The Squirrel

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

I don’t have a garden now, but look out on one and love to watch the antics of squirrels and other wildlife. I often wonder what they make of us...???

THE SQUIRREL

The sun, it shone like a torch among shadows
as we walked misty paths, a friend and I,
observed by a grey squirrel scratching its nose
with its paws, curious perhaps about humans
(why male and female on hind legs, baring claws?)

We parried words in that fast dimming twilight,
guided by the anger in each other’s eyes,
observed by the grey squirrel scratching its nose
with its paws, curious perhaps about humans
(why, even come eventide, making so much noise?)

Sun and shadows, they surrendered to a frosty night,
and stars looked down on us with much the same
curiosity as the squirrel, finished scratching its nose
with its paws, given up caring about humans
(now warring, now hugging or taking other liberties)

Now, whenever I see a squirrel scratching its nose,
I wonder…whatever happened to us?

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

Lonely Road

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

A few readers have asked why my visitor count appears to have gone down for my gay-interest blog and up for the general blog. The reason is I have removed the previous counter and inserted the widget for blog page viewing statistics; these only date from May 2010 and will give me a clearer idea of how well I am doing (or not, as the case may be) on a regular basis.

Meanwhile...

I saw my consultant the other day about my prostate cancer. She was very understanding and we have agreed a compromise. I will continue with hormone therapy for another nine months, and then stop for a while. If my PSA level does not shoot up, I will continue the hormone therapy, but if it does I will need to have radiotherapy. Even so, should the latter scenario arise, we can take into account my weak bladder next time so maybe it won’t be so stressful! Fingers crossed that the hormone therapy will keep the cancer at bay.
Meanwhile...

I am delighted that some readers who enjoy my YouTube channel have emailed o say how much they enjoyed my latest attempts at voice-over poems. My close friend Graham and I plan to use the same technique from time to time: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pT-qqOje4vY

[NB If the link doesn’t work, go to my YouTube channel, click on ‘see all’ and look for ‘Engaging with History’ (You may have to register with YouTube): http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber


Meanwhile...

The road through life can be a lonely one. Yet, if so, it’s only what we choose to make of it.

We all have choices. Yes, we may hit bad times through no fault of our own. Even so, whether or not and how far we recover from these is down to us. We can play the blame game as much as we like but, yes, we all have choices.

LONELY ROAD

Cats’ eyes…
penetrating the darkness;
Darkness…
penetrating the soul;
Soul…
penetrating layers of time;
Time…
penetrating all identity;
Identity…
penetrating all pretence;
Pretence…
penetrating our dreams;
Dreams…
penetrating home truths

Home truths, like cat's eyes
on mind-body-spirit ...

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, 2005]

Help! Anyone There? OR Silence, No Ally in Adversity

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

Unemployment takes a heavy toll on all of us; neither does it discriminate, but can strike anyone at any time, no matter our age, ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality it can make even the most resilient person feel depressed. Depression, in turn, invariably makes us feel alone and misunderstood. No one seems to appreciate the gamut of anger, frustration, guilt, and despair that we run what can seem like every minute of every day. People tell us to cheer up, change the record or whatever. We try, but we can’t. They tell us that tomorrow will be a better day, but it isn’t. Nothing seems to change except for the worse. More and more, we feel alone in the middle of nowhere.

Yes, I have been unemployed in my time, but am now retired so no longer living under that particular Sword of Damocles.

For anyone who (like me) suffers from depression anyway, being unemployed makes the fight against it so much worse.  That is why I write; not to prove anything, to myself or to anyone else, but the very act of invoking imagination to put pen to paper helps keep me on an even keel. (Well, most of the time.)

If anyone is interested in my fiction, they can see what I have come up with on my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

Any form of creativity beats antidepressants every time, although I confess I still take one daily; art, music, gardening, sport...each to his or her own. Anything has to beat being glued to the TV for more hours a day than can be healthy even if the temptation to do just that can be overwhelming at times.

Meanwhile...

An earlier version of this poem has already appeared on the blogs and is repeated today especially for ‘Axel’, ‘Jonas’, ‘Marc’, ‘Alice’ and ‘Hanna’ who have been in touch fairly recently to express their dismay at being unable to find a job appropriate to their needs and qualifications in their respective countries.

As far as any qualifications are concerned, I would suggest putting them on a back burner and taking whatever you can if only to bring some money in and gain valuable work experience; it doesn’t matter if the work is unrelated to what you want to do eventually as it will demonstrate to employers that you not only take the work ethic seriously but are adaptable, have initiative, and can keep working hours.

Now, we live in times of fiscal uncertainty world-wide. Government cut-backs invariably mean many people are losing their jobs. I consider myself fortunate to be retired, but there was a time I was unemployed in my mid-30s and wondered if I would ever find a way back into mainstream life.

