http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R+N+Taber&x=17&y=13
How many of us can say, hand on heart, that we have never told a lie? True, some lies are for the greater good. Others, though, have a way at eating away at us.
Love hates lies. Invariably, it insists truth will out. Invariably, it will have its way…eventually…in some shape or form, often the least expected and the hardest with which to deal effectively and justly with all whom the lie may have touched.
They say that you can tell if a person is lying by looking them directly in the eye. Perhaps, but even more so, in my personal experience, if that same person, once challenged by word or glance, looks away before we can test the theory for ourselves. It is a useful tip for those of us who think we may have found someone to love while, in truth, they are only looking for sex.
Don’t get me wrong. I am not knocking sex! But there is more to life, and love cannot survive on sex alone. [I met a guy once with whom I was falling in love but began to suspect he already had a partner. He failed the eye test more than once but I kept telling myself it was inconclusive. Eventually, I discovered he was married with three children!]
This poem is a villanelle.
THE EYES HAVE IT
Truth can hurt, make us cry,
even lead us astray
(worse, if buried in a lie)
When love begs give it a try,
do we look away?
Truth can hurt, make us cry
Once love asks reasons why,
it fades away
(worse, if buried in a lie)
Yes, we look folks in the eye
and say, “I’m gay.”
Truth can hurt, make us cry
Cave in to history, let it deny
and drain us away?
(Worse, if buried in a lie)
Once we look love in the eye,
we win the day;
truth can hurt, make us cry
(worse, if buried in a lie)
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
Friday, 31 December 2010
Thursday, 30 December 2010
A Song Of The Earth
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in January 2009 and I included it in my new collection. It is repeated here today for readers who have started dipping into the blog since then and especially for Calvin and Ken who celebrate Ken’s birthday today. Happy Birthday, Ken!
Gay or straight, man or woman, we are, each and every one of us, as we have grown in Earth Mother’s womb and come into the world by as natural means as the Spirit of Creation intended.
There are pathetic, small-minded individuals who claim we are all born heterosexual and gay people are products of a heterosexual-unfriendly environment. Knickers, to that, I say! We are not a race of clones yet, thank goodness.
So, don’t let anyone tell you that being gay is ‘unnatural’.
A SONG OF THE EARTH
If life’s journey never easy,
each uphill step we take
carries us closer to an eternity
that we, for ourselves, make
with every kind word spoken
to those worse off than us
yet are dead set against bigotry
and the more reason (surely?)
to be thankful for a better nature
than those whose life history
reads much like a dissertation
on the superiority of those
taking care to stay on the ‘right’
side of sexuality over any
who dare stray beyond the pale
of a convention invariably
bent on the misinterpretation
of all some of us say or do
True, in some parts of the world
laws allow us to be gay,
to live, let live and get married,
no matter what bigots say;
true, too, that sticks and stones
can break bones, but less so
that we are left unhurt by names
our so-called betters throw
though any scars we may well
choose not to show but strike
a stoic pose, prepare to battle on
for a way of love we believe in;
let them argue how the world turns
on certain ‘moral norms’
(opening up cans of worms unfit
for even its lower life-forms)
while the rest of us enjoy eternity
in Earth Mother’s arms
[From: On the Battlefields Of Love: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in January 2009 and I included it in my new collection. It is repeated here today for readers who have started dipping into the blog since then and especially for Calvin and Ken who celebrate Ken’s birthday today. Happy Birthday, Ken!
Gay or straight, man or woman, we are, each and every one of us, as we have grown in Earth Mother’s womb and come into the world by as natural means as the Spirit of Creation intended.
There are pathetic, small-minded individuals who claim we are all born heterosexual and gay people are products of a heterosexual-unfriendly environment. Knickers, to that, I say! We are not a race of clones yet, thank goodness.
So, don’t let anyone tell you that being gay is ‘unnatural’.
A SONG OF THE EARTH
If life’s journey never easy,
each uphill step we take
carries us closer to an eternity
that we, for ourselves, make
with every kind word spoken
to those worse off than us
yet are dead set against bigotry
and the more reason (surely?)
to be thankful for a better nature
than those whose life history
reads much like a dissertation
on the superiority of those
taking care to stay on the ‘right’
side of sexuality over any
who dare stray beyond the pale
of a convention invariably
bent on the misinterpretation
of all some of us say or do
True, in some parts of the world
laws allow us to be gay,
to live, let live and get married,
no matter what bigots say;
true, too, that sticks and stones
can break bones, but less so
that we are left unhurt by names
our so-called betters throw
though any scars we may well
choose not to show but strike
a stoic pose, prepare to battle on
for a way of love we believe in;
let them argue how the world turns
on certain ‘moral norms’
(opening up cans of worms unfit
for even its lower life-forms)
while the rest of us enjoy eternity
in Earth Mother’s arms
[From: On the Battlefields Of Love: poems by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010
Wednesday, 29 December 2010
Coming Together
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
Christmas may have been all about coming together once a year but love is all about people coming together all year round; gay people, their lovers and loved-ones are no exception whatever certain holier-than-thou bigots might have to say on the subject. As for people who find themselves alone, the key to loneliness is in our own pockets. In these days of on-line social networks, there is no need for anyone to be lonely although the company of virtual reality friends can never replace the real thing.
This poem is a villanelle.
COMING TOGETHER
Come light of day
to midnight’s soul,
a love that’s gay
Dark swept away,
hearts made whole,
come light of day
Open hearts pray
and no glad bells toll
a love that’s gay
Cold feet of clay,
a wake-up call
come light of day
Breaking away,
no backs to the wall,
a love that’s gay
Let the world say
what it will;
come light of day,
a love that’s gay
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]
Christmas may have been all about coming together once a year but love is all about people coming together all year round; gay people, their lovers and loved-ones are no exception whatever certain holier-than-thou bigots might have to say on the subject. As for people who find themselves alone, the key to loneliness is in our own pockets. In these days of on-line social networks, there is no need for anyone to be lonely although the company of virtual reality friends can never replace the real thing.
This poem is a villanelle.
COMING TOGETHER
Come light of day
to midnight’s soul,
a love that’s gay
Dark swept away,
hearts made whole,
come light of day
Open hearts pray
and no glad bells toll
a love that’s gay
Cold feet of clay,
a wake-up call
come light of day
Breaking away,
no backs to the wall,
a love that’s gay
Let the world say
what it will;
come light of day,
a love that’s gay
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Chain Gang
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R+N+Taber&x=17&y=13
Some gay people I meet have no sympathy or time for closet gay men and women. Me, I do. I recall only too well how it was when, as a sensitive teenager, I had no choice but lock myself in a closet of lies at a time when gay relationships were illegal. Well, yes, I did sneak out of it more than once but my home resembled a prison and I’d been put on some damn chain gang by attitudes beyond my control.
As things progressed for gay people and (some) people’s attitudes began to change for the better, I escaped once and for all from the chain gang and have been a free man ever since.
So...let’s have no chain gangs anywhere in the 21st century, yeah? Where they persist, may those cracking the metaphorical whip (or literally, in some cases) get their just deserts sooner rather than later.
CHAIN GANG
I kept on shifting lies, bundles at a time
though threw back my head and sang,
tried to make out I didn’t give a damn
for breaking my back on a chain gang
If I ever thought about breaking loose
it never played on my mind for long;
I couldn’t face ever having to choose
between alter ego and the chain gang
For long hours, days, weeks and years
I slogged on, didn’t put a foot wrong,
nor did a soul ever see me shed tears
for making a career of the chain gang
I knew office politics, chapter and verse
but still kept singing the same old song,
time ringing changes, for better or worse
and a few new faces on the chain gang
One face would linger in my mind’s eye
and a sweet smile found me responding
that I couldn’t ignore even though I’d try
‘cause it just ain’t done on a chain gang
I’d been afraid to strike out and get real,
told gay love ungodly so must be wrong
but how could anyone argue with a smile
that lets heaven shine on a chain gang?
We got to know each other better daily,
the office gossip machine near breaking,
anticipation growing like a monkey tree
(what were we doing on a chain gang?)
We did a runner one day, my love and I,
got a life, began doing our own thing,
happier at work (even happier at play…)
so glad to be gay, free, alive and kicking!
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
Some gay people I meet have no sympathy or time for closet gay men and women. Me, I do. I recall only too well how it was when, as a sensitive teenager, I had no choice but lock myself in a closet of lies at a time when gay relationships were illegal. Well, yes, I did sneak out of it more than once but my home resembled a prison and I’d been put on some damn chain gang by attitudes beyond my control.
As things progressed for gay people and (some) people’s attitudes began to change for the better, I escaped once and for all from the chain gang and have been a free man ever since.
So...let’s have no chain gangs anywhere in the 21st century, yeah? Where they persist, may those cracking the metaphorical whip (or literally, in some cases) get their just deserts sooner rather than later.
CHAIN GANG
I kept on shifting lies, bundles at a time
though threw back my head and sang,
tried to make out I didn’t give a damn
for breaking my back on a chain gang
If I ever thought about breaking loose
it never played on my mind for long;
I couldn’t face ever having to choose
between alter ego and the chain gang
For long hours, days, weeks and years
I slogged on, didn’t put a foot wrong,
nor did a soul ever see me shed tears
for making a career of the chain gang
I knew office politics, chapter and verse
but still kept singing the same old song,
time ringing changes, for better or worse
and a few new faces on the chain gang
One face would linger in my mind’s eye
and a sweet smile found me responding
that I couldn’t ignore even though I’d try
‘cause it just ain’t done on a chain gang
I’d been afraid to strike out and get real,
told gay love ungodly so must be wrong
but how could anyone argue with a smile
that lets heaven shine on a chain gang?
We got to know each other better daily,
the office gossip machine near breaking,
anticipation growing like a monkey tree
(what were we doing on a chain gang?)
We did a runner one day, my love and I,
got a life, began doing our own thing,
happier at work (even happier at play…)
so glad to be gay, free, alive and kicking!
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
Monday, 27 December 2010
The Other Side Of Christmas
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
Christmas will not have been a happy time for everyone and we should, each and every one of us, remember that and be thankful as we tuck into the mince pies and other leftovers...
Religious festivals are, among other things, about thinking of others and not taking all we have in life for granted since, there but for good fortune, go we...
For those men and women (some of them gay) fighting for a better, kinder world, wherever they may be, may 2011 show some real progress in that direction. As for the politicians who send them to risk their lives on a daily basis, let’s hope they won’t lose sight of those finer aims either, in spite of being preoccupied, as they invariably are, with their own personal standing on the world stage. Now should we forget the families and friends left behind while those in the thick of war risk their lives daily.
Someone recently told me that he hates being told to count his blessings because they are too few. Maybe he and all of us need to look again?
THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS
No Christmas tree in the window,
no cards or festive decoration,
no interest in some Baby Jesus
for whom starry-eyed celebration
As for listening out for reindeer,
I’d not hear a sound
for bells ringing out glad tidings
of great joy all around…
No joy in snowflakes whirling past
like dervishes on a battlefield
assured of spoils in this, my city,
by climate change across the world
As for taking comfort and delight
in any religious celebration,
fat chance, when all its factions
primed for eternal division…
Nothing special for Christmas lunch
(some people going hungry)
yet I dare say we’ll survive another
parody of common humanity
Among spoils to whirling dervishes,
tears for Afghanistan this Christmas
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Christmas will not have been a happy time for everyone and we should, each and every one of us, remember that and be thankful as we tuck into the mince pies and other leftovers...
