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.

Saturday 28 September 2019

Nature v Human Nature, Battle Royal

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

"Autumn's nearly over, and who's ready for winter? Not me!" exclaimed a neighbour the other day, adding, " ...but who's ever ready for any change for the worse,"he asked with a wry grin, then "We can but take it in our stride, I guess, and hope for the best..."

I refrained from saying that 'hoping or the best' may well - literally - be the death of humankind if we don't all get our act together sooner rather than later regarding climate - not just seasonal - changes across the globe. We've had this conversation before. He is convinced Donald Trump had his finger on the pulse when he dismissed the idea of climate change as fake news, scaremongering, intended to make Big Business feel guilty and think again about just how it continues to amass its millions.

Climate activist,  Greta Thunberg, a Swedish teenagers has recently made world headlines by going 'on'strike' from school as part of a strategy to emphasise the concerns of young people worldwide regarding climate change. She was invited to speak at a world conference on climate change and  succeeded in ruffling many a politician's feathers with her blunt, no-nonsense approach to a subject increasingly close to many people's hearts, especially the young,given that it is their futures with which our political ,betters, insist on playing Russian roulette.

While I applaud this young woman's stand on climate change, and wish her well, I also hope she does not neglect her schooling for too long.  Education is not only the key to exposing ignorance, it is also  the key to power; the latter is necessary if we want to make a difference in real rather than rhetorical
terms. The Here-and-Now is all about immediacy, especially for the young as I well recall, albeit from a distance of some sixty years; pointing it in the right direction is one thing, though, steering it there is another challenge altogether. The person at the helm needs to be clearly focused at every turn of the wheel on what he or she is doing, and why. No one is going to give a fifteen year-old girl a turn at that wheel. All the feisty spirit and good intentions in the world are no substitute for experience, and that falls under the remit of a good education, the more authoritative the better, to take us to a position of power; only then do we stand any chance of grabbing the wheel. It can be a long haul to get there, and it's a wise person who not only starts young but also Education as both mentor and ally.

If hope springs eternal, it is on the energy of youth that it best thrives. Hopefully, more like-minded people like Greta will see their way to positioning themselves where they can make actions speak louder than words; it is their future in the balance, after all. The tragedy is, that many if not most of us in any Here-and-Now cannot or will not see further than our own personal space.

Whatever, there is no room for apathy, and this Here-and-Now needs to show it can move forward, in every sense of the word, not only by way of invention and capability, but also by actively engaging with the greater among its leading players, he or she most trusted to steer the safer course.

My late mother once told me (40+ years ago, when climate change was barely on anyone's agenda) that I should always respect nature. "Earth Mother," she said, like any parent, will fight to the death to save her children, and She is no mean adversary. Anyone who thinks we can continue destroying forests, polluting the seas and killing animals to satisfy dietary preferences and fashion egos ... well, if you ask me, they and all of us are in for a rude awakening one of these days ..."

NATURE v HUMAN NATURE, BATTLE ROYAL

Patch of sky, a brilliant blue
among autumn leaves of red and gold
marking nature's 'live' show
for seeing eye and listening ear
to share one last fling
of a year's fruitfulness before winter
comes (for better, for worse)

Clouds gathering, anxious
not to play second fiddle to a spectacle.
of bright silvery sunlight,
like tears in time's eye, a curtain
sure to fall yet anxious
to be seen entering into the feisty spirit
of things, no missing out

Curtain down on autumn's
show of defiance meant to drive home
its alliance with all things
bright and beautiful, all creatures
great and small, promising
renewal despite a winter as certain to take
its toll as snow sure to fall

Barely have autumn's players
taken a last bow than a cruel north wind,
come to see them on their way,
stirs an out-of-sight, out-of-mind ethos
intended to undermine
any mind-body-spirit that might see itself
as the greater life force

Nature, though, is not yet done
with us, relying on its evergreens to bring
to mind its promises, the likes
of robin redbreast to keep eyes and ears
alert to that same spirit
of hopeful discontent that has seen humanity
rise above its worst winters

Curtain rising, all in due course,
but what is this? An empty stage, no players
rehearsed to act out another cycle
of life personifying humankind's attention
to nurture while promoting
a well-meaningfulness, stage name 'Progress'
for want of a better moniker

It is in the nature of humankind
to improve its lot, no matter the cost, whatever
it takes, but plenty signs already
of nature's matching any human spirit,
consequences for consequences,
cost for cost, season for season, for better
or worse, all things considered


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019


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Saturday 11 July 2015

The Rebel OR Whose Future Is It Anyway?

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

I will be 70 years-old on the winter solstice. I have mobility problems following a serious fall last year and have been living with prostate cancer since 2011. Oh, well, c’est la vie.

