For A Lost Soldier

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

Too often, I hear people discussing the whole idea of gay men and women in the armed forces with utter contempt. As regular readers of my books and/or blogs will know, I express my frustration and anger in poems from my earliest to latest collections. 

In some countries, it is no longer illegal to be gay in the armed forces, but gay men and women serving at home and overseas have told me they still need to keep quiet about their sexuality or colleagues (and commanders) would make their lives unbearable. One soldier told me he married a lesbian so they could keep up appearances and carry on with jobs they love doing, and do well, while secretly assuming the lifestyle nature intended for them. It is an appalling indictment on a so-called 'civilised' society. 

Among all the poems I have written, about 33% are on a gay theme. While some 600+ poems have appeared in various poetry publications (other than in my collections) since 1993, only a handful of these are gay-interest poems; this is one of the few, taken from First Person Plural and also accepted for publication in Where Your Thoughts Take You, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2003. 

So what has courage, skill and taking life-threatening risks on a daily basis got to do with sexuality, eh?

FOR A LOST SOLDIER

Once, summer tapped

me on the shoulder,

murmured in my ear,

and when I turned

I saw a soldier - in full

uniform

Asked the way to heaven

knows where - but

I hardly caught a word

as the full curve

of his mouth cut me

like a sword

Voice teasing, haunting

eyes like an owl’s

ripping at my clothes,

baring the soul...

I gladly surrendered

my all

A woman took his arm,

smiled with the charm

of Eve at Adam’s side;

the soldier winked

as they moved on - and

I sighed

He hadn’t lied

Copyright R, N. Taber 2002; 2012

[Note: This poem has been (very) slightly revised from the original as it appeared in 1st eds. of First Person Plural by R. N. Taber. 2002; 2nd ed. in preparation.]

On The Battlefields Of Love

http://www.authorsden.com/rogerntaber

Several readers have asked me to repeat this poem last posted here in 2010 and from which my 6^th collection takes its title; the cover photograph taken by my close friend Graham Collett is of the folly at Virginia Water. The book sold well enough (for poetry) in the UK to and sales have paid for my new collection. So I am hoping Tracking the Torchbearer can do the same for a final collection I have in mind for 2015 when I hit 70.

On the Battlefields of Love is still in print, and while UK readers can order from any bookstore or amazon.co.uk, they - as well as overseas readers - can also buy signed copies direct from me at a discount on (retail price + shipping). Contact: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Poetry Collection’ or ‘Blog reader’ in the subject field.

Life is often a mental as well as a physical battlefield, but to love the last word and final victory; love in all its shapes and forms, never judging and never, but never discriminating along lines of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. .

Long, long live love... 

ON THE BATTLEFIELDS OF LOVE

There is a gene amongst others

that scares fathers, concerns mothers,

while (still) gay people everywhere

crying out for them to care

No matter colour, sex or creed,

it is on love that families should feed;

(where faith a mask for hypocrisy,

religions often found guilty)

Gay people have a right to be

free of cultural prejudices and bigotry

making us feel we must defend

our sexuality to the end…

It’s good to be open, honest, true,

but what are gay people supposed to do

when love for family put on the line,

urging us our selves to redefine?

If a faith in God fills heart and soul,

how can gay people expect to reconcile

teachings of universal love and peace

with examples holy leaders set us?

We can but follow love’s golden rules,

(if made to carry its burdens like mules)

in a common humanity put our trust,

shake off its exceptions, like dust

Some will always find excuses for war,

gay and straight folks wage another?

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Custom Made

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

Straight friends are always teasing me along the lines that gay people aren't into poetry, only sex. Bollocks! There have been some great gay poets, and the UK has a lesbian Poet Laureate in the brilliant Carol Ann Duffy. As for me, well this blog has had 15,000+ page views...

Now, today's poem is another that readers have asked me to include in my new collection. I have done as they asked, so here's hoping it will be good for book sales as I rely on sales to pay for future publications. Tracking the Torchbearer is only on sale in the UK but anyone (including overseas readers) can obtain signed copies directly from me. Contact: rogertab@aol.com [Yes, another plug for the book, but you can't blame a pensioner for trying...hehe.]

Meanwhile...

Nothing lends itself to customising like love. And there  is nothing quite like custom made love...whoever and wherever you are.