Religious festivals are, among other things, about thinking of others and not taking all we have in life for granted since, there but for good fortune, go we...
For those men and women (some of them gay) fighting for a better, kinder world, wherever they may be, may 2011 show some real progress in that direction. As for the politicians who send them to risk their lives on a daily basis, let’s hope they won’t lose sight of those finer aims either, in spite of being preoccupied, as they invariably are, with their own personal standing on the world stage. Now should we forget the families and friends left behind while those in the thick of war risk their lives daily.
Someone recently told me that he hates being told to count his blessings because they are too few. Maybe he and all of us need to look again?
THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS
No Christmas tree in the window,
no cards or festive decoration,
no interest in some Baby Jesus
for whom starry-eyed celebration
As for listening out for reindeer,
I’d not hear a sound
for bells ringing out glad tidings
of great joy all around…
No joy in snowflakes whirling past
like dervishes on a battlefield
assured of spoils in this, my city,
by climate change across the world
As for taking comfort and delight
in any religious celebration,
fat chance, when all its factions
primed for eternal division…
Nothing special for Christmas lunch
(some people going hungry)
yet I dare say we’ll survive another
parody of common humanity
Among spoils to whirling dervishes,
tears for Afghanistan this Christmas
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Sunday, 26 December 2010
Beyond Christmas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
It is Boxing Day, as good a time as any to look beyond Christmas? Oh, but may the spirit of Christmas and that of other religious festivals endure, its message of peace and love be heard across the world, our leaders (religious as well as political) hear and be seen to act upon it, instead of paying it lip service.
In those parts of the world where gay people and others are still persecuted for their sexuality and/or the way of life they have chosen, we can but wish them peace and love in spite of those who would persecute them. As for the latter, especially those arrogant, hypocritical evangelical types who are a plague on just about everyone’s houses (especialy in parts of Africa) but other bigots too; whatever socio-cultural-religious excuses they may put forward for their appalling behaviour, they would do well to remember that what goes around invariably comes around. Mark my words. A time will come when they will be on the receiving end of their own warped sense of humanity.
There are no excuses for bigotry. There is ignorance, of course, but there are no excuses for that either in the 21st century. As for religion, as I have said before and will say again, take the humanity out of it and what’s left is not worth having.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
BEYOND CHRISTMAS
If Christmastide rarely seen to bring joy
or peace to all parts of a troubled world,
let us reflect, each man, woman, girl, boy,
beyond star, stable, wise men and Word
Though colour, sex, sexuality, creed…
tell dark tales, many beautiful as well,
of peace and joy, love’s fulfilling a need
that in each of us seeks a place to dwell
If death, like sickness, knows no boundaries,
wars stay deaf to our cries for peace and joy,
let love write the most beautiful stories,
bring hope to each man, woman, girl and boy
To whatever age, colour, sex, sexuality, creed,
a joy and peace in love, where all faiths feed
[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]
Wishing you all Peace and Love, now and always,
Roger
It is Boxing Day, as good a time as any to look beyond Christmas? Oh, but may the spirit of Christmas and that of other religious festivals endure, its message of peace and love be heard across the world, our leaders (religious as well as political) hear and be seen to act upon it, instead of paying it lip service.
In those parts of the world where gay people and others are still persecuted for their sexuality and/or the way of life they have chosen, we can but wish them peace and love in spite of those who would persecute them. As for the latter, especially those arrogant, hypocritical evangelical types who are a plague on just about everyone’s houses (especialy in parts of Africa) but other bigots too; whatever socio-cultural-religious excuses they may put forward for their appalling behaviour, they would do well to remember that what goes around invariably comes around. Mark my words. A time will come when they will be on the receiving end of their own warped sense of humanity.
There are no excuses for bigotry. There is ignorance, of course, but there are no excuses for that either in the 21st century. As for religion, as I have said before and will say again, take the humanity out of it and what’s left is not worth having.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
BEYOND CHRISTMAS
If Christmastide rarely seen to bring joy
or peace to all parts of a troubled world,
let us reflect, each man, woman, girl, boy,
beyond star, stable, wise men and Word
Though colour, sex, sexuality, creed…
tell dark tales, many beautiful as well,
of peace and joy, love’s fulfilling a need
that in each of us seeks a place to dwell
If death, like sickness, knows no boundaries,
wars stay deaf to our cries for peace and joy,
let love write the most beautiful stories,
bring hope to each man, woman, girl and boy
To whatever age, colour, sex, sexuality, creed,
a joy and peace in love, where all faiths feed
[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]
Wishing you all Peace and Love, now and always,
Roger
Saturday, 25 December 2010
What Else...?
http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, are alone or with family and friends…may the most important wishes on your wish list will come true.
Many thanks for sticking with the blog, folks. Here's ole Rog wishing you all a Happy Christmas iat the end of my latest You Tube caper: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHRrMhwOgvk
Yes, today's poem is another villanelle. As you all know, I love villanelles and have written nearly 200. Readers have asked if they are available in a collection but the answer is, no. I have approached a few poetry publishers but none are interested, partly because villanelles are considered old fashioned in poetry circles these days and partly because some are on a gay theme.
I suspect you would be surprised how many poetry publishers and magazine editors won’t accept gay material ... yes, even in the 21st century. Some 600+ of my poems have appeared in various poetry publications world-wide since 1993 (excluding any that have only appeared in my collections) yet barely 2% of those have been on a gay theme. So let’s hope 2011 will not only be the year the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority grow up and get read about gay men and women but also a few poetry publishers/editors too.
[Note: Posts are duplicated on both blogs today and will be again tomorrow...then back to different posts on each blog (most of the time) as there are still poetry lovers out there who wouldn’t dream of dipping into a gay-interest blog.]
WHAT ELSE…?
What else is there left to say
but to wish peace and love to all
on a day like Christmas Day?
May lonely people find a way
to ease the heart, cheer the soul;
what else is there left to say?
Let’s listen to the young, pray
heed blighted hope’s anxious call
on a day like Christmas Day
May the world our fears allay
that a War on Terror not see it fall;
what else is there left to say?
Let compassion have its way
though greed pursue its own goal
on a day like Christmas Day
If a lust for power hold sway,
may humanity jump the last hurdle;
what else is there left to say
on a day like Christmas Day?
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not, are alone or with family and friends…may the most important wishes on your wish list will come true.
Many thanks for sticking with the blog, folks. Here's ole Rog wishing you all a Happy Christmas iat the end of my latest You Tube caper: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oHRrMhwOgvk
Yes, today's poem is another villanelle. As you all know, I love villanelles and have written nearly 200. Readers have asked if they are available in a collection but the answer is, no. I have approached a few poetry publishers but none are interested, partly because villanelles are considered old fashioned in poetry circles these days and partly because some are on a gay theme.
I suspect you would be surprised how many poetry publishers and magazine editors won’t accept gay material ... yes, even in the 21st century. Some 600+ of my poems have appeared in various poetry publications world-wide since 1993 (excluding any that have only appeared in my collections) yet barely 2% of those have been on a gay theme. So let’s hope 2011 will not only be the year the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority grow up and get read about gay men and women but also a few poetry publishers/editors too.
[Note: Posts are duplicated on both blogs today and will be again tomorrow...then back to different posts on each blog (most of the time) as there are still poetry lovers out there who wouldn’t dream of dipping into a gay-interest blog.]
WHAT ELSE…?
What else is there left to say
but to wish peace and love to all
on a day like Christmas Day?
May lonely people find a way
to ease the heart, cheer the soul;
what else is there left to say?
Let’s listen to the young, pray
heed blighted hope’s anxious call
on a day like Christmas Day
May the world our fears allay
that a War on Terror not see it fall;
what else is there left to say?
Let compassion have its way
though greed pursue its own goal
on a day like Christmas Day
If a lust for power hold sway,
may humanity jump the last hurdle;
what else is there left to say
on a day like Christmas Day?
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Friday, 24 December 2010
Making Up For Winter
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Not everyone will be busy over the Christmas period and I will continue to write up the blog so feel free to drop by.
Meanwhile...
Gay or straight, isn’t it just so nice when close friendships take that intimate first step farther? Now, who needs Christmas presents when there are hugs and kisses on offer?
As my dear late mother used to say, ‘It’s a good life if you don’t get drunk and lose it.’
[This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
MAKING UP FOR 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]
Not everyone will be busy over the Christmas period and I will continue to write up the blog so feel free to drop by.
Meanwhile...
Gay or straight, isn’t it just so nice when close friendships take that intimate first step farther? Now, who needs Christmas presents when there are hugs and kisses on offer?
As my dear late mother used to say, ‘It’s a good life if you don’t get drunk and lose it.’
[This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
MAKING UP FOR 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]
Thursday, 23 December 2010
A Feeling For Midwinter
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Many thanks to those of you who have had a few kind words to say about my latest readings on You Tube. In the last one (Brighton beach No. 4) you can see and hear me wish everyone a Happy Christmas and New Year...whoever and wherever you are...if you can bear to see ole Rog doing his thing on Brighton beach in December on his 65th birthday (oo-errr!!!):
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Meanwhile...
Winter can be a desolate time of year for lonely people but, now and then, even a winter of the heart can suddenly become spring.
A FEELING FOR MIDWINTER
In the bleak midwinter
a frosty soul did moan,
life not the worth living
heart turning to stone;
no one I could confide in,
no one I dared say
that I had discovered
I am gay
A lonely Christmas over,
New Year just in sight,
what’s the point of living
where there is no light,
but a tunnel stretching
where no angels go…
in the bleak midwinter
long ago?
I heard someone calling
though no one there,
so dropped by at a bar,
and grabbed a chair,
found myself confiding
to a man in grey
how I had discovered
I am gay
I couldn’t stop talking
once I had begun,
a heavy load grew lighter,
tunnel all but run;
I listened in my turn
to how the man in grey
came to discover
he is gay
We chatted until closing,
agreed to meet again,
two hearts overflowing
as we parted then;
though the snowfall heavy
I gladly made my way,
cheering angels telling all
I am gay
[From: On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
PS Several readers have been asking about On The Battlefields Of Love . It can be ordered at any UK bookstore, amazon.co.uk (where there is a review and more details about the book) or most public libraries. Overseas readers will need to order direct from me; email rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog reader' in the subject field for a signed copy and blog discount after January 1st.
Many thanks to those of you who have had a few kind words to say about my latest readings on You Tube. In the last one (Brighton beach No. 4) you can see and hear me wish everyone a Happy Christmas and New Year...whoever and wherever you are...if you can bear to see ole Rog doing his thing on Brighton beach in December on his 65th birthday (oo-errr!!!):
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Meanwhile...
Winter can be a desolate time of year for lonely people but, now and then, even a winter of the heart can suddenly become spring.
A FEELING FOR MIDWINTER
In the bleak midwinter
a frosty soul did moan,
life not the worth living
heart turning to stone;
no one I could confide in,
no one I dared say
that I had discovered
I am gay
A lonely Christmas over,
New Year just in sight,
what’s the point of living
where there is no light,
but a tunnel stretching
where no angels go…
in the bleak midwinter
long ago?
