Hitting Home OR Dead to Rights

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

Our emotions may not always play fair, but cannot and should not be tolerated once they it starts cutting up rough. Love is no excuse, and has no place in domestic violence.

Indeed, there is no excuse for domestic violence in any shape or form, physical or psychological, and no matter who the perpetrator ;nor is there any shame in facing up to a situation and asking for help.

Victims need to confide in a close relative or friend. Perpetrators need to seek professional advice.

Whatever, no one should suffer in silence out of fear or a sense of misguided loyalty, even love. Get support (various sources available on the Internet) and summon the willpower to walk away from it. Let the abusive partner stew in his or her own juice. Forget the dream and face up to reality.

The only answer to domestic violence and physical/psychological bullying is zero tolerance. My father was a psychological bully, less so than many, I dare say, but it's not always a matter of degree; what matters are scars left on the victim, no less unsightly for being invisible to the naked eye.

Sadly, few family members can bring themselves to discuss such issues, even between themselves, thereby risking any damage being done spilling over into a tragedy worthy of media headlines.

Whatever, people need to speak out before the local coroner gets in on the act.

HITTING HOME or DEAD TO RIGHTS

Flung open the door, smile on the face;
fist at the jaw, fallen to the floor, waiting
for more...

Eyes closed, mind shut tight to it all,
homing in on a single happy time, before
things fell apart

Breaking heart in pieces on the mat,
angry tongue making the lips bleed if only
for a bad day at work

Blows lessen, cease, but not the terror;
left sick with humiliation for this wannabe
love relationship

You go upstairs, slam the bedroom door,
down later for supper, expecting to make up
for temper tantrums

Tomorrow, a rose and any tear but yours
on these so-bruised cheeks, after forgiveness,
compassion or passion?

When I pray, even God asks why I stay,
and if I confess no idea, a dear familiar voice
calls me a liar

Wherever I once found it in me to love you,
I must find much the same to leave you, or be
like your rose...

Left dying, in a smashed vase

Copyright R. N. Taber ,2003; rev.2011


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

The Guardian

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

Today's poem last appeared on the blog in 2009 and is repeated today especially for 'Rose-Marie and Paul' whose first child, Damien, celebrates his first birthday today.

Regular readers will know that where religious-minded people like to think God is watching over us, I prefer to put my trust in Earth Mother.

Both points of view deserve respect, surely, since none of us can know for sure?

If only more people would agree to differ instead of fighting over who is right and who is wrong, the world would be a far happier and peaceful place!

Give peace a chance, yeah?

Image taken from the Internet

THE GUARDIAN

Where snow is falling snow on snow,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in white shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where acid rain defies flowers to grow,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in tears shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where summer breezes gently blow.
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in green shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Where autumn makes a splendid show,
and the world is a lonely place,
a woman in gold shall softly go,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Once loved ones gone, we ask to know
why the world is a lonely place?
It’s a woman called Hope tells us so,
and were we to see her face,
we would know she comes for us

Look where she comes and see her face;
let this world be a less lonely place

Copyright R. N. Taber 1973; 2009

Note: This poem first appeared in Life's Simple Pleasures, Forward Press, 2011 and subsequently in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012.]

The Maze (Open All Hours - Disabled Access - Only Carer Dogs Allowed)

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

Apart from its divisiveness, the main reason religion offers me nothing is because I can’t stop asking questions. Quite simply, Faith is a full stop I cannot get my head around. Besides, many socio-cultural-religious leaders are bullies and I hate bullies. It has little or nothing to do with my sexuality.

This doesn’t mean I have no interest in or respect for religions of the world. Indeed, I do. As regular readers will know only too well, I have nothing but contempt for those who not only choose to interpret but also preach from the various Holy Books to suit and/or camouflage their own ends. Yes, bullies. You will know the type. I dare say you will have come across a good few of them. Ah, but yes, they interest me greatly, these bullies. Why do they behave the way they do? What drive them? It certainly isn’t compassion but nor, surely, is it entirely self-interest...or is it?

Questions, questions and more questions; as or finding any answers, we can but look.

This poem is a villanelle.

THE MAZE (OPEN ALL HOURS - DISABLED ACCESS - ONLY CARER DOGS ALLOWED)

Who seeks meaning, dares a maze,
its walls of evergreen
harbouring life’s finer mysteries

It is a place folks fear and praise
where ghosts often seen;
who seeks meaning, dares a maze,

See Apollo wink to shine his rays
where lovers steal unseen,
harbouring life’s finer mysteries

Watch Diana’s bold hunters graze
on passions dark, serene;
who seeks meaning, dares a maze

Chance on trails time artlessly lays
(true, false, in-between)
harbouring life’s finer mysteries

Look out for humanity, learn ways,
to its heartland, rarely seen;
who seeks meaning, dares a maze,
harbouring life’s finer mysteries

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R N Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Whatever Happened To Love?

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

This poem last appeared on the blog well over a year ago. I look around locally or further afield, and can’t see that much has changed.

Ah, but hope springs eternal, yeah?

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO LOVE?

No peace in the park for druggies
desperate to fund the luxury;
no time for drugs? Go for alcohol
poisoning instead…

No fun at the fair for pickpockets
out for an easy ride;
sanctuary in our schools invaded
by a culture of bullying

Generation gaps made (far) wider
by five star psychiatrists;
Mother Nature repeatedly raped
by property developers

War on Terror, welcome distraction
from Home Front issues;
our own backyards heaped high
with body bags…

Consciences cleansed with charity,
confession, prison programs …
Problems worse for pointing fingers
of blame elsewhere

C'est la vie, we’re told, and no point
in crying over spilt blood;
prevention better than cure, they say,
so whatever happened to love?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005, rev. 2011

[Note: An earlier version of his poem was first published in CC&D poetry magazine(US) 2005 and subsequently in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

The Rhetoric Of Separatism

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T

It is LGBT History Month here in the UK.

