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 15 March 2014

My Friends, The Trees


Sometimes it can feel as if our world has come to an end or is closing down on us like the curtain on a Shakespearean tragedy.  

I have often felt that way, even as a child (when no one took depression in children very seriously if at all) and have spent the best part of a lifetime finding ways of restoring a view of life and self that gives rise to optimism rather than pessimism.

Creative therapy (writing) and reading have played a vital part in my battle to beat depression, but it is nature that has proved my salvation.  While not even the finest arts can copy it, a troubled mind, body, and spirit can do far, far, worse than try. So it has been with mine since my partner died even though we were together but a few years and it was a long time ago. My mother’s death, too, affected me deeply. 

Yet, the trees remain, the same trees we walked among, talked among, and rested among to enjoy leafy kaleidoscopes and create our own; trees now bursting with life, now all but dying only to thrive again according to time and season. Such is the stoicism of nature from which the human body-mind-spirit can take heart if it will but pause long enough to look and see, listen and learn…

MY FRIENDS, THE TREES

I never felt so alone
as once you were gone,
drab days stretching
on and on like dirt tracks
leading nowhere
but deeper into woodlands
where no sun shining,
birds singing or rabbits
teasing the eye

Then a day came, 
long after you were gone,
I chanced to spot
a chick sparrow fly the nest,
hover uncertainly,
fledgling wings in a flap,
but only briefly
before soaring up, up,
and away 

I followed its flight,
spotted a trickle of sunlight
bursting through trees
whose spring leaves
dripped rainbows on the eye,
restoring colour 
to a world left colourless 
since you painted me
out of it

Suddenly, the inner ear 
hears once more, inner eye
can see again,
empty heart starting to fill
(if slowly) with joys 
of spring, reawakening
happier times, 
trying out heart strings
and retuning 

Oh, but less lonely now,
befriended by trees, lifted
by ages-old tales
of love and peace, songs
celebrating life,
poems reflecting that death
must wait its turn
while we relish the thrill
of first flight

Sparrow flies into tree,
possibly same bird, same tree,
but not the same me, 
loath to leave my friends,
the trees, yet anxious
as they to remind the world 
it’s spring, 
body, mind, and spirit 
overflowing

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

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Friday 14 March 2014

In Praise of Perennials OR Survivors, Making History


Regular readers will know I have prostate cancer and have been receiving hormone therapy. I am trying to take it all in my stride. Think positive, Taber, I keep telling myself, and urge anyone in the same or similar circumstances to do the same.

The body as well as mind and spirit need to stay strong if they are to defeat any intruders that present a threat. Whatever happens, why deny ourselves the satisfaction of putting up a good fight? Letting things (or people) get us down only makes a bad situation worse.

Few if any of us can say, hand on heart, that we never have ‘bad’ days. It is a challenge to get through as least scarred as possible by problems, crises, disappointments, nasty shocks and/or scary happenings...whatever.

Me, I take my cue from nature. Mind you, that’s after taking several long, slow, deep breaths and counting to ten....

IN PRAISE OF PERENNIALS or SURVIVORS, MAKING HISTORY

I am the spirit of the wind
writing poems for trees, turning leaves
just as humankind turns select pages
of history, Creation taking imagination
to its heart and turning it
into a religion, nurturing growth
independent of home truths
daring to question how best to raise
born again geraniums

I am the spirit of the wind,
no sooner rocking a baby in its cradle
and composing a lullaby than pitting
sailors against  moody waves as fickle 
as the Holy See towards gay 
and transgender folks standing up 
for love and peace, re-asserting
that common body, mind, and spirit
aspiring to enlightenment

I am the spirit of the wind
treating the eagle and the dove
with equal favour or cruelty,
as Earth Mother has demonstrated
since Creation took imagination
to its heart and turned it into a religion,
stunting growth, leaving home truths
so vulnerable to decay in the thick
of a long, weepy, autumn

Perennials, like ghosts in the wind,
templates for humankind…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]


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Tuesday 11 March 2014

Earmarked for Development


Several readers have asked when I intend to record more of my poems for You Tube. Well, soon I hope. However, Graham, my close friend and cameraman works full-time so is not often available and I have been unable to get anyone else interested.

