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 30 June 2020

An Autobiography of the Human Race

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

We are all past-present-future in the flesh. We inherit certain genes and much of our approach to life is taken from historical figures who have made a deep impression on just as we, in how we live our lives, make an impression on others for better or worse; family, friends, casual acquaintances, even complete strangers. It only takes one moment in time when something we say or do strikes a chord in someone’s life that will play out forever.

We won’t all make the national archives, of course, but there is another, more extensive to the point of being inexhaustible archive that is the human mind-body-spirit, that key player in human nature that should never be underestimated; whoever and wherever we are, whatever our socio-cultural-religious background, gender or sexual persuasions, it is the backbone of a common humanity that has seen the human race also rise above all history has thrown at it, just as it will continue to do, even as the C-19 coronavirus continues to impact on us all.

This poem is a kenning.

AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF THE HUMAN RACE

I walk with ghosts, night and day,
a presence as real to me as my own reflection
greeted in mirrors, shop windows,
still waters in dream-places keeping memories
and sometime companions alive,
urging mind-body-spirit like voices in the ear
egging urging me on, regardless
of any obstruction fallen or placed in my way
whether by accident or design

I talk with ghosts, night and day,
and they listen without interruption, just a nod
or shake of the head occasionally,
sufficient to persuade or dissuade any thoughts
to action or inaction gathering pace
demanding I look again or press on, regardless
where inspiration has landed a hit,
missed its mark altogether, deserves discussion
or better left to gather dust

I bare all to ghosts, night and day,
far more even than to those who know me best
if only because I dare not share
any part of me that takes its cue from the dead
for fear of being misunderstood
or (worse) denied a voice, left with less of a life
to speak of than even a ghost,
reduced to a skeleton in someone’s cupboard,
exhibit for some eager archivist

I am that past-present-future making of humanity
what it will, and am called History

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018; 2020

[Note: This post/ poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.]








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Monday 27 January 2014

Nobody Listens to Ghosts


Now, readers get in touch from time to time to pour scorn on my ‘preoccupation’ with ghosts while others endorse an affinity with the past and its subsequent influences on present and future behaviour (for better or worse) both from a personal and global point of view.

I believe we are all subject to a posthumous consciousness to which we can choose to pay attention or ignore, feel inspired by past achievements (including any bookmarked ‘failure’) or simply confirm our worst suspicions.

Whatever, let the inner ear and eye have its way, and any of us may well identify a ghost at his or her shoulder urging we listen and learn.

On a personal level, it is easy if only because the ghost/s in question will have helped make us who we are; on socio-cultural-religious level, though, how many of our so-called 'betters' listen and hear, look and see...?

Maybe those of us who never listen to our ghosts need to try it sometime?

NOBODY LISTENS TO GHOSTS

Stranger
on a garden fence, watching
flowers growing,
can’t decide on the best
for the picking
and taking home, then cocks
an ear to a passing ghost,
pleading, for all our sakes, leave them
alone

Teacher
at a local school desk, watching
children growing,
can’t decide on the best
candidates for success
(perhaps even fame) then cocks
an ear to a passing ghost
pleading, for all our sakes, treat them
the same

Cleric
on a classic high horse, watching
everyone listening,
can’t decide on the most
likely to want grooming
for paradise, then cocks an ear
to a passing ghost
pleading, for all our sakes, leave them
a choice

Politician
on a popular soap box, watching
audience reaction,
can’t decide on the best
cues for winning
an election, then cocks an ear
to a passing ghost
pleading, for all our sakes, talk down
speculation

Ghosts
in passing storm clouds, watching
a world in chaos
unable to agree on the best
strategy for achieving
lasting peace, turning cloth ears
to its children
pleading, for all our sakes, come good
for us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

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