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

 

*  *  *  *

 

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.

Hello again from London UK

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

As I am not feeling very well at the moment (not Covid, probably just the usual ageing 70’s syndrome as I will be 76 later this year… yike!) it was especially nice to hear from a new reader; he has even started exploring the blog archives and was very complimentary. He enjoys poetry in general, but hadn’t found any gay poetry until a friend told him about me. Feedback, from the start, suggested much the same thing, which is why I started this blog.

Another reader complains that I post few poems of special interest to gay readers now; no apologies for running out of bardic steam, but I’m afraid inspiration is a fickle beast. Even so, I have recently updated some poems I the archives while trying to put together a new collection, so maybe he, too, enjoy a browse…?

Yet another reader took offence at the title of my recent prose post, All Lives Matter. He seems to think I was having a go at the Black Lives Matter protesters. No offence intended, I assure you, and I fully support Black Lives Matter although I confess that I remain slightly uneasy with the name. This clearly came across to A J. who asks “… what else would have the same impact?” While I would not suggest changing the name now that everyone is familiar with it, nor am I one to duck a challenge. As a gay man, I, personally, would have opted for something more all-inclusive like Justice, Not Prejudice. Even so, I acknowledge the need to draw world attention to institutional racism wherever in the world it raises it ugly head, so… I’ll be rooting for Black Lives Matter along with (hopefully) most people from all walks of life.

Now, we all have our own reasons for disliking or not getting along with others, whatever their socio-cultural-religious persuasion; very often it has nothing to do with class, racism, sexism or whatever, but something about their attitude or behaviour that we find unacceptable for one reason or another. 

While I agree in principle with the ethos of ‘political correctness’ I deplore the way a minority try to manipulate any difference of opinion into a discriminatory issue. Sadly, the principle of agreeing to differ appears to have lot its way in a fog of contemporary rhetoric. Oh, but too many centuries have passed, I suspect, for even an all-inclusive human nature to readily embrace that principle now.

Enough of Roger’s Ramblings for now. I am working on a new poem for Monday (in-between such distractions as housework, shopping and struggling with various health issues, to name but three… It’s not a gay-specific poem, but I plan to post it on both poetry blogs since its theme is along lines of a blame game that we all so love to play from time to time.

Take care, everyone, and thanks for dropping by,

Back soon,

Hugs,

Roger

PS Regarding the archives, I have recently come across some poems there that are a mess, possibly due to changes in Internet technology so I am correcting and occasionally revising some poems as I find them. Should any readers come across a poem there that needs my attention, please let me know.

Engaging with Epic Poetry

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Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

In July 2009 I was privileged to participate in "One and Other", sculptor Sir Antony Gormley's 'live sculpture' project on the 4th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square; I gave a poetry reading. At the time, I thought reference to its being a 'live' sculpture simply referred to those participants invited to do whatever for an hour, July- October. I became aware that I was part of an epic poem of sorts, which subsequently inspired the poem.

Now, text-speak may well be as relatively a new phenomenon as the mobile phone itself, but conversations with the inner self are as old as humankind.

Invariably, we think of mind, body and spirit at separate entities, and I am often criticised for suggesting they are. Yet, each engage with each other in such a way that maybe it is high time we started thinking of the whole rather than the parts? After all, it is they that would see us (as a whole) engage with time and space... for better, for worse; it is they, also, to, whom we invariably turn when we are stressed out for whatever reason.

Exercising mind and body is a form of creative therapy that can encourage the human spirit to wake up to whatever reality we are avoiding and help us reach a constructive decision as to how best to proceed - or not, as the case may be.

Poets make much of Poetry of the Heart, but there is a  sense in which we are all, each and every one of us, living poems; the whole of us, as individuals, not just this part or that. 

There are many who profess to hate poetry, find it glib, trite, weak; those same people, simply by engaging with life itself, who are creating the Poetry of History, an epic poem about the human race as beautiful - not least for its very diversity - as any prose.

