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

Spring, Blueprint for Life OR Never, but Never Say Die

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

Spring may well be some way off yet here in the UK,but yesterday I spotted my first daffodils of 2020, and experienced a deep sense of relief that winter is all but done with us... for now, at least, although a winter of the heart is something else entirely.

Oh, my, how time flies! Scary, yes, but (as regular readers will know) I for one take reassurance in the fact that spring always follows winter…

Renewal, of course, includes reconciliation, not least with ourselves and consequently (hopefully) with each other and Earth Mother, both having a nasty habit of seeming to turn against us as winter proceeds, often harshly and uncaring, spreading discontent at every turn.

The genesis of this poem appeared in my secondary school magazine. I was aged 11 years at the time. (Are we really in 2020 already, and will I really be 75 later this year?) Oh, well, time waits of no one and we must make the best of what time we have, each in our own way, whatever our circumstances. 

Spring, too, may well rescue a human spirit in free fall; nor does religion  have a monopoly on spirituality since the human spirit may well choose a different path which we should attempt to understand before rushing to any judgement, especially given that our differences do not make us different, only human. (As good a reason as any for this poem appearing on both poetry blogs today.)

So what am I saying? Well, you'll have worked it out, I'm sure, but in case you are left in any doubt ... no matter what life forces are getting you down, never, but never say die. 

Yes, we do die, all of us, but, like nature all around us, we live on, and will return ... in the hearts and minds of others, a posthumous consciousness that may not be equal to the real thing, yet is just that in many ways; whenever we need a comfort zone or are mulling things though, we are most likely to turn to those whose opinions we value the most, whether they be alive or dead.

We all have our wintry days - at any time of year - we can but turn to the heart's ever-present springtime of happier, kinder memories ... for inspiration, hope, and regeneration.

SPRING, BLUEPRINT FOR LIFE or NEVER, BUT NEVER SAY DIE

In the air, a sense 

of renewal, everywhere,

bluebells ringing out 

their message of peace, 

love and rebirth,

imaging a passage of seasons,

(shortcut to Eternity)

where every human heart

dares share its secrets

with Earth Mother for all

Time will (as likely as not)

cajole us to forget

Oh, but listen, listen

to a global consciousness

forever intoning rites

in the wind, summoning

all ghosts of love

and peace to haunt our dreams,

revisit their seasons, feed us 

hopes laid low by winters

come and gone, restored to life

by the Spirit of Spring

urging us to enjoy its scents,

and follow, follow...

Humanity, unequalled

in the art of shadowing nature,

ever anxious to pass on

its secrets and discoveries

in theories, treatises, 

stories and poems generations

will tell, retell and embellish 

(as likely as not) in its archives, 

revealing a hint (at least) 

how taking advantage of nature

saw an unforgiving Earth Mother

seeing off its future

Spring, all things bright and beautiful,

blueprint for human potential

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002

[Note: Subsequent to its appearance in my school magazine at the age of eleven, the genesis of this poem also appeared under the title 'A Hymn to Spring' in an anthology, The Joy of Spring, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2001 and later in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

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

Human Spirit, Wings of the Day

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

In my 70’s now, people often refer to me as being in the autumn (even early winter) of my years. Well, physically, yes, of course I am, but there is a spirit in me (as in all of us who know better) that beats its wings and sings its heart out just as if it were spring…

Gay or straight, we all get old; the trick is never, but never, let anyone make you feel old.

HUMAN SPIRIT, WINGS OF THE DAY 

Bursting into spring

come a skylark into song

at the first subtle hint

of a new day’s spreading

its wings

Up, up, and away

like that beautiful kite

we'd fly in a breeze

on daisy hilltops, spreading

news of us…

across cornfields,

and chuckling streams,

busy, smoky streets,

touching base with lovers

like us ...

Demanding heads

in sand look up, take note,

spread the word

to watch out for us settling

nearby…

listen to epic tales

ever worked and reworked

by history,

world taking us to its heart
or not ...

Sailing into spring

on a nightingale’s lullaby

come the first hint

of twilight at a day’s folding

its wings

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

T-I-M-E, Seasons in a Life

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

The seasons of life see us all through various ups and downs, highs and lows, while Hope remains a steadfast companion although we may lose sight of her now and then and/or she may fall short of certain expectations.

I had hoped that by the 21^st century homophobia would be all but dead in the water and the heterosexual majority a more enlightened one; sadly, offensive stereotypes continue to dog gay people just about everywhere; in some countries, more so than in others but in any gay-unfriendly environment including those that wear a mask called Political Correctness.

We can but play our part. Some readers rubbish my gay-interest poems (so why read them?) but I like to think that being openly gay on-line and in my poetry is helping just a little to help gay people stuck in a cold, dark closet to feel better about themselves and summon the inner strength to come out and stand up to their demons. (Rarely if ever easy, but always worth the effort.)

T-I-M-E, SEASONS IN A LIFE

In the springtime of my years,

I longed to run away

from this life’s trials and fears

confronting me each day

Come summer, and I grew tall

like a tree in acid rain,

and wept to watch leaves fall

though not even autumn

Come autumn, I could but wait

while nature had its say,

proud, for my own small part,

I’d told the world I’m gay

In this, the winter of my years

I rise above, won’t run away

from this life’s trials and fears

confronting me each day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

 

Getting the Better of Winter

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

Across the northern hemisphere in winter, we think of cosy fires and keeping warm while on the other side of the world it may well be the sun’s heat sea is throwing out an invitation to jump in the sea and cool off.

Wherever, fortunate indeed are they for whom a warm glow engages with the heart and  throws out an invitation it cannot refuse.

