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 27 September 2012

Metamorphoses, from Cradle to Grave

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

As we metamorphose from infant to adult, from birth through life to death, who’s to say what will happen to us along the way?  We can but hope to meet life’s challenges head-on and come through them a better person.

Ah, but do we ever, at heart, leave childhood behind completely? I suspect the good, the bad and the ugly affect our behaviour in later years. Some of us will have enjoyed an idyllic childhood, but life is no idyll and that can be a tough lesson to learn. Others will have been less fortunate during their formative years; we can but do our best to shrug off unwanted baggage, and turn it into something positive; for as start, looking for the good in people instead of rushing to judge the bad and the ugly. (Who knows what baggage they may be struggling to but unable to shrug off?)  

For me, this nursery rhyme invokes ghosts of childhood and beyond that represent the various stages of ‘me’; a ‘me’ visible only to the inner eye, and one - that had a BAD relationship with my father - I wish, would go away, but of course, it never will, any more than a significant part of the damage it caused. Even so, life - for most of us - is a positive learning curve, and the children we were are a far cry from the adults finally put to rest.

‘Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...’

Perhaps you know the feeling?

This poem is a villanelle.

METAMORPHOSES, FROM CRADLE TO GRAVE

Days of nursery rhyme
maturing, breaking free;
haunting mists of time

Let’s walk, talk, climb
singing) up an apple tree;
days of nursery rhyme

This gene, that enzyme
maturing, breaking free;
haunting mists of time

First summits to climb,
marathons run to victory;
days of nursery rhyme

Graduating to prime,
wandering thoughtfully;
haunting mists of time

Charged with a crime
for each lost opportunity;
days of nursery rhyme,
haunting mists of time

Copyright R. N.Taber 2007; 2012

[NB This poem has been slightly revised (2012) from the original as it appears in  Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]


[Please Note: My collections are only on sale in the UK but anyone can order (signed) copies from me at a generous blogger discount. For details, contact rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog reader’ or Poetry collection’ in the subject field.]

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Tuesday 25 September 2012

'Live' Art

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

Feedback suggests that readers of both poetry blogs have also enjoyed some of my gay-interest and other novels serialised on my fiction blog: http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com
Many thanks for your e-mails and comments. (I never post comments, but always read them.) 

Blasphemy and Sacrilege were originally meant to be part of a trilogy, ending with Redemption. However, illness and various other events have overtaken me and the latter remains unfinished. Hopefully, I will complete it one day. 

Meanwhile…

I was only about 12 years-old when my art teacher at school told the whole class, with various gestures to emphasis the point, that we should never, but never take art at face value. ‘Get inside the piece and take a good look around,’ he said, and went on (word for word as far as I can remember) ‘Give the inner eye a chance to explore before the head reaches any conclusions. And never quite trust those conclusions. Oh, bear them in mind by all means, but always remember that even the artist is not always sure where his or her creative experience is leading, what feelings it may invoke, quite what set the creative juices flowing in the first place and to what end, exactly. So how can we be sure? We can’t, which is why any work of art is worth returning to time and time again if only to find out what we may have missed.’

None of us had a clue what he meant at the time, of course, but as time passed, I consider those words more a real part of my education than anything learned for the sake of passing exams. Otherwise, I could never have written today’s poem…for James, artists everywhere (whatever the genre in which they work) and those of us to whom they give much pleasure and render us a shade less vulnerable for making us think for ourselves. 

The deeper relationship between any art form  and its audience is an intensely personal one, taking us on journeys of heart and mind towards an appreciation to which the chances are no   ‘outsider’ critic would give much if any credence; while any critical take is always worth considering, we should trust our instincts and never fear placing ourselves at odds with it.  (Having to play the critic myself and produce essays at university years ago almost killed off every natural instinct for the creative experience I ever had.)

Nor should we ever, of course, forget nature's achievements - wild and nurtured alike - to which the same principles apply with regard to our establishing a relationship. Artists will always borrow from nature and do their best to convey a multi-take on various aspects they seek to bring to our attention; consequently, our mind's eye is likely to take us us on an unexpected journey of discovery, not least about ourselves. 

Readers may be interested to know that I read this poem along with another (A Hymn to Nature) over the video below; if the link does not work, you can also access it on my You Tube channel at:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQlJAu8Rwuc

LIVE ART

Life, a dream free to come and go
like a swallow on spring and autumn days;
harbinger of hope, bidding peace follow 
and nest among human hearts whose buds
of springtime are all but ready to burst
into leaf, begging nurture of human nature
no less anxious to fulfil its potential  
than Earth Mother hers, though its seasons
ever in dispute

Life, a dream embraced and let go
like a fairy tale cloud on light and darker days;
harbinger of love, bidding peace follow
and stay forever, feeding on the spirituality
of art’s deeper poetry all but ready
to come into its own, begging of the world
that it open its heart to Earth Mother 
and enter into an expression of spirituality  
by its own volition

Live art, a dream’s comings and goings
like a feisty moon at midnight on frosted glass,
harbinger of illusion, calling on sleepers
to make the most of an, oh, so brief sanctuary
before Apollo puts us on the spot
and demands we make a decision along lines
of whether or not we at least try
to fulfil our potential or take on the mantle
of anti-hero