Years ago when gay relationships were illegal in the UK I used to feel a strong sense of separatism, not to mention alienation. Not any more and never again.

Me, I am an integrationist. I hate to see society so fragmented and divided in so many respects.

We are all different, but that’s only human. Making people feel different, though, for whatever reason, that is inexcusable and indefensible.  Yes, life is easier for gay people in some parts of the world but even here in the West we still have a long way to go before all gay men and women feel they can be open about their sexuality without fear of retribution. Nor does the latter need to be physcal to hurt; there are far more subtle ways that can undermine a person's self-esteem  and make their lives a misery. I know people, including many former work colleagues (I am retired now) who would never openly admit they are homophobic but take every subtle opportunity to make their feelings felt. Some may not even realise they are doing it; others are nore calculating.

The worst people are those who manage to convince themselves that their religion and/or cultural tradition justifies their homophobia when none of the Holy Books need to be interpreted in that way. Oh, a good many Christains love to throw a few lines from Leviticus at us but that just goes tro show how little they know about their own religion, the significance of the New Testament and the common humanity Jesus stood for and preached.

THE RHETORIC OF SEPARATISM

Some declare us sick
who are gay, only sure cure
by way of this religion
or that, obeying laws written
in Holy Books, reserving
our own customised prayer
mat in Heaven

I decline the way
of bigots and zealots, reply
that I am happy as I am
nor do I feel any shame
in the way Mother Nature
writes my name

Some place us beyond
the pale who are gay, only
salvation by capitalizing
on society’s preferred option
and if sexuality still
won’t conform, it can
at least be discreet

I decline the way
of bigots and zealots, reply
that I am happy as I am
nor do I feel any shame
in the way Mother Nature
writes my name

Our poetry and prose empty
that fails a common humanity

[Note: The closing couplet of this poem has been slightly revised from the original that appears in 1st eds. of Accomplices To Illusion, Assembly Books, 2007; 2nd ed. in preparation from 2015.]

Detour

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

Sometimes we feel let down, even betrayed. and wonder why we carry on. On such occasions, I have always looked to nature for reassurance, strength and inspiration...

DETOUR

On a road of broken dreams and shattered lives,
I took a detour down a dirt track;
among leafy trees, green fields, sheep grazing,
I revisited Earth Mother;
we had been estranged, she and I, for some years
yet it seemed but yesterday
I had risen with larks, let a lullaby of nightingales
lull me into false hopes

I felt fingers stroking my hair as I passed through,
as if to reassure a prodigal child,
but I was bitter for what I (still) saw as a personal
act of betrayal and deceit;
had she not let me believe the finer things of life
would always survive the worst,
yet abandoned me on a road of broken dreams
leading nowhere?

At dusk, a nightingale greeted me like an old friend
but I pretended not to hear
as I settled on a bed of sweetest smelling heather,
afraid to close my eyes;
sleep, though, eventually penetrated my defences,
left me vulnerable
to the iron resolve of Earth Mother under its cover
of gentle persuasion

I journeyed through dark centuries of pain and grief,
defiant ghosts for company,
showing me killing fields where peace and love left
for dead but rose again;
they planted in me, my ghosts, an unspoken trust
to keep faith with them;
accordingly, I flew off on the wings of a dawn skylark
into a new awakening

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

Sweet Dreams

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

I am often asked for the link to my poetry reading in Trafalgar Square in 2009 as my contribution (among 2400 individual participants) to sculptor Antony Gormley's 'live sculpture'  One and Other:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

A UK reader has contacted me to say he does not have a computer at home and accesses the Internet at his local public library. However, the library computers do not allow access to blogs. As he has enjoyed dipping into the blog at a friend’s house, do I have any suggestions? Well, only one. Both my blogs are participating in a UK Web Archive project operated by the British Library.

Try: http://www.webarchive.org.uk/and go into ‘Search the archive’ (left hand panel on the screen) and enter ‘G-AY in the Subject Field’ or ‘A Poet’s Blog’ and the blog you are looking for should appear. I should add that it is very interesting just to browse the archive for other blogs and websites.

Meanwhile...

We all dream, especially lovers. Some dreams come true, some don’t. All we can do is give each and every one best shot.

We pick flowers, watch the sunset and find refuge from the world’s harsher ways in sleep...and dreams.

We wake, watch the sunrise and see the flowers open...and wish human hearts the same.

Yes, we all dream, especially lovers... past and present, alive and dead, the latter among all those who have touched our lives and left our hearts beating all the stronger for having known them.

SWEET DREAMS

I sat with you, watched stars appear,
tmoon sail by like a yellow balloon
as singles weep, while we lovers dare
ride white horses o'er sunset’s ocean

We potted an isle of candy floss cloud,
braved a peppermint reef to its shore,
as far from this Earth's madding crowd
to disprove love is but myth, a whore

No signs here of faithlessness or pain,
only such sweet kisses as last forever,
our joy evergreen, tears like spring rain
a bonding no temporal hurt can sever

Down to earth, come dawn’s faery glow,
our love, no myth, a flower sure to grow

Copyright R N Taber 2005, 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]