ENGAGING WITH EPIC POETRY

Life,

spiralling me downwards

from cradle to grave…

often when I least expect it,

leaves me clinging

for dear life at straws in an ill wind

raised by a helter-skelter

of events conspiring to drag me

beyond imagination,

test ego (and salvation) to limits

rarely conceived

even by those daily enduring

a world of nightmares

Love,

spelling out such promises

as sweet dreams

are made of, offering (for free)

a magical-mystery-tour

of mind-body-spirit asking only

that I stay true

to the end of a line drawn

not (whimsically) 

in sand or clay, but in good faith

that 1 + 1 is equal,

to the sum of all its frictions,

and I can add up

Hope,

bringing me the best of things

at the worst of time

reshaping even the obstinate clay

of human nature

as a potter’s wheel might

its tasks in hand,

demanding the poetry of art

speak up for Beauty,

fair chameleon exposing masks

of the Beast

for human waste washed up

by the tides of life

Centuries of anticipating eternity 

for engaging with its epic poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.]

Mind-Body-Spirit, Inner Eye-Ear-Voice

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A new poem today, hot off the keyboard and inspired by several offensive emails I received from readers of my general poetry blog who objected to yesterday's poem that I also published here and was, by sharp contrast, well received. I have no problem with criticism of a poem for its structure or even its theme/s but offensive comments directed at whatever point/s of view it expresses, those make me angry. Whatever happened to agreeing to differ ...?

It is interesting that whenever I post a poem on both blogs that concerns spirituality, at least some readers of my general poetry blog express disappointment, to say the least; others send troll-type emails protesting that LGBT people cannot experience a sense of spirituality if only because, as one reader such put it, "no religion accepts active homosexuality or other sexual deviations." So ... whatever happened to the kind of love-thy-neighbour ethos on which most if not all religions pride themselves and subsequently preach?  

I am neither an atheist nor agnostic, but closer to being a pantheist in so far as I see any 'God' and nature as one. Pantheism has been defined as "a view that the world is either identical to God, or an expression of God's nature; it comes from 'pan' meaning all, and 'theism,' which means belief in God. So according to pantheism, “God is everything and everything is God.” This is the closest I have come to accounting for a depth of feeling in me that no conventional religion comes even close to defining to my personal satisfaction. Pantheists do not believe in an after-life; neither do I although regular readers will know that I believe in the power of a posthumous conscious that is both personal and universal. 

What I love most about pantheism is its all-inclusiveness, something  I find sorely if not shamefully lacking in other religions. 

So much for my thoughts on spirituality, expressed further in today's poem which I will not be posting on my general blog, not because trolls worry or disturb me, but I have better things to do than exercise any Right of Reply; suffice to say, I attempt that in many of my poems. 

Now, as you know, I am working on a new collection of poems which, too, will be as all-inclusive as I can make it, although it will probably mean having to self-publish again; in the past, only one (U.S.) publisher has ever expressed an interest in including gay/lgbt poems as well as general poetry, but they messed me about so much that I abandoned the project altogether; this time I will have at least a few hundred copies printed of 'Addressing the Art of Being Human' and see what happens. (I usually even manage to make a small profit, a welcome bonus.)  

Hopefully, the new collection will be ready by September/ October; any readers are welcome to reserve a copy by emailing me at rogertab:aol.com with 'Poetry Collection' in the subject field. Eventually, all my poetry collections will be available as e-books so readers from poorer countries can access them for free, but that is some way off yet. 

Having lived with prostate cancer since 2011, I often get the feeling I'm living on borrowed time, and there is yet another collection I have in mind which will, among other things, again reflect something of the global struggle we have all endured - and many may well continue to endure, Human Rights notwithstanding.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, INNER EAR-EYE-VOICE

Who or what is God?

gender neutral, monopoly of no one culture

or religion, to each

its own interpretation of source, meaning,

and ways of expression

as in prayer, meditation, any creative therapy

invoking a poetry of faith

Where, then, is God?

God is where the heart is, beating to the music

of mind-body-spirit,

in anyone, any place, anywhere, as common

to human nature

as the humanity to which it owes nothing, offers

a realisation of raison d'etre

Why, then, a God?

to nurture that native sense of love and peace

inspiring humanity

on the one hand, killing it off with the other

for want of sensibility,

inciting a one-upmanship and division as defining

the politics of its religions

Humanity is a diversity

of natural design, but a part of a natural world

comprising bird and beast,

creatures of its seas, sunny days and cloudy, come

sun, rain or snow;

no Empire of Humankind, nor is Progress but a show

demanding universal applause

Reason not the need

who feels a sense of spirituality found wanting

by such conventions

as proposed by certain ‘betters’ convinced they

are in the right,

would put in the wrong alternative choices aspiring

to much the same life forces

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Mind-Body-Spirit, configuring a Common Humanity

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A reader once wrote in to say that my poems are not "real poetry" but "...more by way of social commentary." He or she adds that "I enjoy most of them anyway, but would like to see more nature poems ... especially as you claim to be inspired by nature." So, should a poet be precluded from making social comment, given that we live in a world where nature's greatest threat is human nature, not least by way of much the same flaws that threaten various societies across the world?

