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.

Tuesday 1 May 2012

The Greatest Show On Earth

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

I love it when people ask me to repeat a villanelle; regular readers will know I have a passion for them. I have written some 200+ over the years. Today’s villanelle last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is especially for ‘Damon and Louise’ who are getting married shortly and plan to spend their honeymoon on a walking tour of the Lake District. They say they are looking forward to ‘beautiful scenery by day and intimate at night.’ Well, enjoy, and congratulations to you both.

Interestingly, it appears that Louise has a gay brother who is also Damon’s best friend. Nice one, folks!

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Earth Mother, a faith in us will show,
each and every one of us;
eternal confidant, always in the know

If ever we’re driven to an all-time low,
no one answering our cries,
Earthy Mother, a faith in us will show

Starry heavens come, starry heavens go
for each and every one of us;
eternal confidante, always in the know

Should we be losers at love’s last throw
of its ages-old, universal dice,
Earth Mother, a faith in us will show,

Seek Apollo where darkness binds us so
(will always find time for us);
eternal confidante, always in the know

Where a bigot’s rant rings loud if hollow
and universal truths give way to lies,
Earth Mother, a faith in us will show;
eternal confidante, always in the know

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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Monday 30 April 2012

A Phoenix In Soho

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

Today’s post is in remembrance of all those who died at the hands of a very disturbed person in London UK during the spring of 1999.

On April 30th 1999 a loner with a hatred for all gay and non-white people planted a bomb in The Admiral Duncan pub, in Soho just after 1830 hours. The bar was packed with drinkers during a Bank Holiday weekend. The pub is in Old Compton Street in what has been the heart of London’s gay community for many years. The bomber had already made similar attacks in areas of the city frequented by ethnic minority communities.

Soho's gay community has always welcomed anyone and everyone. Among the dead from The Admiral Duncan blast, were a woman only recently married and the best man at her wedding; her husband was among those who survived with horrific injuries.

There is a tragic postscript to the bombing. David Morley, a barman at The Admiral Duncan when the bomb exploded, died after a vicious homophobic attack on London’s South Bank in the early hours of Saturday morning, October 31st 2004. He was only 37 years-old. Morley had helped many people victims of the bomb that killed three people, and injured 73. Although he escaped with minor injuries, he suffered serious trauma for years afterwards.

London is often considered a safe haven for gay people, and I dare say it is safer than many places. But let’s be clear. Homophobia and racism are alive and kicking just about everywhere; the flames of hate crime are constantly being fanned by various socio0cultural-religious elements around the world. It has to stop, and the first place of call has to be schools everywhere – including if not especially faith schools – where teachers who genuinely care that their students should become responsible adults need to raise their voices and be heard without fear of reprisal from bigoted parents, Head teachers or  school governors and the like.

Over the years, many people have fallen foul of homophobia, racism, sexism and assaults on their religious beliefs (or non-belief, as the case may be). We must do our best to stamp out these prejudices once and for all. At the same time, we should always remember that prejudice works both ways and should not be tolerated by or from anyone, regardless of colour, creed, sexuality or gender. It frequently strikes me that many people nowadays are far too quick to play various socio-cultural-religious cards in a society where ‘political correctness’ is doing precious little to encourage integration or mutual respect among its members.

A PHOENIX IN SOHO

Ordinary people passing by,
having fun in bars, folks
like you and me, no aliens from Mars
come to threaten the planet;
some sipping coffee at a roadside café,
enjoying a chat, warm spring
sunshine on the face, trails of laughter
like wedding lace...

Suddenly, the sky turns black!
Smell and roar ofa devil on the back
as heavens look away in despair
and ordinary people learn
the true meaning of fear;
death and destruction everywhere,
wedding lace in tatters,
ordinary people, discovering
what matters and playing their part
straight from the heart...

Smoke clears, sun reappears,
world keeps turning;
finger of blame points, charges,
moves on...

Ordinary people, rising above tragedy
or the Devil win - pray we never
see the like again;
Small comfort for those left to writhe
in the throes of loss and pain
but hope for us all - as we learn
to live and love again, no matter
the colour of our skin or
creed we live by or our sexuality

Amazingly, yesterday, a complete
stranger said ‘hello’ over a cappuccino
in Soho; and there was wedding lace
in the street, ordinary people rising
above their tears and fears, bringing
hope and love for years to come...
Or what chance for peace, we children
of the millennium?
Copyright R. N. Taber 1999; 2012

[Note: This poem has been very slightly revised from an earlier version that appears in 1st eds. of  Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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Sunday 29 April 2012

Dirt Track

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

I wrote today’s poem especially to accompany and read over the video below that I have just uploaded to my YouTube channel. If the video here does not play, go to:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hqydBlronxE

or visit:  http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber 

Continuing my best friend Graham’s snapshot of Wiltshire, he takes us from the Gothic splendour of Salisbury cathedral to the natural beauty of the Cheddar Gorge; this is the first of three videos which we hope will give you a feel for the Gorge and its splendid views. Yes, he could have waited for a sunny day, but we both feel that a gathering storm is more atmospheric.