I heard someone calling
though no one there,
so dropped by at a bar,
and grabbed a chair,
found myself confiding
to a man in grey
how I had discovered
I am gay
I couldn’t stop talking
once I had begun,
a heavy load grew lighter,
tunnel all but run;
I listened in my turn
to how the man in grey
came to discover
he is gay
We chatted until closing,
agreed to meet again,
two hearts overflowing
as we parted then;
though the snowfall heavy
I gladly made my way,
cheering angels telling all
I am gay
[From: On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]
PS Several readers have been asking about On The Battlefields Of Love . It can be ordered at any UK bookstore, amazon.co.uk (where there is a review and more details about the book) or most public libraries. Overseas readers will need to order direct from me; email rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog reader' in the subject field for a signed copy and blog discount after January 1st.
Wednesday, 22 December 2010
As Good A Start As Any
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I was 65 yesterday and had a lovely day out in Brighton (East Sussex, UK) with friends. I recorded some poems for You Tube on Brghton beach and you should be able to access the results at:
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Meanwhile...
I have written a Poem for Christmas for years. This year, I sent today's poem instead of a card and am happy to share it with you all today. While some of my Christmas poems are in my collections, all can be found on my blogs. You may think this is strange, even more than a shade hypocritical as I am not a Christian nor, indeed, to I subscribe to any religion. Yet, the spirit of religion is something I can relate to and as I have said before I respect the historical Jesus if not the religious icon. Moreover, there is great poetry in the Bible as well as metaphors, parables and anecdotes to which I can easily relate.
For some years now, here in the UK, the media have reported instances of schools, libraries, even local communities feeling that they cannot celebrate Christmas for gear of offending the ethnic minorities among them. Most people I have spoken to from those same minorities find this patronising and quite absurd; after all, they not only celebrate their religions but are actively encouraged to do so. Only a vocal few set on aggravating socio-cultural-religious divides begrudge Christians an opportunity to celebrate Christmas.
Sadly, many (including Christians) would (still) exclude gay people from Christmas too. Well, I bet God doesn’t, whatever we may mean by God.
Whatever creed we follow – or none at all – let’s grab any chance we can to enjoy an occasion when Peace and Goodwill to everyone may be wishful thinking but remains a goal worth aspiring to.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my other blog today.]
AS GOOD A START AS ANY
There are carols for Christmas
about a baby Jesus born to Mary
and Joseph in Bethlehem
come to forgive a sorry world its sins
and show how redemption
goes hand in hand with salvation
(if we choose to Believe it)
There are carols for Christmas
meant to give this sorry world hope
that love and peace
may yet outwit this strategy for war,
that message of hate
carried by the antics of fanatics
(if we choose to believe them)
There are bells rung at Christmas
bringing great news for celebration
for any who care to listen
and though we may not be Christian,
but of another religion,
Jesus taught God is for everyone
(if we choose to believe Him)
How to mend poor, fractured humanity?
(Christmas, surely, as good a start as any?)
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
I was 65 yesterday and had a lovely day out in Brighton (East Sussex, UK) with friends. I recorded some poems for You Tube on Brghton beach and you should be able to access the results at:
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Meanwhile...
I have written a Poem for Christmas for years. This year, I sent today's poem instead of a card and am happy to share it with you all today. While some of my Christmas poems are in my collections, all can be found on my blogs. You may think this is strange, even more than a shade hypocritical as I am not a Christian nor, indeed, to I subscribe to any religion. Yet, the spirit of religion is something I can relate to and as I have said before I respect the historical Jesus if not the religious icon. Moreover, there is great poetry in the Bible as well as metaphors, parables and anecdotes to which I can easily relate.
For some years now, here in the UK, the media have reported instances of schools, libraries, even local communities feeling that they cannot celebrate Christmas for gear of offending the ethnic minorities among them. Most people I have spoken to from those same minorities find this patronising and quite absurd; after all, they not only celebrate their religions but are actively encouraged to do so. Only a vocal few set on aggravating socio-cultural-religious divides begrudge Christians an opportunity to celebrate Christmas.
Sadly, many (including Christians) would (still) exclude gay people from Christmas too. Well, I bet God doesn’t, whatever we may mean by God.
Whatever creed we follow – or none at all – let’s grab any chance we can to enjoy an occasion when Peace and Goodwill to everyone may be wishful thinking but remains a goal worth aspiring to.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my other blog today.]
AS GOOD A START AS ANY
There are carols for Christmas
about a baby Jesus born to Mary
and Joseph in Bethlehem
come to forgive a sorry world its sins
and show how redemption
goes hand in hand with salvation
(if we choose to Believe it)
There are carols for Christmas
meant to give this sorry world hope
that love and peace
may yet outwit this strategy for war,
that message of hate
carried by the antics of fanatics
(if we choose to believe them)
There are bells rung at Christmas
bringing great news for celebration
for any who care to listen
and though we may not be Christian,
but of another religion,
Jesus taught God is for everyone
(if we choose to believe Him)
How to mend poor, fractured humanity?
(Christmas, surely, as good a start as any?)
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Impromptu Renaissance
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today is my birthday. I am 65 years-old, a bona fide OAP or senior citizen (as the politically correct brigade prefer.]. I have written a couple of new poems to celebrate and this is one of them. [There is another on my general blog: http://rogertab.blogspot.com/
Gays are losers,’ someone sneered at me only recently. Oh, yeah? So...was Handel a loser or Michelangelo or Shakespeare...to name but a few?
Sexuality has to be in the genes or else how can we account for gay people world-wide ... and what is more natural than coming into the world as nature intended? Nor is it only sexuality but also how we develop into mature adults in which, there too, nature is bound to lend a hand.
As every wise parent knows... yes, you want the best for your children. But more often than not, the best way to show your love and keep them close is to let them go their own way and always be there for them.
As for any homophobes among the heterosexual majority, to them I say... grow up and get real.
Now, history plays host to many great men who were homosexual or bisexual. Do we hear the homophobes attacking them? A great man or woman or just an ordinary person in the street, our sexuality is sexuality is unimportant, except to them. It is no one else’s damn business. Besides, it is character that counts and that is where the homophobe is invariably found sadly wanting.
Never, but never underestimate the power of love, and never believe that is any less true for gay men and women world-wide.
IMPROMPTU RENAISSANCE
I battled against the snow one night
and winter would have seen me dead;
no star to be seen or Christmas moon
finding a way through to be my guide
My legs refused even one step more,
my body collapsing in an untidy heap
on a white fur rug, marble surrounds
left clear, no doors or even a window
A splendid ceiling boasted frescoes
keeping faith with a Florentine painter
assigned to transform a mortuary
into a summer retreat fit for a Pope
The faces looking down at me began
shouting then singing, their body parts
dancing wildly, enjoying an orgy,
as if making a mockery of sanctuary
I heard an organ (or was it the wind?)
playing the Dead March as the revellers
vanished behind a sequined curtain
so I saw no finale, could only imagine
Suddenly, faintly, I heard a love song
growing louder, stronger, a match even
for Handel and the dead, hauling me
to my feet, defying surrender to winter
I battled with wind and snow yet again
and winter would have seen me dead
but you despatched the Spirit of Love
to find a way through and be my guide
That night we sat by a glowing hearth,
eating chestnuts roasted on red hot coals
where the arts of gay Greats of History
made their finer pleasures known to us
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
Today is my birthday. I am 65 years-old, a bona fide OAP or senior citizen (as the politically correct brigade prefer.]. I have written a couple of new poems to celebrate and this is one of them. [There is another on my general blog: http://rogertab.blogspot.com/
Gays are losers,’ someone sneered at me only recently. Oh, yeah? So...was Handel a loser or Michelangelo or Shakespeare...to name but a few?
Sexuality has to be in the genes or else how can we account for gay people world-wide ... and what is more natural than coming into the world as nature intended? Nor is it only sexuality but also how we develop into mature adults in which, there too, nature is bound to lend a hand.
As every wise parent knows... yes, you want the best for your children. But more often than not, the best way to show your love and keep them close is to let them go their own way and always be there for them.
As for any homophobes among the heterosexual majority, to them I say... grow up and get real.
Now, history plays host to many great men who were homosexual or bisexual. Do we hear the homophobes attacking them? A great man or woman or just an ordinary person in the street, our sexuality is sexuality is unimportant, except to them. It is no one else’s damn business. Besides, it is character that counts and that is where the homophobe is invariably found sadly wanting.
Never, but never underestimate the power of love, and never believe that is any less true for gay men and women world-wide.
IMPROMPTU RENAISSANCE
I battled against the snow one night
and winter would have seen me dead;
no star to be seen or Christmas moon
finding a way through to be my guide
My legs refused even one step more,
my body collapsing in an untidy heap
on a white fur rug, marble surrounds
left clear, no doors or even a window
A splendid ceiling boasted frescoes
keeping faith with a Florentine painter
assigned to transform a mortuary
into a summer retreat fit for a Pope
The faces looking down at me began
shouting then singing, their body parts
dancing wildly, enjoying an orgy,
as if making a mockery of sanctuary
I heard an organ (or was it the wind?)
playing the Dead March as the revellers
vanished behind a sequined curtain
so I saw no finale, could only imagine
Suddenly, faintly, I heard a love song
growing louder, stronger, a match even
for Handel and the dead, hauling me
to my feet, defying surrender to winter
I battled with wind and snow yet again
and winter would have seen me dead
but you despatched the Spirit of Love
to find a way through and be my guide
That night we sat by a glowing hearth,
eating chestnuts roasted on red hot coals
where the arts of gay Greats of History
made their finer pleasures known to us
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
Monday, 20 December 2010
Alone At Christmas
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
Christmas - like all religious festivals – is a time for coming together. Sadly, too often it is also a time when divisions become more clearly marked than ever. Where family and friends do come together, those who are and/or made to feel excluded can feel terribly alone and isolated from mainstream society.
It is not only some gay people, of course, who are often made to feel excluded because they haven’t lived up to the expectations of others but made their own way in life. It is high time some people realised that, much as we may want the best for family and friends, we have no right to tell them how to live their lives; we should respect the decisions they make instead of harping on about how they could and should have done things differently. Nor is turning to socio-cultural-religious traditions any excuse for making people feel guilty about how they choose to live their lives...or rejecting them for it. [Multicultural societies will never work well until its more of leading lights get real and bring their followers into the 21st century.]
Let those of us who fare better, wish all those who are alone and unhappy a peaceful time over this period of Christmas and always. Peace of mind may be elusive but it is there if we look hard enough; it involves keeping faith with ourselves as well as if not more than with each other. Gay, or straight, male or female, we all need to believe in ourselves and can but trust others will come to believe in us too, albeit it may take time for some to accept us for who and what we are.
Me? I’ve been on my own on Christmas Day for years now and love it. I can do exactly as I please, which usually includes over-eating (especially chocolates and other goodies I deny myself all year) as well as mulling very self-indulgently over Christmases past (some wonderful, some awful) and be glad that close friends will be visiting not only the next day but also for years to come.
I count myself very fortunate with my friends; they are my real family.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
This poem is a villanelle.
