Death of a Princess

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

On August 31^st 1997, Diana, Princess of Wales was tragically killed when a car carrying herself and Dodi Fayed crashed in Paris. 

Many readers who appear to have difficulty accessing You Tube directly for one reason or another have asked me to repeat the link to a my friend Graham's video of the memorial in Hyde Park along with two  poems I read over it:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t_iX3LzGK4k

Meanwhile, here is a new poem written in memory of a remarkable woman; a devoted mother whose beauty, charm, and capacity for compassion won hearts and minds wherever she went; traits she has clearly passed on to her children.

She wasn’t without flaws, you might say, so tell me then...who isn't?

DEATH OF A PRINCESS 

Brought to its knees

the day she died, the world

asked questions,

demanded answers,  cried

itself to sleep

Media loved to play

the blame game, but no one

(quite) convinced

by speculation compromising

its integrity

Crowds played out

the performance of a lifetime

at the palace gates

while its key players left

them to it

Hysteria over a flag

left flying high and crying out

for half-mast

lent tunnel vision an air

of plausibility

Elsewhere, a family

resolved to protect its own

devising new ways

of doing the walk and talking

the talk

Diana, on an island

of dreams, inviting royalty

and ordinary people

to rise above tears like petals

between showers

Brought to its knees

the day she died, the world

still asks questions,

demands answers,  cries

itself to sleep

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Who Speaks Up for the Trees?

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

A reader has been in touch to say she would never travel on the London Underground again following the tragic events of July 7th 2005 in which she lost a close friend. Similarly, she would never visit the USA because ‘... it has to be a high profile target for terrorists.’

While I can understand and sympathise with how she feels, terrorists can strike anywhere at any time. We can but remain hopeful that we will leave our homes for work or whatever and return safely. Besides, if we give in to our fear of terrorists and their misguided belief that they are entitled, for whatever reason, to force their views on others by means that confirm the existence of evil in the world… they have won.

Dare I suggest that Earth Mother, too, should be on her guard against those set n destroying the environment? There is an eco terrorism that I suspect is as great a threat to us all as its human counterpart, if not more so in the longer term. (I have always had the mind-body-spirit of an eco-warrior if not the bare-faced nerve to put my eco-convictions to the test - yet.)

WHO SPEAKS UP FOR THE TREES?

We are two so-splendid trees
standing tall at the edge
of a wood, conspiring with song
and laughter, symphony
and poetry made to run the gamut
of a blessed serendipity

All loves, hates, jealousies,
in shades of evergreen
on the finest canvas ever seen 

only to be redefined
by all humankind along along lines
of well-meaning insanity

Would-be giants, sentinels
of a civilization
protective of its own, pawns
in a civilization feeding
on ages of rewriting human history
and its blood stained pages

Inciting song and laughter,
music and poetry,
humanity acknowledging a duty 

to save our woodlands
for generations while selling off trees

to property developers

Who looks down at twin logs
and sees us as we were
or hears leafy winds whispering
names of any cut down

in their prime here, there, everywhere,

no matter the time of year?

Oh, but the world may yet rue
its short sightedness
in scarring nature's face (or worse)
forgetting we were here first,
and how who laughs last so often laughs
the louder and longest

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2018

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

Love's Take On Multiculturalism

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

I received the oddest email yesterday. A reader had some kind words for my poems but asks, ‘What is the point unless you can be counted among the great poets?’

This reader has answered his or her own question.  There is every point in writing poems if even just one person enjoys reading them.

So I am not a ‘great’ poet.  Do I care?  It is more than enough for me that both poetry blogs are read daily worldwide. Whenever and wherever I give poetry readings, they are always well received, and that's more than good enough for me.

Some cultures still persist with a taboo on mixed-culture relationships. This is especially hard on those people, especially young people, living in a modern multicultural society.  Love has no time for such taboos, and only asks that we respect its global identity.

It is no betrayal of culture, family or whatever to fall in love. Love brings shame on no one, and I include gay relationships. Those who see it as some kind of shameful betrayal are not only out of step with love, but out of step with their culture for interpreting it by book rather than by heart; parents and other family members need to remind themselves that, where any cultural responsibilities appear to override their love for children and siblings, any potential for shame lies not within that culture but within themselves. 

