Carnage in Nice, (More) Slaughter of the Innocents

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

There are really no words to express any decent person’s horror - whatever their colour, creed, sex or sexuality - at the senseless carnage in Nice On July 14 2016. Hopefully, though, someone somewhere who is perhaps harbouring thoughts along the lines of radical Islam, for whatever reason, may find this poem offers food for thought ... and think again. 

At least 84 people were reported dead in Nice and many others injured, many of them children; their crime, having the temerity to enjoy themselves on Bastille Day, a national event celebrating the storming of the Bastille during the French Revolution, July 14 1879.

In ‘The Age of Reason’ Thomas Paine (1737 - 1809) makes the point that ‘…the belief of a cruel God makes a cruel man.’ What would Paine have to say, I wonder, about of the image of the prophet Muhammad every radical Islamist wears on his or her sleeve?

CARNAGE IN NICE, (MORE) SLAUGHTER OF THE INNOCENTS 

[Nice, Bastille Day 2016]

World, head bowed, but only for tears

where terrorism has its way,

nations, left victims of its worst fears

Though its nemeses breeding for years,

to love and peace, the final say,

world, head bowed, but only for tears

Freedom, a crown of thorns, it wears

for any who get in terror’s way,

nations left victims of its worst fears

Wherever fundamental dogma rears

its head, the mad dog has its day;

world, head bowed, but only for tears

Humanity, for all its flaws, endures

if inhumanity briefly holding sway,

nations left victims of its worst fears

In radical Islam, true faith disappears,

so testify efforts to keep it at bay;

world, head bowed, but only for tears,

nations left victims of its worst fears

[London, July 15 2016]

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

History Live OR Ghosts Revisited

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

I was born on the winter solstice, 1945, in Gillingham (Kent) one of several towns on the river Medway collectively known as the Medway Towns of which another is historic Rochester where Charles Dickens once lived. While many childhood memories are not especially happy ones, there were good times, too; at 70, I often find myself revisiting these, especially those that that take in picturesque Rochester.

When I was 14 years-old, my family moved across the river to a sprawling carbuncle of a housing estate that dominated the village of Hoo or Hoo St Werburg, to give the place its full historic title. My life there was a waking nightmare, not least because there was only one bridge across the Medway in those days; it was not unusual for the journey home from school to take two hours to cover less than five miles. None of my memories of Hoo are happy ones. An opportunity to live and work in London just a few years after I left school was a godsend. .

As much as I hated Hoo, I loved Rochester. I’d sometimes see ghosts in historic costume, including battle dress, looking out over the walls of its castle keep or treading its ancient streets, especially on days when a light, seasonal mist would fall or a stormy haze. Figments of a young imagination, you say? Maybe so, even probably, although I swear I caught a glimpse of them, too, as recently as on my last visit in 2013.

[Photo: Rochester castle - cathedral in the background - from an engraving by H. Adlard after a drawing by G. F. Sargent, 1836; taken from Wikipedia.]

This poem is a villanelle.

HISTORY LIVE or GHOSTS REVISITED

A castle keep overlooks the Medway

in fair Rochester city,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Like a war horse grown old and grey

in the service of liberty,

a castle keep overlooks the Medway

Companion cathedral, holding sway,

for century after century,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Time, honoured guest invited to stay

(no one’s friend or enemy);

a castle keep overlooks the Medway

A Dickensian charm brushing away

the cobwebs of history;

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

River flowing sure, at work and play,

ever restless and moody…

A castle keep overlooks the Medway,

ghosts, its guardians, night and day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Democracy, the Dark Side

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

Update (Oct 14. 2017): I have always believed that Brexit will be good for Britain, but never more so than now as EU leaders procrastinates while blaming the UK for negotiations not progressing as well as they might.  It is clear to many of us that they are afraid the UK just might be on the right road by exiting what is seeming more and more like and organisation unfit for purpose; a great idea in principle, but proving less and less so in practise. If we make a go of Brexit, as I am sure we will in time, the fear is that other countries may follow, especially given the fact that there is increasing unrest and dissatisfaction in other countries whose leaders seem determined to turn a deaf ear; Italy, Greece and Germany to name but three; nor is Freedom of Movement without due border checks in an Age of Terrorism the only issue. Even in the USA, Land of the Free, Congress continues to turn an all but deaf ear to growing demands for at least an appropriate/ common sense amendment to the law relating to a right to bear arms more relevant to the Age of the Pioneer than the modern world.] 