ALONE AT CHRISTMAS
Alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
(memories flooding mind and heart)
among flowers of a peace full grown
For errors made, we can but atone
(join a common humanity for a start)
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
May the world look past a tombstone
(in whose design we played our part)
among flowers of a peace full grown
Recalling wise words written in stone
(keeps us close, though made to part)
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
Live by the poetry of kindness shown
and to others, its words impart…
among flowers of a peace full grown
Though time, like a bird, quickly flown,
hear its song, like a bird’s, restart;
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
among flowers of a peace full grown
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Christmas - like all religious festivals – is a time for coming together. Sadly, too often it is also a time when divisions become more clearly marked than ever. Where family and friends do come together, those who are and/or made to feel excluded can feel terribly alone and isolated from mainstream society.
It is not only some gay people, of course, who are often made to feel excluded because they haven’t lived up to the expectations of others but made their own way in life. It is high time some people realised that, much as we may want the best for family and friends, we have no right to tell them how to live their lives; we should respect the decisions they make instead of harping on about how they could and should have done things differently. Nor is turning to socio-cultural-religious traditions any excuse for making people feel guilty about how they choose to live their lives...or rejecting them for it. [Multicultural societies will never work well until its more of leading lights get real and bring their followers into the 21st century.]
Let those of us who fare better, wish all those who are alone and unhappy a peaceful time over this period of Christmas and always. Peace of mind may be elusive but it is there if we look hard enough; it involves keeping faith with ourselves as well as if not more than with each other. Gay, or straight, male or female, we all need to believe in ourselves and can but trust others will come to believe in us too, albeit it may take time for some to accept us for who and what we are.
Me? I’ve been on my own on Christmas Day for years now and love it. I can do exactly as I please, which usually includes over-eating (especially chocolates and other goodies I deny myself all year) as well as mulling very self-indulgently over Christmases past (some wonderful, some awful) and be glad that close friends will be visiting not only the next day but also for years to come.
I count myself very fortunate with my friends; they are my real family.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
This poem is a villanelle.
ALONE AT CHRISTMAS
Alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
(memories flooding mind and heart)
among flowers of a peace full grown
For errors made, we can but atone
(join a common humanity for a start)
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
May the world look past a tombstone
(in whose design we played our part)
among flowers of a peace full grown
Recalling wise words written in stone
(keeps us close, though made to part)
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
Live by the poetry of kindness shown
and to others, its words impart…
among flowers of a peace full grown
Though time, like a bird, quickly flown,
hear its song, like a bird’s, restart;
alone at Christmas, yet not so alone
among flowers of a peace full grown
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Sunday, 19 December 2010
A Christmas Story
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
You just never know what’s around the next corner or even at the next bus queue...
A CHRISTMAS STORY
Standing close to me in the queue,
buttocks pressing on my groin;
My sex aroused, I could but surf
waves of desire, tumbling like blond
highlights in the long brown hair;
if I’d stuck out my tongue, it would
have brushed the pale neck gracing
a denim shirt collar like down
of an angel’s wing making night moves
on my heart’s reawakening;
moving forward in the queue till just
us pair, a lump in my throat hard
and throbbing like an erection
(that, too) as in craters of a full moon
I made frantic love…to you
A taxi pulled up alongside us, your turn
to vanish into a darker side of town;
tou casually asked if I’d care to share
and I could but nod, follow those
highlights in your hair…wherever;
in the back seat, leg pressing against
mine, we gladly revealed our names - and
more. It was time, we both knew,
to stop playing games, answer a question
in the wing mirror’s eyes as the taxi
pulled up at your door. It was now
or never. I yielded to temptation, said ‘yes’
without hesitation; though it be but
a one-night stand, I was hooked, my place
in your bed long since booked…
our Christmas goose all but cooked
[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]
You just never know what’s around the next corner or even at the next bus queue...
A CHRISTMAS STORY
Standing close to me in the queue,
buttocks pressing on my groin;
My sex aroused, I could but surf
waves of desire, tumbling like blond
highlights in the long brown hair;
if I’d stuck out my tongue, it would
have brushed the pale neck gracing
a denim shirt collar like down
of an angel’s wing making night moves
on my heart’s reawakening;
moving forward in the queue till just
us pair, a lump in my throat hard
and throbbing like an erection
(that, too) as in craters of a full moon
I made frantic love…to you
A taxi pulled up alongside us, your turn
to vanish into a darker side of town;
tou casually asked if I’d care to share
and I could but nod, follow those
highlights in your hair…wherever;
in the back seat, leg pressing against
mine, we gladly revealed our names - and
more. It was time, we both knew,
to stop playing games, answer a question
in the wing mirror’s eyes as the taxi
pulled up at your door. It was now
or never. I yielded to temptation, said ‘yes’
without hesitation; though it be but
a one-night stand, I was hooked, my place
in your bed long since booked…
our Christmas goose all but cooked
[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Waking Up To Love
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R+N+Taber&x=17&y=13
Several readers have asked why my poetry collections are not available outside the UK. Regular readers will know that I publish them under my own imprint because poetry publishers are not interested in general collections that include gay material; they see the latter as a separate genre whereas I don't. While UK readers can order from any bookstore or public library (or amazon) overseas readers can only buy direct from me. For signed copies at a blog dscount email mailto:roger%20tab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' in the subject field - after January 1st as I cannot accept new order until then.
Meanwhile...
Today's poem last appeared on the blog in July 2009 and is repeated today especially for readers ‘Guillaume and Jacques’ who will celebrate the second anniversary of their Civil Partnership (Pacte civil de solidarité) this week. You don’t say which day, folks, but congratulations. Puissiez-vous vivre heureux pour toujours et voici un gros câlin de Roger. [For those don’t know any French, that is, ‘May you live happy ever after and here’s a big hug from Roger’...at least, I hope it does as my French is a bit rusty!]
WAKING UP TO LOVE
There’s a tree in a field
that sings me a love song
every time I’m sitting
where it rises from the ground;
listen and you’ll hear
the lyric of a love song hanging
on a dream lost and found
By a tree in a field
we wrote our first love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, hanging
on a dream lost and found
There’s a tree in a field
that watched us kiss and part,
not daring to believe
as we lay there on the ground
how gay love might
survive a world left but hanging
on dreams lost and found
To a tree in a field
we returned to write a love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, a waking
dream lost and found
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
Several readers have asked why my poetry collections are not available outside the UK. Regular readers will know that I publish them under my own imprint because poetry publishers are not interested in general collections that include gay material; they see the latter as a separate genre whereas I don't. While UK readers can order from any bookstore or public library (or amazon) overseas readers can only buy direct from me. For signed copies at a blog dscount email mailto:roger%20tab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' in the subject field - after January 1st as I cannot accept new order until then.
Meanwhile...
Today's poem last appeared on the blog in July 2009 and is repeated today especially for readers ‘Guillaume and Jacques’ who will celebrate the second anniversary of their Civil Partnership (Pacte civil de solidarité) this week. You don’t say which day, folks, but congratulations. Puissiez-vous vivre heureux pour toujours et voici un gros câlin de Roger. [For those don’t know any French, that is, ‘May you live happy ever after and here’s a big hug from Roger’...at least, I hope it does as my French is a bit rusty!]
WAKING UP TO LOVE
There’s a tree in a field
that sings me a love song
every time I’m sitting
where it rises from the ground;
listen and you’ll hear
the lyric of a love song hanging
on a dream lost and found
By a tree in a field
we wrote our first love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, hanging
on a dream lost and found
There’s a tree in a field
that watched us kiss and part,
not daring to believe
as we lay there on the ground
how gay love might
survive a world left but hanging
on dreams lost and found
To a tree in a field
we returned to write a love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, a waking
dream lost and found
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
Friday, 17 December 2010
Close To Christmas
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
I love robins. For me, they are a living metaphor for what life is all about...stoicism, survival in the face of despair where the twin spirits of peace and love are not only singing from the same hymn sheet for a change but finding a voice all year round.
The first Christmas after my partner died was one of the worst I have ever experienced yet there was much comfort to be found too; the worst for its loneliness, much comfort in discovering that love is everywhere. Even a winter of the heart cannot but find peace, hope and love in a robin’s sweet song.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
This poem is a villanelle.
CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS
One day close to Christmas
in a time long ago…
cock robin sang for us
Life had not been kind to us
but dealt a savage blow
one day close to Christmas
Icy rain, camouflage for tears,
our love no place to go,
cock robin sang for us
A kind snowman hid our fears
under a coat of snow,
one day close to Christmas
In a time of gifts and promises
making a fine show,
cock robin sang for us
Our love, it lit up the loneliness
of death’s dark hollow;
one day close to Christmas
cock robin sang for us…
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
I love robins. For me, they are a living metaphor for what life is all about...stoicism, survival in the face of despair where the twin spirits of peace and love are not only singing from the same hymn sheet for a change but finding a voice all year round.
The first Christmas after my partner died was one of the worst I have ever experienced yet there was much comfort to be found too; the worst for its loneliness, much comfort in discovering that love is everywhere. Even a winter of the heart cannot but find peace, hope and love in a robin’s sweet song.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
This poem is a villanelle.
CLOSE TO CHRISTMAS
One day close to Christmas
in a time long ago…
cock robin sang for us
Life had not been kind to us
but dealt a savage blow
one day close to Christmas
Icy rain, camouflage for tears,
our love no place to go,
cock robin sang for us
A kind snowman hid our fears
under a coat of snow,
one day close to Christmas
In a time of gifts and promises
making a fine show,
cock robin sang for us
Our love, it lit up the loneliness
of death’s dark hollow;
one day close to Christmas
cock robin sang for us…
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Reconciliation
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in April2009 and is repeated today especially for ‘Owen and Zane’ who have been reconciled – ‘after a silly falling out months ago’ – and now plan to buy a house together.
Good luck with making that house into a home, folks. Enjoy!
Yes, breaking up is tough. But, oh, the joy of a reconciliation!
RECONCILIATION
In the water, an ugly face looking up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (in the queerest expression)
firing questions at me that passed over
my head, joined with seabirds making merry
in a summer breeze without touching me
or so much as lightly brushing a moist eyelid
although echoing distantly in my head
In the water, a told-you-so sun looking up at me,
bags under its eyes, reeling from a freak storm
that leapt with little warning as a panther might
stalk and jump its prey. Shivering now in spite
of the afternoon’s clammy heat. Oh, I was scared
but stayed put, let the beast sniff and circle me,
stared into the very whites of its eyes, dared it to
do its worst - but it moved on, left me alone
In the water, your dear face looking up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (in the queerest expression)
putting answers to me that whirl inside
my head, join with seabirds making merry
in a summer breeze, breathing life into me,
drying a moist eyelid, passion on my tongue
like the lyric of our favourite love song
Reconciled, we’ll stroll the lake’s leafy shore,
scared of being gay and in love no more
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in April2009 and is repeated today especially for ‘Owen and Zane’ who have been reconciled – ‘after a silly falling out months ago’ – and now plan to buy a house together.
Good luck with making that house into a home, folks. Enjoy!
Yes, breaking up is tough. But, oh, the joy of a reconciliation!
