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.

Monday 22 January 2018

Finding Neverland


This poem was written while I was recovering from a bad nervous breakdown in the early 1980’s. I found it buried under various documents for which I no longer have any use, and thought some readers might be interested.  Writing - especially poetry - helped me through that breakdown to a new job nearly 4 years later, one that would take me to retirement in 2008.

FINDING NEVERLAND

Oh, to ride a cloud
out of Nowhere, carrying me
Somewhere

Somewhere,
all varieties of plant and animal
in harmony

Somewhere,
no acid rain or polluted oceans,
only beauty

Somewhere,
no hint of war or double dealings,
only peace

Somewhere,
no hate crime grabbing headlines,
only love

Somewhere,
no socio-cultural-religious dogma,
only humanity

It’s cloud nine
to Somewhere, only ever dumps us
back Here

Here, there…
round trip to Neverland where hope
springs eternal

Copyright R. N. Taber 1983; 2018





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Tuesday 16 January 2018

A Positive Take on Adversity or L-I-F-E. No Waiting Game

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

I have read poems at voluntary self-help groups from time to time. Many of the people who attend are on welfare and/or have mental health problems and/ or alcohol or drug related problems. These are fine people, trying to help themselves and each other with precious little help or encouragement from outside the group. It is inspiring to see them pulling together in adversity and learning to take responsibility for themselves and each other; a lesson the less enlightened among us would do well to learn instead of preferring to pass judgement on others.

Help, encouragement, reassurance...these ARE all out there, but rarely will they simply knock on our door; we need to knock on theirs and find the words to ASK. I well recall how my mother once told me that life is no waiting game, how we have to get out there and live it, and that means meeting each other at least halfway.

 A POSITIVE TAKE ON ADVERSITY or L-I-F-E, NO WAITING GAME

Coming together, supporting each other,
toes in the Sea of Life, getting a feel for the swim
rather than drown

Making an effort to come down to a shore
where seaweed and shells on shifting sands spread
rather than stay in bed

A part of a life tide’s natural ebb and flow
yet frightened of its fickle nature, all highs and lows
but a Hall of Mirrors

Alone, it is hard to bear the happy sounds
of children laughing, applause for ice cream chimes,
hints at kinder times

In good company, easier by far to break free
of shadows stalking us, driving us to seek sanctuary
in cages of our history

Together, let’s imagine wings, flex and fly,
take heart from songbirds rejoicing seashore and sky,
no matter where or why

As rough or fair as any sea passage may be,
let us look to fellow voyagers, let a creative empathy
reconstruct our history

Coming together, supporting each other,
getting a feel for wings rising above, learning how
to trust in Nature’s love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared  under the title 'A Feeling for Seagulls' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]


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Monday 1 January 2018

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.]

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Sunday 31 December 2017

The Zen of Renewal OR Outlook, Positive


So many people tell me every year that they dread January 1st, 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






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Friday 29 December 2017

The Play's the Thing OR Audience Appreciation Paramount


‘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

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Wednesday 29 November 2017

Redemption


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.]


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Wednesday 1 November 2017

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


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

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