This poem is longer than I anticipated for its having taken on a life of its own - as some poems do - even as I was writing it. Feedback suggests that my longer poems are less popular with readers, but who is a poet to ignore the demands of his or her poem?

As regular readers well know, I remained in the proverbial closet until my early 30's when the upside of a nasty mental breakdown was (finally) seeing my way clear to letting the world know I am gay and finding a new self-confidence in refusing to be put down for it a second longer. In the course of my breakdown, for all its less savoury aspects, I managed to shed the self-consciousness and fear imposed during formative years by a society preferring established 'norms' to any 'differences' or 'irregularities' seen by a statistical majority as bringing said 'norms' into disrepute. 

Is it not high time societies worldwide accepted the very diversity of human nature, in the absence of which their populations would probably suffer early heart failure from the stress of sheer boredom?  

While I subscribe to no religion, I was raised a Christian and know my Bible, in which words attributed to Jesus of Nazareth come to mind time and time again: "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, CONFIGURING A COMMON HUMANITY

They would often place me

as homosexual, and I'd hotly deny it,

acknowledging only to myself

a sexuality as much a part of who I am

as any other aspect of identity

configuring a common humanity in all

its colourful diversity

Oh, how family would discuss

behind my back as to my sexuality,

as if it really matters

in the Grand Scheme configuring

bright, beautiful, dark or ugly

as we try to make our own way in life,

the less prejudged for it

Oh, and who are they who

would shape us as they would

justify first impressions

of who we are, how best we can

assert ourselves, play fair

by loved ones, return in good measure

something of...what?

Does humanity ask of us to do

for others without due reciprocity

only to deserve no reward

for our endeavouring to compensate

for its shortcomings, any failures

to ‘measure up’ mean a change of heart

out of the question?

How come, out of the question

when losing face matters less (surely?)

than being true to ourselves

and advocating a common humanity

as far as humanly possible?

Yet, fools rush in, much as our 'betters' do

for fearing covers blown

No cover, LGBT masquerading

as ordinary people, simply a matter

of fact, if less digestible

to some than the flesh of bird or beast

that never did them harm

other than looking them pitiably in the eye

for exposing naked truths

Weary of going undercover, LGBT

comes out, comes clean, comes face to face

with such bigotry and hate

as eats the perpetrators up, spits them out

after the way of followers

of fashion courting converts via prime time

media hits across the world

Where bigots may well place me 

as homosexual, I'll nod and cheerfully agree,

acknowledge my sexuality

for being as much a vital part of who I am

as any other aspect of identity

configuring a common humanity in all

its colourful diversity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

A Common Humanity, the Authorised Biography

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Another new poem today, prompted by mind-body-spirit yesterday.

If any good can be said to come out of this awful COVID-19 it is that more of us have a sense of our all being in he same proverbial boat, regardless of any socio-cultural religious or, yes, sexual persuasion. Hopefully once the pandemic has passed, bigotry will have taken a bad fall if not disappeared altogether. Well, hope springs eternal ...

Across the world, people are struggling to cope various social restrictions, often at the same time as mourning loved ones who have passed away before their time. All due credit to humanity for its remarkable stoicism in the face of tough times.

A neighbour recently lost her mother. When I sympathised, she commented that "She is better off out of all this. I miss her terribly, of course, but her spirit will never leave me so I guess I just have to live with and be thankful for that." True, indeed. As I often try to reassure readers in my poems and blog preambles, love never dies.

Meanwhile, each in his and her own way, we can but continues to do battle with COVID-19 and trust that, when all's said and done, humanity is bigger than it, and will not only endure but survive whatever it throws at us.