RECONCILIATION
In the water, an ugly face looking up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (in the queerest expression)
firing questions at me that passed over
my head, joined with seabirds making merry
in a summer breeze without touching me
or so much as lightly brushing a moist eyelid
although echoing distantly in my head
In the water, a told-you-so sun looking up at me,
bags under its eyes, reeling from a freak storm
that leapt with little warning as a panther might
stalk and jump its prey. Shivering now in spite
of the afternoon’s clammy heat. Oh, I was scared
but stayed put, let the beast sniff and circle me,
stared into the very whites of its eyes, dared it to
do its worst - but it moved on, left me alone
In the water, your dear face looking up at me,
bags under the eyes, tramlines on the brow,
mouth crooked (in the queerest expression)
putting answers to me that whirl inside
my head, join with seabirds making merry
in a summer breeze, breathing life into me,
drying a moist eyelid, passion on my tongue
like the lyric of our favourite love song
Reconciled, we’ll stroll the lake’s leafy shore,
scared of being gay and in love no more
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Waiting For Christmas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
A precocious little girl once told me I’d probably get something really nice for Christmas because Santa Claus is gay. [A well-endowed elf, I wondered?]
‘What makes you think Santa is gay? I asked.
The child shrugged. ‘Uncle Jack is gay.’
‘So?’ I was intrigued.
‘After our Christmas party last year, I saw him sneak into Uncle Jack’s room when he thought no one was looking. It was ages before Uncle Jack came downstairs. I bet they weren’t playing cards.’
‘How could I possibly comment?
For many children, Christmas is a magical time of year. For just as many others, it is just another few days to get through. There is nothing wrong with fantasy; if children believe in Santa Claus, it can do no harm...except where they are misled to expect so much from Santa that they feel hurt and let down if their Christmas dreams don’t come true.
Oh well, at least that’s good practice for adult life.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
WAITING FOR CHRISTMAS
Rain soaking the shirt, jeans;
body responding freely
Face upturned, glad to be out
getting wet, mind distracted;
domestic crises, work targets
and assessments wreaking
havoc (with the best intentions)
stifling that very inspiration
meant to persuade, encourage,
leaves us feeling like flies
feeding on garbage left out
for the bin men (fodder
for stray pets and homeless folks.)
Oh, we may have a job, home,
mortgage etcetera - but a life
to call our own? Some may beg
to differ, thinking through
yet another staff rota at supper,
marking yet more homework
once guests (finally) gone home
to snug beds, a thousand
and one nights and more besides
cramming heads, misting eyes,
asking questions, stirring up lies,
half lies, meant to persuade,
encourage, lending us an empathy
with flies homing in on garbage
left out for the bin men to dispose
Come seize the day, one and all,
we get to rubbish Santa Claus
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time, Assembly Books, 2005; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
A precocious little girl once told me I’d probably get something really nice for Christmas because Santa Claus is gay. [A well-endowed elf, I wondered?]
‘What makes you think Santa is gay? I asked.
The child shrugged. ‘Uncle Jack is gay.’
‘So?’ I was intrigued.
‘After our Christmas party last year, I saw him sneak into Uncle Jack’s room when he thought no one was looking. It was ages before Uncle Jack came downstairs. I bet they weren’t playing cards.’
‘How could I possibly comment?
For many children, Christmas is a magical time of year. For just as many others, it is just another few days to get through. There is nothing wrong with fantasy; if children believe in Santa Claus, it can do no harm...except where they are misled to expect so much from Santa that they feel hurt and let down if their Christmas dreams don’t come true.
Oh well, at least that’s good practice for adult life.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
WAITING FOR CHRISTMAS
Rain soaking the shirt, jeans;
body responding freely
Face upturned, glad to be out
getting wet, mind distracted;
domestic crises, work targets
and assessments wreaking
havoc (with the best intentions)
stifling that very inspiration
meant to persuade, encourage,
leaves us feeling like flies
feeding on garbage left out
for the bin men (fodder
for stray pets and homeless folks.)
Oh, we may have a job, home,
mortgage etcetera - but a life
to call our own? Some may beg
to differ, thinking through
yet another staff rota at supper,
marking yet more homework
once guests (finally) gone home
to snug beds, a thousand
and one nights and more besides
cramming heads, misting eyes,
asking questions, stirring up lies,
half lies, meant to persuade,
encourage, lending us an empathy
with flies homing in on garbage
left out for the bin men to dispose
Come seize the day, one and all,
we get to rubbish Santa Claus
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time, Assembly Books, 2005; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Pulp Fiction
http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T
Oh, but fellow passengers on a train or bus can make even the most boring journey so exciting. This poem was inspired by a journey on the London Underground but I suspect it could be just about anywhere in the world.
Today’s poem was written in 2001 and first appeared on the blog in February 2009. It is one of my (relatively) few autobiographical poems. Well, almost autobiographical because, in this particular instance, I did see the guy again. For the record, I live just up the road from Camden Town and met my mystery man a few weeks later in The Black Cap, a great gay bar there. Sadly for me, he was with his boyfriend. Isn’t that just typical? Even so, the three of us enjoyed a very pleasant evening chatting over several beers. I met him again yesterday quite by chance and promised to repeat the poem. His new boyfriend is very nice. [How come some people have all the luck?]
So...hi, Phil and here’s thinking of you nine years down the line...
PULP FICTION
He got on at Leicester Square,
sat opposite me, heading for Edgware;
between dripping sardines
our eyes met. (Rain on the face
or beads of sweat?)
I chanced a friendly smile
and mouthed, “Hello.”
He flung me a dirty look - so
I returned to my book although my heart
yearned for his beauty,
let it comfort my despair. (Oh, to burn
my fingers on the sparklers
in his hair!) Patched jeans smouldering
like the heart cowering in my shirt,
I risked a second glance. His eyes bore
darkly into mine...
Hooked! Starkly, we swam
a glorious ocean...
Our lovemaking done by Camden Town,
he left the train
I never saw him again
[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]
Oh, but fellow passengers on a train or bus can make even the most boring journey so exciting. This poem was inspired by a journey on the London Underground but I suspect it could be just about anywhere in the world.
Today’s poem was written in 2001 and first appeared on the blog in February 2009. It is one of my (relatively) few autobiographical poems. Well, almost autobiographical because, in this particular instance, I did see the guy again. For the record, I live just up the road from Camden Town and met my mystery man a few weeks later in The Black Cap, a great gay bar there. Sadly for me, he was with his boyfriend. Isn’t that just typical? Even so, the three of us enjoyed a very pleasant evening chatting over several beers. I met him again yesterday quite by chance and promised to repeat the poem. His new boyfriend is very nice. [How come some people have all the luck?]
So...hi, Phil and here’s thinking of you nine years down the line...
PULP FICTION
He got on at Leicester Square,
sat opposite me, heading for Edgware;
between dripping sardines
our eyes met. (Rain on the face
or beads of sweat?)
I chanced a friendly smile
and mouthed, “Hello.”
He flung me a dirty look - so
I returned to my book although my heart
yearned for his beauty,
let it comfort my despair. (Oh, to burn
my fingers on the sparklers
in his hair!) Patched jeans smouldering
like the heart cowering in my shirt,
I risked a second glance. His eyes bore
darkly into mine...
Hooked! Starkly, we swam
a glorious ocean...
Our lovemaking done by Camden Town,
he left the train
I never saw him again
[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]
Monday, 13 December 2010
A Feeling For Christmas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
It’s easy to get downhearted because Christmas seems to be all about finding money we don’t have for presents, cards, stocking our cupboards with assorted goodies etc.
The something happens to make us think again and give us (and Christmas) a new lease of life...
Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. But, Son of God or no, Jesus was a Man for all Seasons. Whatever our religion, should we not always try to celebrate the spirituality we give and take from it in our everyday lives, preferably in a spirit of peace and love, no matter what or where or who?
Many Christians reject gay people because they interpret the Bible as telling them to do so. The Bible, perhaps, not Jesus. The God of the Old Testament is all byut made redundant by the New. Jesus taught that God is no god of vebgeance and intolerance but the opposite. If I were a Christian or subscribed to any religion, there is no way I would believe God is a homophobe. Thankfully, there are Christians and other religious-minded people who feel the same.
As I have said before (being of a repetive nature) our differences don't make us different, only human. Take the humanity out of religion and all the ritual and prayers become pointless.
[This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
A FEELING FOR CHRISTMAS
Once I found a Christmas tree
discarded in the street,
some of its branches cut away,
the rest looking shabby (to
say the least) needles already
turning shades of brown
like crumbs of toast, a sorry
specimen indeed that few
passers-by would have spared
a glance; but something
in me responded to that tree,
so I bent down, picked
it up, took it home, placed it
in a tub of earth and recall
thinking, oh, how good it was
to restore a sense of dignity
to the spirit of a sad little tree
that, surely, would die,
yet not without playing a part
of sorts in Christmas, even
with someone like me, hardly
the smiling face of festivity!
I found two dusty baubles, some
tinsel and a lopsided star;
it seemed to me the little tree
took on an air of triumph,
celebration, things I’d preferred
to forget at this time of year
by the 25th it had taken root,
a sight for sore eyes indeed,
one I felt a need to share, with
joy and pride, felt before, yes,
but never quite like this feeling
for - Christmas?
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]
It’s easy to get downhearted because Christmas seems to be all about finding money we don’t have for presents, cards, stocking our cupboards with assorted goodies etc.
The something happens to make us think again and give us (and Christmas) a new lease of life...
Christians celebrate the birth of Jesus. But, Son of God or no, Jesus was a Man for all Seasons. Whatever our religion, should we not always try to celebrate the spirituality we give and take from it in our everyday lives, preferably in a spirit of peace and love, no matter what or where or who?
Many Christians reject gay people because they interpret the Bible as telling them to do so. The Bible, perhaps, not Jesus. The God of the Old Testament is all byut made redundant by the New. Jesus taught that God is no god of vebgeance and intolerance but the opposite. If I were a Christian or subscribed to any religion, there is no way I would believe God is a homophobe. Thankfully, there are Christians and other religious-minded people who feel the same.
As I have said before (being of a repetive nature) our differences don't make us different, only human. Take the humanity out of religion and all the ritual and prayers become pointless.
[This post is duplicated on my general blog today.]
A FEELING FOR CHRISTMAS
Once I found a Christmas tree
discarded in the street,
some of its branches cut away,
the rest looking shabby (to
say the least) needles already
turning shades of brown
like crumbs of toast, a sorry
specimen indeed that few
passers-by would have spared
a glance; but something
in me responded to that tree,
so I bent down, picked
it up, took it home, placed it
in a tub of earth and recall
thinking, oh, how good it was
to restore a sense of dignity
to the spirit of a sad little tree
that, surely, would die,
yet not without playing a part
of sorts in Christmas, even
with someone like me, hardly
the smiling face of festivity!
I found two dusty baubles, some
tinsel and a lopsided star;
it seemed to me the little tree
took on an air of triumph,
celebration, things I’d preferred
to forget at this time of year
by the 25th it had taken root,
a sight for sore eyes indeed,
one I felt a need to share, with
joy and pride, felt before, yes,
but never quite like this feeling
for - Christmas?
[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Shadows In A Mist
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R+N+Taber&x=17&y=13
Regular readers will know only too well that I share the view of my late mother, who told me on more than one occasion that if something is worth saying once, it’s worth repeating, if necessary again and again....
