Spirit of Autumn

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2014. 

I will be publishing fewer posts/poems on the blogs for some time while I concentrate on updating previous editions of my collections and preparing a new one. Again, I will Having been unable to interest any publishers/ agents in a mix of general and gay -interest poems, I will probably self-publish the latter but only have 200 or so copies printed; new editions of previous collections will only be available online and I will le everyone know when they are available to be uploaded. 

People often tell me they find autumn a sad month because it means winter is closing in, but as I have often pointed out on my blogs… after winter, spring.

Better, surely, to look forward to spring than dread winter? 

In the meantime, let us enjoy autumn for all its glorious colours and the sense of eternal optimism these are surely meant to inspire in us, an optimism that well may fail us from time to time...but, as my late mother once said, there is an eternal springtime of the loving, hopeful heart sure to inspire and help us through all the seasons of life, even the hardest of its winters...if we will but keep faith with it. When I pointed out that I was not a religious person, she simply responded to the effect that no religion has a monopoly on love and hope since we are all born with a potential capacity for both. How far we choose to apply it, she would argue, has more to do with human nature than religion. (My mother was a Christian, but like all the more remarkable religious-minded people, whatever their religion, she closed her heart and mind to no one.)

SPIRIT OF AUTUMN

Autumn leaves ...

Drifting by my window

like dreams I have nurtured

with love and care

in the garden of my life

where some flowered

in their season while others

were battered by wind and rain,

never to be seen again

Autumn leaves ...

Whirling by my window

like dervishes in a frenzied

dance of life and death,

sustained by a rage to seize

the day, come what may,

on the battlefields of my life

where I have risked all to prove

a born capacity for love

Autumn leaves ...

Clinging to my window

as Apollo clings to the last patch

of blue before sunset,

bids nature and human nature

rest easy on hard won laurels,

so-brief enough reprieve before

more rude awakenings to a world

falling on its sword

Autumn leaves ...

Ripped from my window

like pages of memory best left

to whims of wind and rain

while I enjoy each dreamy leaf,

petal and blade of grass

found in the garden of my life

whose choirs heard singing each day

of my pride in being gay

Autumn leaves, tears of Earth Mother

for any that cannot see beyond winter

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2020

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general blog today] RNT

An Autumn Kindling

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2011.

Strange, isn't it, how some snatches of idle conversation stay in your head for all time while we can often barely recall the substance of the most earnest debate?

When I was a kid, some 70 years ago, overheard someone remark to my mother how she loved spring because ‘it’s the month for falling in love, and you’re never too old for that.’ My mother agreed, but added, ‘Love doesn’t have a season, silly. It’s an anytime, anyplace, anywhere, anyone thing.’

She knew a thing or two, my mum. 

AN AUTUMN KINDLING

Autumn is a sad time, some say,

yet it’s a glad time of year for me,

recalling how one cold October

brought us a gloriously sunny day

when we paused, total strangers,

to watch squirrels in a tree at play

The tree, it was a pretty evergreen,

its shiny leaves smelling of summer,

recalling how one gorgeous June

I’d met a stunningly handsome man,

misread a one-night stand as love,

swore how I’d never go there again

The squirrels were a sight to see,

seemed unconcerned by our laughter;

we caught each other’s lively eye

and your smile, it stirred ashes in me

as near dead flames starting to flicker,

autumn wind blowing far less coldly

We chatted for a while, took a photo

of the playful squirrels on our phones

till they scampered way out of sight;

nothing else for it now but part and go

our separate ways, yet we lingered,

and in your eyes, I saw my fire’s glow

Winter days are cheerless, some say,

yet they’re a glad time of year for me,

recalling how one golden October

blessed us with a glorious autumn day

when we paused, we total strangers,

to watch squirrels in tall pine at play

The tree, oh, the prettiest evergreen,

its shiny leaves smelling of summer

and already re-working my life history,

telling the squirrels all about two men

getting very cosy and warm if shyly,

and plainly intending to go there again

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2020

An Affinity with the Life-Force of Dead leaves

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

A new poem today for autumn, and falling leaves everywhere (not confined to autumn) in a very blustery wind.

We all feel low sometimes. Only yesterday, I found myself relating to a dead leaf in the street, heading for a drain; a depressing experience until I reminded myself that it was not the end of the last leaf in the whole world; others would follow in an endless cycle of life and death where dying is not so much the beginning of the end but a way of leaving space for new beginnings.

An old man who lived on the street where I was born and lived until I was 14 years-old told me once that I should never fear death but think of it as a life-force. He was not a religious person so I thought his 80-something years must have taken their toll or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. (He died only weeks later.) It has taken me more than half a century to understand what he meant.

AN AFFINITY WITH THE LIFE-FORCE OF DEAD LEAVES

I drifted lonely as a leaf

left to fare as it will on a wintry breeze,

perhaps (who knows?) missing

its parent tree, the company of siblings,

playing host to feathered friends

as long as their seasons last, world

a happier place if only a kinder nature’s

wistful take on it

Who can ever say (for sure)

a leaf cannot think, feel, experience

the ebb and flow of life

in ways only Earth Mother knows

who gives, takes away,

and gives back again when the time

comes to renew her vows to humankind

at each spring blessing?

I watched the leaf sucked

into a drain, lost forever among sewage

beyond salvaging (who knows?)

as I feel myself sucked into a vortex

scaremongers call Old Age

where the hope is we’ll be saved  

as lovingly pressed collectables between

pages of living memory

Did it feel rejected, the leaf,

and was it glad to drown in a dark sewer

where all the world’s garbage

flows into its seas, as likely to kill off 

countless life forms as the shrewd

property developer felling trees

or an old poet infecting imagination

with its worst fears?

Back home, a glossy magazine,

repudiating my distress as bold as brass

with the latest fashions pics,

celeb gossip, ideas to impress the boss,

tips on keeping old age at bay;

in the garden, leaves faring better  

than a gutter (compost) giving glossy

a good run for its money

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012