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 10 May 2022

Getting the Better of Hindsight

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

It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. - Benjamin E. Mays

It isn’t a calamity to die with dreams unfulfilled, but it is a calamity not to dream. - Benjamin E. Mays

Your mind will answer most questions if you learn to relax and wait for the answer. – William Burroughs

Something I have had to relearn as I grow old, is the art of relaxation. In later years, I’ve become, a good deal more dissatisfied with my life as it is now and as, at heart, if it has seemed for years. I am relearning fast, though, able more each day to make the best rather than the worst of things, my age - and various limitations it imposes - notwithstanding. While never easy to prevent any limitations at any age get the better of us… it has to be better than The Abyss, yes?

Yes, yes, YES...

GETTING THE BETTER OF HINDSIGHT

I wandered as lonely in a crowd
as when I am alone, invariably close 
to tears that refusing to fall.
 trusting mind-body-spirit to yet find
way through scary shadows,
restore light to a heart-and soul
left feeling abandoned
by all it's tried to believe in, never sure what,
would have me start out...

Love gave me life, lent me strength,
yet it was never quite enough to save me
From having to sleep rough
under bridges I’d dearly wish to cross,
but mind-body-spirit
had other plans for me, lessons words
cannot teach a heart-and soul
never sure what to do, where to go, in whom
to trust, a place called home

Time and again I' have followed paths
leading to much the same crisis, an abyss
into which I’d long to fling 
my whole being, sick of never feeling
that I belonged anywhere,
cowering in a corner, afraid to come out
even among friends,
abyss drawing me to its  edge time and again
for so wanting to end my pain

Yet, the lure of life and love find me
back in the full swung of this nothingness
offering me everything 
and nothing at all, mind-body spirit on hand
to comfort a heart-and-soul
ever fluctuating across an entire range
of human feelings and foci,
as happy as I could ever be, letting my tears flow 
for selves in me I'd never know

Suddenly, children’s voices in my ear
wave me to look around, listen to all I see.
feeling all the better 
for it, mind-body-spirit ever reminding me
that life 
was never going to be
a bowl of cherries, but other fruits on hand
to enjoy - whether by sharing
for real, in dreams making much of make-believe,
or on a well-manicured sleeve

Come what may, there's are lasting joys of living
to be had, our circumstances notwithstanding…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022














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Monday 28 December 2020

L-I-F-E, A Masque Haunt

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

2020 has seen rising tensions across the entire spectrum of humanity, testing even the strongest of human spirits, bringing out the worst as well as the best in us; the worst, caving in to frustration and rage while others struggle to act as peacemakers against a Here-and-Now subject to invisible tide of Covid-19. 

In 2020 the world has almost certainly seen and shared in the devastating effects of more pain and premature deaths than for centuries, bringing some of us together while driving others apart, and leaving many to fend for themselves as best they can. 

Yet, where there is life, there really is hope and our hopes for better, kinder times ahead lie in the making and delivering of vaccines designed and tested to defeat the coronavirus once and for all; the word is, it can defeat the new variant also. 

It will be some time yet before everyone has been vaccinated. In the meantime, we can but let Hope take root in us and let it rise above the unkinder and more negative qualities with which human nature is so often likely to engage whenever under duress; at the same time, we should try and make allowances for the latter, too, both in ourselves as well as in others, while not letting it get the better of either, if only because that is doing no one any favours. 

L-I-F-E, A MASQUE HAUNT 

I come in all shapes and forms,
attacking mind-body-spirit, part by part
as time goes by
without its always being on the alert
or understanding why
it feels undermined, drained of everyday
life forces
like hope, resolve, stoicism, even the power of love
threatened by an invisible enemy 

I bring out the worst and the best
in humanity worldwide, made answerable
for such feelings
and actions no more in keeping with us
than our losing heart
for waking each new day with a sense of dread
the growing weight
of daily trying to makes sense of ever moving goalposts
as likely as not foiling all finer aspirations 

Ah, but the human hearts dances
to many a tune just as love comes in many
shapes and forms;
people, places, memories, all configuring
inner strengths
within even a failing mind-body-spirit, urging it
to do battle with me,
defeat my best agents conspiring to bring it down any way
they can, and will, unless it calls them out 

I am called Stress, in any Masque Haunt, its natural leader
until Love steps up, blows my cover, takes over 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

 

 

 

 

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Friday 13 November 2020

Lines on the Psychology of Dreams

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

As I grow old, (in my mid-70's now) I become more and more frustrated with things I need to say, feelings I need to express. On reflection, though, it is not an entirely new experience, but one with which I have been afflicted all my life … for reasons shrouded in mist, revealing but shadows that could be anything or anyone; they are, of course, those parts of me I cannot reach for reasons best known to that 'other’ self, a twin subconscious if which I am aware only of a nagging presence, details to which self-awareness may or may not be made privy in the course of a lifetime...

LINES ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DREAMS

Once, I flew a blackbird’s wing
all length and breadth of global space,
saw much, understood little;
misty doors, some left ajar for glimpses
enough to fire the imagination,
others opening up by way of an invitation,
many, though, remaining shut,
suspicious, perhaps, of any unasked-for attention
or if something to hide … what? 

Suspicion, in turn, I was fed plenty;
even as I enjoyed taking up invitations,
joining celebrations, whatever …
The goings-on behind those closed doors
haunted mind-body-spirit
enough to subdue any fires of imagination
lit by random glimpses elsewhere;
nothing for it, but connive to get me a skeleton key,
if only to get the better of... fear? 