The poem attempts to covey something of the intimate relationship between the human condition and the natural world. I will post poem and video on my blog as previous feedback suggests that some of you cannot access YouTube directly.

Two further videos of the Cheddar Gorge (and poems) will follow during the course of this week once editing is completed. [We had hoped to combine all there videos into one, but the resulting file proved too big for my pc and it crashed.]

DIRT TRACK

I found myself trudging a dirt track,
my world, splitting at the seams,
not caring if no way back,
nothing there but shattered dreams

Wearily negotiating mud and stones,
my world, a lonely, empty place,
mind, spirit and aching bones
closed to the poetry of time and space

Suddenly, the track began to open out
my world, opening up as if on cue,
unfriendly ghosts put to rout
by Earth Mother looming into view

Firmly, yet kindly she grasped my arm
and led me through time and space,
glad captive of a fickle charm
returning me to poetry’s birthplace,

I had neither the heart nor will to resist,
but submitted to all she asked of me,
to all I hadn’t known I’d missed,
more still the inner eye had yet to see

No matter a world splitting at its seams,
I am resolved to find my way back,
sow-nurture-reap new dreams,

the Poetry of Life keeping me on track 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012




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Saturday 28 April 2012

Where Kingfishers Fly

‘Marie’ has been in touch to say she and her family enjoyed my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square back in July 2009 and would I post the link again please. 

So here it is, a link to as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other 24/7 ‘living sculpture’ project over 100 days of an English summer. The entire web-stream is archived in the British Library, but the link below will take you to my (very informal) hour on a (very high and a bit slippery) 4th plinth.

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the British Library archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

Meanwhile...


Tip for the Day: Don’t spend a lifetime looking for the Bluebird if Happiness or the chances are you will never find it; lighten up, and let it come to you, and when it does, you’ll know it’s no myth. The human heart needs to find its voice and sing for love (if not a lover) to hear and come our way for it is inclined to turn a deaf ear to tears. Love comes in many shapes and assumes many guises; it may or may not linger long, but will remain a lasting inspiration.
  
WHERE KINGFISHERS FLY

Some say a Bluebird of Happiness
will swoop on loneliness
like an owl to prey, turn the foggiest day
into a blaze of spring sunshine,
negotiate mazes of a mind teetering
on madness, driven to despair
by a sickness of spirit, needing
to but spot one blue, fragile, wing,
and hear (even faintly) such sweet music
as only the Bluebird of Happiness
may ever bring, egging on our desire
for the simplest things...
like that first cold beer after harvest ends,
glimpse of a kingfisher’s tail
where the river bends, scent of roses
though autumn in the air
reminding of a fragrance of your hair
each time we share a dip,
a gladness of rainbows lending more
than light to your eyes,
along your nose, upon your lips,
(where I’ll brush mine),
tonguing your ear lobe, seeing to it
that love’s heat moulds us
into an image of lasting beauty

Bluebird of Happiness, circling our globe,
looking out for us...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.] 


The Third Eye is still in print. UK readers can obtain from any bookshop or directly from me; the latter also applies to overseas readers. UK readers may also find all or some of my titles listed in their local public library catalogue.

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Thursday 26 April 2012

Zen Of The Seeing Eye

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

[Update: Sept. 19th 2018: Readers may be interested to know that some of James Howard's work will be included in a new art exhibition that opens at the Saatchi Gallery in London on Sept 28th:


[Update: Nov 28 2017: You will notice that I have dedicated the poem below to an artist friend, James Howard. Admirers of his work will doubtless be interested to know that he has now added some fascinating videos to his site: http://www.luckyluckydice.com and/or on You Tube at:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vOoZiZKZnPM&t=50s

Now, I know this is a poetry blog, but...

Many thanks to those of you who have been in touch to say they are also enjoying my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com

I am especially delighted that feedback on Dog Roses and Like There’s No Tomorrow has been so encouraging since I could not persuade a literary agent that they had anything to offer the reading public. Consequently, neither are available in print form, but I plan to upload them as e-books at a later date.

My latest crime novel - Catching up with Murder (Raider Publishing International, 2011)- is not a gay novel like Dog Roses or a gay-crime novel like Blasphemy or Sacrilege, but has a gay element in a storyline that frequently descends into black comedy. All my novels - published and unpublished - are serialised on my fiction blog which includes a second Fred Winter novel - Predisposed to Murder: http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/

Meanwhile...

I used to travel the UK giving poetry readings during the course of which I was invited to some lovely places and met some lovely people. Wherever I went, people would be busy photographing various beauty spots and aspects of nature that particularly caught the naked eye.  I rarely took any photograph as I was always too busy soaking in the atmosphere of a place, feasting on a history that nature has carefully archived and begs to be browsed. My inner eye would seek and find the raw material for a poem that would let me convey my deeper impressions of a place to share with others.

Every artist sees with his or her inner eye, whether writer, painter, musician, sculptor, whatever; the audience - reader, listener, observer - is thereby invited to do the same. So enjoy your photograph albums, but put your inner eye to work as well as your camera wherever you go. That way, we keep the felt as well as visual experience of places we have visited in mind and spirit always.