A COMMON HUMANITY, THE AUTHORISED BIOGRAPHY 

Yesterday, already past tense,

having left its mark on us some way

or another, more elements

of memory likely to find us engaging

with such varying shades

of light and dark, colour, absences

of colour, and encounters

with such black and white images as preferably

glossed over by way of face-savings

Today, a sense of making the best

of times, enduring the worst, ever urging

mind-body-spirit to reflect 

on kinder, happier climes, lend illusion

all the colours of a rainbow

making promises it may (or may not) keep,

self-appointed Guardian of Hope

in sickness and in health, half-awake and asleep,

feeding mind-body-spirit raison d'être

Tomorrow, left foraging for crumbs

of comfort or even enjoying a hearty meal

where the cap (or metaphor) fits,

feeding human arts, nature, and archives

conclusions that may (or may not)

be grounded in fact, fiction or a predilection

on the part of human nature

to enter into such mind games as engineered by Time,

and passed off as history or philosophy

Call me Past-Present-Future, providing the diversity

that puts the ‘u’ and ‘y’ in a common humanity

Copyright R N Taber, 2020

[Note: this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today as feedback suggests a significant number of its reader "see no reason" to access this one.

You-Me-Us, a Measure of Infinity

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“Clocks slay time... time is dead as long as it is being clicked off by little wheels; only when the clock stops does time come to life.”
― William Faulkner (The Sound and the Fury)

“The past is never dead. It's not even past.”

― William Faulkner (Requiem for a Nun)

It is so true that time waits for no one, but neither does it stop for any of us either. No, I am not presupposing some religious-oriented eternity, but the posthumous consciousness to which I have often referred in my poems over the past ten years. I will, by the way, be posting far fewer poems from now on as I need to put together revised editions of my poetry collections to eventually post online. I am 74 now and have been living with prostate cancer – among other health issues -since 2011. While I continue to look on the bright side of life, I would like readers to be able to access my poems should Google ever delete my blogs and/or the Grim Reaper come calling sooner rather than later. (Well, you never know…)

Expect the occasional new poem, though, while some of you may like to explore the archives for either or both poetry blogs; these are listed and can be accessed on the right of any blog entry. Oh, and if you ever feel like sending the link to anyone you know who enjoys poetry, be my guest, and many thanks.

Happy New Year everyone, and many thanks for your support over the last 10 years.

YOU-ME-US, A MEASURE OF INFINITY

More than another day
or even another year, but a new decade,
demanding we face it boldly,
unafraid of those who would do us harm
by taking issue with sexual identity
and gender equality in any society answering
to modernity by way of keeping up
appearances. so long as no one gets too close
a look at its underbelly

More than another day,
or even another year, but a new decade,
needing us to be prepared
at the off to take issue with any politics
preferring we focus on blame games
and media criticism
than any deficiencies in policies going ahead
as promised in the General Election if not quite
in the same direction

More than another day,
or even another year, but a new majority
in the upper echelons of power,
as likely to make sure the rich get richer
and the poor get poorer
as it has always been (and always will) if only
because nothing lasts forever
and human nature prefers its best bubble blowers
to insure against the worst

Time, it waits for no one;
rank or station, ours to make of as we will,
its priceless gift to everyone
no less precious a bane as its years go by
and we all get to share
in mixed pleasures long after they have gone;
let a south wind dry any tears,
inspire us to move on, give love its head yet again,
nothing and no one forgotten


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019


[Note: I posted this poem yesterday, but for some unknown reason it was deleted and I have reinstated it; it also appears on my general poetry blog.]

The Upbeat Heart

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Today's entry is from my general poetry blog archives for September 2013.

You don’t have to be in the media spotlight to influence people, even society, for the better; big or small, every contribution counts and we can all make one.

Setting a good example can make a big difference; it may start off as a small ripple on a BIG pond, but it will spread. Much the same can be said for setting a bad example, of course, and we would all do well to remember that. At the same time, in various socio-cultural-religious respects, different people have different takes on what constitutes good and bad. I guess all we can do is engage with and trust our better, kinder, instincts. (At least the meaning of kindness is universally understood if not always much in evidence.)

Ah, but if we can see a ripple spread, we rarely get to see what difference our words and everyday behavior make. Take good manners for example; they seem to have gone out of the window here in recent years, but just saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to someone may well encourage them to do the same and so on, making more of us feel just that little bit better, even hopeful that this sorry world of ours might also take a turn for the better any time soon. Our differences, too, can make a difference to the much divided world in which we live and its splintered societies..by pulling together and creating a better world to pass on to those who deserve better.

