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 29 August 2016

Mind-Body-Spirit, Garden of Remembrance


Today, our thoughts fly to the victims of the recent devastating earthquake in Italy; the living and the dead.

Nature, as we have seen, is constantly reminding us that humankind, for all its progress through the ages, remains vulnerable. (As if we need reminding!) No less vulnerable, the human spirit, but also an indomitable life force.

Now, memories are no compensation for reality. Nothing and no one can compensate for the loss of a loved one; family member, lover or close friend. Even so, it has been my personal experience that memories can keep good times as fresh in our minds as when we first shared them, and in so doing any tears - in time -become more like spring rain than some relentless wintry storm.

Such is the power of love that that it will inspire the human spirit for generations to weather any storm, repair close-knit communities damaged by events beyond their control, and most importantly, concede love the victory over grief. Speaking up about it invariably helps, although words can never quite express what mind-body-spirit are telling us all the time.

This poem is a villanelle.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, GARDEN OF REMEMBRANCE,

In thoughts so near, so far away,
inspiration visits old Memory Lane,
love’s fairest flowers here to stay

Whether or not we choose to pray,
love will survive us time and again
in thoughts so near, so far away

Deep sleep, no guiding light of day
nor dark, only kisses like spring rain,
love’s fairest flowers here to stay

Come despair keeping life at bay,
cue for human love to take the strain
in thoughts so near, so far away

Where a body quits worldly affray,
good hearts repeating its finer refrain;
love’s fairest flowers here to stay

Though life bury us in colours grey,
trust human goodness ever to remain;
in thoughts so near, so far away,
love’s fairest flowers here to stay


Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

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Tuesday 16 August 2016

Ghosts, a Prepaid Ticket to Ride

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

Readers often ask if I am on Facebook or Twitter. No, I am not, but if anyone is interested in a regular (or occasional) email exchange or is ever in London and would like to meet up for a chat over a drink, coffee, meal (or all three) feel free to get in touch: - rogertab@aol.com

Meanwhile...

Someone once accused me of lying and told me I would pay dearly for it when I die, as I would for any other sins. Well, I am not a religious person, but I was raised a Christian and am not unfamiliar with the Holy Bible. It has always struck me that Jesus of Nazareth spoke a lot of good sense. When a woman was about to be stoned, he is reported in the Gospels as saying, ‘Let he who is without sin cast the first stone.’

If sin embraces lies and other forms of deceit, wrongdoing, selfishness, bigotry and hypocrisy - to name just a few of the worse human traits - I dare say most if not all of us have sinned in one way or another. Some sins can be explained if not excused; others are inexplicable and inexcusable.

So what obscure life force is it within us that makes us sin, sometimes against our better judgement?  Whatever, we can rely on conscience to see we are not let off the hook.

I believe we make our own ‘heaven’ and our own ‘hell.’ To what extent depends on what we do - or don’t do - to deserve either or both. So when, as mythology would have it, the Ferryman comes to row us across the Styx, I see no reason why we should pay a penny more than we have spent a lifetime paying…one way or another.

Someone else once told me that Conscience is our salvation, not Belief, seeing to it that any bad in us pays;  it is the spirit of any good in us that the Ferryman lands on the shores of infinity. (Maybe that is why the poet in me sees and listens to ghosts, all of whom appear to mean well?)

As a child, I loved mythology. Once, I asked my mother how much the ferryman might charge for  rowing me across the Styx, and would he expect a tip? She laughed and commented that we had already paid with our lives, no need for either. 

Would it be a scary journey, I wanted to know? She hesitated only briefly, "Not if you've always been a good boy," she said. "And if not sometimes?" I asked. She shrugged, "Well, it always helps to be in credit, but no one is all bad, and I dare say God is no more above making allowances than the rest of us." 

"I'm not sure I believe in God," I confessed. She was visibly shocked, but as reassuring as ever. "Everyone is different.  Whatever happens when we die, that is taken into account as well. So don't you worry about dying, especially when there's a whole life out there just waiting to be lived. Now, how about an ice-cream...? End of a conversation I barely understood at the ripe old age of 10 years ...but well recall the best part of a lifetime later.

