my 6th collection On the Battlefields of Love (2010). You will also find them on the BBC Somerset site:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/local/somerset/hi/people_and_places/arts_and_culture/newsid_8144000/8144465.stm

Oh, but how can I worry about my prostate cancer when spring is here in the UK? There is so much out there to enjoy, not least in beautiful Somerset, and enjoy it I will...

This poem is a villanelle.

CLASSIC SOMERSET

Doone valley, classic fiction
creating timeless images;
one writer-poet’s inspiration

For those with a predilection
for turning nature’s pages;
Doone valley, classic fiction

At Badgworthy Water, listen
out for evil Carver’s rages;
one writer-poet’s inspiration

At Earth Mother’s invitation,
share a Love of Ages;
Doone valley, classic fiction

Celebrating Lorna and John,
(birds sing their praises);
one writer-poet’s inspiration

Cream teas, timely invitations
to revisit R. D’s pages;
Doone valley, classic fiction,
one writer-poet’s inspiration

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; slightly rev. 2021

[Note; An earlier version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

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Thursday 28 April 2011

A Common Garden Snapshot

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

After a great evening yesterday, I just had to come and tell you about it. Now, I am no artist, not least because I don’t think visually, and have the greatest admiration for those who do. So I was thrilled to be invited to a private viewing of 'Authorized’ by artist James Howard. It is his latest solo show, and  a very exciting experience.

The show proved to be very different from anything of his that I have seen before, yet still characteristically sharp, satirical, entertaining and (very) thought provoking.

Regular readers will know that I have enthused about this young man's work before. I have known his parents for years and will continue to watch his creative talents develop and evolve with great interest. His work reflects ways of seeing and feeling that arouse all the observer's senses as if waking them up after a restless sleep. One cannot help but come away from his 'Authorized' with one's own outlook on life and art (and perception of self) under review.

Find more about James Howard at: http://luckyluckydice.com/

Enjoy! [Above all else, any art form best comes into its own once it is not only shared but also enjoyed.]

Meanwhile...

Friends  often comment that I rarely take photographs even when on holiday or passing through new places. My camera is my mind’s eye and it encourages me to write poems.

I get a feeling for places, people too, that I frequently shape into a poem that I can share with others just as they might share their holiday snaps. Such was the case when I visited Scarborough to give a poetry reading there a few years ago. By way of illustration, the second poem is one I wrote about this very pretty and friendly town on the Yorkshire coast.

Welcome to my garden. [Sadly, I don't have my own where I live in London although I do look out over one.]

A COMMON GARDEN SNAPSHOT

Leaves, strewn about in the mud
like underwear torn from a washing line
by a freak wind

Lies, piling up like dead leaves
providing sustenance for the very earth
that nurtured them

Hearts, now joined together,
now ripped apart, like stale bread fought 
over by sparrows

Hopes, tossed like underwear
on a cruel wind over hungry graves ready
to gobble us up

Chase the wind, stumble in mud,
retrieve underwear for a washing machine
or stand by and watch?

Choices, a gathering of sparrows
debating how best to survive a bad winter
through to spring

Graves, wearing hard won badges
of flowers and dead leaves, each sure to be
telling tales on us ...

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



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Monday 11 April 2011

A Shared Antipathy For Beer Can Rings OR Marine Life Under Threat

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

Regular readers will know I have always loved Brighton (East Sussex) and been a regular visitor there for more than fifty years. I often go there on my birthday even though it is in December; I started writing this poem there on my 63rd birthday and finished it on the train back to London.

Several readers have kindly contacted me to say how much they enjoyed the poems I read in Brighton for YouTube last December.

[Find these and others at: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber ]

Thanks for that, folks. Encouraging feedback is always gratefully received, especially as I find reading outdoors quite hard since there are always so many distractions.

I included today’s poem in my latest poetry collection. Regular readers will also know that all my poetry titles are listed on amazon.co.uk (with some readers’ reviews) if anyone is interested. They can be ordered at any UK bookstore. Alternatively, (signed) copies of most of my collections are available (now FREE + Postage) to overseas readers as my collections are only on sale in the UK. [Contact: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog Reader’ in the subject field.]

My poetry books contain a mixture of gay-interest and other poems, divided into themed sections for easy reading; there are about 20 – 25 poems per section so readers can just pick one and then try another section another time. [I should say that my critics complain I crowd my books with too many poems. I take their point, but readers seem to enjoy having six or seven little poetry books in one. So I think I’ll stick with my readers rather than pander to the critics for my next collection in 2012.]

On the whole, Brighton beach is kept remarkably clean and tidy; all the more remarkable for the way some people simply toss their litter away where they stand (on the beach or even in the sea; both present a danger to wildlife) rather than find a waste bin.

This poem is a villanelle.

A SHARED ANTIPATHY FOR BEER CAN RINGS or MARINE LIFE UNDER THREAT

We kept the most curious company,
watching waves clear beer cans rings away;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

A spring twilight glowing beautifully,
footprints unable though longing to stay;
we kept the most curious company

I wondered, what do they think of me?
Could we converse, whatever would we say,
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me?

Clouds, lamenting pollution, I dare say,
crab and gulls much the same of the sea;
we kept the most curious company

On one thing we’d be sure to agree,
the world doesn’t see things nature’s way;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

A sudden rush of waves hit me angrily,
a smoky dusk making a meal of us per se;
we kept the most curious company;
clouds, a crab, two seagulls and me

[Brighton, East Sussex (UK), May 2008]

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

PS The use of 'per se' in the 6th stanza is yet another example of the liberties I often take with 'hidden' rhyme; i.e. sounds that are similar but not an exact rhyming match.

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