Update (Nov 03, 2015): It would appear that Democracy has just died. The High Court has ruled that Article 50 cannot be invoked without Parliament's approval. Hopefully, the Supreme Court may yet overturn this judgement. A democratic principle is at stake here. Why bother to ask the people what they want if they are going to be ignored? (It was a very high turnout for the referendum.)

My only regret about voting to leave the European Union is leaving myself open to abuse from narrow-minded, arrogant hypocrites who, on the one hand support Human Rights, and on the other have no respect for the rights of every individual to make up their own minds on matters that have a direct bearing on their lives and the lives of family and friends. Whatever happened to the right to disagree?

I resent being called a racist because I voted to leave the E U. Immigration was not the only issue on the political agenda. Besides, most people were voting against a flawed system of immigration over which we had precious little real control while under the thumb of the Brussels parliament. Many people of various ethnic origins who have been living and working here for years are also sick of the political shambles that passes for a European Union. [Yes, of course, EU nationals living and working here should be allowed to stay, not least because they are friends and neighbours, but what is our new PM supposed to say if any among the EU elite try to use Brits living there as bargaining chips during the course of Brexit  negotiations? Let’s face it. It would come as no surprise to anyone should they stoop to such tactics.]

Among a UK majority, I voted for an EEC (European Economic Community) not a United States of Europe.

Some of my friends voted to remain in the European Union and we have hotly debated the issue. However, we all agreed from the start to respect each other’s points of view (despite trying to change it) and - perhaps even more importantly - that we would not let our diverse opinions undermine our friendship. In short, we agreed to accept a majority vote if only because we all support the principles of democracy. Those people crying ‘Foul’ because the vote did not go their way are ignorant scumbags; no less so are those making the vote an excuse to verbally and/or physically abuse ‘foreigners’ living and working in the UK, some of them for years. Those who are calling the vote a disgrace need to look closely at the worse aspects of its aftermath if not their role in it.

No one likes a bad loser. I suspect the vocal albeit significant minority now noisily deploring the E U referendum result by casting aspersions on the opposition, even calling our integrity into question, will find that out for themselves in the fullness of time. Meanwhile, the country needs to pull together and unite not let knee-jerk reactions and activists prevent the UK's future outside the EU taking a positive turn in the longer if not shorter term.

This poem is, yes, another villanelle.

DEMOCRACY, THE DARK SIDE

Come a vote on this or that decision
(why not let us all have a say?)
cue for bad losers to abuse someone

Some losers will wallow in delusion
(pity any scapegoats in their way)
come a vote on this or that decision

Vanity of vanities, the grand illusion
(in the right, deserve to win the day)
cue for bad losers to abuse someone

No assuming immunity to aspersion
(or sitting on the damn fence today)
come a vote on this or that decision

Take the case for a European Union
(grave reservations come what may)
cue for bad losers to abuse someone

Consensus is no call for celebration
(democracy, too, must feel its way);
come a vote on this or that decision,
cue for bad losers to abuse someone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

On Discovering the Bitter-Sweet Poetry of Time

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

As I grow old(er) - I am 70 now - I think less about actually dying than about how about much time I might have left in this life, determined (in my own way) to make the most of and enjoy it.

Incidentally, on the subject of enjoyment, I am always delighted to hear from readers who live in or are visiting London and express an interest in meeting up for a chat, whether over a friendly beer or two, a meal or just coffee. Feel free to email me any time.

Now, writing, especially poetry, may well be my preferred form of creative therapy to keep my old adversary depression at bay (which it does, very effectively) but it has also been a learning curve; hopefully it may be of some interest to someone someday to track that curve from my early to later poems. Whatever their impressions or end verdict, I would hope to get at least some brownie points for having attempted the curve in the first place. This is why, over the next few years, I hope to make revised versions of my poetry collections and novels available as e-books on Google Play to anyone who may be interested; all are on my blogs, but I can’t see them remaining on the Internet indefinitely once Time has disposed of me as and when it will.