Me, I love the seaside in winter. Yes, it can be a lonely place, but so can anywhere else where we feel the need to home in on love...

GETTING THE BETTER OF WINTER 

We sat on a bench looking out at the sea;

you edged closer, laid a hand on my knee,

arms around each other the way friends do

only this time, something different, new

I felt your hand move until it found mine,

caress my fingers lightly then entwine;

hot breath on my cheek like intimate lace

though I dare not turn, look you in the face

Not a word, your head on my shoulder,

my mind in turmoil, heart beating louder;

I froze and hastily you pulled away,

winter closing in on us, sad and grey

I turned, licked my lips and leapt the abyss;

on the other side, we shared our first kiss

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

Sow-Nurture-Reap, to Every Heart, its Seasons

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

As I grow old(er) incidents and conversations from my childhood and younger years return to haunt me, in the nicest way, but make me wish I had learned sooner to listen more for what often lies behind certain words, phrases and sentences people select to use at any given moment in time… instead of just taking them at face value.

BOY ROGER:  I hate winter. It’s cold and horrible and so long. It just goes on, and on, and on...

MOTHER: Never mind, dear, it will be spring before you know it.

BOY ROGER:  Huh! I’ll believe that when I see it.

MOTHER: Yes, well, give up on spring and you really will have a long winter. Why don’t you go out to play instead of moping around?

BOY ROGER: No one will want to come out to play on a day like this.

MOTHER: Perhaps not. But you’ll never know unless you make the effort to go and find out, will you?

BOY ROGER: (grudgingly) I suppose not…

No matter how hard a time we may be having or how it may strike us (at any age) that the winter of our years has struck prematurely, we should never forget that another springtime will follow as sure as day follows night. Oh, and I well recall how I did make the effort on that occasion all those years ago and did find someone to play with; a cold, grey, winter’s day didn’t seem nearly as bad after all, just for being able to share it with someone, and create a lasting happy memory.

SOW-NURTURE-REAP, TO EVERY HEART, ITS SEASONS 

Once there was a time

it seemed like winter every day,

only a watery sunshine

streaking a sky that’s leaden grey  

life barely worth living

Past and present, unforgiving,

catching me out  

in what I took to be a loneliness

of old age as I’d read about

in novels, rarely taking notice,

forgetting the roots

of fiction lie in such harsh reality

as now had me in its grip,

leaving me to fret that only much

the same lay ahead, cruel

twists of fate by any other name,

delivering me into a spiral

of heavy, leaden grey depression

No hope of rescue till into my life

you came, bringing light,

warmth and joy, making of a lonely

winter of the heart a fair copy of some

eternal springtime 

Oh, and such a spring! Come to lend

even its shadows a touch

of wry humour, so lessening the burden

of my distress that I could

once more make space for a happiness

of which neither age, gender,

culture, creed or sexuality may justly

(surely?) claim a monopoly

content (finally) to let sleeping dogs lie,

cease berating a rose

for its thorns, rain for catching me out,

but dry my tears, start to love

and laugh, feel young at heart again

Where society so loves to put down

its gay lovers, be sure our season will long,

outlive its own, and even when time

brings us to where dark winters looming,

we'll never give up on spring

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Seasons Of The Heart

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

Like most people, I love my home country, not least because it is my home but also, too,  for its seasons. We may complain about winter but it is always good to look forward to spring.

It often seems to me that as the seasons pass, return, and pass again...so the human heart follows them rather like an adoring fan trying to copy the ways of this celebrity hero or that.

As regular readers know only too well, Earth Mother has been my heroine since childhood. She endures and survives humankind’s repeated attacks on her yet remains, for the most part, a force for good. Oh, yes, she can be harsh, even mercilessly cruel, but isn’t that true of the human psyche also?

I like to think that human nature, too, is a force for good; at least, for the most part. Yet, I look around at what is happening on my own doorstep, let alone the world at large, and cannot hep but wonder...

Photo: Men Kissing Under Tree by Kay Tobin Lahusen (Internet)

SEASONS OF THE HEART

My love came with the swallow
that nests in spring;
in fairest flight I’d follow,
hear its bluebells ring

My love, it sang loud and clear
across earth and sky
for the whole world to hear
though some deny

My love, it told me that I’m gay
nor less a man for that;
whatever some people say,
home truths will out

Come winter’s freezing chill,
together still

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004. 2011

[Note: A slightly different version of this poem first appeared in an anthology, Heart and Mind, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.] 

Waiting on the Eternal Sunshine of Open Hearts and Minds

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

For readers who often ask about my informal poetry reading on the 4th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square in 2009; the entire eb streamed video lasts an hour:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

Meanwhile, once upon a time...

STUDENT (shivering): How can you laugh and joke when it is so cold? I’m freezing.

TEACHER (recently engaged): That’s because you’ve never been in love.

STUDENT (scornfully): What’s that got to do with anything?

TEACHER: One day, if you’re really lucky, you’ll find out.

I did.

 WAITING ON THE ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF OPEN HEARTS AND MINDS

Autumn, it has gone
and soon there will be snow
but I have you
and you have me, wherever
we may go

Winter, it might be long
and spring may take its time
but I am to you
and you to me as a love poem
is to rhyme

Spring. new beginnings,
hearts and minds opening up
like garden flowers
to the eternal sunshine
of better days

Seasons, they pass
and nature will have its way,
just as I with you
and you with me, no matter
we are gay

Lovers everywhere
are always there for each other
just as I for you
and you for me, one summer
forever



Copyright R. N. Taber 2010