LOVE’S TAKE ON MULTICULTURALISM 

As I put my lips to yours
they part to let my flame enter you,
its heat moulding us
into a live love-sculpture portraying
the true meaning of life

As the flame goes to work
on firing a peace offering to all those
who reject our love,
the raw scars of suffering peel away
like layers of an onion

As we dive and swim freely
where waters of the womb have risen
to offer us sanctuary
from wildfires threatening extinction,
we head for infinity

We reach a sandy shore,
our healing selves embraced by palms
whose leaves caress
where cruel hands would not long since 
have denied us a hearth

Oh, heaven, this splendid place;
if a dream, as real and far more likely 
to inspire angel choirs
than conflict among opposite numbers
in temporal divisions

Sadly, we must rise and leave
to make our way in this 'modern' world,
still a slave to its past
for all its fine rhetoric about fair play
in a free society ...

Yet, we have found a place

where no socio-cultural-religious spite

can keep us apart,

though it pounce on, and spit us out

for breaking its 'rules'

Find us among arts and streets,
recreating love’s custom made models,
nor a finer take on life
than sex, sexuality, race, age or creed
reworking its humanity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Dusty

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

I loved listening to Dusty Springfield from her time as a relatively demure looking young woman with The Springfields to her days at the top of her professional tree, by which time she has acquired all the sophistication and charisma of a pop icon.

Who cares that Dusty was gay? Has a person’s sexuality anything to do with his or her ability to perform in any genre or our appreciation of it and them?  All I can say is it is a very narrow-minded, bigoted person that answers ‘yes’ to that question. 

My being a Dusty fan has nothing to do with the gay ethic and everything to do with her talent and my eternal gratitude to her for having shared it with millions of us fans around the world..

Dusty is greatly missed by many while her distinctive voice will surely continue to enchant and lift our spirits to dizzy heights for many years to come.

Photo: Dusty Springfield 

DUSTY

Among the greats of pop history,

songbird flying high,

a much-loved legend called Dusty

Eyes like a picture postcard sea

voice like an angel’s cry,

among the greats of pop history

Drawn to Soul’s darker mystery

(tears in a wistful sky...)

a much-loved legend called Dusty

Find gay and charismatic artistry

chancing passion’s die

among the greats of pop history

Where passion’s fruits fall but softly

as dreams pass by,

a much-loved legend called Dusty

In a wintry mist we call immortality,

rediscover summer’s fire;

among the greats of pop history,

a legend called Dusty

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Shirley

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

Jan 8th is Dame Shirley Bassey's birthday. I have been a Shirley Bassey fan for many years. One of my favourite numbers is probably a lesser known song called I Reach for the Stars. (Check it out on You Tube, folks.)  It is a beautiful song; as always, this incredible lady does it more than justice.

It was a great thrill to see how electrifying this amazing woman continues to be at the recent Jubilee concert that was part of her Majesty the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations.

No poem can do justice to Dame Shirley Bassey’s unique talent, but I hope this villanelle will go some way towards expressing express my personal admiration and gratitude for years of first class entertainment.

Photo: Dame Shirley Bassey [Internet photo.]

Update (April 2016): A 20ft high gold-painted statue of Dame Shirley Bassey by artist Marc Rees, Caenarfon Castle, 2016. [Internet photo]

SHIRLEY

Feisty tigress from The Bay,

inimitable mistress of popular song,

stealing our hearts away

Burning passion holding sway,

heartfelt feeling for right and wrong;

feisty tigress from The Bay

Gesturing for love to have its say

where tears for its fears, too, belong,

stealing our hearts away

Bringing life to shades of grey,

to wintry spirits the delights of spring,

feisty tigress from The Bay

A voice, lifting the darkest day

like a sunburst where clouds still cling,

stealing our hearts away

Go the stars, the Bassey way,

a rare privilege just to be tagging along;

feisty tigress from The Bay,

stealing our hearts away

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: 'The Bay' refers to the Tiger Bay area of Cardiff, South Wales, where Shirley Bassey was born.]

Kylie

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

[Update: Nov 14th 2020: Kylie Minogue has become the first female artist to top the UK albums chart in five consecutive decades. She broke the record with the release of her new studio album 'Disco', released last Friday (November 6) and entered the Official Charts at Number One. Well done, Kylie.]

Update (30/5/18): A belated Happy Birthday to Kylie who was 50 years young on May 28th. 

Update (25/2/2016): Congratulations to Kylie and fiancé Joshua Sasse on their recent engagement.