We flew low over a jackdaw’s nest
and I grabbed a key glittering in the sun
before we flew on to a door
we had passed before, made me curious
for various sounds inside
I could not (quite) identify, a sixth sense
warning this would not end well
even as I was turning key in lock, oh, but softly, softly
only, once inside … freefall 

Blackbird flown, left alone to answer
for the consequences of letting curiosity
get the better of cowardice,
nor was it the first time nor likely the last;
the door that says “Keep Out”
may well have our best interests at heart,
but the tone of its voice
on a sensitive ear, is a sure give-away, for giving intuition
right of way, no... choice? 

I awoke in my bed, as safe and sound
as I could expect after dreams taking me
beyond mind-body-spirit to places
I denied it for reasons shrouded in such mist
as those doors I would enter,
and may well yet if and when I am ready, able
to understand what goes on
within human heart and mind, its spirit too long kept wishing
and hoping for an invitation

Copyright R N. Taber, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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Sunday 22 July 2018

Here-and-Now, Do-or-Die

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

Now, we often complain that time waits for no one, but better (surely?) than it should stand still, especially when life dumps us between a rock and a hard place? 

Time is no cure-all for the worst wounds life inflicts, but it can make them if not less hurtful, at least more bearable.

Time, after all, effects change and change is what life (and humanity) is all about; whether that change is for better or worse, is not down to Time but to each and every one of us…in our own lives and in the wider world. 

After a bad nervous breakdown in 1979, I felt trapped in a No-Man's Land from which, for a long time, I envisaged no escape, all but gave up on having any future to speak of; employers are understandably wary of any prospective candidates for interview whose CV so much as hints at a history of mental illness. 

I was very fortunate to find an organization willing and able to help me, and started a new job four years later. In the meantime, the support of friends and a penchant for creative writing helped me rise above the worst, and get real again. I started a new job in 1983 and stayed there (in spite of reducing my hours so I would have more time to write) until I retired in 2008.

While recovering from my nervous breakdown, I discovered how not to judge my future by its past. All any of us can do, I suspect, is take the best of our Here-and-Now and do our damndest to shape and reshape it into something we can not only live with but, better still, take personal satisfaction in the making of... So I gave it a go, and not only survive to tell the tale but, better still, continue to enjoy customising my Here-and-Now as best I can.

HERE-AND-NOW, DO OR DIE 

Let's not judge a future by its past
or Time's remit to fly,
scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Whoever swaps slow lane for fast
risks passing life by;
let's not judge a future by its past

Beware should old Memory’s blast
hurt and make us cry,
scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Better feed on the present than fast,
forever asking, "Why?"
Let's not judge a future by its past

Let's not fly our colours at half mast,
(or each day, we die)
scream "Foul!" for our trailing last

Grab whatever feel-good lifeline cast
(if not always at first try);
let's not judge a future by its past,
scream ‘Foul!’ for our trailing last

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008, 2019

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since it first  appeared on the blog in 2008.]

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Saturday 10 August 2013

Insomnia OR Never Let a Sandman Wear You Down.

The world's differences in socio-cultural-religious and political affairs have always had much to answer for, and one thing in common - a penchant for inviting insomnia...

INSOMNIA or NEVER LET A SANDMAN WEAR YOU DOWN

Tossing and turning, unable to sleep,
a desperate yearning for peace
of mind - but they are unkind to me,
the pillows, the sheets, a mattress
that sags in the middle; eerie shadows
on the ceiling, spiders on the wall,
strange noises rising from the floor,
sounds of partying next door
(I was not invited by the way, slighted
as ever, could it be because I'm gay,
surely not? The twenty-first 21st century
is well under way for heaven's sake,
though you wouldn’t think so for tragic
goings-on in countries like Iraq

So what’s wrong with me that people
always seem to be taking the piss,
leaving me tossing and turning, unable
to sleep, desperate for some peace?
Maybe I should try harder to be nice
or could it be I’m trying too hard,
need to devote more time to listening
instead of being wise after events,
mis taking media pundits for mentors’?
Mind you, at least I have opinions
worth voicing (surely?) less than happy
to settle for recycling everyday gossip
thrown out by Mr, Mrs and Ms Average
so the neighbours can have a say

Ah, neighbours, bless 'em all, the short,
tall and obese, not just keeping up
with the Jones' (and how!) but some keen
to put their money wheresoever mouths
open and shut like constipated goldfish
inviting advertising moguls to get in
on the act, vying to take over the show,
various media pundits busy partying
in Corridors of Power, confusing issues,
(incidentally boosting sales of tissues)
inciting Mr Mrs and Ms to exhibitionism
(credit card fetishism?) as if anyone
really cares but for feeling a need to take
re-evaluate their own affairs, if only to see
if they can (surely?) go one better

It has to be said, most of us are easily led
by any old halter, cattle to slaughter;
Note, I didn’t say ‘sheep’ - the exclusive
property of those unable to sleep
for sweating over, oh, such pretty lambs
(thanks, Mother Nature, you're a star)
therefore not in the same blanket category
as Average and Jones who'll never
lose any sleep over Dolly clones, let alone
war in Iraq, North Korea's intentions,
Human Rights globally, poverty everywhere,
not to mention the likes of that double act,
Bush and Blair, with whom the history books
will hopefully more than get even

Alas, it will all keep, while the rest of us toss
and turn, trying to get some sleep

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title Insomnia  in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

























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