One World, Mixed feelings, a Thousand Cuts

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

[Update July 3rd 2018]:Every now and then readers email to ask why I post both gay-interest and general poems on my Google+ site. [Google have since removed personal posts from that site.]A reader wrote only yesterday to insist they are separate genres. Well, everyone is entitled to their point of view, but I see them as alternative voices of the same genre, A poem is a poem is a poem regardless of content just as a person is a person is a person regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. Similarly, one voice, one world. As I have said before, our differences don't make us different, only human.]

In 2016, National Theatre head Rufus Norris and artist Jeremy Deller were behind a project taking place across the UK with men dressed as World War One soldiers. Each carried a card with the name of the soldier they represented and his age - if known - when he died. This ‘living memorial’ involved about 1,500 voluntary participants appearing in public spaces across the UK; the project, entitled We're Here Because We're Here, was commissioned by 14-18 NOW, the UK's arts programme for the World War One centenary.

Gay people go to war too, of course, always have and always will even if they have had to keep their sexuality under wraps. (Why under wraps? Nature does not discriminate so why should human nature; human nature is better than that...isn't it? Oh, world religions may discriminate but I sincerely doubt any God would, and I don't say that because I am gay but simply as a human being with a strong sense of spirituality that I chose to take from nature rather than any religion even as a child.)

Now, I do not believe in a life after death as such, but neither do I believe in some eternal nothingness. Nature tells me there is a never-ending sense of renewal. My own feelings assure me we live on in the lives - not just the memory - of others. So what of those who never knew us and what will happen to those memories when family and friends who shared them are all dead?  No one knows, of course, and although I do not subscribe to any religion, I envy those who do if only in the sense that it must be very comforting to feel assured that this life is not all there is for us.

Ah, but we are all influenced by other people; in turn, we, too, influence others by what we say and do. In this way we create a ‘presence’ that even death cannot wipe away as if we were but a smudge on the temporal landscape. In this way, at least, we continue our paths through ‘live’ time and space if only in spirit.

There is an old saying, 'Where there's life, there's hope' - and life is everywhere...

This poem is a kenning.

ONE WORLD, MIXED FEELINGS, A THOUSAND CUTS

Death caught my hand one day,
and led me through a cold, dark place
where a part of me wanted to stay;
the cold, it stripped all my pain away;
the dark, it hid tears on my face
for the part of me so wanting to stay;
temptation, an end to endeavour,
but sure to make me suffer for a part
of me that’s come to...nothing?

Broken heart, telling me straight
while peering over Death’s shoulder
at that part of me wanting to die;
suddenly, a welcome light appears,
inciting a rush of heat to the body,
sufficient to allay even secret fears;
I succumb to a familiar embrace,
hear a loved voice reciting the poetry
of that part of me I cannot face

Enter, the life force of humanity,
its responsibility to liberty, equality
and fraternity, no excuses
(in any socio-cultural -religious name)
for undermining the principles
of democracy by silencing its voices
among which sexuality has no less
right to be heard and heeded as any other
in a world found wanting

I am Hope, homing in on world history,
inspiring free spirits, century to century

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2016

[Note: This is not a new post, but one that was accidentally deleted; the poem has been significantly revised since it first appeared on the blog in 2010.]

The Zen of Renewal OR Outlook, Positive

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

So many people tell me every year that they dread January 1^st, a whole new year stretching ahead that is unlikely to live up to either Happy Christmas or New Year celebrations. January sales on the High Street are more likely to be suspect than generous (shifting unwanted stock) and any excitement over ‘bargains’ short-lived. 

So, what next? What, indeed…? Dare I suggest it is down to us…not circumstances-beyond-our-control or fate by any other name …but us. 

Oh, we are not entirely in control of whatever life dishes us. That is SO true. We ARE, though, in control (if we choose to take it) of how – in the longer term at least – we choose to respond. We all have choices and many if not most of these are not easily made, but choosing positives over negatives has to be a good thing … well, doesn’t it?

Now, if New Year creates a sense of renewal in us, that is just the start - albeit a good one - of a lifetime process; we  need to keep up the momentum during the months to come, do our best to stay positive whatever life (and weather) chooses to throw at us. (Did I say it would be easy?)