For those of you who may be interested but haven’t yet seen and heard my capers on You Tube,
try: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber  or keyword ‘Roger Taber You Tube

We only do it for fun (and that includes heading straight for the nearest pub afterwards) but hopefully people will enjoy our efforts. I will be posting more on You Tube throughout the year, weather and cameraman availability permitting.

Meanwhile...

The world's growing population requires that we provide for its housing and other needs. We should not forget, though, that nature provides not only for its own protection but ours too. Our taking from nature without giving back is already making itself menacingly felt in various ways, and will likely haunt future generations with even greater menace. Deforestation especially, leaves us all exposed to climate change,

EARMARKED FOR DEVELOPMENT 

Archived, children at play
where once were trees and grass;
echoes of sunny laughter
but splinters of broken glass

Carefree voices, last heard
drifting away like autumn leaves;
carbuncles springing up
where Earth Mother grieves

Manna for the developers,
demand ever outstripping supply;
grass all concreted over,
(a time to live, a time to die?)

Nobody left likely to recall
how things were once-upon-a-tree
come nature, fairy tale...
Carbuncles, the new poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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Monday 10 March 2014

More of the Same (Unless, What ... ?)


[Update, December 31st 2018: I hope  you all enjoy my posts and poems as  much as I enjoy writing them. I have not been in good health for some years, and at 73 there's neither time nor room for much improvement. Even so, I keep looking on the bright side of life. The blogs distract me from the likes of prostate cancer and arthritis, and help me to feel more in touch with the world since I've been less able to get out and about in it. A huge thank you to everyone for staying with me; the sum total of pageviews for both poetry blogs has now passed 300,000.]

Here’s a BIG thank you to all my readers. When I started writing up the blogs, I hoped to reach a few thousand people, but both blogs have now had 53,000+ pageviews since Google started collecting statistics in May 2010; feedback suggests many of these are regular readers.

Christmas, light years away already. Let us hope 2014 will be a better year for us all. Sadly, for many of us, I doubt whether it will feel much like we are emerging from recession and hardship for some months, even years yet.

All we can do is find a bright side and focus on that as we try to make the best of things rather than dwell on the worst. Despite having to contend with regular bouts of depression, it is something I have always tried to do…with varying degrees of success (and failure).

Did I say it was easy?

May we all find peace and love...this year, and always...keeping mind and heart open to all things and all people.[Well, as far as some people will let us anyway.]

MORE OF THE SAME (UNLESS, WHAT ... ?)

A new year beckons across the sad remains
of a Christmas past its use-by date,
discarded wrapping paper a pretty metaphor
for token gestures, world over

Our shame, its magic fading, oh, so quickly
to an everyday ordinariness;
(they fade too soon, the laughter and songs
of a world coming together.)

Even so, the frailest things may last forever
once touched by love;
so say bodies living (and dying) on our streets
here, there, world over ...

Wherever a heart beats in time with another
love will find a way
(even if means heaping starker choices upon us
than any Holy Books ... ?)

Needs must, recycling pretty wrapping paper
and tearing a strip off humanity
whenever it fails to teach its children respect
for our differences, world over

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

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Saturday 8 March 2014

Promises, Promises...


Several readers have been in touch to question the wisdom of my repeating historical posts on Google Plus.  I had the idea after readers said they would like to read some of my poems again but did not have time to browse the blogs. Feedback suggests that my contribution to Google Plus is quite popular so I will continue, especially as I am not too well these days so not often up to writing new poems. (Even so, I hope to post some new poems from time to time.) Meanwhile, I hope readers will enjoy at least some of the poems I put on Google Plus, perhaps even take an interest in the historical nature of various preambles. Most post will remain on Google + for five days and return again every few months in the hope of catching new readers and keeping the attention of regulars.

Now, if life is a manic roller-coaster ride, love has to be its saving grace, for all its ups and downs. Since we have no choice but get used to the idea that we come into the world  to live and die , we can at least make the best of what falls in-between,  and if that involves entering into a contract of mutual responsibility with Earth Mother as well as the rest of humankind, so be it…

Easier said than done, of course, in a world where only too often nature is perceived as a slave to what humankind so likes to justify as ‘progress’…

PROMISES, PROMISES...