Today’s poem was written in 1997 and first appeared in Visions of the Mind, Spotlight Poets (Forward Press) 1998 under the title Depressed of Erewhon and subsequently in my first major collection; it relates to a period in the early 1980s when I had a serious nervous breakdown and was unemployed for nearly three years. It was a bad time. Yet, I got through it. It was tough. and took a lot of will-power, but somehow I managed it with the support of some good friends; there is no shame in asking for help, but when you are depressed and have low self-esteem, it can take a while (and good friends) to make you realise that.

The reason I wrote the poem was because I had been talking to someone who had been unemployed for a long time, and could see no light at the end of the tunnel. Our conversation took me back to a BAD place. [I am delighted to say that he, too, came through it and has not only been employed for a good ten years now but also saved his marriage of 35+ years.] The poem, though, is about depression, not unemployment. Yes, being in the rat race can make any of us depressed while being out of it can be so much worse. We all need to put safeguards in place, and that includes having someone in whom we can confide even our worst emotions' for me, the latter once included wanting to die.

Rising above depression is an uphill battle, but we can win it if we can only keep a hold on the will to try and the confidence, however fragile, that we will get through it and things really will get better. It is so important to talk to those close to us, let them know the depth of our feelings so they can try and understand and, more importantly, support and encourage us. No one is a mind reader. If we keep a ‘brave face’ on things and bottle it all up, how are they supposed to know how much support we really need? Are they supposed to just put up with our mood swings and not protest? Depression can so easily bring those around us down too, not just ourselves. They need to know we need them in our lives every bit as much as we need to know they need us in theirs.

There’s nothing brave about pretending everything is okay when we're falling apart; it’s just plain stupid. So rally the troops, yeah? And make damn sure you win the war.

Did I say it was easy?

HELP, ANYONE THERE? or SILENCE, NO  ALLY IN ADVERSITY

Needing to talk to someone

(unplugged the phone)

Needing someone to share

(won’t answer the door)

Can get through the days,

but no way out of this maze

of turnings, yearnings,

candle burnings to a devil

that drags me out of bed

and plays Pied Piper in my head

until I join the rat-race

Needing time and space

(none at the office)

Needing a hand, an ear…

(so look, but where?)

Can’t go on like this,

a credit to zombies;

getting by on auto-pilot

even when my partner

turns the light out;

dreams, nightmares, day and night

all rolling into one

Needing badly) to get real

(so take another pill?)

Come on,  try, try, try…

(just wanna die)

Please, Help me, somebody!

Copyright R. N. Taber 1998; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared under the title Depressed of Erewhon  in Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2000 by R. N. (Erewhon, of course, is an anagram of nowhere.) rev. title 2/2018]

Answering Leviticus

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

Yesterday was D-Day (Decision Day) for me. My bowels would not co-operate in preparation for a CT scan late morning and subsequent radiotherapy; my bladder isn’t exactly behaving itself either. [I am supposed to clear the bowels and hold my water after drinking three cups of water for a good half an hour prior to a scan; it is the same for radiotherapy.]

I have therefore decided to withdraw from the radiotherapy programme scheduled to start mid-August and take my chances with hormone therapy. [If you keyword 'prostate cancer' in the blog's search field you will find (positive thinking) poems I have written on the subject.

[Update (April 2016): Today’s poem first appeared on the blogs in April 2010. The villanelle was originally repeated especially for ‘Harry’, Kurt’,’ Jean-Paul’ and ‘Anne-Marie’ who had been in touch (separately) to express their anguish at being from Christian families who ‘cannot cope’ with their being gay and/or HIV+. All say their religion is important to them and ask what has their sexuality and/or being HIV+ to do with Faith? Kurt has recently been in touch to say that he is very happy living with his partner, and their respective families have come round to the idea that they are gay. Others readers around the world have experienced similar family estrangement. We can but hope that love and common sense will prevail. Love should be unconditional and the idea that anyone chooses to be gay is pure fantasy' it has to be in the genes or how else so many of us worldwide from all manner of social, cultural and religious backgrounds?]

Now, regular readers will know that I am not a religious person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect various religious beliefs. Moreover, having been raised in a Christian home, and regularly attended Sunday school as a child, I know my Bible. It is personal experience of the sheer hypocrisy of some religious-minded people (of all faiths) that led me to reject religion and put my trust in nature long before I acknowledged even to myself that I am gay. Yet, each to his or her own, and I would defend anyone’s right to subscribe to any religion against any narrow-minded, ignorant bigot who says gay people forfeit that right because of their sexuality.

I have read this poem on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square in 2008 as my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live' sculpture project that ran 24/7 over 2,400 days in the summer of 2009. (Some readers may be interested, but be warned the whole clip lasts an hour.):

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223131109/http://www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T    [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Feedback suggests some people have difficulty accessing You Tube so I have also posted that video here: it lasts about two minutes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrTjc2373IU

[For my other videos - all shot by Graham: https://www.youtube.com/user/rogerNtaber/videos ]


Never let anyone tell you religion and being gay or transsexual are mutually exclusive.

