Lines on the Psychology of Dreams

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

As I grow old, (in my mid-70's now) I become more and more frustrated with things I need to say, feelings I need to express. On reflection, though, it is not an entirely new experience, but one with which I have been afflicted all my life … for reasons shrouded in mist, revealing but shadows that could be anything or anyone; they are, of course, those parts of me I cannot reach for reasons best known to that 'other’ self, a twin subconscious if which I am aware only of a nagging presence, details to which self-awareness may or may not be made privy in the course of a lifetime...

LINES ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF DREAMS

Once, I flew a blackbird’s wing
all length and breadth of global space,
saw much, understood little;
misty doors, some left ajar for glimpses
enough to fire the imagination,
others opening up by way of an invitation,
many, though, remaining shut,
suspicious, perhaps, of any unasked-for attention
or if something to hide … what? 

Suspicion, in turn, I was fed plenty;
even as I enjoyed taking up invitations,
joining celebrations, whatever …
The goings-on behind those closed doors
haunted mind-body-spirit
enough to subdue any fires of imagination
lit by random glimpses elsewhere;
nothing for it, but connive to get me a skeleton key,
if only to get the better of... fear? 

We flew low over a jackdaw’s nest
and I grabbed a key glittering in the sun
before we flew on to a door
we had passed before, made me curious
for various sounds inside
I could not (quite) identify, a sixth sense
warning this would not end well
even as I was turning key in lock, oh, but softly, softly
only, once inside … freefall 

Blackbird flown, left alone to answer
for the consequences of letting curiosity
get the better of cowardice,
nor was it the first time nor likely the last;
the door that says “Keep Out”
may well have our best interests at heart,
but the tone of its voice
on a sensitive ear, is a sure give-away, for giving intuition
right of way, no... choice? 

I awoke in my bed, as safe and sound
as I could expect after dreams taking me
beyond mind-body-spirit to places
I denied it for reasons shrouded in such mist
as those doors I would enter,
and may well yet if and when I am ready, able
to understand what goes on
within human heart and mind, its spirit too long kept wishing
and hoping for an invitation

Copyright R N. Taber, 2020

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mind Games OR Something about Ghosts and Goldfish

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

Apart from adding the occasional new poem, I may well cease blogging - after an enjoyable ten years - once there is no alternative to using the new blogger format.While I have no idea how long my poetry will be accessible here, once I cease to contribute on a regular basis, any readers who enjoy my work may be interested to know I am in the process of creating revised editions of my previous print collections, but in e-format. I am working on an eighth collection at the moment of which I plan to self-publish a limited number of editions in print form, and later reproduce in e-format.

Although a significant number of readers from 70+ different countries visit my poetry blogs on a regular basis, little interest has been shown by print publishers for poetry collections that include gay-interest and general poems; but that is who I am, no less a mixed bag of sense and sensibility than anyone else.

Once print copies of my latest collection are available (hopefully, within a few months) I will let you know, and anyone interested can purchase direct at a very fair price; the same will apply to any subsequent e-editions of my collection titles.

Meanwhile …

Most if not all of us have regrets of one kind or another at just about every stage in our lives. The trick is never to believe it is too late to do something we wished we had done but couldn’t, wouldn’t or simply didn’t for whatever reason. We cannot turn back the tide of subsequent events, of course, but more often than not we can put our minds at rest to some extent rather than keep fretting our lives away…

Worse, perhaps, is regretting something we did simply because we wanted to do it, but the consequences were not as we may have hoped. Even so, better to have given it a go than spend a lifetime wondering how things might have turned out if only…

Yes, there will be some who feel inclined to observe, even judge us, but judge us according to criteria of their own, rarely if ever ours. We may well care what they think, but they might as well observe a goldfish for all it really matters. [Does it matter to a goldfish what we think of them, I wonder? Who knows…? If not, as I suspect, maybe there is some cause for envy there after all…] Whatever, let's be self-confident not self-conscious, yes? YES.

I once asked a tramp why he lived rough. ‘Because I like it’, he said, ‘and sleeping under the stars gives me a good feeling, so it does.’ ‘What about when it’s pouring with rain and freezing cold?’ I wanted to know. He shrugged. “We all of us have to take the rough with the smooth, so we do. Besides, the stars aren’t going anywhere are they...?’

MIND GAMES or SOMETHING ABOUT GHOSTS AND GOLDFISH ...

Can’t hear for ghosts,

banging at the door, damp stains

on walls, bars

across a window taunting us

with wannabe personae

wanting to know why we never

made the grade

Sweating like sick kids

on a sunny spring day who’s ma

won’t let us out to play,

always looking for new ways

to get by, but weary

of puzzles, can’t help but envy

the goldfish

Dreams like broken hearts

falling apart, people pretending

not to notice for fear

of ‘getting involved’ since

(after all) if the Bogeyman

can't be blamed for everything

then who…?

Puppets jerking to order,

except for a street guitar player

making little sense

of a world losing its dignity,

too busy scoring points

against other locals to give music

its due

Goldfish on the sideboard

giving me the eye as if curious

to know why I much prefer

making assumptions to knowing

what's what, such as

whether or not goldfish are happy

with their lot

Ghosts, yelling at the door,

nothing to say I haven't heard

so many times before,

and chose to turn a half-deaf ear;

(shrugs) for all the good

it would have done to let them in

and get cosy

Anaesthetized by blame

is all we cellmates are good for,

deserving everything

we get, prisoners of conscience

locked in drab cells

of petty regret for a lifetime spent

envying goldfish

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2015

[Note: Revised (2015) from an earlier version entitled ‘Inside’ that appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Where the Keyword is Self-Awareness

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

A new poem today, probably brought on by my having too much time to think during such days of Covid-19 coronavirus that the world is waking up to every day, but none of us know how any day will end; even so, 'Hope springs eternal' ...  which definitely has to be my all-time favourite among corny truisms. wry bardic grin

Some of us, for whatever reasons, get off to an uneasy, if not downright unhappy or bad start in life; some blameworthy fate seems to have it in for us.  I felt this way for years as a teenager and young man, not least because I was gay and same sex relationships were illegal at the time; other influences, too, mostly from family and peers, saw my younger self in something of a psychological mess for which it suited me to blame some existential fate rather than take responsibility for myself.

Eventually, I came to realise that any hell I was in was of my own making; it was the start of my finding a way back to a self with whom I was (and still am) more comfortable.

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.” 
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”  often attributed to C. S. Lewis

WHERE THE KEYWORD, IS SELF-AWARENESS, 

There is a part of me

that no one ever gets to know

for my living out

its fantasy, a nightmare fiction imposed

on mind-body-spirit

Mind, it can but fight

as best it can to get the better

of forces as unremittingly

as uncaringly infiltrating the human body

time after time

Spirit, it can but resist

until worn down by nightmares 

passing for home truths

by certain elements of human psychology

worn on its sleeves

The better part of me,

struggling with secrets and lies

it’s made to house

in a heart hell bent on betraying appearances

behind closed doors

The years, they but pass

in tears for needing  to break free

of a mind-body-spirit

that would ransom me to Reason, but Reason

is having none of it

Finally, Reason pays up,

returning me to the kind of self

that is a kinder person,

if vulnerable to life forces that can get the better

of you, me, anyone

I grow old, but less haunted

by secrets and lies putting me down

than by other ghosts, 

old allies in adversity come to rescue me again,

and dry my tears,

That's life, and human nature;

we may well seek to nurture a natural 

predilection for peace 

and love in a world open to taking on all-comers,

but… who knows…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: This poet-poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today..] RNT