GHOSTS, A PREPAID TICKET TO RIDE

A time must come when we shall die,
and what last steps do we take?
Do we pray or simply weep a goodbye
to all we’ve loved for life’s sake?

Will death us, a kinder ‘God’ restore,
peace of mind, innocence of a child,
or see us writhe in pain at a closed door,
pay the price for being of this world?

What is repentance, what does it prove
but sheer desperation to be rescued
from an eternity denied the spirit of love,
free fall in a well of all lies reviewed?

If life, it play fair at death’s home shore,
why pay the ferryman a penny more?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[Note: This poem has been revised (2016) since first appearing under the title 'Service Charge Included' in The Sound of Silence, TA-TI Edizone (Italy, 2005) and A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; a revised version of my collection - in e-format - is in preparation.]

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Monday 15 August 2016

A Sense of Who We Are


Life is what it is; we make the best (or worst) of things. Everyone is different and no one has the right to judge another simply because they appear to aspire to less than their potential suggests. Fame, fortune, travel…these are wonderful achievements if and where the cap fits but aspiring to be nothing more or less than a good parent/person is no less wonderful, even more so perhaps for its invariably being less obvious (or newsworthy).

Whatever, we can always fall back on imagination.

A SENSE OF WHO WE ARE

Home truths, like near dead lilies on a lake
running dry

Lifelines, like veins of a turning leaf
come autumn

Desire, taking comfort in homemade soup
in winter

Wisdom, taking its cue from the first
cuckoo of spring

Ambition,  Jack Frost’s tablecloth spread,
our places laid

Passion, saving water lilies from a lake
running dry

Love, preserving archives should humanity
need reminding

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: This poem first appeared in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007 and was subsequently published in CC&D v 270, Scars Publications, USA]






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Saturday 13 August 2016

On the Bitter-Sweet Politics of Being Human


War, more often than not, takes a cruel toll on Home Fronts as well as on the battlefield; it changes people, and in doing so can destroy relationships, inflict all manner of blows on family life, cause individuals to question the validity of any raison d’être on offer.

It is perhaps the greatest tragedy of humankind that it’s multi-ego has a problem with the notion of simply agreeing to differ

ON THE BITTER-SWEET POLITICS OF BEING HUMAN

At war, injury or worse for victory’s sake,
not all survivors showing its scars;
at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Back home, safe passage no piece of cake,
many survivors too weary for tears;
at war, injury or worse for victory’s sake

See the battlefield, its finest heroes make
of women from Venus, men from Mars;
at home, cradles rock and boughs break

All roads to peace, too, their victims take,
for all we’re told an answer to prayers;
at war, injury of worse for victory’s sake

Where war makes waves across time’s lake,
find peace putting its faith in straws;
at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Shall history its peace with war ever make,
its windows on the world need no bars?
At war, injuries or worse for victory’s sake;
at home, cradles rock and boughs break

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: Title (only) of the poem revised (2016) from the version that appears under the title 'War and Peace' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]






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Friday 12 August 2016

It Takes All Sorts...

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

"It takes all sorts to make a world," says Badger to Ratty in Kenneth Graham's classic novel 'Wind in the Willows'.

Now, I hate being referred to as a gay poet simply because I write gay-interest as well as general poetry. I prefer to think of myself as a poet who happens to be gay. When I commented as such to someone only recently I was told it was much to be expected as people tend to be judged by/ remembered for their behaviour; it was put to me that my being gay was by far the more significant aspect of who I am as a person. (Bullshit!)

Different takes on life do not make us different, just human. As human beings, we need to respect those differences, not malign them except, of course, where terrorism and other acts of criminality are involved; being 'different' is no excuse for the terrorist or actively criminal mindset.

My being gay IS a significant part of who I am, but other aspects of a person’s individuality are every bit as if not more important than their sexuality.