If we don’t have faith in ourselves how can we ask anyone else to have faith in us?
It probably meant the most to me when she said that after I told her in the 1970s, only two years before she died, thatI am gay. (I was a tearful, psychological mess at the time.)
SHADOWS IN A MIST
Silver shadows all around me
keep pace with my dreams,
are there only to remind me
(if life as bad as it seems)
shades of love will surround me,
won’t fall apart at the seams
or let this dull ache in my body
swell, explode me into pieces,
food for the world’s prejudices
Silver shadows all around me
will always dry my tears,
are there only to remind me
(its heart beating my fears)
shades of love will surround me,
and save me from despair,
show me an inner spirituality,
championing a happiness,
greater than any temporal ties
Silver shadows all around me
speaking with one voice,
are there only to remind me
(fighting my enemy, choice)
shades of love will surround me,
see me right by compassion,
replacing rock and hard place
with the wisdom of centuries
defying the world’s prejudices
Silver shadows, but inspiring us
to keep faith with ourselves
[From: On the Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]
Regular readers will know only too well that I share the view of my late mother, who told me on more than one occasion that if something is worth saying once, it’s worth repeating, if necessary again and again....
If we don’t have faith in ourselves how can we ask anyone else to have faith in us?
It probably meant the most to me when she said that after I told her in the 1970s, only two years before she died, thatI am gay. (I was a tearful, psychological mess at the time.)
SHADOWS IN A MIST
Silver shadows all around me
keep pace with my dreams,
are there only to remind me
(if life as bad as it seems)
shades of love will surround me,
won’t fall apart at the seams
or let this dull ache in my body
swell, explode me into pieces,
food for the world’s prejudices
Silver shadows all around me
will always dry my tears,
are there only to remind me
(its heart beating my fears)
shades of love will surround me,
and save me from despair,
show me an inner spirituality,
championing a happiness,
greater than any temporal ties
Silver shadows all around me
speaking with one voice,
are there only to remind me
(fighting my enemy, choice)
shades of love will surround me,
see me right by compassion,
replacing rock and hard place
with the wisdom of centuries
defying the world’s prejudices
Silver shadows, but inspiring us
to keep faith with ourselves
[From: On the Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]
Saturday, 11 December 2010
Christmas Dreams
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
As I keep saying (anyone listening?) the spirit of Christmas extends to all religions. Each may have its own voice but the message of peace and love is much the same.
Well, isn’t it?
Gay, straight...what does it matter? As I also keep pointing out, our differences don't make us different, only human.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my other blog today.]
CHRISTMAS DREAMS
What does Christmas mean to me?
Peace and love need no Christmas tree,
no decorations, no Christmas fare,
just the right to exist everywhere
What does Christmas mean to me?
The sum of all I am that’s my history;
trying to do better by each new day,
be a better person, come what may
What does Christmas mean to me?
Beggars on our streets (give generously);
No in-fighting on the wings of a prayer
from church, mosque…no matter where
What does Christmas mean to me?
(A cure for HIV-Aids… oh, let it be!)
Come, make every day Christmas Day,
respect one another, straight or gay
What does Christmas mean to you?
But listen to your heart and answer true;
confide in best friend, worst enemy,
peace and love need no Christmas tree
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
As I keep saying (anyone listening?) the spirit of Christmas extends to all religions. Each may have its own voice but the message of peace and love is much the same.
Well, isn’t it?
Gay, straight...what does it matter? As I also keep pointing out, our differences don't make us different, only human.
[Note: This post is duplicated on my other blog today.]
CHRISTMAS DREAMS
What does Christmas mean to me?
Peace and love need no Christmas tree,
no decorations, no Christmas fare,
just the right to exist everywhere
What does Christmas mean to me?
The sum of all I am that’s my history;
trying to do better by each new day,
be a better person, come what may
What does Christmas mean to me?
Beggars on our streets (give generously);
No in-fighting on the wings of a prayer
from church, mosque…no matter where
What does Christmas mean to me?
(A cure for HIV-Aids… oh, let it be!)
Come, make every day Christmas Day,
respect one another, straight or gay
What does Christmas mean to you?
But listen to your heart and answer true;
confide in best friend, worst enemy,
peace and love need no Christmas tree
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
Friday, 10 December 2010
Spread The Word
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
I am often accused of being too simplistic in my poems. Simple, yes, more often than not, but simplistic is a criticism I reject. [Well, I would, wouldn’t I?] I don’t want people to read a poem of mine only to scratch their heads, wondering what it’s all about. I said as much to a university lecturer once and he had a go at me for not having a ‘scholarly’ approach to poetry. Needless to say, I took it as a compliment.
Meanwhile, here’s a poem with a simple message; some words teach and some of us learn so that both can live on...
SPREAD THE WORD
There’s a little word
it took me a while to learn to say,
put a smile on my face,
feel better about myself each day,
making my life good
in spite of some I knew who would
try to put me down,
come what may, for a little word
they hear with dismay,
but I’m not scared any more to say
so they can take or leave
my love, friendship, all I have to give
since one little word
showed me how to live and be free
of the secrets and pain
I’d weep over time and time again,
hating to sleep even,
for fear of waking up to a winter rain
even in summertime
That one little word, needless to say,
is - gay
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
I am often accused of being too simplistic in my poems. Simple, yes, more often than not, but simplistic is a criticism I reject. [Well, I would, wouldn’t I?] I don’t want people to read a poem of mine only to scratch their heads, wondering what it’s all about. I said as much to a university lecturer once and he had a go at me for not having a ‘scholarly’ approach to poetry. Needless to say, I took it as a compliment.
Meanwhile, here’s a poem with a simple message; some words teach and some of us learn so that both can live on...
SPREAD THE WORD
There’s a little word
it took me a while to learn to say,
put a smile on my face,
feel better about myself each day,
making my life good
in spite of some I knew who would
try to put me down,
come what may, for a little word
they hear with dismay,
but I’m not scared any more to say
so they can take or leave
my love, friendship, all I have to give
since one little word
showed me how to live and be free
of the secrets and pain
I’d weep over time and time again,
hating to sleep even,
for fear of waking up to a winter rain
even in summertime
That one little word, needless to say,
is - gay
Copyright R. N. Taber 2008
Thursday, 9 December 2010
The Christmas Gift
http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber
I always write love poems with my late partner in mind although I hope readers will find time and space enough within them to get in touch with their own deeper feelings. Christmas is no different. Love has the capacity for rising above the worst life and nature may feel inclined to throws at it, including winter.
Yes, here I go again. The message of Christmas - as of all the religious festivals - is one of peace and love.
Long, long live love…
Long, long live peace, too, wherever it is even half given a chance.
As for peace of mind, we can but try for it and, once we find, be sure to share it out if only to take love and comfort from watching the ripples spread...
[Note: This poem is duplicated on both blogs today.]
THE CHRISTMAS GIFT
Christmas bells ringing,
choir voices singing,
a crisp snow falling
like manna from heaven
for kids and snowmen
while I gazed from a window,
nose against the pane,
never felt so alone
Suddenly, I saw you there,
sunshine in the hair,
so near, yet so far…
a dear, familiar grin
daring me rejoin
the pleasures of togetherness
and share in festivity
than bare self-pity
Loneliness ebbing away
as, crying, I ran to play
that Christmas Day
you threw snowballs, missed
and we kissed…
red lips sweet and warm,
blue eyes forgiving
me for living
Where snow piles your grave,
that Christmas night,
we made love…
while bells rejoiced us
and angels chorused
the pleasures of togetherness
that share in festivity,
defy self-pity
Not once a year but every day,
love finds a way
[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]
I always write love poems with my late partner in mind although I hope readers will find time and space enough within them to get in touch with their own deeper feelings. Christmas is no different. Love has the capacity for rising above the worst life and nature may feel inclined to throws at it, including winter.
Yes, here I go again. The message of Christmas - as of all the religious festivals - is one of peace and love.
Long, long live love…
Long, long live peace, too, wherever it is even half given a chance.
As for peace of mind, we can but try for it and, once we find, be sure to share it out if only to take love and comfort from watching the ripples spread...
[Note: This poem is duplicated on both blogs today.]
THE CHRISTMAS GIFT
Christmas bells ringing,
choir voices singing,
a crisp snow falling
like manna from heaven
for kids and snowmen
while I gazed from a window,
nose against the pane,
never felt so alone
Suddenly, I saw you there,
sunshine in the hair,
so near, yet so far…
a dear, familiar grin
daring me rejoin
the pleasures of togetherness
and share in festivity
than bare self-pity
Loneliness ebbing away
as, crying, I ran to play
that Christmas Day
you threw snowballs, missed
and we kissed…
red lips sweet and warm,
blue eyes forgiving
me for living
Where snow piles your grave,
that Christmas night,
we made love…
while bells rejoiced us
and angels chorused
the pleasures of togetherness
that share in festivity,
defy self-pity
Not once a year but every day,
love finds a way
[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Putting The World To Rights
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
This poem does not appear in my collections and I first posted it on the blog in October 2009. Yes, I can relate to it (although a top man, me) but it was actually inspired by a conversation with a former neighbour. He was a psychological mess in years ago and in denial about being gay. A few years after the event about which the poem tells, he met and settled down with his partner. They have lived in the North of England for some years now and entered into a Civil Partnership last year.
Oh, but I do so love a happy ending, don’t you?
This poem does not appear in my collections and I first posted it on the blog in October 2009. Yes, I can relate to it (although a top man, me) but it was actually inspired by a conversation with a former neighbour. He was a psychological mess in years ago and in denial about being gay. A few years after the event about which the poem tells, he met and settled down with his partner. They have lived in the North of England for some years now and entered into a Civil Partnership last year.
Oh, but I do so love a happy ending, don’t you?
PUTTING THE WORLD TO RIGHTS
We met at a pub in Camden Town,
having arranged it all on the Internet;
at first, we weren’t sure we’d like
each other, sex but a blurred image
in our minds
After failing to put the world right,
we felt more at ease with each other;
I began to take in a fullness of lips,
titillated by shared if subtle
intimacies
of body language
It was as if his voice lost its words
a twinkle in each eye distracting me,
several shirt buttons left undone
inviting me to appreciate dark ripples
of flesh within
By the time the conversation turned
to who should go to whose for coffee,
I had already slipped under a duvet
let him enter me, transcend the poetry
of imagination
No duvet greeted me, but satin sheets,
caressing my body even before his turn
to feel his way through dark passages
of my self, guilt blocking every attempt
to come clean
He persevered, took me to the climax
of my fears, let flow waters of the
earth
succouring a lonely self, left for dead
by those insisting it’s a sin for one
man
to love another
If love means breaking ties that bind
generations, let’s have no reservations;
love deserves better from a humanity
whose very differences that so divide us
make us human
If gay people love to be just as close
to family and old friends as anyone else,
there’s a love we place even higher,
and it’s a foolish person listens to
those
denying us this
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
[Note: Camden Town is an area of London near where I live. It is famous for its street market and The Black Cap one of the oldest and friendliest gay bars in London.]
Tuesday, 7 December 2010
Looking For Christmas
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Yes, Christmas will be with us in a few weeks. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.
Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If their God doesn't mind, why should they?]
No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.
We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.
[Note: This post is duplicated on both blogs today.]
