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.

Saturday 25 June 2016

Bottom Line, Democracy OR Breakaway Britain

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

[Update, December 10. 2018: Arguing it here, arguing it there,
                                                 arguing Brexit everywhere;
                                                 be it a heaven or be it a hell,
                                                 united we stand, divided we fall ...

Few of us in the UK who voted in a democratic referendum for Brexit have much faith left in its politics or many of its politicians (putting party politics and business interests before the good of the country?) let alone democracy. Most people I know, Brexiteers and Remainers alike, wish Theresa May well for at least trying to please everyone and uphold a democratic vote. Sadly, you can please some of the people some of the time, but never all the people all the time... Good Luck, PM.]

[Update April 24 2017: A French (gay) friend emailed me today to say he would be voting for Marine Le Pen in the forthcoming French election. He feels as I do, that the EU is a shambles; its failure to come up with a fair, sustainable immigration policy as well as its having to bail out Greece and Italy, not to mention the Deutsche Bank reportedly being in difficulties points to an organisation unfit for purpose. So, no, I have no problem with my gay friend voting for an anti-EU candidate even though neither of us would normally support the National Front. He knows I believe Brexit will prove to be in Britain's best interests. Who am I to criticise any path to a potential Frexit?]

[Update April 25 2017: While I probably should not comment on French politics (!) my French friend and I are further encouraged by the fact that Marine Le Pen has announced she is standing down as leader of France's National Front Party, saying she wants to be above party politics and be president of a France for everyone, thus even further distancing herself from the policies of her father.]

..................................................


I am (very) surprised, but also (very) pleased by Thursday’s referendum result here in the UK. I had expected the political Establishment to win. As it is, I believe it was an overwhelming vote for a democracy that has been slowly but surely undermined by a European Union that has become unfit for purpose.

Once we have a new Prime Minister in place and the Labour leadership question, too, has been sorted, our politicians need to put party divisions to one side and work together for cross party consensus on local reforms initiated by our leaving the European Union.

While I understand the concerns of many young people who feel an older generation has voted for a future they do not want, I remain convinced that future generations will thank us for this decision in the longer term. Even so, negotiating Brexit with the EU will require tact and diplomacy; any show of aggressive defiance will help no one.

Britain is more than capable of holding its own while sharing in a common good in the modern world. As for Europe, we should never forget that we Brits, too, are Europeans and - whatever political games our leaders so love to play - our continental neighbours are also our friends.

This poem is a villanelle.

BOTTOM LINE, DEMOCRACY or BREAKAWAY BRITAIN
(June 23 2016)

Whatever will be, will be,
(divorcing the Union);
three cheers for democracy

Though the forecast stormy
for breakaway Britain,
whatever will be, will be…

Playing on fears comes easily
to the everyday politician;
three cheers for democracy

Braving unchartered territory,
(conscience of a nation)
whatever will be, will be…

A disaffected voting majority
rising to the occasion;
three cheers for democracy

Its potential weighing heavily   
on a younger generation;
whatever will be, will be…
Three cheers for democracy
  
Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

[Note: See alsohttp://rogertab.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/three-cheers-for-democracy-or-breakaway.html ]



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Wednesday 22 June 2016

L-I-F-E, Making the Case for Looking Forward

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

Even at 70, I am usually a very positive thinking person. However, after being made a captive audience at a neighbour’s recent rant about the problems commonly associated with old age, and how there is nothing to look forward to but death, I found myself struggling to rise above a growing sense of impending doom.

Dare I suggest that many if not most of us here in the UK are similarly weary in the wake of all the for and against arguments so passionately expressed by politicians doing their best to influence our vote in tomorrow’s EU referendum?

While browsing through some old papers, I discovered this little poem that I had all but forgotten, and it went a long way towards restoring not only flagging spirits but also a sense of proportion.

L-I-F-E, MAKING THE CASE FOR LOOKING FORWARD

Ancient trees sprouting new leaves,
old habitats harbouring new life;
ancient fields reviewing GM corn
where grasshoppers still singing

Old folks (like me) expecting to fly
with swallows come autumn;
old tales kept alive by winter fires,
tongues of flame poking at history

Memory, persuading young and old
to rework the poetry of its seasons
  
Copyright R N. Taber 2008

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Saturday 18 June 2016

Remembering a Woman of Substance

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

[Update: 26.9.19: I share the view of many that it was in poor taste - to say the least -on the part of Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, to refer to the death of Jo Cox in the way that he did in the House of Commons last night; I suspect it was offensive to many, especially the dead woman's husband. Having watched the debate, I was appalled by some of the the language and rowdiness of many - on both sides of the House - who were constantly interrupting speakers. Do they not appreciate what bad example they are setting to those watching, especially impressionable young people?]

Every death comes as a shock, even when it is expected. But when it is a wholly innocent person and not only unexpected but also violent, it sends shock waves around a whole nation, even the world. The shock waves fade in time, but memory is a living organism and that never fades so long as there are family, friends, and other decent people out there who will not only cherish it but pass it on from generation to generation. 