An integral part of the human condition is its spirit, regardless of whether or not we subscribe to any religion; we need to trust it to see us through any bad times and return us to a positive sense of who we really are ... better than the worst life can throw at us, for a start

Once we start feeding negative thoughts into mind-body-spirit, the chances are it will go onto free fall sooner rather than later. I've done that, been there and ... never again, if I can help it.

Here's wishing you all a Happy, Positive and Peaceful life,

Love 'n' Hugs,

Roger x

THE ZEN OF RENEWAL or OUTLOOK, POSITIVE

Another year begs

to be enjoyed for its own sake,

not as reparation

for others that have let us down,

failed to live up

to expectations feeding dreams

that fail to mature…

because that’s just how it is,

the way we are?

Another year

pleads a chance to prove itself,

not as reparation

for glossing over past misfortunes

turning mountains

into molehills so the human ego

can rest easy…

because that’s just how it is,

the way we are?

Another year

when looking back at negatives

will get us nowhere

unless it’s back where we started

before we began

to get wise to false promises

and fake news…

because that’s just how it is,

the way we are?

Another year,

urging mind-body-spirit to listen

to its weaker self

focusing on losses, regrets, mistakes,

and making excuses

for not looking on the bright side

of life…

because that’s just how it is,

the way we are?

Another year,

making time to let a dawn chorus

reassure us all

that nature and human nature but wait

to be embraced

in a spirit of hope-peace-love

(raison d’être)

because that’s just how it is,

the way we are

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

The Play's the Thing OR Audience Appreciation Paramount

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

‘One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and nature shall not be broken.’ – Leo Tolstoy

That quote leapt to mind one evening only recently as I recalled observing a glorious sunset from my bedroom window that looked over the backyard and garden of my childhood family home.  I experienced such a link then, like an electric current so powerful it made my head swim and almost knocked me off my feet.

I was only 13 years-old at the time, and that feeling of intense, personal bonding with nature has never left me even in my darkest moments. Whenever people let me down (as people are inclined from time to time) I go for a walk in the country, let Earth Mother  dry any tears and lend me the strength to rise above any ill feeling.  

Nature, too, of course lets us down sometimes; Earth Mother can be a harsh mentor. Yet, mentors teach and the better pupil will learn. While we should not cherry pick what we choose to take on board or reject, I suspect most if not all of us do just that. Whatever, I look around and see the world Shakespeare once likened to a stage as parts of a whole, and I bond with that whole, and the whole is nature.

I also recall my English Teacher at secondary school, 'Jock Rankin', commenting that we are to nature as nature is to us, and the sooner humanity gets to grips with that, the greater its chances of survival.  Like everyone else in Class 5B, I nodded and said “Yes, sir!” although none of us had a clue what he meant at the time. When I summon that moment to my mind’s eye now, though, more than half a century later, I am not in class at all, but that same bedroom window experiencing an epiphany in a sunset…

Ever get the feeling we are all but players in a docudrama, have been such since the beginning of time, and doubtless will continue to be so as past, present and future merges into that infinity we call death .... ?

"The play's the thing..." says Hamlet in Shakespeare's own play, referring to how his play will give the audience food for thought on recent events. Much the same, though, can be a said for all performance arts, (indeed, all art) in the sense of its intending to  give any audience serious food for thought as well as pleasure and entertainment.

THE PLAY'S THE THING or AUDIENCE APPRECIATION PARAMOUNT

Glad blue skies, a stagy backcloth

to sad, naked branches

barely hinting at far kinder times

yet to come once winter

has worked its worst on humanity

for wanting to prove itself

better, stronger than Earth Mother

while working its worst

on all things bright, beautiful

and freely given

Sad clouds leading us a merry dance

for wondering if any tears

that may (or may not) fall are meant

to harm (even kill) or nurture,

inspire, re-invent an ethos of peace,

love, kindness and respect

for nature, human nature, all-inclusive

no cherry picking for any ego

demanding the bright and beautiful

serve its own interests

Grey skies, making no sure promises

(or threats) to naked humanity

anxious to avoid the worst of nature

yet to come once winters

of the heart have worked their worst

on human mind-body-spirit

obsessed with survival for its own sake

rather than acknowledging it

all the brighter and more beautiful

for freely given

Amber-red skies, reflecting uncertainty

on earth as it is in heavens

anxious to see us avoid the very worst

we knowingly or unknowingly

propagate for the sake of a greater good

as reworked by dogma

bent on killing freedom of expression

by imaging only the brighter

and more beautiful in its own eyes,

on its own terms

Wide, open skies, ever inviting all nature

and human nature to a life

freely given, never for the asking or taking

besides Time’s remit

written in tablets of stone before its seasons

flowered, died and rose again

as humankind woke, slept and woke again;

testimony to old gods, new gods

and digitalised mock-ups... no match

for Earth Mother

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Redemption

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

I discovered the original version of this poem in a drawer while collating a collection in 2007; it was dated May 1979, only months before I had a nervous breakdown from which it would take me a few years to recover. 