LOOKING FOR CHRISTMAS
Come, hear the bells of Christmas
though lost, alone, in the snow
recalling times past when we’d leave
a card for Santa, hot cocoa
and a mince pie, try to sleep while
listening out for reindeer hooves
pounding across the sky, a cheery cry
ringing loud and clear for children
everywhere to hear, know (for sure)
that we are loved, no matter who
we are or how our lives shaping up,
whether or no we’re finding signs
of Christmas or much the same cruelty
(or worse) than the day before
Peering ahead down an endless road,
lost souls, alone, no place to go
till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love
and peace, count blessings, let bells
speak for us, echo high and low, anxious
to share out the joys of Christmas,
fearful for lost souls looking for refuge
from a bitter-sweet winter snow
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
Yes, Christmas will be with us in a few weeks. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.
Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If their God doesn't mind, why should they?]
No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.
We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.
[Note: This post is duplicated on both blogs today.]
LOOKING FOR CHRISTMAS
Come, hear the bells of Christmas
though lost, alone, in the snow
recalling times past when we’d leave
a card for Santa, hot cocoa
and a mince pie, try to sleep while
listening out for reindeer hooves
pounding across the sky, a cheery cry
ringing loud and clear for children
everywhere to hear, know (for sure)
that we are loved, no matter who
we are or how our lives shaping up,
whether or no we’re finding signs
of Christmas or much the same cruelty
(or worse) than the day before
Peering ahead down an endless road,
lost souls, alone, no place to go
till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love
and peace, count blessings, let bells
speak for us, echo high and low, anxious
to share out the joys of Christmas,
fearful for lost souls looking for refuge
from a bitter-sweet winter snow
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
Monday, 6 December 2010
Raised Voices
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
There comes a time for most gay men and women when we need to let the world know just who we are.
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in May 2009 and is repeated here today for two sixteen-year olds, ‘Ben’ and his boyfriend ‘Matt’ who have been in a closet relationship for several months. Apparently, the only person who knows their secret is Ben’s sister; she discovered the gay section in The Third Eye after borrowing it from her local public library and gave it to him to read. Subsequently, they started following the blog and now plan to come out to family and friends this Christmas.
Ben writes, ‘I like this poem because it’s easy to understand and isn’t complicated like lots of poems. That’s how I want people to think about me and Matt. Why should being gay be so hard for people to understand and what’s so complicated about accepting people for who they are?’ Good questions, Ben. I hope you and Matt will get to enjoy a great Christmas. Let us know how you get on. I’m sure all the blog readers will join me in sending lots of positive vibes to the pair of you as well as your families and friends.
This poem is a villanelle.
RAISED VOICES
Come, let’s shout;
it’s time the world knew
we’re out
Though dark clouds about,
skies are turning blue;
Come, let’s shout
Trust me, never doubt
it’s right for me and you
we’re out
It’s what love is all about
(seeing us through);
Come, let’s shout
Though each day but short,
may its paths run true;
we’re out!
Putting fears to rout,
ours too;
Come, let’s shout,
'We’re out!'
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2010
[Note: This poem has been (very) slightly revised from the original that appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
There comes a time for most gay men and women when we need to let the world know just who we are.
Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in May 2009 and is repeated here today for two sixteen-year olds, ‘Ben’ and his boyfriend ‘Matt’ who have been in a closet relationship for several months. Apparently, the only person who knows their secret is Ben’s sister; she discovered the gay section in The Third Eye after borrowing it from her local public library and gave it to him to read. Subsequently, they started following the blog and now plan to come out to family and friends this Christmas.
Ben writes, ‘I like this poem because it’s easy to understand and isn’t complicated like lots of poems. That’s how I want people to think about me and Matt. Why should being gay be so hard for people to understand and what’s so complicated about accepting people for who they are?’ Good questions, Ben. I hope you and Matt will get to enjoy a great Christmas. Let us know how you get on. I’m sure all the blog readers will join me in sending lots of positive vibes to the pair of you as well as your families and friends.
This poem is a villanelle.
RAISED VOICES
Come, let’s shout;
it’s time the world knew
we’re out
Though dark clouds about,
skies are turning blue;
Come, let’s shout
Trust me, never doubt
it’s right for me and you
we’re out
It’s what love is all about
(seeing us through);
Come, let’s shout
Though each day but short,
may its paths run true;
we’re out!
Putting fears to rout,
ours too;
Come, let’s shout,
'We’re out!'
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2010
[Note: This poem has been (very) slightly revised from the original that appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
Sunday, 5 December 2010
A Christmas Blessing
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I was delighted to hear from an Australian reader yesterday but do not have an email address to reply. ‘Alan’ asked if my novel Blasphemy, the first book in my gay-crime trilogy, is available in Australia. Yes, it is. You should be able to order at any bookstore as it is distributed there by Bulldog Books. However, I don’t know how much it costs there. If you read and enjoy it, Book 2 in the trilogy (Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption) is only on sale in the UK but available direct from me. I haven#t been well this year but hope to write Book Three during the early part of 2011. [For anyone else who may be interested, the publishers have posted a free preview of Chapter One at: http://www.glbpubs.com/blas.html ]
Meanwhile...
People often make wrong assumptions about older folks. [I’ll be 65 in a few weeks time and someone recently asked me if I knew how to use a computer.] I will never forget how, some years ago, an elderly couple in their 80s were very kind to me when I was the victim of a homophobic attack; they were devoutly religious and knew I was gay but all that mattered to them that I needed help.
This point of this poem has little ir nothing to do with Christmas. It was inspired by a true story told me by a friend some years ago. These days, many people’s attitudes have changed…but not all. In some countries, even here in the West, there are gay men and women too frightened to be openly gay for all sorts of reasons. Yes, I know I have said this many times before. But as my late mother used to say, if a thing is worth saying, it’s always worth repeating.
Those of us whose family, friends, school friends and workmates help us feel relaxed about being ‘out’ should not be complacent or assume it is the same for everyone. It is probably hardest for gay boys and girls still at school. I well remember the torment of having to come to terms with being gay on top of all the usual teenage angst, and sometimes wonder how on earth I managed to survive to adulthood at all!
Some ignorant people will always try to give gay folks a hard time. For my own part, I always like to point out that’s their problem, not mine. [That usually shuts them up.]
Yes, tragically, homophobia is alive and kicking. So whatever happened to Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all humankind? Nor is it just Christmas but other religious festivals too that are found wanting. Religion may well be about faith, ritual and prayer. But what is all that really worth if it loses sight of its humanity?
[Note: This post appears on both blogs today.]
A CHRISTMAS BLESSING
They said it didn’t matter I’m gay,
seemed glad for me when I found you,
accepted us as a couple, for who
and what we are - and we were happy;
days, months, passed and nothing
happened to spoil our idyll although
as autumn slipped into winter
we noticed a subtle change in people
as hearts and minds began to focus
on Christmas – or did I only imagine
they looked away? I knew better
but put my faith in love to win the day
Suddenly, it seemed everyone was asking
everyone else what they had in mind
for Christmas - except us, no one meaning
to be unkind, of course
Whenever we would venture to suggest
this or that, all we’d hear was,
‘Oh, we’d love to have you, of course
but, sorry, a full house this year;
Besides, you know how some old people
feel about gays and we don’t want
to spoil grandma’s Christmas do we?’
(said most sincerely.) So we anticipated
a quiet, loving time, just the two of us
till, days before Christmas, a phone call
from your grandmother just to say
she was looking forward to seeing you
‘Oh, and your partner too, of course.
Sadly, it was all very different in my day.
Few people then found the courage
to walk tall, heads high and openly gay.'
Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2010
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st editions of Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
I was delighted to hear from an Australian reader yesterday but do not have an email address to reply. ‘Alan’ asked if my novel Blasphemy, the first book in my gay-crime trilogy, is available in Australia. Yes, it is. You should be able to order at any bookstore as it is distributed there by Bulldog Books. However, I don’t know how much it costs there. If you read and enjoy it, Book 2 in the trilogy (Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption) is only on sale in the UK but available direct from me. I haven#t been well this year but hope to write Book Three during the early part of 2011. [For anyone else who may be interested, the publishers have posted a free preview of Chapter One at: http://www.glbpubs.com/blas.html ]
Meanwhile...
People often make wrong assumptions about older folks. [I’ll be 65 in a few weeks time and someone recently asked me if I knew how to use a computer.] I will never forget how, some years ago, an elderly couple in their 80s were very kind to me when I was the victim of a homophobic attack; they were devoutly religious and knew I was gay but all that mattered to them that I needed help.
This point of this poem has little ir nothing to do with Christmas. It was inspired by a true story told me by a friend some years ago. These days, many people’s attitudes have changed…but not all. In some countries, even here in the West, there are gay men and women too frightened to be openly gay for all sorts of reasons. Yes, I know I have said this many times before. But as my late mother used to say, if a thing is worth saying, it’s always worth repeating.
Those of us whose family, friends, school friends and workmates help us feel relaxed about being ‘out’ should not be complacent or assume it is the same for everyone. It is probably hardest for gay boys and girls still at school. I well remember the torment of having to come to terms with being gay on top of all the usual teenage angst, and sometimes wonder how on earth I managed to survive to adulthood at all!
Some ignorant people will always try to give gay folks a hard time. For my own part, I always like to point out that’s their problem, not mine. [That usually shuts them up.]
Yes, tragically, homophobia is alive and kicking. So whatever happened to Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all humankind? Nor is it just Christmas but other religious festivals too that are found wanting. Religion may well be about faith, ritual and prayer. But what is all that really worth if it loses sight of its humanity?
[Note: This post appears on both blogs today.]
A CHRISTMAS BLESSING
They said it didn’t matter I’m gay,
seemed glad for me when I found you,
accepted us as a couple, for who
and what we are - and we were happy;
days, months, passed and nothing
happened to spoil our idyll although
as autumn slipped into winter
we noticed a subtle change in people
as hearts and minds began to focus
on Christmas – or did I only imagine
they looked away? I knew better
but put my faith in love to win the day
Suddenly, it seemed everyone was asking
everyone else what they had in mind
for Christmas - except us, no one meaning
to be unkind, of course
Whenever we would venture to suggest
this or that, all we’d hear was,
‘Oh, we’d love to have you, of course
but, sorry, a full house this year;
Besides, you know how some old people
feel about gays and we don’t want
to spoil grandma’s Christmas do we?’
(said most sincerely.) So we anticipated
a quiet, loving time, just the two of us
till, days before Christmas, a phone call
from your grandmother just to say
she was looking forward to seeing you
‘Oh, and your partner too, of course.
Sadly, it was all very different in my day.
Few people then found the courage
to walk tall, heads high and openly gay.'
Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2010
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st editions of Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
Saturday, 4 December 2010
Where Fools Rush In
http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R+N+Taber&x=17&y=13
Today's poem first appeared on the blog in March 2009. One reader, ‘Hugh’ liked it so much at he went out and bought the collection in which it appears. Wow, thank you! I don’t write poetry to make money (who does?) but sales pay for new collections and extra print runs of earlier titles so they are always welcome. [As regular readers will know only too well, I publish under my own imprint as no poetry publishers like the idea of gay material being included in general collections but insist it needs to be published separately, if at all.]