The same person suggested that being gay was ‘unnatural’ and therefore more likely to ‘stick out like a sore thumb’.

Well, nature’s heterosexual majority, it would appear, is far more accepting and understanding of various species’ native traits in this respect than many among its human counterpart.

While there are a number of documentaries on You Tube about homosexual behaviour in animals, the link below will take you to one of my favourite videos:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYdcvRe7ox8

It really does take all sorts to make a world, and we should all remember that befores we even consider attacking someone - physically or verbally - for being 'different' or thinking differently to ourselves. By all means let's agree to differ, and make our own case for ...  whatever ... but without going to personal extremes,

IT TAKES ALL SORTS...

As I walked in the garden one day,
I saw a dog chase a cat into a hedge,
but cat kept its head,
spat and glared till dog backed away
and went after a squirrel instead,
but the wily squirrel was far too quick
and scampered up a tree
while the dog settled for chewing
on a bone left lying on the lawn

As I strolled out in a park one day,
I saw dogs chasing each other’s tails
and clearly having fun
till one glimpsed a cat in the distance,
hared off after it,
the rest on its heels barking madly,
but cat already gone
so began fighting each other viciously,
owners converging in alarm

As I went on a protest march one day,
riot police shields herded us into a corner,
tarring us all with the same brush,
(peaceful protesters and trouble makers)
but someone broke free,
police on their heels shouting madly,
soon catching up with the person
who was then brought down viciously,
dragged off crying in handcuffs

I spotted children observing a dog
taking no notice of a cat but to exchange
glances as if commenting
on the weird way we humans carry on,
now boxing in our own
or fighting, now hugging each other,
while a sparrow in a nearby tree
had to agree, all three alerted by history
to humankind’s split personality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

[Note; If interested, feel free to explore my gay-interest poetry blog:
https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=8069559007797345275#template/src=sidebar ]

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Monday 1 August 2016

Olympic Games OR Old Gods, New Gods, and the Rest of Us


[Update (July 21, 2016): Congratulations to Team GB and everyone taking part in the Rio Olympics. As for those nasty people who targeted Tom Daley for homophobic abuse, I can only echo J. K. Rowling; I am not sure which is more offensive, the stupidity or the spite. Some religious groups especially need to get real; their founders would be appalled. I do not subscribe to any religion, not least because I find it too divisive and closed-minded where religion should be the very opposite, acknowledging that our differences neither put us in the wrong nor make us different, simply human. Moreover, I came to this conclusion before I realised I am gay. One of my You Tube videos makes the same point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrTjc2373IU  
Needless to say, I received a number of offensive emails after posting it.]

Now, leaders of every society like to play games with its citizens and today’s poem was written in 2000; it has nothing (directly) to do with the Olympic Games. Even so, here’s wishing good luck to everyone participating in the Rio Olympics and upholding humankind’s finer qualities of fair competition and mutual respect among winners and losers alike. To win a medal is, of course, a wonderful achievement, but as wonderful if not more so is the thrill of taking part, an incomparable memory to share and treasure over a lifetime.

If the poem invokes a sense of society falling into moral and political well as economic decay, hopefully the feeling rarely lasts; it only takes events that embrace the human spirit of the Olympic Games to raise our hopes once more and make us realise there is (far) more to life than any judgmental take on it will ever suggest.

Even so, let's not forget how Greek mythology would have us believe the old gods got up to all sorts of mischief on Olympus; all work and no play…



Mount Olympus, Greece

OLYMPIC GAMES or OLD GODS, NEW GODS, AND THE REST OF US

What will be, will be,
in this century as others gone before;
wealth and poverty, a sick lottery
of love and hate, peace and war invariably
played out by tin gods with humankind
and everything to play for, bearing in mind
(of course) that who dares wins,
no matter what their sins, and losers
will always cast the first stones
before they will admit being taken in
by substitute icons

Olympus, alive and well on Capitol Hill,
humanity, in free fall…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised and an alternative title added (2016) since it first appeared in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; rev. ed. in –format in preparation.]


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