Regular readers will know that I often revise poems, sometimes only slightly, sometimes drastically, but always significantly. This doesn't mean I lack confidence in a poem at the time, only that my perception of whatever feelings prompted me to write the poem in the first place have changes or at east shifted. Many poems in my early collections were  written long before I achieved any level of maturity as a poet although not all have been subsequently revised. I have no regrets about publishing them, though, if only because this maturation (an ongoing process) fascinates me; hopefully, readers might find it - as well as the poems - of interest too. 

Meanwhile...

By all means let’s reach for the stars…but be sure not to strive so hard that we miss what is under our very noses.

REDEMPTION

Wishing on a star 

in our loneliest hour;

empathy with a sad moon

for hope gone

Searching a rainbow

for a kinder tomorrow;
chasing a playful sunbeam

in a daydream

Reaching for a sky

that would have us cry;
make merry with songbirds, 
learning the words

Making a fresh start

on Main Street, play a part 
in what makes the world turn,
no need to run

Letting imagination

realise its own redemption
for giving nature and humanity
a shared reality

Seeking peace of mind,

where sceptical humankind

makes of any promises and trust
but handfuls or dust 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Handfuls of Dust' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

When Winter Comes OR Mind-Body-Spirit, Never Say Die

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

Many of us, enjoy the colours and subtle nuances than falling leaves in autumn all the more because needs must we brace ourselves for what could well be a hard  winter ahead weather-wise. 

Others may well face a testing winter of the heart, wherever they may be, regardless of time and seasons. Some may well argue it’s a case of the survival of the fittest, and there is a lot of truth in that, but the physically weak can also be emotionally strong; strong enough even to rise above  wintry blasts of depression, anxiety, everyday concerns …

We have but to give a natural lust for life its head and the chances are its predilection for positive thinking will, in time, rescue us from the pull of negative forces, bypass even the most heroic stoicism, and allow an innate optimism, Hope’s much loved bed-fellow, to once again play a leading role in our lives.

Wherever we may be in the world, whatever its weather patterns, day will always follow night just as winter will always follow spring on the calendar of nature and human nature alike; the latter, though, needs must find a way to turn on the power of mind-body-spirit to save its natural optimism from dying just long enough to rediscover that raison d’être which has to be as good a metaphor for spring as any other.

WHEN WINTER COMES or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT,  NEVER SAY DIE

Oh, but when winter comes,

I look around and see trees stripped bare,

and petals in tatters where flowers

once lifted this heart now close to tears

for having watched the swallows fly south

that once greeted its spring

Oh, but when winter comes,

I look around at snowfall on the ground,

see children playing, laughing,

making merry with each other instead

of being glued to social media in a world

whose seasons rolled into one

Oh, but when winter comes

find the days grow shorter, nights longer,

all the more so for a prevailing

north wind wailing like some lost spirit

of summer trying to find its way back home,

familiar landmarks wiped out

Oh, but when winter comes,

I’ll see robins give the lie to defeatism 

in as sweet a song as ever there was

to fill a sad heart with hope for a future

beyond any wintry landscape’s implying

positive thinking is a cruel hoax

Oh, but when winter comes,

I’ll get together with friends, make light

of any feelings of empty days

or lonely nights for hearts beating in time

to what is, after all, but an overture to spring

composed-performed by nature

Oh, but when winter comes,

may divided societies around the world

yet join hands and dance

to the music of its time, fan any flickering

peace-liberty-fraternity into a flaming spring, 

season of second chances...

Copyright R N Taber, 2017

Death in Vegas

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

On the night of October 1, 2017, Stephen Paddock, a 64-year-old man from Mesquite, Nevada, opened fire upon the crowd attending the Route 91 Harvest music festival on the Las Vegas Strip in Nevada.  The incident is the deadliest mass shooting committed by an individual in the history of the United States. All our hearts must surely go out to the families and friends killed and injured.

