A Job Half Done OR Planet of the Apes

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

Have you ever began working on something you don’t really believe in, but felt you had no choice... so  puting any finishing touches to the task in hand was never really on the cards?  You may well have fought against it, given that many if not most of us are inclined to do whatever for a quiet life especially if it means being nagged to get on with it. Yet, at the end of the day, it is not certain people who persist in nagging at us but the lack of those very finishing touches itself; it leaves us feeling not only dissatisfied with our work, but also questioning our resistance to properly completing the job in the first place...so much so sometimes that we find ourselves, if not coming round to that to same point of view with which we found ourselves at loggerheads, at least able to enter into it, grasp something of where it was coming from - to the extent, more often than not, that we cannot leave the job unfinished if only because our hearts tell us it's the right thing to do, even if we are never quite sure why.

Oh, we may choose to put it all down to pride in a job well done, but at heart we may well suspect it is more than that; whether or not we choose to look any further, though, that is down to a sense of conscience we may or may not prefer to own; it is in the latter wherein lies a job but half done, and likely to nag us for the best part of a lifetime...although if it means we never stop asking questions - of ourselves and humanity in general - it may not be such a bad thing after all...

‘What an ugly beast the ape, and how like us.’ – Cicero (106 BC - 43 BC)

A JOB HALF DONE or PLANET OF THE APES

Builder, pondering

a job half done, frowning

under a baseball cap...

(So , what he’s looking at?)

Eco-warriors, armed

with principles in defence 
of treasured open spaces
being eroded by developers
reaping the rewards
of feeding bricks and mortar
to human apes homing in

on concrete jungles, parodies
of natural worlds

Builder, pondering

a job half done, distant grin

under a baseball cap…

(So what's he’s looking at?)

Not scaffolding  

for brand new offices meant

to keep fat cats happy

once staff won over to the view

that a bird in the hand

is worth two in any hedgerow,

and he should know

with a wife, three kids, behind

with the mortgage

Builder at work

on a job half done, furrows

under a baseball cap…

(Now what’s he looking at?)

Towers, like trees, in skies

where birds fly like toy airplanes
and drop like skydivers

on the backs of eco-warriors

guarding nature’s own

from fat cats on the make

that don’t care, can walk away.

a job well done. time to move on 
to the next land grab

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2014

[Note: revised (2014) from an earlier version that appears under the title A Job Half Done in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Urban Safari

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

I well recall walking home one night across a shabby part of London (doesn't every city have its shabby parts the tourists are steered away from?) and being captivated by a sense of  Gothic; poetry, romance, and a curious sense of fatalism....

URBAN SAFARI 

None but shuddering stones haunting

dead lawns…

Stretching from mossy rails

to graffiti trails

on silent factory walls

hear the Traveller

call for aid to ease

the burden Time has laid

on back and breast

No thought of rest, not here,

where occasional dock leaves conspire

a gentler ground

than makes this gravel sound

like another massacre…

On, on, playful night! Shedding favours

left and right,

teasing the Traveller’s jaded sight.

Glimpse, a tiger’s smile

where a pile of flowery wire flickers

like a far forest fire; city lights

beyond mass graves of missing people

plucked from welfare queues

and left to fend  without a friend

for years, their ghosts not far behind

as panic rears

Neon daubs, for stars and a generation

of paper tigers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2014

[Note: Revised (2013) from an earlier version that first appeared in an anthology, Shadows in a Mist, Anchor Books (Forward Press) 1999 and subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Sword and Shield, a Fight to the Better End

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

[Update (Oct 18 2016): It is more than two years now since my fall that resulted in a badly fractured ankle. The warned me tt the hospital that, given my age, I might never walk again, but I was having none of that, kept religiously to a daily schedule of physiotherapy and can now walk quite well with the aid of a walking stick. Yes, walking is sometimes painful still, but it is a great feeling to be out and about. The prostate cancer, too, remains under control with hormone therapy. So...no worries that I cannot overcome by reflecting on my late mother's words, 'If you worry, you'll die and if you don't worry you'll still die one day so...why worry?' I guess we just have to keep a sense of proportion.]

Since my fall, five weeks ago, I have had to exercise a degree of patience I did not know I possessed. I am always out and about, but have been housebound as the front steps are too many and steep for me to negotiate with crutches. Unable to put any weight on my left foot, a Zimmer frame gives me greater mobility around my flat. It has taken until last week for a CT scan to reveal a fracture in the heel so now I have a cast and must continue hopping around on the Zimmer for at least another five weeks. The heel may mend or it may not. I must wait and see…

I live alone, but friends and my lovely neighbours in the flat below have been a godsend, helping with shopping and everyday tasks around the flat that I cannot do myself. Their support means everything. Even so, there have been moments when I have felt very low; it was at just such a time that I had a spirited debate with Pain and wrote the poem, a kenning.

SWORD AND SHIELD,  A FIGHT TO THE BETTER END

True, I am no friend

but do not mean you harm,

will arrive uninvited

(and most unwelcome)

yet do my best

to make my stay as bearable

as possible,

coaxing mind, body and spirit

to comfort, find peace

I may bring clouds

and wintry days, but always

call on spring flowers

and scents of halcyon days

to brighten dark corners

where you may well cower

from everyday hardship,

and a growing sense of bleaker

times yet to come

True, I am no friend,

but I have the power to make

stronger person of you

if you will only rise above

the worst and make

the best of our time together,

let mind, body and spirit

make peace with even a wretch

the likes of me

As Pain its makeshift sword wields,
so peace and love, lasting shields

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Manipulator

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

There is nothing wrong with ambition, but sometimes motivation is less clear sighted than we like to think., and we lose sight of our priorities if only temporarily; worse, we risk losing sight of who we are in our anxiety to prove we are more than a match for someone else…

Comparing ourselves with others is rarely a good idea as we will almost certainly go through life feeding an inferiority complex. Everyone is different, with different strengths and weaknesses. We need to lose any self-consciousness and develop the self-confidence to focus on ourselves and those people and issues that matter most to us. Otherwise, in attempting to prove we are as good as or better than someone else, we risk losing everything that really matters.

