Progress, Bitter-Sweet

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

Now, can we honestly call the rape of our forests and woodlands…progress?

Humankind needs to balance its own humanitarian needs with the needs of nature to help sustain them. If we are not careful, nature will get the upper hand sooner rather than later, destroy us before we can destroy it or even ourselves.

Whatever, to the victor, the spoils as the march of today’s Titans of big business and entrepreneurial skulduggery proceeds all but unchallenged...

PROGRESS, BITTER-SWEET

Shadows gathering
like crowds for an execution;
storm clouds rumbling
like a malediction on the planet
challenging us to bow out
here and now or put things right
(if it's not already too late)
to bequeath our children a future
in harmony with nature

In a spotlight of sunshine,
luminous corn circles invoking
the mystery of eternity,
human parts all but played out,
hearts put to rout,
hounded by a native savagery
plaguing the purer, simpler,
beauty of a common humanity
haunted by its history

‘Progress’ a bitter-sweet victory
over an earthly vulnerability

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in the Poetry Now [Forward Press] anthology series, London and Home Counties (2001) and subsequently in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Dreamers, Awake

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It is only human nature to go for gold in life...whether it’s passing an exam, winning a sports event, or some one’s heart. Sadly, it is also human nature to beat ourselves up if we don't find it.

Whatever...win some, lose some. The important thing is, never feel a failure (or let anyone else make you feel that way) if things don't work out quite as you'd hoped; each and every one of us deserves a pat on the back, at the very least, just for giving it our best shot. No one can do more.

As for finding whatever gold it is we seek at the end of whatever rainbow, well, that's just the start; holding on and living up to it...that's something else altogether.

This poem is a villanelle.

DREAMERS, AWAKE

As every dreamer (waking) knows
it's agony and ecstasy
in this life’s weepy highs and lows

Love, a going for gold that shows
real true grit humanity
as every dreamer (waking) knows

Out of dreams, inspiration follows 
a bitter-sweet reality
in this life’s weepy highs and lows

Missing out on home goals throws
us but temporarily...
as every dreamer (waking) knows

Watch time lends all its tomorrows
to shades of immortality;
in this life’s weepy highs and lows

By nature, the human spirit grows
to bear the fruits of its maturity
as every dreamer (waking) kmows
in this life’s weepy highs and lows

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Heartlands

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Life offers a variety of landscapes, each one a challenge; how we react to these challenges,   defines who we are…but never believe that is written in stone; we all have choices and, yes, we all make mistakes.

While some mistakes can never be properly rectified, and may well haunt us all our lives, we can at least try and compensate for them. Never easy, but a small price to pay for peace of mind if a fragile one, yet strong enough, too, to survive the cut and thrust of human nature in response to which, for good or bad, we shape and reshape our very identity from cradle to grave...

I once asked a friend why he loved so exploring and didn't the potential dangers worry him ? He shrugged. "It's in the blood," said, but the trick is to know when and where to stop. That's in the blood, too," he added with a disarming grin. A good enough template for life for anyone, I thought at the time...and still do,

Oh, and as my mother would often tell me, the only way to think is positive ...or it's downhill all the way.

HEARTLANDS 

Forgotten dreams, lost causes,

a mountain of broken promises

daring us climb and conquer,

save ourselves and each other;

higher we climb, farther away,

yet bringing us closer every day

to a scary, grey, loneliness,

weeping landscape of distress

A faery mist issuing a threat

to those seeking an easy way out,

nature is not (yet) done with us

in denial of its greater mysteries;

kind faces in clouds beckoning,

frail ego and willpower conspiring

to revive an all but dead hearth,

kiss the sky and inherit the earth

Ghosts, sharing our tears,

wiping clear a window on years

that have not been kind to us

nor we to ourselves or each other;

parting now, eyes wiped dry,

Apollo advising let live, let die,

time to descend the mountain,

into the heartlands of its creation

Forgotten dreams, lost causes,

a mountain of broken promises

daring us climb and conquer,

save ourselves and each other;

no easy way up or even down

only (potentially) peace of mind

in scaling peaks of desperation,

making peace with imagination

Fearful, yes, yet anxious to be seen

colouring grey landscapes green

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Defining Moments .

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How many time have you heard someone say about someone that he or she doesn’t stand a chance of succeeding at this or that because they are too small or too tall, too young or too old, not well enough known or connected or not good looking enough or don’t have enough experience or qualifications.etc…?

Ah, but never underestimate the powers of the human spirit or be too quick to dismiss the old adage, ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’

Now, I am not a religious person, but was raised as a Christian and know my Bible. I have since learned that all the Holy Books have much in common; God is a hero, humanity heroic, and everyday life recognised for what it is, the greatest story ever told.

DEFINING MOMENTS

I watched a small red boat

riding waves on a big blue sea;

suddenly, it occurred to me

that small can be big, depending

on whatever our perception,

a popular misconception being

that little is helpless against

a far mightier charge, as small

is to large. Who cannot recall

tales of David  against Goliath

and Samson beating Delilah

at her own game, taken for fools

on a roll call of heroes

Who knows? Sailors on a small

red boat may yet prove themselves

equally worthy. Let’s not forget

that who laughs last laughs longest

nor is best always found among

strongest, for where wisdom lies

and purpose, sheer will defies

any need to avoid where lions feed

as Daniel in the den discovered

and young Isaac to the block tied,

wise men, too, and shepherds

mo less blind to the art of metaphor
than Paul on the Damascus road

A small red boat in a storm

may well defy all odds against

fending off its cries and fury,

come into its own, return home

(as I stay muzzled at the helm

of a grander vessel by far, deemed

fated to follow orders and trust

in my betters to always know best?)

For good or ill, let’s take a turn 

at the Wheel and chance surviving

the re-telling of a tale already

re-worked by idiots, all but lost

and signifying next to nothing

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears as ‘Fools’ Paradise’ in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber Assembly Books, 2004.]