I have known Americans for and against existing gun laws in the U.S over many years; the latter, invariably sick of always being shouted down by those for whom any change in laws enshrined in the Constitution would be tantamount to an infringement of their human rights. Even some family members and friends of the many who have been killed or maimed in terrible shooting incidents like that in Las Vegas recently continue to demand what they seem to see as a natural right to protection by arming themselves. (How does stricter control of the sale of guns infringe anyone’s Human Rights?)

Many argue that existing gun laws in the U.S. should not be seen as having been inscribed on tablets of stone; not only more appropriate to its pioneer days than a modern America but also  responsible for continuing outbreaks of violence on its streets, including such carnage as witnessed in Las Vegas. Relatively rare such shocking events may be, at least on such a scale, but isn’t it high time for some serious, informed, common sense debate on the subject without the powerful gun lobby invariably getting the upper hand by such under hand tactics as accusing the opposition of disloyalty to - even betrayal of and disrespect for - their country’s finer democratic principles?

Readers may think that, as an Englishman, America’s gun laws are none of my business and they may well be right. Even so, people from all over the world visit the U.S. for pleasure and business. I enjoyed a 4-week stay there myself some years ago. Doesn’t everyone deserve to feel less at risk by antiquated gun laws that simply need tightening?  

Should any law be considered sacrosanct in its original form where a few common sense amendments might well save even just one human life? I suspect we all know what the dead would say if they had a voice so maybe it’s time they were given one…? Don't all those comprising democratic societies bear some responsibility for that?

'Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in Mankind...' John Donne

Ah, I can all but hear one American friend say, but Donne was an Englishman and the English have no idea about other cultures. That may well be true, but - not least because I am gay man, I am reminded of the African-American writer Ernest J. Gaines on record for asking, 'Why is it that, as a culture, we are more comfortable seeing two men holding guns than holding hands?'

Food for thought, at least, surely...?

DEATH IN VEGAS 

Country ways in the city,

music for building dreams by

for eye and ear

Grass growing greener

in a city pretending not a care

in the world

Celebration on location,

sunny faces wreathed in smiles,

poetry of joy

Suddenly, out of nowhere,

all is chaos, devastation, grudges

out of the past

Random shots at the sun

if only to show Man's darker side

(for what, sport?)

Ask the birds and the wildlife

whose freedom was meant to count

for something

Ask folks on Las Vegas Strip

one October evening about legends

on tablets of stone...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

London, UK, October 3^rd 2017

A Leaf out of Time

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

Another old poem, this, recently unearthed under layers of dust in a cupboard; it reveals a love affair with rhyme that has lasted the best part of a lifetime although I seem to have rekindled  another on-off affair with blank verse recently.

At school, more years ago than I care to remember, we were sometimes given homework by our English teacher, ‘Jock’ Rankin the title of which would comprise just a few words. We were expected to  comment at any length (or brevity) on these words and what they meant to us; subsequently, the best comments would be shared with and debated in class another time.  One such title was Beginnings and Endings. After much head scratching, I asked my mother what on earth there was to say about beginning and endings other than they…well, begin and end?

My mother merely shrugged over the ironing, “It depends how you choose to see either, I suppose. I mean, some of us see endings as no more or less than beginnings that have run their course and are up for something new…”

Jock was impressed and asked me where I had found the quote. When I said, my mother, he asked me to thank her for making his day.

Oh, but I love autumn, so beautiful if tinged with sadness; memories of spring and summer held in safe-keeping by Earth Mother to be rummaged and enjoyed over and over through even the worst winters...

A LEAF OUT OF TIME

I've floated free, like a leaf
in a world still half-asleep,
kept company with sparrows,
watched its willows weep

I've watched the hands of time
sign warnings to passers-by
concerning the fall of Icarus,
(the eternal How-and-Why)

I've seen foxes stalk their kill,
heard the victim’s last cry,
protesting an ages-old truth,
(a time to live, a time to die)

I've heard the lonely singing
love songs loud and clear;
lasting memories of a summer,
though its close drawing near

Breeze dropping, the leaf too
that once had pride of place,
but gently, evergreen epiphany
through all time and space

I'm left lying on a bed of moss,
an everyday lesson learned,
that each new day, my being gay,
is but a leaf in Nature’s hand

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2017