A Tapestry of Life

 

From Roger’s friend, Graham

 

Greetings and welcome,

I hope that you’re thriving wherever you are in the world. A quick update - I’m still working on part 2 of Roger’s poetry reading for YouTube. In the meantime, I’m sharing some further reflections on his poetry.

A recurring theme in Roger’s work is an intimate relationship with nature. His narratives explore complex  interconnectivity between animals, plants, environment and self. Beyond the impressionistic imagery lies a deeper communion with nature aspiring to the sacred. Roger’s inspiration flowed from this affinity with the natural environment. He described it as pantheism - although it also shares ideals with Jainism.

Both Roger and I grew up under the yoke of Christian tradition - which we rejected in adulthood. But our reasons went beyond the insidious anti-gay and misogynist bigotry lurking in certain Old Testament tracts. It was the notion that humans stand alone in all creation as being divinely inspired; uniquely housing a ‘soul’. That flawed foundation of ethics which affords adherents free reign to exploit and enslave (so-called) lesser creatures and desecrate the environment - while obviating responsibility as to suffering or consequence. As with the other Abrahamic religions, Christian dogma conjures the illusion of separation from, and elevation over the rest of nature. (It also provides insight into ecclesiastical hubris.)

The enlightenment of science teaches us that this is fundamentally and evidentially wrong. We share 98.8% of our DNA with chimpanzees - with whom we share a common ancestor 6-7 million years ago. We can trace our evolutionary lineage on the tree of life back through millennia. Our origin and purpose in the universe aren’t inscribed on tablets of stone, but rather, recorded indelibly within strata of rock.

Humankind are not the animal kingdom’s divinely-ordained overlords – we’re it’s caretakers; bearing that weight of responsibility. We’ve close kinship to our fellow creatures. Who could gaze into the eyes of their pet dog, their cat or other domesticated animals and not sense their emotional complexity? Who could fail to acknowledge their affection, their joy or their pain? It offers an inkling that we’re part of something bigger… part of Earth Mother’s glorious magnum opus comprising all living things.

Roger’s nature poems recognise that we’re inextricably interwoven into the tapestry of life; that we’re but threads within the greater fabric of existence.

Take care,
Gx

 

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ANTHEM PLAYED ON A GRASS HARP

Watery sun dripping through trees,
leaves sparkling like jewels in a crown
where we’d wander, my love and I,
ears pricking up at a chick’s first cry,
looking out for others flapping their way
on first flights through dawn rainbows
till gliding with ease as nature meant
for us all, although less so among humans,
a species well known for thinking they
know better than Earth Mother, wishing
them ill (and Hell) who resist straitjackets
and persist in walking tall

On a magic carpet of many colours,
among daisies passing for fairies
in a palace of dreams, we’d go free,
where all prejudices and bigotry
mean less than a fair breeze in the face,
Earth Mother’s caress in the hair,
reminding us how we are, one and all,
as nature intended, no one creature
any more or less precious than another,
each, in their own way, a ‘live’
testament to mind-body-spirit and a history
lending meaning to eternity

We arrived where the carpet
tuned into stone, where no sun shining,
only Shadows, a gathering of forces
preparing to take humanity on and win
any fight it may choose to pick,
no matter rights and wrongs (or alternative
points of view); for them, a certainty
that the world has no place for men, women
and young people whose sexuality
offends a majority choosing to make stand
on a Ship of Fools in a gale force wind, set on
making sense of humankind

Oh, but spring in our hair like jewels in a crown
Love takes for its own!

 

Copyright R.N. Taber 2010 from the collection ‘On the Battlefields of Love’. Revised 2021.

In Praise of Saint Sebastian

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

Many thanks to those readers who have been in touch to wish me luck with my novel, Catching up with Murder 

I am not a 'great' writer nor do I profess to be, but people often tell me I tell a good tale and that's always music to my ears. My mother used to read me stories as a child and I became an avid reader. She used to read me 'story' poems too; The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes and The Ancient Mariner by Coleridge were my favourites. I guess that's why many of my poems tell a story. I am always thrilled when readers get in touch to say they enjoy my 'story' poems.

For years, my favourite port of call has been my local public library; as a child and young adult, long before I became a professional librarian. Sadly, many public libraries are being forced to close here in the UK due to government cutbacks. It is very sad, and I say than not only as a librarian who has worked in public libraries most of my working life but also as someone who has seen at first hand the sense of community that libraries inspire. The library is also a treasure house of information. Some people say that books are going out of fashion and people can get all the information they want from the Internet. Me, I think it will be many years yet before books go out of fashion and, yes, the Internet is a wonderful information resource, but many people still cannot access it, let alone use it quickly and efficiently as well trained library staff.

For children, the library is magical and introduces them to a whole new world of storybooks and learning. Busy adults may neglect their local library, but those children who have fond memories of going there will nearly always return to it, in later years, perhaps with their own children.

In my view, local councils across the UK are being very short-sighted in closing so many libraries. Once a library has been closed, I fear it will never re-open and a valuable community resource will have been lost forever.

Meanwhile...