On Thursday, June 16th 2016, Jo Cox MP, 41, wife and mother of two young children, was murdered in broad daylight by one of her own constituents in Birstall, West Yorkshire. 

Now, I never met Jo Cox, knew her only by reputation and from hearing her speak in Parliament on TV. However, the outpouring of genuine grief and shock - even across customary political and socio-cultural-religious divides - further highlights the fact that she was, indeed, an exceptional young woman of substance.

More about Jo Cox on wikipedia at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jo_Cox

Every death is a tragedy,  but the murder of a wife and mother in her prime as well as (already) a force to be reckoned with on a generally egocentric-driven political scene, that defies description. As for the killer’s motives, even his mental state at the time, these are barely relevant since nothing can change what has happened; all a poet can do is try to capture a little at least of the spirit of something in someone far better, and always well worth remembering.

This poem is a villanelle. (Why a villanelle…? By the very nature of its form, a villanelle requires a direct no-waffle, approach; by all accounts, Jo Cox was that kind of woman.)


Jo Cox [Photo taken from the Internet]

REMEMBERING A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE

One loving wife and mother, 
rare breed of politician,
touching hearts, world over

Bringing opposites together,
her work, a passion;
one loving wife and mother

Anxious to make life better, 
a caring people person,
touching hearts, world over]

Crossing this and that barrier
set by culture or religion,
one loving wife and mother

No comfy chair commentator,
but getting things done,
touching hearts, the world over

Icon for life, senseless murder,
role model for a generation;
one loving wife and mother
touching hearts, world over

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

(London, June 17, 2016)



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Friday 3 June 2016

Engaging with a Speculative Mind


Society - that is to say, the more vocal and 'pushy' of its so-called  'betters' - may well like to think the human condition can be moulded as it sees fit, but it underestimates the human spirit, that inner self inclined to resist all attempts to fit us into boxes for which we were not made.

By all means, let us resist ...

ENGAGING WITH A SPECULATIVE MIND

Some turn to love but for escape, comfort,
weary of a world full of pain and hate,
sick of always being told what to do (or not),
seek peace, understanding in a kind heart

Some find an escape and comfort they seek,
believe they're safe under sheltering skies;
some, disenchanted by love for its own sake,
weary of the same people, places, half lies…

If squaring up to life’s clout is never easy,
squaring up to love is harder still by far;
as for looking both in the eye with sincerity,
that demands the sureness of a guiding star

As clay to the potter's wheel, human nature
can but do its best with what's on offer ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[Note: First published under the title ‘Horoscope' in A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]



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Thursday 2 June 2016

Alice Maud Taber OR Remembering My Mother

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

[Update: 22nd March 2020] Today is Mothers' Day, and likely to prove very upsetting for many people. The COVID 19 coronavirus pandemic continues to spread and take its toll on the vulnerable and elderly in societies worldwide. While social distancing is necessary to help slow the spread of the virus sufficiently to help medical and emergency services teams to cope, not visiting Mum today of all days won't be easy.]RT 

My mother was one of the least judgemental people I have ever known and would have applauded transgender men and women for finding the moral courage to be true to themselves and look the world in the eye. (Far too many people worldwide rush to judgement without giving a second thought to how it must feel to live in a body that cannot truly relate to the gender assigned to it.

It is some years since my mother died on June 2nd 1976. [She was born 100+ years ago on July 16 1916; a hundred years to the day, a friend came to lunch and we toasted her over a glass of Baileys Irish Cream Liqueur.]

She was a remarkable woman, my Mum. She would talk to anyone and anyone would talk to her regardless of any artificial class barriers. Above all, she was a very understanding and forgiving person, traits of human nature that - in my experience - rarely go hand in hand in people and which, sadly, are anything but common in my own family. (I like to think I am a very understanding person, but struggle with forgiveness although I usually get there in the end.)

Throughout my childhood, my mother would often tell me story poems instead of a traditional story at bedtime. (She could recite 'The Highwayman' (Noyes) and 'The Ancient Mariner  ' (Coleridge) by heart!) Even as a young man, I used to love to hear her reciting poetry.

We cannot celebrate death, but celebrating a person much loved and a life well lived is always a privilege.
   
My mother at 21 (1937)


My mother at the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, 1971


ALICE MAUD TABER or REMEMBERING MY MOTHER
         (1916-1976)

Always there for me, believing in me
more than I believed in myself, knowing me
better than I knew myself,
loving me more than I loved myself
although I could never  give you
what you wanted, be what you wanted,
live or love how you wanted...
subscribe to your fantasy of family unity;
we did our best by each other, assisting
one another through life’s maze of emotional
twists, turns, and dead-ends; me, unable
to grasp for years how conflicting loyalties
were tearing you apart...

Yours, a divided heart never truly made whole;
we whose demands you loved to meet
always failing it. Yet, even now, years on
since a tumour took its toll, you are (still)
one to whom this poet turns, always striving
for some peace of mind, heart, and soul
(imagination’s impossible goal) - learning 
to read between lines to which you gave
life and meaning. Only, then I wasn’t listening
(youth thinks it knows everything.)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2011

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version that appears as the dedication poem in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

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