This (revised) poem is a kenning. Like many of my later poems, this one is the more mature version of an earlier piece. So why publish the earlier piece? Well, it seemed a good idea at the time, and like many good ideas feedback has since shaped it into something much the same yet significantly different. 

THE UPBEAT HEART

How will it all end,

if they have their way, clerics

and politicians pulling me  

in all directions?

Will some fallen angel

pick on me and drag me away

or will a gentler spirit

have mercy, find a place for me

come Judgment Day?

Shall wolfish death

delight in tearing us apart

or strike swiftly

and cleanly at the human heart,

lost doves find their way,  

defy infernal dark, fly eternal light

or (conveniently) consigned

to mythology, out of human mind

and history’s sight

Not ours to know the how,

where, or when, but be glad to give,

learn, unite in Love and Peace

than passively wait Death’s turn

with us while our ‘betters’

play politics with common sense,

and the better, kinder, part

of human nature gets on with making

all the difference

I am that up-beat of the human heart

that gives humanity a head start

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: This poem has been substantially revised from an earlier version published in 1^st editions of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 and subsequently in Ygdrasil:, a Journal of the Poetic Arts, May 2006.]

Christmas, Cue for an Open Heart

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This entry is taken from my general poetry blog archives for December 1916; like many if not most of my poems, the sentiments expressed apply to all readers everywhere...[I am gay, yes, but - as I often reaffirm in posts and poems - there is a LOT more to any of us than our sexuality, however we define it.]

For years now I have written a general and gay-interest Poem for Christmas and sent it to everyone on my contact list instead of a Christmas card, not least because (as other poems on the blog may well illustrate) I am not a particularly Christmassy person.  I empathise with the spirit of Christmas, though, if not with the religion and it is my pleasure to share this  with you. 

Incidentally, some of you may be interested to know that I am giving a sponsored poetry reading for Prostate Cancer UK on World Poetry Day, May 21, 2017. I will not only be celebrating having seen my poetry in print for 60 years (my first poem appeared in my school magazine, 1957) but also living with prostate cancer since the spring of 2011.

As I am not a religious person, Christmas means nothing to me in that sense. While I can appreciate and respect the fact that religious festivals are important to those who wish to celebrate their religion, it often seems to me (being gay) that any messages of love, peace and goodwill to everyone are little more than empty words. 

Religions are only closed shops, though, if their followers choose to make them so; many if not most (but not all, thank goodness) have closed hearts, open only to those who follow its dogma to the letter. (Heaven forbid, anyone should ‘deviate’ even in the name of humanity). Any inhumanity is easily put aside for a Heaven that’s any sheep’s reward for not having the temerity to stray from the dogmatic fold as preached by ‘betters’ who would appear to have His (or Her?) ear. 

Some readers may think my Christmas poems disrespectful, but I can assure you that it is not towards religion that I am so minded but towards those who - in my experience - pay little more than lip service to the major lessons (any) religion professes to preach; e.g. peace,  love, equality, respect and fairness amongst a common humanity…

Thank you for reading my blog/s, hope you have found plenty to enjoy, and here’s wishing you all a VERY Happy Christmas. 

CHRISTMAS, CUE FOR AN OPEN HEART

A pet is not just
for Christmas
nor should December
have a monopoly
on spreading peace 
and goodwill

Love is not just
for Christmas
nor should celebrating
any religion
mean shutting one
up or out

Caring is not just
for Christmas
nor can token gestures
of goodies
repay neglecting
the real thing

Mind, body, spirit,
have no need 
of fairy lights on trees,
decorations,
or even and being seen 
going to prayers

Let’s celebrate
the heart
that’s open all seasons
and all hours,
no one turned away,
no excuses 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Christmas Lights

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December, and a new poem. Over the next few weeks I will be publishing archival posts (on and from both blogs) leading up to Christmas. No, I do not celebrate Christmas, but like many if not most religions and religious festivals, it brings out both the best and the worst in people, challenge enough for anyone, not least a pantheist poet.

I was walking home with a work colleague one year, close to Christmas, and remarked on his generosity to a rough sleeper. He told me a story from his past that today's new poem can only partly relate but which hopefully captures something of the spirit of Christmas, indeed of any religious festival, often found sadly lacking, all but buried under layers of dogma that so often blinds people, especially families, to the fact that the roots of any religion lie in peace and love to all humankind, not just to those who happen to fit in with its beliefs and traditions. As my mother - a Christian woman - used to say, "God loves us, no matter who, what, or where we are."  Now, we may or may not enter fully into  the Christian spirit of that message, but any human spirit is free to embraces it just as wholeheartedly, surely?