Nature, forever rising above its fears;
humanity, never far from tears


Copyright R. N. Taber 2012






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Monday 3 September 2012

Perfect Storm

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

Now, today’s poem appeared on the blogs in 2011 shortly after a scan had revealed a tumour in my prostate, but before a biopsy confirmed it was cancerous. As I have said many times, poetry is my lifeline; it helps me confront my worst fears and rise above them, the better to tackle them rather than cave in to a knee-jerk reaction…and pretend ‘God’s in his Heaven and all’s well with the world.’ (Robert Browning)

I must say a huge thank you to those readers who have been in touch to ask how I am since. Your support and encouragement is much appreciated. Incidentally, where people initially get in touch via the  'Comments' link, I will always reply to those who give an e-address and do my best to pass on my predilection for positive thinking in the hope that it will work as well for them as it does for me.[I do not post comments, though, as it not only takes up space but also encourages trolls intent on spoiling a blog for others. Needless to say, I never respond to trolls and simply ignore them. [I will respond to even the harshest criticism, though, so long as the critic makes his or her reasons clear.]

A reader who has only just been diagnosed with prostate cancer has been in touch and is obviously very distressed and asks my advice. Apparently, it is not aggressive so he has several options, but admits to being terrified by the very presence of any cancer in his body. I can understand that only too well, but never presume to give advice; regular readers will have noticed, though, that I frequently express an opinion on this or that subject.  It is a personal decision that this reader, along with anyone else similarly affected, must come to in their own way.

My cancer is not aggressive, but at a ‘low to medium’ level according to the medics. So far, I have avoided radiotherapy because I have a weak bladder and the side-effects for both bladder and bowels can be grim. I don’t want to take the risk unless I have to. In the meantime, I have chosen to have hormone therapy which, so far, has kept my PSA count low and the cancer at bay. The hormone therapy sometimes produces nasty mood swings, and I find I need to urinate a lot so that can be (very) inconvenient, especially when out and about or travelling.  Otherwise I am fairly fit and feel fine; no heart, liver or kidney problems, rheumatism or arthritis, and no diabetes... yet. (Fingers crossed...)

Given that I was born in 1945, I count myself very lucky. As for what may be lying in wait for me around the next corner, I’ll deal with that if and when the need arises. Yes, sometimes I get scared, but fear is just one of many things we have to at least try and overcome rather than let it have its wicked way with us, and see us lose out on all the good things life has to offer.

My mother used to say, if you worry you'll die and if you don't worry you're still going to die one day so...why worry? She died of brain cancer in 1976 and remains an inspiration to me. She rose above her fears just as he helped me (time and again) to rise above mine. Hopefully, reading the poem will encourage readers to rise above their fears too.

PERFECT STORM

Black cloud
chasing me
over blue grass and green sea;
twilight’s waves
teasing me,
dumping seaweed at my feet;
Shadowy surfer
homing in on me
over weepy grass and angry sea;
I try to turn,
black cloud pinioning me
to blue grass,
a green sea clothing me
in seaweed,
shadowy Surfer
skimming every nuance of mind
and body

Black cloud
imposing
a vast, appalling darkness;
twilight’s waves
thundering me
for tearing at seaweed;
shadowy Surfer
poised to catch me up
and drag me down
where weepy grass and angry sea
issue a challenge
to throw off the black cloud
pinioning me,
let every nuance of mind and body
scale its threat,
dismiss the Surfer’s shadow
and go free

Black cloud
moves on,
its vast, appalling darkness
swallowed up
by a gentler twilight
if no apology
for its thunder or waspish seaweed
making me out
to be worth no more, no less
than a shadowy Surfer
would have me
laid out on a sandy bed,
every nuance of mind and body
killed off
by a surge of self-pity
because I dare not tread a board
or even swim

Shadowy Surfer
exposed for a Peeping Tom moon
challenging me
to go on home and try again
rather than let them win
who chased me like a black cloud
over weepy grass
and green sea, pinioning every nuance
of mind and body
to a sandy bed with seaweed
nature never meant
to be used to dress a body
for some dark deed,
thwarted, for now at least,
by another victory
for Light over Dark at the edge
of time

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

[Update (10/ 2013): I entered the Shine night-time half-marathon walk (13.1 miles) on Sat. September 28th to raise as much as possible for prostate cancer research. [I considered entering the full marathon (26+ miles) but decided that would be too much for me, especially as I am in my late 60's now.] My best friend, Graham, walked with me. (See photo below.) Between us, we raised over £700. We hope to enter again in 2014 and raise even more.


I am the one in the silly yellow hat!

[Update (4/2015): I would have been  taking part in the Shine (half marathon) Walk for Cancer again last September, along with my friend Graham, to raise money for prostate cancer research, Sadly, I was unable to participate following a bad fall in which I sustained a bad fracture of the heel and must not put any weight on my left foot. My friend, Richard, participated as a proxy for me and completed the half marathon with Graham in 4.2 hours. All my sponsors were aware of the circumstances and sponsored me anyway, possibly because I would easily have hopped a half marathon around my flat with a Zimmer frame before I walking without aids again. I am walking fairly well now, but need a walking stick and will probably always have a limp. So no half marathon for me this year.  Even so,  I hope to participate again should my ankle/foot ever be up for it.]

[Update (20/12/2015): I will be 70 tomorrow. Today, I start a new course of hormone therapy, but no complaints.  Patients can go six months on and six months off, but it is over 2 years since I had my last hormone injection so I must be doing something right. In the beginning, I found it quite hard to live with the fact that the cancer is there, but now I rarely even think about it just take each new day as it comes and enjoy it as if it were my last.[
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