It can take a long time to get a poem right. Some readers may recognise parts of this poem. It appeared on the blog some time ago under a different title; I have also changed the final couplet. While I have always liked the poem, it has never quite worked for me until now. I can only hope some readers will find that it works for them too.

Ironically, given the attitude of many Christians towards gay people, one of the earliest gay icons was Saint Sebastian, a Christian saint and martyr who has fascinated artists both gay and straight for centuries. I dare say it was not by chance that Tennessee Williams chose to use that name for the martyred character Sebastian in his play, Suddenly, Last Summer. The name was also used by Oscar Wilde (as Sebastian Melmoth) when in exile after his release from prison.

My first introduction to Saint Sebastian was Derek Jarman’s brilliant retelling of his tragic tale in the movie, Sebastiane.

This poem is a kenning.

IN PRAISE OF SAINT SEBASTIAN

Dream icon, kept alive
for centuries, through thick and thin,
peace and war,
harvest or famine, drought or flood,
a hope for better times
that will look kindly upon us all
as we pursue the birthright
for which we were intended,
come calm or squall

Dream icon, kept alive
for centuries, though an inhumanity
persist in its persecution
of those daring to resist, question
layers of convention
piled high upon cherished tradition
seeing its better values
perish in faces putting matches
to oil in troubled waters

Dream icon, kept alive
for centuries, despised by the many,
respected by the few,
(understood by fewer still) until
a gradual progression
of wider education came to fruition,
finding compassion, admiration
for my tenacity, a growing empathy
with my humanity

I share the agony and ecstasy of pillows
left tearful for the world’s gay lovers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2011, 2021

[Note: The poem first appeared on the blog under the title Sebastian; I have since revised it and gave it the title you see now in 2021.]

Alternatives OR My Life, My Choices (No one Else's)

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

Several readers have contacted me about my poem 'Only Human' about the guilt many Catholixs are made to feel for being gay. Opinion was divided for and against and only marginally the former. One person wrote, ‘…you should be ashamed of yourself for attacking the Holy Father, you along with gay and transgender s**t heads everywhere. As for saying you are not disrespectful of religion, it is not the impression anyone would have from reading your blogs. How dare you share your sick mind and spirit with others…?’

Well, the reader is entitled to his or her opinion of course…and so am I. I have always thought it's a great pity more people aren’t prepared to agree to differ rather than insult or fight each other.

Meanwhile…

Most people who wrote in were sympathetic to my point of view whether or not they agreed with it. One person, though, said ‘It is typical of a gay man to turn his back on God. Go on, admit it. You would be too ashamed to face Him…that’s why you can’t handle religion, because you know God disapproves of your lifestyle.’

Oh, dear, Roger’s in hot water again…

For a start, I certainly don’t believe it is ‘typical’ of a gay man or woman to turn their backs on God; many gay people have succeeded in reconciling their sexuality with their religion in spite of innumerable obstacles placed in their paths by the less enlightened among heterosexual family members and friends, not to mention religious leaders who use religion not only as an excuse but also as a weapon to defend their bigotry.

While I take issue with many aspects of religion, I respect all those who are prepared to enter into its basic humanitarian rather than just theological principles; that is to say, keep an open mindedness and open heartedness without which dogma and ritual are little more than play acting.

Everyone is entitled to believe in what or whom they will or nothing and no one at all. But lose our capacity for humanity and its respect for those with whom we can but agree to differ and we may well find ourselves but play acting in the longest running soap opera of all…

There are always alternatives, even if only sometimes rock and hard place. Moreover, maturity entitles us to make our own choices, not have them made for us by those who like to think they always know what’s best for us, and for whom the sum total of those same alternatives is invariably their ultimate nemesis.

We don't have a choice about being gay, it has to be in the genes or there would be no accounting for gay people worldwide from all manner of socio-cultural-religious backgrounds. No, choice comes if, how and when we decide to openly acknowledge being gay or live a lie. Some societies make this all but impossible, in which those circumstances, it may well be enough to acknowledge our sexuality to ourselves and those closest to us (who may need a little time to get used to the idea). Meanwhile, those gay people who have the moral courage to go a step further and knock on that gay-unfriendly society's door  to be let in deserve our praise, admiration and gratitude since that is the only way bigotry will be defeated.

ALTERNATIVES or MY LIFE, MY CHOICES (NO ONE ELSE'S)

I looked for God in heaven
but did not find Him there,
looked again, in sun and rain
for Earth Mother

Some say it’s, oh, so pagan,
as bad as being gay;
I just see myself as someone
looking nature’s way

God is many things to many,
interpreting His conditions
for the good of all humanity
according to its religions

The sun rises, sets, rises again
and no one takes issue
nor that moon and stars shine
or songbirds sleep as we do

Let nature sue for harmony,
hear our confessions,
and we feed less on acrimony
spread by world religions

To wake, sleep and wake again
may or may not imply rebirth
and, yes, each to his or her own
but we share a common earth

Who looks for God in heaven
and does not find Him there
has but to look in sun and rain
for Earth Mother

See, too, nature assert its power
where humankind gone too far

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[Note: From: Tracking the Torchbearer: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]