No religion has a monopoly on spirituality; it is in that evergreen aspect of a common humanity that hope truly spring eternal.

True, we cannot love everyone, might even let hate get a look in from time to time, but love and hate are strong emotion if not sides of the same proverbial coins, inclined to blur at the edges into feelings which, for whatever reason, we may not care to dwell on... as much in so far as they reflect on ourselves us as on the other person...?

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Christmas lights
casting shadows long, short
and, oh, so tall,
across the sky, my ceiling
where I lie
in a sleeping bag, pretending
I'm as snug
and warm as by a cosy fire fuelling
family myths

Cast out, simply
for loving you, needing so
to run true
with the 'me' no one knew
(as no more did I)
till you penetrated my disguise,
burrowed the lies.
let in the light of day, vowed we'd live
proud and gay

Only, I hated you
for leading me into a reality
as dark as any closet,
ran away from any you-me-us
in the making,
heart near breaking, mind losing
its way, spirit needing
to turn an angry tide of exposed identity,
failing miserably

Christmas lights,
bulbous eyes on me where I lay
worm-like in my pain
and loneliness, not a single passer-by
sparing a glance for me,
swallowed up by a human convenience
less desperate
to be rid of personal anxieties than common
responsibilities

I closed my eyes,
embraced imagination, heard voices
calling my name,
saw the faces clearly, friends and family,
among them yours,
hot tears stinging my cheeks, distant bells
offering comfort
and joy in anticipation of peace and love getting
the better of rejection

Fearful though I was
of opening my eyes, letting cold reality
work its worst on me,
I found myself peering into a mist of light
and making out
the same dream, no dream at all, scarcely able
to take in its charms
till I felt your arms around me, you-me-us invited
to a family Christmas


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Graffiti Art: Engaging with Shortcomings and Potential

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

Today's post/poem is taken from my general poetry blog archives for April 2012; few readers accessed both blogs then so I hope those whose interest has been  confined their interest to this one will enjoy it. I will continue posting archived poms from one blog to the other awhile longer, after which some readers may like to dip into the archives themselves as listed on the right hand side of any blog page.

‘Leo’ who describes himself as 'an aspiring poet' has asked me to repeat this poem, last seen on the [General] blog in 2010, because it ‘keeps me focused on the fact that there are more important things in life than wealth and ambition.’

I am happy to oblige, Leo, but bear in mind that there is nothing wrong with having wealth or ambition; it’s how a wealthy and/or ambitious person handles either or both that counts.

It is how we live and how far we try to compensate for our flaws (we are all but human) that defines who we are, not what we have or don't have; regardless of race, religion, sex or sexuality; such is the art of being human,

This poem is a villanelle.

GRAFFITI ART: ENGAGING WITH SHORTCOMINGS AND POTENTIAL

I have worked with rhythm and rhyme
as poets for centuries have done,
building bridges on a river called Time

Where they fell at some god’s first crime
on killing fields of the sun,
I have worked with rhythm and rhyme

For all those cut down in their prime,
let’s redeem the bloody deed done,
building bridges on a river called Time

Like a lotus rising from the world’s slime,
symbol of a spirited imagination,
I have worked with rhythm and rhyme

Let past and future, great players of mime
embrace audience participation,
building bridges on a river called Time

No dark toll where goat bells gaily chime
(echoes of the Parnassus run);
I have worked with rhythm and rhyme,
building bridges on a river called Time

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: First published under the title ‘ A Poet’s Take on Eternity’ in Far and Wide: Forward Press Regional Collection, 2010]

In the Company of Dolphins

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

Today's poem and much of the original post is taken from my general poetry archives for February 2013. [Blog archives are listed on the right hand side of any page.]

I have been asked to repeat the link  to my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square during the summer of 2009  as part of sculptor Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live sculpture' project. At first, I am shown being lowered by crane to the plinth and it is a good five minutes before the reading starts: http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system. However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date; they also confirmed that they will continue to archive my blogs.

Meanwhile...

