http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
This poem first appeared on my general blog in March 2010.
[Update (March 2016): A German reader has been in touch to ask if my poetry collections are available in German. Sadly, no. Eventually, revised editions of my books (published and unpublished in print form) will be available in e-format.]
For many if not most people - in whatever walk of life, and wherever - family is always at the heart of their consciousness and daily lives. Not so for all of us though. Apart from my mother, I have never felt as connected, in terms of mind-body spirit, to my family as to close friends; they are my family. Some of those to whom I relate and identify as soulmates have died, but stay with me still; invariably, I hear them whisper words of wisdom, comfort and moral support in my ear whenever I need any or all of those things the most. Moreover, over the years, I have met many people in the same boat, estranged from their families over differences in religion, sexuality, politics...whatever.
When, oh, when will more people realise and accept that our differences do not make us different, only human?
Meanwhile...
‘Jenny and Alan’ readers from Birmingham asked me to include this poem in a collection after reading it on the blog back in 2007. I was delighted to oblige and hope you and they will find lots to enjoy in whole collection.
This poem is a kenning.
LEAVES FROM A JOURNAL
I am a mother, keeping things together
even as they are seen to be falling apart
at the seams, nothing as it seems to eyes
homing in from this street, that fence…
failing to see through slats in blinds down
for the duration (a ritual celebration?)
Mother love, putting out feelers for ways
to end wars between brothers and sisters,
in-laws and neighbours
I am a father, home owner, mortgage
repayments having to take priority over
designer gear, latest PlayStation,
school trips, not to mention new cars
smarter, faster, than the one before,
sure to put theirs next door in the shade
and, no, we can’t just pile more credit
on cards unless you feel like explaining
bankruptcy to the neighbours
I am a child, weary of the rows between
Mum and Dad, sibling rivalry that’s not
half as bad as everyone’s making out…
and who cares if the neighbours have cash
to flash for vacations in prime locations,
digitals galore telling tales sure to have us
wagging tongues, scaling rungs...?
Sure, it’s okay to have this ‘n’ that, but not
if it means we keep scaring the cat
As spring to a branch, autumn to its tree,
I make, I take, I am family
[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
This poem first appeared on my general blog in March 2010.
[Update (March 2016): A German reader has been in touch to ask if my poetry collections are available in German. Sadly, no. Eventually, revised editions of my books (published and unpublished in print form) will be available in e-format.]
For many if not most people - in whatever walk of life, and wherever - family is always at the heart of their consciousness and daily lives. Not so for all of us though. Apart from my mother, I have never felt as connected, in terms of mind-body spirit, to my family as to close friends; they are my family. Some of those to whom I relate and identify as soulmates have died, but stay with me still; invariably, I hear them whisper words of wisdom, comfort and moral support in my ear whenever I need any or all of those things the most. Moreover, over the years, I have met many people in the same boat, estranged from their families over differences in religion, sexuality, politics...whatever.
When, oh, when will more people realise and accept that our differences do not make us different, only human?
Meanwhile...
‘Jenny and Alan’ readers from Birmingham asked me to include this poem in a collection after reading it on the blog back in 2007. I was delighted to oblige and hope you and they will find lots to enjoy in whole collection.
Family Group (in bronze) by Henry Moore (1950). [Photo from Internet]
This poem is a kenning.
LEAVES FROM A JOURNAL
I am a mother, keeping things together
even as they are seen to be falling apart
at the seams, nothing as it seems to eyes
homing in from this street, that fence…
failing to see through slats in blinds down
for the duration (a ritual celebration?)
Mother love, putting out feelers for ways
to end wars between brothers and sisters,
in-laws and neighbours
I am a father, home owner, mortgage
repayments having to take priority over
designer gear, latest PlayStation,
school trips, not to mention new cars
smarter, faster, than the one before,
sure to put theirs next door in the shade
and, no, we can’t just pile more credit
on cards unless you feel like explaining
bankruptcy to the neighbours
I am a child, weary of the rows between
Mum and Dad, sibling rivalry that’s not
half as bad as everyone’s making out…
and who cares if the neighbours have cash
to flash for vacations in prime locations,
digitals galore telling tales sure to have us
wagging tongues, scaling rungs...?
Sure, it’s okay to have this ‘n’ that, but not
if it means we keep scaring the cat
As spring to a branch, autumn to its tree,
I make, I take, I am family
[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
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