Among angry hills,
where I was promised to worms,
a storm burst
and I stumbled on slopes
of grassy mud
to which I promised every last drop
of my blood
if they would see me safely home,
and then the sun
came out again, opening my eyes
to birds’ wings
and other miracles of nature;
I got headily drunk
on a misty rain, bare feet stalling
where ragged stone
and thistles bent on re-aligning
my personal integrity, demanding  
I do… what, exactly?

Something, someone,
purpose, reason, sense of resurrection
once mist and rain
finally done, restoring the sun
to its crowning glory
though bits of sky haunted still
by clouds emulating
rocks, thorns, unicorns in scattered shapes
and various personae
yelling in the ears to keep running,
running, running…or miss
the last train, promising to get me
to the station on time,
deserves (surely?) promising
in return to see these feet
safely home, tucked up in bed
by nightfall, eyes closing, peace
(of sorts) descending

In dreams, weeping hills touch gently
upon mutual responsibility

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original version as it appears in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.



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Monday 3 March 2014

Spring Magic

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

Whenever we are feeling down, there is always something in the magic of nature to lift us; summer holidays, colourful autumn leaves, winter sunshine, the magic of spring...

Now, it has been a long, dull,wet  winter here in the UK so I thought I’d write something cheerful. The poem is a little whimsical perhaps, but regular readers will know that I ‘do’ whimsy quite often.

If early March is hardly spring, at least we can remind ourselves it’s just around the corner. Besides, we have only to let the inner eye stray to some once-upon-a-springtime, and it’s here again already.

Thank goodness for the power of imagination, memory, positive thinking, and the spiritual quality of humankind’s more discerning affinity with nature.

SPRING MAGIC

As I paused by a tree,
I saw it weeping for me;
bad times, hard times,
ever-haunting back roads
of my memory

As I paused by a tree
I heard it laughing at me,
for ever dwelling
on darker, wintry, aspects
of my history

As I paused by a tree,
I heard it singing for me
while opening up
a gift-wrapped box of delights
we call memory

As I paused by a tree,
it covered me with kisses
of faery blossom,
working spring magic, life-force
of all history

As I paused by a tree,
leafy skies swooped on me
and spring cleaned
the darker, wintry, corners
of my memory

As I passed by a tree,
I heard it gaily cheering me
for moving on,
a new spring in every step
making history


Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

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Tuesday 25 February 2014

O-N-E, Potential for Multiplication


Regular readers will be aware that I have a history of depression since early childhood. (In those days, depression in children was barely recognized and usually looked upon as a predilection for tantrums.) 

Today’s little poem was written while I was still recovering from a serious nervous breakdown some 30+ years ago. I recently discovered and (slightly) revised it after struggling to decipher a page of scribble in an old exercise book. It may not be one of my better poems, but served me well at a time when my self-esteem was at rock bottom and I needed to find a way back into the general swim of everyday life. 

At the time, I felt very isolated, not least because I recognized that I was not mentally fit for purpose and there was little real help to be had, especially from the medical profession. At the same time, two former work colleagues were very supportive, and for that I will always be very grateful, while writing as a form of creative therapy helped me worth through the worst of my external anxieties. In time, I was able to take on a new job, rebuild my life and look forward in hope instead of back in distress.  

Family members and some friends chose to ignore the act that I was mentally ill, as many people do because it embarrasses them and/or they haven't a clue how to proceed. Yet, we all need a support network at times, especially when we are ill.

I once worked with a colleague who could not bear to discuss anything relating to illness, and there are many who feel the same way. Human nature? Perhaps, or perhaps sheer selfishness at not wanting to get involved and expected to go the distance with someone when we would much rather stay in our comfort zone.

Whatever, I owe my support network more than I could ever hope to express in words. Thanks to them I got my life back. Isn't that worth going the distance with someone for ... ?

O-N-E, POTENTIAL FOR MULTIPLICATION

Where one is in a minority,
one deserves a voice
for its colour, creed, sex 
or sexuality

Where one is in a minority
one deserves a choice
for its colour, creed, sex
or sexuality

Where one is in a majority,
one needs to listen 
to minority voices if only
for its sanity

Where one is in a majority,
one needs to respect
issues of colour, creed, sex 
and sexuality

In a minority or majority,
one plays its part
in whatever we have to say
for ourselves

In a minority or majority,
one deserves better
than being shouted down
by anyone else

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2014

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