This short poem is about love and friendship and being there for loved ones and friends when they need us. .It is also about the lasting power of love and friendship, important to us all, regardless of gender, sexuality, race or religion, and bringing people together worldwide.

There is a saying that what goes around comes around. We never know when it will be our turn to need help. People for whose idea of love and friendship is a one-way street (and there are plenty out there who expect us to be there for them but rarely if ever reciprocate!) would do well to remember that.

IN THE COMPANY OF DOLPHINS

I think of us at twilight’s gentler tears

on flowers in a pretty garden, glistening

like ocean spray in spring sunshine…

In the mind’s eye, I see survivors

clinging to the wreckage of a ship that

safe harbours will never greet again,

and dolphins come like guardian angels

to redeem a fate demanded by storm clouds

riding old Poseidon’s back

Now calmer seas, survivors washed up

on kinder shores, dolphins gone, task done.

Lost souls saved at godly whim?

I know not, can but let heart and mind

wish the company of dolphins to bring us

safely home…and though that be left

to this sad world’s darker poetry,

may love’s light shine through twilight’s

gentler tears on us

[From: Accomplice To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

The Greatest Show on Earth

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

This poem - and the general gist of my introduction  -  appears in my general blog archives for May 2012.

I love it when people ask me to repeat a villanelle; regular readers will know I have a passion for them. I have written some 200+ over the years. Today’s villanelle last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is especially for ‘Damon and Louise’ who are getting married shortly and plan to spend their honeymoon on a walking tour of the Lake District. They say they are looking forward to ‘beautiful scenery by day and intimate at night.’ Well, enjoy, and congratulations to you both.

Interestingly, it appears that Louise has a gay brother who is also Damon’s best friend. Nice one, folks! Should we not all take people as we find them, regardless of race, culture, religion...whatever? I'm relieved to say I have met more people in my 70+ years who agree with me there than any who choose to take issue with those who strikes them as 'different'.We are all part of a common humanity whose very diversity helps make us who we are, and ensures a greater humanitarianism that will always - one way or another - get the better of its nemeses.

THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH

Mother Nature, a faith in us will show,

each and every one of us;

eternal confidant, always in the know

If ever we’re driven to an all-time low,

no one answering our cries,

Mother Nature, a faith in us will show

Starry heavens come, starry heavens go

for each and every one of us;

eternal confidante, always in the know

Should we be losers at love’s last throw

of its ages-old, universal dice,

Mother Nature, a faith in us will show,

Seek Apollo where darkness binds us so

(will always find time for us);

eternal confidante, always in the know

Where a bigot’s rant rings loud if hollow

and universal truths give way to lies,

Mother Nature, a faith in us will show;

eternal confidante, always in the know

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Leaves from a journal

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.

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]

Where the Keyword is Imagine

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

Today’s poem was first published on my general poetry blog in 2012 and written as a tribute to musician John Lennon, shot dead outside his New York City apartment block by Mark David Chapman on Dec 8th 1980. I have been asked to publish it here today by 'Martin' "...because it has a resonance and meaning for everyone, as much today as at any time in the human calendar, if not more so..." Martin suggests I post it on social media - "...to bring it to the attention of a wider audience." - Well, what can I say but thank you, Martin. I no longer use social media so I hope this will suffice. (Any reader is welcome to post a link on social media to any poem on either of my poetry blogs they may particularly like (or dislike) so long as they always include the copyright proviso accompanying it. I left Facebook and Twitter after becoming so bored with trolls, but can easily delete/block any unwanted emails.)

'Imagine' was written and performed by Lennon. The best-selling single of his solo career, its lyrical statement is one of collectivist positivism. It challenges the listener to imagine a world at peace, without the divisiveness and barriers of religious denominations and nationalities, and to consider the possibility that the focus of humanity should be living a life less attached to material possessions.

Lennon’s wife, Yoko Ono scattered his ashes in New York's Central Park, where the Strawberry Fields memorial was later created

Photo: John Lennon Memorial

WHERE THE KEYWORD IS IMAGINE

The gospel of John Lennon

sees a testing time for dreams,

inspires the imagination

Politics needs urgent revision

to silence starvation’s screams;

the gospel of John Lennon

No mythicizing hell or heaven;

it’s repairing life’s frayed seams

inspires the imagination

No (one-upmanship) religion;

trusting that love all hate redeems;

the gospel of John Lennon

Where any cultural division,

mutual respect tempering extremes,

inspires the imagination

In a song for every season,

ideals as pure as mountain streams;

the gospel of John Lennon

inspires the imagination

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

[Note: First Published in 'In Other Words', Forward press, 2012]

Oh, but Santa's running So-o-oo Late

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

This poem was written in 1996. In many societies and communities, attitudes towards gay people have changed for the better, but many remain bigoted, a carbuncle on the face of human nature. Yet, we are a common humanity driven by a common desire for love and peace…so where, oh, where did humanity lose the plot?

