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 2 January 2020

Where the Password is Peace

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

A reader has emailed to ask if I will post some poems that are included in my collections,  but not on the blog. Apparently, he likes to copy the poems and email them to 'an elderly relative who loves poetry but is 'only ok'ish with very basic IT, sufficiently to be able to open emails anyway.'


Meanwhile...

I included this poems in my collection with a place in mind that always fills me with a sense of peace. Before I hit 70+ and developed mobility problems, I'd often walk to nearby Hampstead Heath, at any time of year; once there, I would , enjoy a panoramic view of London from the top of Parliament Hill before wandering back down to sit by the ponds, or roam the woodlands, listen to incredible birdsong and, yes, find peace in the beauty of it all. Oh, but it is sheer poetry, believe me; of the kind no poet can do justice.



 Any readers who enjoy this poem might also enjoy 'On Hampstead Heath' which is also on the blog.




Hampstead Pond



Highgate Pond is a Nature Reserve on the Heath


WHERE THE PASSWORD IS PEACE

I am the rose dripping pearls
on a chamomile lawn stretching
across fields and woodlands
where trees tell tales wiser men
and women than you or I
have passed on since Creation
to the world’s poets, painters
and its music makers to re-create
in a spirit of celebration

I am the lame dove haunting
frantic urban streets reaching out
for a peace of mind as told
by the world’s poets, painters
and its music makers…
to still the restless heart, restore
a flagging faith in humanity
much like the rose dripping pearls
on a chamomile lawn

I am not whom you took me for
when first you tried to read my face,
unused as you are to seeing clear,
mistaking an iconic tablet of stone 
for a chamomile lawn stretching
beyond parameters of time and space
where the password is peace,
trees are heard telling tales and roses
seen dripping pearls

Look around and within all you see
to find me, who am called Beauty


Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

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Sunday 5 January 2014

An Affinity (of sorts) with Winter OR World, Half Asleep


Some readers will recognize this poem as I once posted it over the Christmas period as one of my Poems for Christmas. However, I have decided to make several significant changes which I think makes the poem more perennial…like the Heath itself.

The editors of a delightful Hampstead Heath site that includes the original among other poems will be editing accordingly. ('Culture' button.)


I am so fortunate to live within easy walking distance of Hampstead Heath. I love to stroll there in all weathers.  Conscious of walking in the footsteps of giants - Keats, Turner, Dickens…to name but a few - I feel similarly inspired. I cannot compare myself with their talents, but suspect I am filled with much the same sense of love and peace as they for communing with nature in all its shapes and forms. 

Photo: Hampstead Heath in winter

AN AFFINITY (OF SORTS) WITH WINTER or WORLD, HALF ASLEEP

One wintry day,
I strolled on Hampstead Heath,
snow almost ankle deep
in a world whose very life-force
fallen half asleep

A deafening silence
hurt my ears as I made my way
among trees like chandeliers,
ran a gamut of moon shadows
and winter’s tears

Apollo’s footprints
buried among kinder memories,
yet every now and then
I would chance to catch the eye
of a custom snowman

I had started out alone,
but not for long, friendly ghosts
of seasons past anxious
to keep me company, lend hope,
transcend worst fears

Redbreast, too, began
conjuring up images of a lasting
love, comfort, and peace;
songs composed by Earth Mother,
plagiarised by clerics

Mind and spirit so inspired,
every host body welcome to share
(no matter whose or where)
that holds this life’s finer dreams
close and dear

One wintry day
I strolled on Hampstead Heath,
snow almost calf deep
in a world posturing life balance
while half asleep


Copyright R. N. Taber 2013


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Tuesday 19 June 2012

On Hampstead Heath

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

Hampstead Heath comprises rolling acres of green landscape in London close to where I live. I love it.  Now, even Turner’s famous painting of the Heath could not do justice to this beautiful spot although he comes close.  As for me, I cannot expect to come even that close in my poems! Even so, if we let ourselves feel intimidated by the great masters of any genre, we may well never attempt anything. Besides, the joy of doing is as great as the thrill of achieving if not more so. As for success, whatever form it takes, that is a nothing more or less than a nice bonus.

Ken Wood, Hampstead Heath 2.JPG
A path in Ken Wood (A place of Scientific Interest)

More about the Heath at: http://hampsteadheath.net

This poem is a villanelle.

ON HAMPSTEAD HEATH

Glittering pools of light
among acres of grass,
swans in graceful flight

Crest to climb, fly a kite
on a city made of glass;
glittering pools of light

Ducks a common sight,
geese making room to pass,
swans in graceful flight

Trees voicing nature’s right
to co-exist in peace;
glittering pools of light

Though dog owners bite
and parents fuss,
swans in graceful flight

Of leafy goings-on at night,
it but whispers…
Glittering pools of light,
swans in graceful flight

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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











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