Room With A View

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

Whenever I skip a day or two of writing up the blog, I receive a flood of emails telling me they miss it! Well, many thanks for that, and okay, you win. I’ll do my best, but cannot promise a post every day. I will continue to post new poems when I can. In the meantime, readers will have to be content with poems that have already appeared on the blog although I will continue trying to make sure there is usually a gap of at least eighteen months to two years between appearances on any particular blog even if not between blogs. [A poem posted on one blog often appears on the other a few weeks or months later.]

If feedback is anything to go by, relatively few readers dip into both general and gay-interest blogs, but no surprises there as there is still a socio-cultural-religious divide in many parts of the world; even in the West, depending on whether or not we grow up in a gay-friendly home environment. By including both general and gay-interest poems in my collections, those readers who feel obliged to be discreet, for whatever reason, are free to be seen reading them without anyone knowing whether it is for the general or gay material or both.

Now, I appreciate that many of you do not have the time to browse the blog archives for poems, especially those of you who are unable to access a computer at home. Be sure that I am grateful for and delighted with  your support and encouragement with the blog. I can but hope some of this might express itself in book sales, especially regarding my new collection - Tracking The Torchbearer - in the spring. In the past, I have always sold enough copies to cover printing costs and contribute to new print runs/publications. However, I have grave doubts about even recovering costs for Torchbearer given the tough financial climate in which we are living.

Let’s face it. Poetry is never going to be even near the top of anyone’s wish list. If I do lose money on Torchbearer, I may well not be able to afford to fund another collection from my pension and retirement savings. Even so, I will continue to offer a generous blog discount; contact me at:

rogertab@aol.com

A poetry publisher once implied it might be interested in publishing my collections if I left out my gay-interest poems. Oh, but no way! [There is a literary if not moral principle involved here.] Readers will always be able to access the blogs, of course, although a good few get in touch to tell me how they enjoy accessing the various sections of my poetry books on the bus or train, while grabbing a few minutes of peace and quiet in a favourite arm chair or even in bed.

We shall see what we shall see. I will be letting everyone know when I can start taking orders for signed copies nearer the publication of Tracking The Torchbearer.

Meanwhile...

Who hasn’t, at some time or another, sat hunched in a chair, chin in hands, brooding about whatever issues are plaguing us, staring at the carpet without really seeing it?

Stare long enough, and the inner eye may well home in on far more than we bargained for; reminding us perhaps that we, too, have a part to play in shaping the landscape of history; big or small is less relevant than a need to nurture the flowers in our garden rather than sit back and watch weeds grow. Where anxiety is the enemy, we dare not let it win, but (somehow) find the inspiration to rise up against it and strike a blow for the free self.

Today’s poem has its roots in a turn of fancy many years ago when gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK, and, as a tormented teenager, I seriously considered suicide. Imagination came to my rescue as it would again nearly twenty years later when I suffered a severe nervous breakdown.

Never dismiss the power of imagination or believe it belongs only to the realms of fantasy; there is nothing like a strong dose to bring an ailing mind and heart to their senses.

Yes, there is a lot to be said for simply ‘letting go’ and letting imagination put a positive spin on contemplation before self-pity and despair make a last ditch effort to win us over.

ROOM WITH A VIEW

Flowers in the carpet
starting to grow
where there was only
a muddy brown

Reaching for clouds
whiter than whites
of eyes left staring into
an enemy’s face

Flowers in the carpet
starting to dance
like a ballet company
for ‘Spartacus’

Romans, rounding up
slaves for the killing,
and only carpet flowers
to weep our graves

Flowers in the carpet
but fading memories,
we slaves of Time found
wanting in its eyes

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010