ZEN OF THE SEEING EYE
(For James Howard)

My skin is white, my skin is black,
fairer shades of yellow, darker shades of brown,
like leaves in milky sunshine come a storm
rearing like raging horses in heaven’s angry sea
for its children under threat, like me,
taking my cue from nature, mentor and guide,
only temporarily kept from harm
in the eye of a storm, sanctuary a fragile
prism of silence

My skin is white, my skin is black,
fairer shades of yellow, darker shades of brown,
like colours in a pallet before art
stakes its claim and transcends virginity
into a subtle blend of modernity
and spirituality comprising multi-aspects
of temporality stirred to direct
its inner eye to look and see, seek and find
what moves the human mind

My skin is white, my skin is black,
fairer shades of yellow, darker shades of brown,
camouflage for ingenuity and invention
though conspiracy and deception sometimes
making inroads where defences weakened
by a brooding inability to make the world hear
what we have to say, restore its pride
instead of some knee-jerk running away to hide
here, there, everywhere

Be fair to me in what or whom you think you see,
creative with even the plainer shades of humanity

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







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Wednesday 25 April 2012

Mind-Body-Spirit, Anthology of Human Nature

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

The first poem on today’s blog was duplicated on my gay-interest blog at the request of a young man living in Europe and afraid for many friends back home in his native Uganda who live in constant fear or persecution, prison and worse. I may well have expressed his fears better in other poems, but this is the one he chose because, as he puts it so succinctly, 'Everyone has a right to love, no exceptions...'

Gay Rights have come a long way in the West since I was young, but we still have a long way to go before everyone achieves sufficient maturity and sense of fair play to recognise that we are just ordinary people with a positive a contribution to make to contemporary society as anyone else. [Religious fundamentalists and intrinsically homophobic clerics please take note...and grow up!] Uganda, of course,  is just one of many African countries where the repression of and attacks on gay people are a public disgrace to humanity. What makes it all so much worse is that this attitude is encouraged and promoted by radical evangelicals who claim to speak for God. Well, that just goes to show how dangerous ignorance can be since the New Testament and Holy writings associated with other religions assure us that God is Love and love does not discriminate in this way, certainly Jesus of Nazareth never would. I may be non-religious, but I feel very strongly that the way some 'middle management' religious leaders take it upon themselves to misinterpret central aspects of religion for their own bigoted ends.

Here's looking forward to the day when gay people around the world are free to express their sexuality without fear of persecution from the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority; a time when Human Rights for everyone are respected over and above political in-fighting and expediency.

This poem is a villanelle.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ANTHOLOGY OF HUMAN NATURE

Written in blood, centuries before,
passing for a treatise on peace,
an anthology on the Poetry of War

Where warmongers strut cocksure,
find hope’s desperate pleas,
written in blood, centuries before

Eyes on glory at victory’s glass door,
politicians deliver fine speeches,
an anthology on the Poetry of War

Pride spilling over on the home shore
for defeating its enemies,
written in blood, centuries before

Love, waiting in the wings evermore
can but weep at brave eulogies,
an anthology on the Poetry of War

Generations marking its pages as sure
as next autumn’s leaves;
an anthology on the Poetry of War,
written in blood, centuries before

[Note: This poem appears under the title 'Anthology inSearch of a Title' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Now, freedom has meant and will always mean different things to different people at different times in history, but is and will always be worth fighting for... although we should never assume that any means justifies the end.

AT FREEDOM’S CALL

Once I played among green hills in summer,
listening to songbirds, watching them fly,
running free, hand in hand with my gay lover
our dream, like a kite, reaching for the sky

In purple hills, come autumn’s reds and gold,
I saw birds winging free of winter’s threat,
leaves painting pictures of we two grown old,
our dream, like a kite, playing hard to get

Once I walked in white hills at winter’s call,
heard a robin sing in a tree stripped bare,
nor did it flinch or fly off at the first snowfall,
our dream, like a kite, returning us there

If summer short, autumn brief, winter dead,
be love’s eternal spring taken as read

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





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Tuesday 24 April 2012

Bluegrass Buddha

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

Deep thinking, especially perhaps when it takes a wishful or wistful turn, may well take us to the the most wonderful if unexpected places...

BLUEGRASS BUDDHA

Pensive, cross-legged
on the sandbanks of time
wishing the tide away...
watching the flotsam and jetsam
of long, happy hours
swoop and dive like gulls
chasing crumbs thrown
by this child, those watchers,
from a sandcastle’s tower
on a blue glass sea of dreams

Oh, happiness, reminding
like specks in a kaleidoscope
even as it turns, like earth
around the sun, of days gone
forever, never to return...
Good, bad, halcyon days
chasing after crumbs
thrown by this child-watcher
from a castle of half lies
on a bluegrass sea of dreams

Listening to The Man play
and, oh, so wishing the tide away
if only for peace of mind,
entering into a past-present future
working and reworking
mind-body-spirit on behalf of ghosts
that would have us avoid
the errors of their ways, lead us
not into temptation
on a bluegrass sea of dreams

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appears in A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

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