As I grow older and (increasingly) more tired, so my admiration for the boundless energy, passionate idealism and fertile imagination of youth increases, along with no small regret for a certain subduing of rage in me against a world still divided by various socio-cultural-religious and economic factors threatening its societies; threats I suspect many politicians and religious leaders would and could do more to temper with plain common sense and a visible sense of justice and humanity...but for their politics and religion.

Let's face it. Many if not most young people need to rebel against what they don't understand or can't identify with if only to reach an understanding in relation to a growing sense of personal identity unique to us all.

I sincerely hope I never become either complacent about or resigned to the status quo in a world that has the potential to be a far kinder, safer, better place.

This poem is a kenning

THE REBEL or WHOSE FUTURE IS IT ANYWAY?

I penetrate lies,
exposing home truths brushed aside
by those who would keep me
in a cage custom-built by generations
in remembrance of the worst
of times past, likely to catch up with us
where I thirst for a progress
that puts peace, liberty and equality
above self-interest

I conspire with reason
to drive paths through chaos to places
my peers can gather,
sound out those who would prefer
the world’s changes
ring to bring hearts and minds
to their senses
rather than impress judges in some
rigged reality show

I yell to make myself heard
above a clamour of insidious ambition
and darker emotions
driving mortality to prove itself
while it still can
if missing those greater aspirations
to which we are born,
keys to a common world with respect
for its differences

Rebel, put down for my take on truth;
vulnerable to its flaws, call me Youth

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

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Wednesday 18 January 2012

Youth-Middle Age-Old Age (Three poems)

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

Yesterday, I posted a poem inspired by a song sung by Doris Day. A reader has been in touch to ask, ‘It is bad enough that someone who claims to be a serious poet writes gay rubbish, which I find offensive, but to write about Doris Day is really the last straw!’

Well, for a start I have never claimed to be a serious poet only someone who takes poetry seriously; well, most of the time. I am certainly no poetry snob, and readers will know that I write on all manner of themes. Nor am I a music snob. I love Doris Day just as I love Ella Fitzgerald and Johnny Cash.  I love some classical music, but I also love some pop and adore rock ‘n’ roll. I love some opera but cannot claim to be an opera buff. With me, it’s pick’n’mix. So what’s wrong with that? If it is good of its kind, I will usually enjoy it. Why shouldn’t I enjoy Elvis Presley every bit as much as Placido Domingo or adore Shirley Bassey just as I do Diana Ross and Leona Lewis. And let's not forget the late, great Dusty Springfield or, for that matter, Mario Lanza or Frank Sinatra. I could go on all day...

If people choose to limit their appreciation to one kind of music, one genre of literature or one period of art, that’s up to them. But there are lots of people like me who love to dabble in this ‘n’ that, and where’s the harm?

So I offer no apology for offending that particular reader. What planet is he (or she) from, I wonder?

Meanwhile...

So many readers have asked me to repeat this trilogy of villanelles that has not appeared on the blog since early 2010 so here it is again. I hope new readers and those who are unable to browse the blog archives for whatever reason, quite possibly because they simply don’t have the time, will enjoy it and regular readers will also enjoy being reacquainted with it.

We all have to grow old, but to how many of us, I wonder, does the ageing process convey the wisdom that we must make the most of the best not the worst of it all...?


IN APPRECIATION OF YOUTH

Youth cries the world’s tears,
slows time’s flight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears

It will always lead the cheers
for wrongs put right,
Youth cries the world’s tears

Youth bonds with its peers,
develops second sight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears

To peace and love it steers
(Armageddon in sight)
Youth cries the world’s tears

As a mist of naivety clears,
it won't throw the fight,
relays Earth Mother’s fears

It straddles the world’s terrors,
a love poem to write;
Youth cries the world’s tears
relays Earth Mother’s fears

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
IN CELEBRATION OF MIDDLE AGE

In celebration of middle age
(after much rehearsing)
time brings us centre-stage

Like a bird freed from its cage,
we’ll fly on a poem’s wing
in celebration of middle age

Daring us turn the first page
in our history’s re-shaping,
time brings us centre-stage

Shake off cliché and adage,
give truth a rare dusting
in celebration of middle age

Inspired by youth’s raw rage,
its humanity enduring,
time brings us centre-stage

Acted out on a custom page,
a love poem in the making;
in celebration of middle age
time brings us centre-stage

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
BY WAY OF MARKING OLD AGE

By way of marking old age
(after much reflecting)
time edges us off-stage

Like a bird returned to its cage,
we’ll flex a feisty wing
by way of marking old age

Letting slip that life's last page
makes good reading,
time edges us off-stage

Let’s not pass cliché and adage
off as living…
by way of marking old age

Inspired by a well-honed rage,
its humanity enduring…
time edges us off-stage

No matter memory skips a page,
its poetry re-working;
by way of marking old age
time edges us off-stage

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

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

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