Meanwhile ...

Hello everyone!

I can’t keep away at the moment although I am busy with other things. I have nasty infections in both ears so cannot wear my hearing aids. It is very stressful and there is no point in my seeing as much of friends as I usually do because I can barely hear what is being said!

It can get lonely when you live on your own as I do. When I write up the blogs, I feel less isolated and in contact with a whole range of people across the world. It is a GOOD feeling.

Meanwhile...

In the past, I have posted poems inspired by my favourite singers such as Doris Day and the late, great, Ella Fitzgerald. Several readers have asked if I have any more poems like this so I am posting one today. (I will post another tomorrow, too, for the incredible Shirley Bassey.) I am also working on a villanelle for the late, great, Dusty Springfield.

At nearly 67 years-old, I am probably one of Kylie Minogue’s oldest fans. I only hope that if she ever gets to read it, she will enjoy this villanelle written especially with her in mind. (It is especially nerve-wracking trying to write a poem for a special person or event as I just never know how it will be received, but I guess that goes for any poem...)

Photo: Kylie Minogue (taken from Internet)

KYLIE

Sunshine bursting free
of wintry skies,
a woman called Kylie

Lark on a dawn spree,
spreading happiness,
sunshine bursting free

Modest in her bravery
sharing her fears,
a woman called Kylie

Awe-inspiring artistry
come to entertain us,
sunshine bursting free

A haunting personality
deserving applause,
a woman called Kylie

To life’s darker tapestry,
bringing fair reprise;
sunshine bursting free,
a woman called Kylie

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

7/7 Remembered (Two poems)

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

Update [March 26 2016] There have been other terrorist atrocities around the world since I posted this poem and our thoughts including close to home in France and Belgium. Our thoughts have to be with the dead and injured, their families and friends. Inevitably, though, our we cannot help but wonder, where next? Wonder, yes, it is only natural, but we cannot let ourselves brood on the question or let it dominate our thoughts, dictate how we get on with our lives.  If terrorism exploits the very worst of human nature, the human condition itself is better and stronger than that which is why the love, peace and goodness in this world - and we only have to look around to see there is more of it than the media often suggest - will always triumph over any hate, wars and predilection for sheer evil.]

Today marks the anniversary of  London terrorist bombings in July 2005. My close friend (and cameraman) Graham and I were asked some time ago if we would film the 7/7 memorial in Hyde Park especially for a friend of someone who died in the terrorist attacks in London on July 7^th 2005. He lives and works abroad and has been unable to visit the memorial. He has also read the poems and asked me to read them.  Yesterday, I uploaded our efforts to You Tube. Hopefully, no one will find either poems or video intrusive:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBo01eRFB

Yes, anniversaries have an important place in the public consciousness. Yet, for anyone caught up in the events of that awful day and/or directly affected by its terrible consequences, every day that passes is a day of remembrance. Our thoughts should be with them as well the fifty-two people for whom the memorial was created.

We can but try to move on whenever tragedy strikes, although moving on doesn't (ever) mean we leave anyone behind.

REMAINS OF THE DAY

Memory, smoke and screams

that left fifty-two fine people dead,

forever haunting our dreams

Innocence ripped at the seams,

where terrorism rears its ugly head;

Memory, smoke and screams

Despair takes all or so its seems

where hope on its heels often misled,

forever haunting our dreams

Where light but faintly gleams

that tracks the everyday hero’s tread;

Memory, smoke and screams

See inhumanity’s dark schemes

leave its enemies free if badly scarred,

forever haunting our dreams

Faith’s dark side, no love redeems,

its Heaven, even to its martyrs barred;

Memory, smoke and screams,

forever haunting our dreams

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

YEARS ON

Let us all remember, years on,

all those cruelly snatched away

one summer's day in London

Come life's battles lost and won 

no terror shall (ever) win the day;

let us all remember, years on

A mother, father, daughter, son,

calling on Memory its part to play

one summer's day in London

Wherever terror's rage has gone

humanity, too, will ever have a say;

let us all remember, years on

If terror, it would target everyone,
for love alone did Earth Mother pray

one summer's day in London

Love, if sorely tried and put upon,

will always find a way, beside us stay;

let us all remember, years on,

one summer's day in London

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2019

[Note: an earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; consequently, it is not the version that accompanies the video.]