The poem is a villanelle.

Leviticus 18:22
'You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination.'

ANSWERING LEVITICUS

Old Testament embodies dread
of a God slow to love, quick to rage;
listen instead to what Jesus said

Life, hanging by a fragile thread
like a half-finished poem on a page;
Old Testament embodies dread

Let blood be on the sinner’s head,
freeing the lion of love from its cage?
Listen instead to what Jesus said

Religious bigots would see us dead
(directing Leviticus to centre-stage);
Old Testament embodies dread

Deplore how same sex lovers tread
on humankind’s God-approved rage?
Listen instead to what Jesus said

Let no child hide under the bed,
nature allow all its poems a full page;
Old Testament embodies dread;
listen instead to what Jesus said

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

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

Braveheart

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blogs in 2011

Some parents are bullies, even those who genuinely think they have their child’s best interests at heart. Young people should be allowed to follow their own paths in life, not those mapped out for them by parents who see a chance of their own frustrated aspirations being realised in their children. 

‘Bullies’ is no exaggeration. Until children reach an age when they are credited with a mind of their own by certain adults, they are pawns in what is sometimes a very nasty game, unable to establish their own rules of play. (It is not only LGBT boys and girls, men and women who need to break free of certain stereotypes nurtured during formative years.)

Thankfully, many of these young people rebel and assert themselves for the better in later years although it can be tough , and not all parents 'get it'. I’ve heard many a parent complaining about an ‘ungrateful’ child. (Perhaps they should have asked us what we want from life?)

My father was a psychological bully. I was less embarrassed about coming out as gay in my teens as  scared the atmosphere at home whenever he was around would get a lot worse. Consequently, I hide  in the proverbial closet, lonely and scared for much of the time.

I don't believe you should have children so they can be ‘grateful’ to you, but for the pleasure of nurturing them and seeing them grow into their own person, not a carbon copy of a disillusioned or misguided parent.

We don’t ask to be born on the back of our parents' sexual satisfaction and shared ego trip. So why should we be grateful and feel guilty when we resist the kind of emotional blackmail from parents who cry crocodile tears if we don’t fall in with their plans for us?

Good parents don’t have to ask or connive; we willingly give what we can because we love them. Sadly, a significant number only want children because their religion does not take over-population into account and/or  by way of  reserving an ‘insurance’ policy to cushion their old age.

Good parents everywhere - and there are many - deserve a BIG HUG, and more.

BRAVEHEART 

I'd cower in corners of the mind
like a child besieged
by gremlins in an encroaching dark;
captive of human nature,
dragging on chains of well-meant
parental expectations,
sum of their worst felt failures,
haunting limitations

Confronting limitations, I'd call on
the strength of Samson,
if only to risk locks cut to the quick
by a well-meaning ambition
that’s not mine so (can no one see?)
unfit for purpose, better suited
to someone of a different mindset,
anyone else but me

Finally, breaking free! May those
thinking they 'know'
and only ever meant what's 'best'
for me, pause long enough
to reason why (and how) I fought
to be the person I am now,
for needing to make my own (adult)
choices (no one else's)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2011

[Note: The genesis of this poem appears under the same title  in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, (January) 2001]

An Affair To Remember

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

[Update, Sept 19, 2019: Today, the British Library confirmed that the link below to my 4th plinth reading in 2009 is no longer available as the video is incompatible with an updated IT system. However, I am assured that the video still exists, and B L hope to make it available to the public again one day. Fingers crossed, and watch this space.] RNT

The hormone therapy is doing an excellent job of controlling my prostate cancer, but tiring me out this week, not least because I have to keep getting up during the night to visit the toilet!

Incidentally, many thanks to the reader in Germany who contacted me in response to my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

Meanwhile...

Yesterday was the 2nd anniversary of my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square, July 14th 2009 between 8.00 pm -9.00 pm GMT. I have to confess I forgot the date (never the experience) until a friend reminded me.

It seems like only yesterday that I felt privileged to be able to make a contribution to Antony Gormley’s One & Other ‘living sculpture’ project; 2,400 ordinary people from various backgrounds and parts of the UK were given global coverage for one hour 24/7 for 100 days. The entire web stream is now archived at the British Library, and you may care to access my contribution at:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T   [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

I was very nervous about including LGBT-interest poems, especially as there had been a wave of serious attacks in the London area in recent times (a disquieting trait that continues to haunt gay men) but was delighted to receive emails, phone calls and letters of support from gay and straight people alike from the UK and overseas. More importantly, it was good to know that some people appreciate me as a poet with many interests and needing to tackle many themes, among which gay issues are, yes, important to me as a gay man, but no more or less so as a poet than love, nature, spirituality, peace; in what’s going on across the world just as much as what’s happening around me. Poetry is not just about pretty verses or playing clever mind games with language.

