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.

Tuesday 8 September 2015

L-i-f-e, Beachcomber Tales


Now and then, readers of one or other (even both) my poetry blogs  - all ages, both sexes, gay and straight - email to say they are in London or coming to London and would like to meet up for a chat (about anything and everything) over a few drinks or a meal. I always enjoy these get-togethers, have met up with some very interesting people and keep in touch with many of them if only by email. So feel free to contact me any time, even if a meet-up is never likely to be on the cards. While I don’t allow comments on the blogs, I will always reply to emails; a lively exchange of views and opinions is always enjoyable.

Meanwhile...

'There is a tide in the affairs of men, Which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves or lose our ventures.' -  William Shakespeare

Dreams and daydreams are more a part of us than we care to admit, carefully – or even carelessly - stored away in some shadowy corner of the mind waiting for sandmen to come along and explore, rather like a children  rummaging through the contents of an attic and turning it into an adventure as only children can. Quite possibly, too, they instinctively recognize the worth or worthlessness of whatever they find there…as only children can.

Like it or not, few if any of us leave childhood – or at least its natural instincts – behind altogether; naivety and innocence may be tiresome from an adult perspective, while both harbour an honesty unfettered by the so-called ‘wisdom’ that comes with maturity and invariably urges discretion if not total restraint…for (our) survival’s sake if nothing (or no one) else’s.

L-I-F-E, BEACHCOMBER TALES

Sun going down,
leaving our daydreams to float
on waves of twilight
where some are sure to drown,
others washed up
on green-gold shores of infinity,
the rest left drifting
on a vast sea of darkness,
flotsam and jetsam
of human nature to be claimed
in the passing of time
by that old beachcomber, Sleep,
and re-appraised,
reworked by sandmen, guardians
of our secret selves

Twilight dimming,
anticipating thoughts drowning
beneath wintry waves
of abandoned hope, ambition,
darker aspects of nature
and human nature sure to drag
the human condition
into an unfathomable despair
were they not there
to watch over us, keep us safe
in dimensions of Being
beyond its everyday assumptions,
painting picture-poems
on closed eyes anxious to open
closed minds

A Smiley Moon
overseeing black holes for worms
and makeshift coffins
made up of pillows, duvets and sheets
where monsters lurk, waiting
to pounce unawares on consciences
left exposed and vulnerable
in the absence of any conscious effort
to make the kind of excuses
we need to half-believe in or spiral
into a state of half-living,
inciting us to try and beat The Reaper
as his own game,
losers all, we bit players in the greater
scheme of things

Sun resurfacing,
lending passage to lion and lamb
and all of nature’s own
going about the business of living
much as we human beings
if more protective and protecting
of its species and spaces
in spite of the world’s demanding
of Earth Mother far more
than its share of natural resources,
but all’s fair…(so they say)
and the human beast needs must
be the best of a bad bunch
occupying Her territories, fighting
over them for centuries

Cold light of day,
taking us through everyday motions
many if not most of us
think of as living, taking for granted
every ripple, every wave,
carrying us to the very edge of a world
created for ourselves,
all-comers welcome while remaining
in their seats lest they rock
this Ship of Fools chartered by ‘betters’
to take the rest of us
towards a landfall some call ‘Heaven’
where no going down
of the sun, no pillow promises made
at dawn cruelly broken

Selfies, everywhere
like dogs at a bitch on heat inciting
priority attention
as becomes nature’s motivation to fill in
time’s blank spaces
with living, loving, thriving species,
meant to mature,
(since such is the cycle of natural life)
by filling in their own blanks
with living, loving, thriving issues,
and any black holes
with light enough to show we were here,
we bit players, we flotsam
and jetsam, we bringers of all history
coasting shores of infinity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

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Thursday 28 November 2013

Looking out for Christmas, Anyone?


Yes, Christmas will be with us in less than a month. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.

Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If God doesn't mind, why should anyone else?]

No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.

We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.

At the heart of every religious celebration is (or should be) love in all its shapes and forms...or what is there left that any God would have anyone celebrate?  

LOOKING OUT FOR CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?

Come, hear the bells of Christmas
though lost, alone, in the snow,
recalling times past when we’d leave
a card for Santa, hot cocoa
and a mince pie, try to sleep while
listening out for reindeer hooves
pounding across the sky, a cheery cry
ringing loud and clear for children
everywhere to hear, know (for sure)
that we are loved, no matter who
we are or how our lives shaping up,
whether or no we’re finding signs
of Christmas or much the same cruelty
(or worse) than the day before

Peering ahead down an endless road,
lost souls, alone, no place to go
till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love
and peace, count blessings, let bells
speak for us, echo high and low, anxious
to share out the joys of Christmas,
fearful for lost souls looking for refuge
from a bitter-sweet winter snow
where no pretty flowers able to grow
yet nurtured out of sight and light
by Earth Mother, chief carer for a world
beyond even mind-body-spirit,
where all the odds stacked high against
mutual understanding or trust

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2013


[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it first appeared in Christmas Remembered, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

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