Who knows, and what does it really matter anyway? All that really matters is that, each in our own way, we not only enjoy, but also at least try to make some sense of the Here and Now. Otherwise, what chance of our own customised cameos of life’s bigger picture ever finding a place in Time’s endless tapestry of Memory? Moreover, given the integral part the natural world plays in it, all the more reason to preserve what harmony remains between humankind and nature before the later (in time) lets it irretrievably slip away.

ON DISCOVERING THE BITTER-SWEET POETRY OF TIME

It’s a long road that winds

past the cemetery, and sometimes

I’d take a shortcut by graves,

flowers, yew trees, headstones

wiped clean or left to weeds, mosses,

history and memory

Surrounded by an enemy

called Death (so near, yet so far…);

Should I fear or be resigned

to its inevitability, let it undermine
Earth Mother's call to be true, alive

to the Here-and-Now?

The whistle pursing my lips,

a cheeky breeze in sentinel trees

sharing old jokes in the ear.

joyful shriek of starling’s return 
to the nest, flower heads following

my every move, smiling 

Oh, but I'll open up my heart

to a sun that means us well, waking
all of mind-body-spirit
to the eternal landscape of beauty
kindling peace, hope and joy, meant
to reassure us of eternity

No cause to suspect of nightfall

any less of a helping hand from nature

to preserve life, and for every petal,

stem and root that wind, rain,

or human hand displace, more on call

(in time) to take their place

In no time at all, at iron gates

and passing through, Death behind me

(barely a thought) while a rose

in the gutter where I turn

into my street brings tears to my eyes

for its loss forever

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2019

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

Bottom Line, Democracy OR Breakaway Britain

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

[Update, December 10. 2018: Arguing it here, arguing it there,
                                                 arguing Brexit everywhere;
                                                 be it a heaven or be it a hell,
                                                 united we stand, divided we fall ...

Few of us in the UK who voted in a democratic referendum for Brexit have much faith left in its politics or many of its politicians (putting party politics and business interests before the good of the country?) let alone democracy. Most people I know, Brexiteers and Remainers alike, wish Theresa May well for at least trying to please everyone and uphold a democratic vote. Sadly, you can please some of the people some of the time, but never all the people all the time... Good Luck, PM.]

[Update April 24 2017: A French (gay) friend emailed me today to say he would be voting for Marine Le Pen in the forthcoming French election. He feels as I do, that the EU is a shambles; its failure to come up with a fair, sustainable immigration policy as well as its having to bail out Greece and Italy, not to mention the Deutsche Bank reportedly being in difficulties points to an organisation unfit for purpose. So, no, I have no problem with my gay friend voting for an anti-EU candidate even though neither of us would normally support the National Front. He knows I believe Brexit will prove to be in Britain's best interests. Who am I to criticise any path to a potential Frexit?]

[Update April 25 2017: While I probably should not comment on French politics (!) my French friend and I are further encouraged by the fact that Marine Le Pen has announced she is standing down as leader of France's National Front Party, saying she wants to be above party politics and be president of a France for everyone, thus even further distancing herself from the policies of her father.]

..................................................

I am (very) surprised, but also (very) pleased by Thursday’s referendum result here in the UK. I had expected the political Establishment to win. As it is, I believe it was an overwhelming vote for a democracy that has been slowly but surely undermined by a European Union that has become unfit for purpose.

Once we have a new Prime Minister in place and the Labour leadership question, too, has been sorted, our politicians need to put party divisions to one side and work together for cross party consensus on local reforms initiated by our leaving the European Union.

While I understand the concerns of many young people who feel an older generation has voted for a future they do not want, I remain convinced that future generations will thank us for this decision in the longer term. Even so, negotiating Brexit with the EU will require tact and diplomacy; any show of aggressive defiance will help no one.

Britain is more than capable of holding its own while sharing in a common good in the modern world. As for Europe, we should never forget that we Brits, too, are Europeans and - whatever political games our leaders so love to play - our continental neighbours are also our friends.