Religious festivals, Christian or otherwise, acknowledge the power of peace and love so if we all seek the same goal, why can’t we put our differences aside and put spiritual aspiration into practice across a world that still has much to learn…?

Many gay people enjoy family life, but many others find themselves rejected by family simply because even love is not enough to overcome old prejudices. Family should be all about love and peace...should it not? (Mind you, mine hasn't for years, as much my fault as theirs,) 

Religion, too, is frequently found to contradict itself, not least by being somewhat selective as to whom it offers 'universal' peace and love since one invariably needs to be of the same persuasion for it to be meaningful in either spiritual or practical terms. 

Oh, there are exceptions to every unwritten rule, and bless 'em all, the irony being that coming together in peace and love  has long been recorded in those very Holy Book from which world religions profess to take their cue.

OH, BUT SANTA'S RUNNING SO-O-OO LATE

Christmas, a special time of year,

thoughts of home deserve a special tear;

loneliness, greater than a fear

of nights and days, maze without end

(it seems) in worst waking dreams;

whatever creed or need, here's hoping

for the strength to endure, ways

to be sure that - for all our pain - we’ll get

to laugh, find peace and love again

Kisses flaunted on Queer Street, 
one for each chair left haunted each year,

along with with evergreen comfort and joy
just for being there

Ah, Christmas! Dreamy yearnings

of the heart, wistful thoughts like mistakes

on a fire; flames risen higher

and higher as we pile on self-blame,

calling out in Someone's name

to restore us, cool and clean - to a world

that needs must hang its head 

in shame no more or leave us for dead

at some mindful spirit's door

Who to wipe our tears, calm our fears, 
rewrite history, let us hold our heads high
while we negotiate (blindly) a festive maze 
of bigotry and hate?

Oh, but Santa running so-o-oo late...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016 (Rev. + new title, 2018)

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Crisis at Christmas' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Protest in Paradise OR G-O-D spells Love (Inclusively, in any Language)

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

Many people from various socio-cultural-religious backgrounds continue to actively condemn gay/ LGBT relationships. A Christian I used to work with - a charming woman -  once told me that while she, personally, had no problem with my being gay she regretted I would go to Hell. Others - from various religious backgrounds - have been  as forthright and said there would be no place for LGBT people in paradise.

Fortunately, not everyone from (various) religious backgrounds feels the same way and sees God as an all-inclusive God of Love.

Now, regular readers will know that I am not a religious person, and this has nothing to do with my being gay. I rejected religion even as a child because I found it didactic and divisive. Yes, I like to think I have a strong sense of spirituality, but I take it from nature where religion offers me nothing to which I can even begin to relate.

Whatever, I cannot conceive of any ‘God’ that would condone any form of discrimination against anyone simply on the grounds of their sex, ethnicity, creed or sexuality; if it were so, that particular religion would make no sense if only on the grounds of its inhumanity.

So if you subscribe to a religion, aspire to its interpretation of Heaven and are gay, never let anyone tell you there is no place for you in it.

PROTEST IN PARADISE or G-O-D SPELLS LOVE (INCLUSIVELY, IN ANY LANGUAGE)

My God, these people are gay!

What on earth can we do?

Can’t we just send them away?

Looks and speech are everyday,

(easy to slip through);

My God, these people are gay!

What on earth will the hets say?

They’ll be such a to-do…

Can’t we just send them away?

A voice in the soul says, ‘pray’

but it speaks to them too;

My God, these people are gay!

Commit themselves as they may

to a love running true,

can’t we just send them away?

Same sex couples should pay

but of course it’s up to you;

My God, these people are gay!

Can’t we just send them away?

No, you say? So, why, pray…? 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: This poem first appeared on the blog a few years ago and feedback indicated that some readers were offended. No offence intended, I assure you.]