MANIPULATOR

You hardly notice

I am here, and should you care

to look over your shoulder

the chances are you’ll not see me;

if the light is right I’ll fade

from sight, or (better still) no light

at all where I have taken

what I can of your mind and soul,

made them my own

You don’t fear me,

though you should, for am surely

your worst enemy;

you carry on with this and that,

making your way

in life, believing it’s your own

while all the time it’s mine;

my ambitions you aspire to fulfil,

rarely your own

Oh, but I am clever,

and would never lead you so astray

that you become lost

in a maze of conflicting emotions

and cannot find your way back

to where I intend you should be,

feeding you (now and then)

a hollow victory, its celebration

mine, all mine

You, my puppet, I, your puppeteer;

One upmanship, the Manipulator

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2014

Keeping-Up-Appearances

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

Not so long ago, I spent an evening with a couple about my own age (68) who are so obsessed with looks that they have resorted to cosmetic surgery on more than one occasion. Ironically, the results are none too flattering. Besides, its's personality that counts more than looks, and don't let anyone tell you different. 

Respect comes into it to, doesn't it? Personally, I have more respect for the person who lets nature take its course and stays young in at heart than for the man or woman who prefers to kid themselves they have discovered the secret of eternal youth. The body may be a slave to time, but that doesn't have to be true of the spirit. The mind may well be vulnerable, but a strong dose of positive thinking and avoiding daytime TV has to be a good start. Couch potatoes do not age well in my experience.

Now, I ask you. Gay or straight, let;s stay young at heart by all means, but what’s wrong with growing old naturally?

Surely, it's enough that so many celebrities love to make fools of themselves by trying to turn back nature's clock without we ordinary men and women playing the same silly game?

On my opinion, cosmetic surgery is only ever justifiable in cases when people may have some kind of visible disfigurement that causes them distress. [It would probably cause them less distress if other people were less obsessed with outward appearances and more concerned with the person behind them.]

This poem is a kenning.

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

I’ll make a hunchback of you,

both feet arguing with waistline,

whitened teeth making tongue

abort any truer word in the offing

as if you have no real affinity

with the fix you’re in, only dimly

aware of any discomfort, unable

(or unwilling) to follow it through,

and carrying on regardless

I’ll make a fine fool of you,

object of scorn (though tempered

with compassion among family,

friends who may well stay silent,

fearing you confuse concern

with interference, pity, jealousy,

for preferring home truths

stay backward in coming forward

in case anyone notices

I’ll make a poor loser of you,

unless you choose to take me on;

recognize the enemy within

for what I am or else go as a lamb

to slaughter at the altar of vanity,

always seeking shelter from life’s

worst storms in love’s harbours,

but as a guest, no sense of belonging,

only a hungry yearning

I am foolish pride, oblivious to the fact

that my folly is perceived a poor act

Copyright, R. N. Taber 2007; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title Obsession in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; this rev. version, 2019.]

Autumn Sonata

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

(Photo taken from the Internet)

For me, September is the start of autumn…whatever the weather people or the almanacs say.

Here’s my favourite autumn villanelle. It was first published in an anthology, Seasons of Change, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in my collection.

Villanelles are not as easy to write as they look. Regular readers will know I have a passion for them and won’t be surprised to learn that I have written 200+. I try to vary style and content in my poetry and am always experimenting with voices. Even so, the villanelle remains a firm favourite of mine if only because its simplicity is far from simplistic and I get a sense of achievement from keeping to the discipline it imposes on a poet. Feedback suggests that some readers love them and others hate them, which is as it should be.

Left entirely to my own devices, I am inclined to waffle and have even been known to mix my metaphors. Oh, dear! Now, villanelles clear my head. They keep the inner eye focused on the straight and narrow if multidimensional paths along which a poet loves travel across uncharted territories of the mind, hopefully with his or her readers for company at various stages of the journey.

AUTUMN SONATA

Silvery grey skies,

leaves drifting,

summer closing its eyes

Lighting home fires,

hopes flaring

silvery grey skies

Holiday goodbyes,

wishful thinking,

summer closing its eyes

Words to the wise,

softly treading

silvery grey skies

With long, wistful sighs

and daydreaming,

summer closing its eyes

Time quickly passing,

our hopes surprising

silvery grey skies,

summer closing its eyes

[From: The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

Passage Home OR Nature at the Helm

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

We may travel far and wide in life or not all. It’s the going (or staying) wherever and doing whatever makes us and others happy that is journey enough for most people.

Yes, most if not all of us make mistakes and sometimes lose our way. But it’s my belief that those among us who make the journey for the right reasons can’t go too far wrong even though it may sometimes seem otherwise.

As for making the passage home, that’s wherever (and with whomsoever?) we feel the need to be; journey’s end.

PASSAGE HOME or NATURE AT THE HELM

I have heard waves whisper

of battles lost and won

on stormy seas, in far places,

among others demanding a turn

at the helm

I have watched clouds paint

pictures of losers, victors,

those staying on to dry a tear,

others preferring to turn a deaf ear

than take the helm

I have beached lonely shore

and coral reef, swam

with fishes, come to grief

in oceans surreal for abandoning

the helm

Time, our seasoned captain

has nailed my colours  

to its mast while stars, moon,

and rising sun insist on taking turns

at the helm

Passage home…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]