Hugh has asked for the poem to be repeated today’s especially for a friend’s son who is 17 years-old today, still at school and has only confided in Gavin that he is gay.
Indeed, the poem is for all gay people, especially young people with the greater part of their lives ahead of them who, similarly, may not have been able yet to face telling family and friends they are gay.
Oh, yes, I remember it well...
“You’re a fool!’ someone told me forcefully years ago when I came out in the open as a gay man, adding for good measure that ‘All gays are losers.’
Well, all I can say is that now I know why and where fools rush in and certainly don’t feel I’ve lost out.
WHERE FOOLS RUSH IN
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
have never mined craters of the moon
or lain with another, naked as the day
he or she were born
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
will never have zigzagged helter-skelter
down the Milky Way into the arms
of Earth Mother
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
may well have sniffed at a summer rose
and pored over one season’s poetry
but what of others?
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
will invariably reach for reality’s sword,
forgetting that craters of the moon
are not of this world
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
see history’s reworking of its stereotypes
as a convenient excuse for blots
in their copybooks
Those who say any love is fool’s gold
have never mined craters of the moon
or lain with another, naked as the day
he or she were born
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Today's poem first appeared on the blog in March 2009. One reader, ‘Hugh’ liked it so much at he went out and bought the collection in which it appears. Wow, thank you! I don’t write poetry to make money (who does?) but sales pay for new collections and extra print runs of earlier titles so they are always welcome. [As regular readers will know only too well, I publish under my own imprint as no poetry publishers like the idea of gay material being included in general collections but insist it needs to be published separately, if at all.]
Hugh has asked for the poem to be repeated today’s especially for a friend’s son who is 17 years-old today, still at school and has only confided in Gavin that he is gay.
Indeed, the poem is for all gay people, especially young people with the greater part of their lives ahead of them who, similarly, may not have been able yet to face telling family and friends they are gay.
Oh, yes, I remember it well...
“You’re a fool!’ someone told me forcefully years ago when I came out in the open as a gay man, adding for good measure that ‘All gays are losers.’
Well, all I can say is that now I know why and where fools rush in and certainly don’t feel I’ve lost out.
WHERE FOOLS RUSH IN
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
have never mined craters of the moon
or lain with another, naked as the day
he or she were born
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
will never have zigzagged helter-skelter
down the Milky Way into the arms
of Earth Mother
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
may well have sniffed at a summer rose
and pored over one season’s poetry
but what of others?
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
will invariably reach for reality’s sword,
forgetting that craters of the moon
are not of this world
Those who say gay love is fool’s gold
see history’s reworking of its stereotypes
as a convenient excuse for blots
in their copybooks
Those who say any love is fool’s gold
have never mined craters of the moon
or lain with another, naked as the day
he or she were born
Copyright R. N. Taber 2009
Friday, 3 December 2010
One Upon A Wiccan Yule
A reader said he was disapppointed that I am posting Christmas poems because ' everyone makes far too much of Christmas.' Ah, but my Christmas poems are more about the food for thought any religious festival gives us and which applies all year round...or it should.
As for Santa, he may only visit once a year but I well recall a Wiccan man who made every day a time for celebration and thanksgiving for all life is rather than as we might wish it was...
ONCE UPON A WICCAN YULE
At this time of Yule,
I well recall a Wiccan manwho showed me
how love can save the world
if anything can…
and though he took me
to his bed
time and time again,
it would only
take a kiss, a hug, even
a handshake
to anaesthetize the pain
I was feeling…
for those so much worse off
than us, excluded even
from Christmas, whether
by culture, sexuality,
the darker side of memory
or separated
from friends and family,
whatever the reason
or season, since neither
Yule nor Christmas
can boast a monopoly
on loneliness
So let’s spare a thought
for the sick,
the lonely, and any cast out
for taking a direction
that doesn’t always follow
convention
No matter, the Wiccan man
showed me;
it’s love can save the world
and our integrity
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
Thursday, 2 December 2010
Window, Last Seen Clinging To A Leaf
http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber
How many times do I have to say it? Moving on doesn’t mean leaving anyone behind.
I wrote this poem after a conversation with a young man whose boyfriend was killed in Iraq. I’ve met other gay men and women from the armed services who have lost partners and feel they have to grieve alone because they did not dare reveal their relationships. It may be legal now to be gay in the armed forces but as another gay guy put to me some time ago, ‘coming out is one thing, surviving all the crap they throw at you for it is something else.’
It is tragic that the average heterosexual serving in the armed forces anywhere in the world cannot see that sexuality doesn’t make one iota of difference to someone’s ability to do as good a job and take the same risks as they do. It is an insult to a gay person’s professional as well as personal integrity to suggest otherwise.
All those in the armed forces deserve out admiration. As Christmas approaches, let them and us resolve to (always) include gay men and women too. Sadky, I suspect it will be a while yet and take more than a U S president's blessins although the latter is a welcome start.
To those readers who suggest I should avoid using rhyme as often as I do, I hope you like this blank verse poem. [Back to rhyme tomorrow though.]
WINDOW, LAST SEEN CLINGING TO A LEAF
The moon is full and stars are shining
for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf
clinging fast to my bedroom window
Your lips are full and eyes are shining
as your lips descend on mine for a kiss,
remains of a lifetime of false hopes
Fighting a good fight with expressions
of love that deserves better than defeat
by armies raised by and allied to bigots
Hearts so full, they can but spill over
into hands making ready a vat of tears,
battle for peace of mind already lost
Our lovemaking as splendid a farewell
as ever a leaf took from a branch, its tree
no match for relentless autumn winds
You went away to fight another war
where being gay might matter to some
but not to those carrying your coffin
The moon is full and stars are shining
for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf
left in pieces at my bedroom window
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
How many times do I have to say it? Moving on doesn’t mean leaving anyone behind.
I wrote this poem after a conversation with a young man whose boyfriend was killed in Iraq. I’ve met other gay men and women from the armed services who have lost partners and feel they have to grieve alone because they did not dare reveal their relationships. It may be legal now to be gay in the armed forces but as another gay guy put to me some time ago, ‘coming out is one thing, surviving all the crap they throw at you for it is something else.’
It is tragic that the average heterosexual serving in the armed forces anywhere in the world cannot see that sexuality doesn’t make one iota of difference to someone’s ability to do as good a job and take the same risks as they do. It is an insult to a gay person’s professional as well as personal integrity to suggest otherwise.
All those in the armed forces deserve out admiration. As Christmas approaches, let them and us resolve to (always) include gay men and women too. Sadky, I suspect it will be a while yet and take more than a U S president's blessins although the latter is a welcome start.
To those readers who suggest I should avoid using rhyme as often as I do, I hope you like this blank verse poem. [Back to rhyme tomorrow though.]
WINDOW, LAST SEEN CLINGING TO A LEAF
The moon is full and stars are shining
for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf
clinging fast to my bedroom window
Your lips are full and eyes are shining
as your lips descend on mine for a kiss,
remains of a lifetime of false hopes
Fighting a good fight with expressions
of love that deserves better than defeat
by armies raised by and allied to bigots
Hearts so full, they can but spill over
into hands making ready a vat of tears,
battle for peace of mind already lost
Our lovemaking as splendid a farewell
as ever a leaf took from a branch, its tree
no match for relentless autumn winds
You went away to fight another war
where being gay might matter to some
but not to those carrying your coffin
The moon is full and stars are shining
for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf
left in pieces at my bedroom window
Copyright R. N. Taber 2010
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Body Positive
Today is World AIDS Day so, in addition to a Christmas poem, I am posting one about the AIDS tragedy, continuing to affect so many people round the world, not just those who contract HIV-AIDS but their friends, and loved ones too. We are all its victims. Never were John Donne’s words as true as in the context of HIV-AIDS that ‘No man is an island...Each man’s death diminishes me.’
Today also marks the inauguration of a memorial mural in Bournemouth to those who have died of AIDS across Dorset, created with much hard work, dedication and loving care under the auspices of DAMSET, an HIV-AIDS educational trust. I feel very privileged to have been asked to write a poem for this wonderful project several years ago when it was just starting out; it will accompany the mural on a separate plaque.
Sadly, I cannot be at the inauguration ceremony but my thoughts are with everyone there. For more about DAMSET (and the poem) go to: http://damset.co.uk/ [By the way, if you want to hear me read the poem, I included it in a poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square last year; click on the link immediately below the title of this post.]
Meanwhile...
Meanwhile...
Today’s first poem was written twenty years ago yet, tragically, it could just as easily have been written yesterday. When I posted it on my general blog a year ago, I received the usual emails/comments from heterosexual readers about HIV-AIDS being down to gay men. Interestingly, most were comments with no email address so I was unable to reply.
HIV-AIDS Awareness is lacking world-wide. Too many people - especially young people - continue to think it couldn’t happen to them. If only more places would follow DAMSET’s shining example. Moreover, if they did, perhaps more people would feel it less of a taboo to say that a loved one has died of AIDS. There is no shame in what is as sad event as anyone else’s death, whatever the cause.
We should never be complacent about unprotected sex, especially if we are not in a monogamous relationship and engaging in one-night stands on a regular basis.
[Note: This post is duplicated on both blogs today.]
BODY POSITIVE
BODY POSITIVE
Life, death!
Floods me, goads me,
leads me beside hot beaches
where I run, a dazzling sea
cheering me on, and I wonder
where the lark has gone
that fixed me with its cheer
before abandoning me here
like a forgotten toy
filled with the joy of its
having played me out
before going about
nature’s own
business
Life, death...
Calls me, galls me,
urges me back, back to you;
but we are gone, the taste of us
honey on my tongue
where we romped and played
like tots in make-believe
heading barefoot among jellyfish
for the Punch and Judy man
who’ll make us laugh
if anyone can
before the sun goes down
and our time
forgotten
Life, death...
Overtaken us now, beckoning;
I’ll not rush my pace, for
we already ran our race, won
a place among these stars
enchanting this lulling swell.
All’s well; one lost toy recovered
and taken home, Punch and Judy
in a packing case sleeping it off
at some Bed and Breakfast;
I, filled with such a night
far exquisite for words
like those we shared
before AIDS
[From: Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]
Meanwhile...
Time, tide, and Christmas wait for no one. [I will be posting some Christmas poems on both blogs between now and December 25th but don’t expect a cosy portrait of fairy lights on the tree and everyone playing Happy Families...]
WAITING FOR CHRISTMAS
Rain soaking the shirt, jeans;
body responding freely
Face upturned, glad to be out
getting wet, mind distracted;
domestic crises, work targets
and assessments wreaking
havoc (with the best intentions)
stifling that very inspiration
meant to persuade, encourage,
leaves us feeling like flies
feeding on garbage left out
for the bin men, fodder for
stray cats, dogs, homeless folks;
Oh, we may have a job, home,
mortgage etcetera - but a life
to call our own? Some may beg
to differ, thinking through
yet another staff rota at supper,
marking yet more homework
once guests (finally) gone home
to snug beds, a thousand
and one nights and more besides
cramming heads, misting eyes,
asking questions, stirring up lies,
half lies, meant to persuade,
encourage, lending us an empathy
with flies homing in on garbage
left out for the bin men to dispose
Come seize the day, one and all,
we get to rubbish Santa Claus
[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time, Assembly Books, 2005; 2nd ed. in preparation.]
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