This poem is a villanelle.

BOTTOM LINE, DEMOCRACY or BREAKAWAY BRITAIN
(June 23 2016)

Whatever will be, will be,
(divorcing the Union);
three cheers for democracy

Though the forecast stormy
for breakaway Britain,
whatever will be, will be…

Playing on fears comes easily
to the everyday politician;
three cheers for democracy

Braving unchartered territory,
(conscience of a nation)
whatever will be, will be…

A disaffected voting majority
rising to the occasion;
three cheers for democracy

Its potential weighing heavily   
on a younger generation;
whatever will be, will be…
Three cheers for democracy
  
Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

[Note: See also: http://rogertab.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/three-cheers-for-democracy-or-breakaway.html ]

L-I-F-E, Making the Case for Looking Forward

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

Even at 70, I am usually a very positive thinking person. However, after being made a captive audience at a neighbour’s recent rant about the problems commonly associated with old age, and how there is nothing to look forward to but death, I found myself struggling to rise above a growing sense of impending doom.

Dare I suggest that many if not most of us here in the UK are similarly weary in the wake of all the for and against arguments so passionately expressed by politicians doing their best to influence our vote in tomorrow’s EU referendum?

While browsing through some old papers, I discovered this little poem that I had all but forgotten, and it went a long way towards restoring not only flagging spirits but also a sense of proportion.

L-I-F-E, MAKING THE CASE FOR LOOKING FORWARD

Ancient trees sprouting new leaves,
old habitats harbouring new life;
ancient fields reviewing GM corn
where grasshoppers still singing

Old folks (like me) expecting to fly
with swallows come autumn;
old tales kept alive by winter fires,
tongues of flame poking at history

Memory, persuading young and old
to rework the poetry of its seasons
  
Copyright R N. Taber 2008

Remembering a Woman of Substance

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

[Update: 26.9.19: I share the view of many that it was in poor taste - to say the least -on the part of Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, to refer to the death of Jo Cox in the way that he did in the House of Commons last night; I suspect it was offensive to many, especially the dead woman's husband. Having watched the debate, I was appalled by some of the the language and rowdiness of many - on both sides of the House - who were constantly interrupting speakers. Do they not appreciate what bad example they are setting to those watching, especially impressionable young people?]

Every death comes as a shock, even when it is expected. But when it is a wholly innocent person and not only unexpected but also violent, it sends shock waves around a whole nation, even the world. The shock waves fade in time, but memory is a living organism and that never fades so long as there are family, friends, and other decent people out there who will not only cherish it but pass it on from generation to generation. 

On Thursday, June 16th 2016, Jo Cox MP, 41, wife and mother of two young children, was murdered in broad daylight by one of her own constituents in Birstall, West Yorkshire. 

Now, I never met Jo Cox, knew her only by reputation and from hearing her speak in Parliament on TV. However, the outpouring of genuine grief and shock - even across customary political and socio-cultural-religious divides - further highlights the fact that she was, indeed, an exceptional young woman of substance.

More about Jo Cox on wikipedia at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jo_Cox

Every death is a tragedy,  but the murder of a wife and mother in her prime as well as (already) a force to be reckoned with on a generally egocentric-driven political scene, that defies description. As for the killer’s motives, even his mental state at the time, these are barely relevant since nothing can change what has happened; all a poet can do is try to capture a little at least of the spirit of something in someone far better, and always well worth remembering.

This poem is a villanelle. (Why a villanelle…? By the very nature of its form, a villanelle requires a direct no-waffle, approach; by all accounts, Jo Cox was that kind of woman.)

Jo Cox [Photo taken from the Internet]

REMEMBERING A WOMAN OF SUBSTANCE

One loving wife and mother, 
rare breed of politician,
touching hearts, world over

Bringing opposites together,
her work, a passion;
one loving wife and mother

Anxious to make life better, 
a caring people person,
touching hearts, world over]

Crossing this and that barrier
set by culture or religion,
one loving wife and mother

No comfy chair commentator,
but getting things done,
touching hearts, the world over

Icon for life, senseless murder,
role model for a generation;
one loving wife and mother
touching hearts, world over

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

(London, June 17, 2016)