Moreover, what has sexuality to do with any aspect of the arts?

I see myself as a poet who happens to be gay rather than a gay poet; there is a subtle difference. At the same time, of course I am not going to ignore gay identity, certainly not because a selection of bigots or learned critics say I should because I am not important enough and some readers might be offended! [Oh, yes, they do.] Besides, if I am not important enough, why should anyone give a damn anyway?

Whatever, my hour on the 4th plinth on a global web-stream did wonders for my self-confidence and self-esteem at a time when I was seriously considering abandoning writing altogether. It also gave me the kind of inner strength that is helping me through treatment for prostate cancer and taking a lot of the fear and worry away (not all, by any means!) about whether or not I have made the right decision to have hormone therapy after changing my mind about radiotherapy.

So, yes, I am greatly indebted to those who gave me the opportunity to perform on the 4th plinth two years ago.

AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER

A scenic path into history
(flowers on a plinth in sun and rain)
ordinary or extraordinary

Art reflecting community,
the like (quite) of which never again;
a scenic path into history

A way of seeing all humanity
(inner ear and eye driven to home in)
ordinary or extraordinary

Statues, stepped out of a gallery
celebrating a diversity of population;
a scenic path into history

Treading on dreams but gently,
persevering with the ultimate question,
ordinary or extraordinary?

A feel for comedy and tragedy
(art’s bitter-sweet affair with Creation);
a scenic path into history,
ordinary or extraordinary

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

[Note: From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Deconstructing Cyberia

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

[Update (August 15, 2016): It has been recently reported in the national press that Times Square in New York, Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris and Disneyland Park in France are among tourist attractions where mobile phones are most likely to be hacked. Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, Ocean Park in Hong Kong and Las Vegas's strip are the next three mostly likely places, according to research by mobile threat defence company Skycure. Among the best suggestion to prevent hacking is always to use passwords, never share them, change them from time to time, and never program them into a mobile phone. It is also available never to keep any particularly sensitive personal data on a mobile phone for long. I imagine much the same applies to laptops and tablets.]

Regular readers will know that I try to record important if necessarily selective events in my poems and subsequent collections.

Yesterday, I listened to news breaking all afternoon about Rupert Murdoch's British newspapers [not only the News of the World] allegedly resorting to the most horrific tactics in the name of investigative journalism. Blagging, hacking into the phones of a murdered teenager and armed forces personnel killed on active duty...we are being told that these are allegedly among the usual suspects targeting just about anyone in the public eye hell bent on obtaining any information that might pass for ‘news’ considered to be ‘in the public interest.’  This is not (surely?) what investigative journalism is all about.

I have never cared for people like Rupert Murdoch. Even so, like many a business magnate through the centuries, he’s probably not the only Chief who may well have paid his Indians (and other Chiefs) to do any dirty work for him.

Mind you, we should never forget that questionable practices are in a minority even in journalism. Moreover, while we may not agree with whatever News any better practices may come up with, neither should we be quick to write anything or anyone off as either offensive or immoral, especially after consenting to show an interest either by pressing a button or turning a page. Even so, we cannot help but wonder just who may be listening in to our calls and/or monitoring our emails these days.

Perhaps the title of the poem should be Reconstructing Cyberia (for whatever purpose whomsoever may have in mind...?!) Whatever, one suspects it is happening on a very underestimated scale around the world, and this is the tip of a huge iceberg.

At school, 50+ years ago, we had a great English teacher, 'Jock' Rankin, who once spent several lessons illustrating and leading class discussions on how and why we should not accept any one version of what we read in newspapers or hear on the radio or see on television as necessarily objective, but to take account of various versions and form our own opinions. I not only count this amongst the most valuable advice I’ve ever been given, but also the most worthwhile lesson (if not the only one) that I took from my schooldays and have put into practice ever since.

This poem is a villanelle and will appear in my next major collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, next spring.

DECONSTRUCTING CYBERIA

Who (now) has the faintest idea
what’s right, wrong, true, false, hearsay,
regarding goings-on in the media?

Is no one safe from the blagger,
and whose phone was hacked into today?
Who (now) has the faintest idea?

Seedy types are exploiting Cyberia,
its millions of everyday tourists led astray
regarding goings-on in the media

Can intrusion into any private arena
be justified by pushing it Joe Public's way?
Who (now) has the faintest idea?

If one malpractice leads to another,
what's the right take on what is or isn't okay
regarding goings-on in the media?

Though no person or enterprise bigger
than a Free Press left to have an honest say,
who (now) has the faintest idea
regarding goings-on in the media?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011