CUSTOM MADE

We dream of being together,

looking after each other,

seizing each day,

and it really doesn’t matter

we’re gay

We dream of living together,

looking after each other,

leading the way

for those to whom it matters

they’re gay

We dream of staying together,

looking after each other,

come what may

and it really doesn’t matter

what folks say

Dreams that bring us together,

looking after each other,

realised every day,

custom made for all lovers

straight or gay

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books. 2012]

Ode To A School Cap

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This post appears on both blogs today.


There is probably at last one gay boy or girl in a class at every school. Yet gay relationships are rarely (if ever) openly discussed as part of a structured programme embracing social issues. 

Few schools approach teaching and class discussion about sex and relationships very well; among even among those that do, little (if anything) is said that is meaningful to a young gay person, probably struggling with an emerging sense of sexuality along with various other anxieties and frustrations every teenager has to endure.

Time and again, young gay people have contacted me to say there is no one they can talk to about gay issues. Yes, I can (and do) recommend support groups while offering as much reassurance and support myself as I can, also answering their questions with frankness and sensitivity. Even so, I am a stranger and, yes, it can be easier to talk to a stranger but it is better still to talk to a close friend or family member who can be there for you with advice and a hug 24/7.

It is absurd that in the 21st century, many gay people still feel there is a stigma attached to being gay that prevents them openly discussing it with family, peers or teachers. Meanwhile, homophobia persists among those who continue to take outdated, misleading and often offensive stereotypes that plague gay people - especially gay men - as read. [Leaders of the world's religions, please note.]

Yes, I know the less enlightened members of a predominantly heterosexual society continue to give lesbians a hard time. Even so, gay women are less likely to be accused a paedophilia than gay men (even though most paedophiles are heterosexual); they are less likely to be physically abused for their sexuality or verbally abused for spreading the HIV-AIDS virus (as happened to me only recently).

I guess the bottom line is that many if not most heterosexual men and women (especially men) still feel they should be appalled by sexual acts between two men. This has always been a mystery to me as I know straight couples who get up to all sorts in bed...

Is it any wonder that a significant number of gay boys choose to stay in the closet? Not only in the southern hemisphere either. I read not so long ago about two girls at a church school in the US who were excluded for being in a lesbian relationship.Faith schools need to get real about gay issues! Being gay doesn't make us any less of a human being, for goodness sake.

Male or female, it may be a lot easier to be gay than when I was young…but it sure ain’t easy, even now, half a century on…

I recorded this poem for my YouTube channel some time ago so am repeating the video here today as well; especially for 'Joe' who asked why I never read poems on a gay theme there. [I have read several, but I don't think of myself as a 'gay poet', just a poet who also happens to be gay and will tackle any theme. You can access my YouTube channel at: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber ]

ODE TO A SCHOOL CAP

On a pebbly shore observing the sea

about to snatch an abandoned deckchair,

I wonder…do you ever think of me,

snatching at my cap, fingers in my hair?

A breeze, come evening, laughing at us,

shadow fingers masturbating, a bliss

sure to catch us out under summer skies,

a passing cloud witnessing our first kiss

No one ever guessed why you went away

across a sea that calls me with your voice;

much as I loved you, implored you to stay,

each kiss but postponing a time of choice

Not ready then to tell the world I’m gay,

left letting its tides snatch my cap away

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

Tea For Two

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

Fact, as they say, really can be stranger than fiction, and when you least expect it.

Ah, but there’s nothing like a cup of tea when you’re feeling down and in need of something (or someone) to pick you up and put you back on track...

TEA FOR TWO

Stirring my tea,

brooding about life, wishing

things so different;

less strife, angst, despair;

more love everywhere

Suddenly, a hand took mine,

“You’re spilling your tea!”

I looked up and found myself

staring into eyes as blue

as any picture postcard sea

and all I could do

was grin foolishly and try

to ignore…

Nipples pricking his shirt,

sending thrills

down my spine, a lump

in the throat,

full lips teasing mine

with a smile

like the sun on a cloudy day,

come out to play

I let him wrap me

in velvet, pocket my dreams

in his jeans;

we left, tea unfinished,

still holding hands

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2012

[Note:  An earlier version of this poem first appeared in the anthology, So Starts A New Beginning, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2001 & 1^st eds. of First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; 2^nd ed. in preparation.]

The Green Man

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is one of several that readers asked me to include in my new collection Tracking the Torchbearer, so I did. The book is available from today and can be ordered in UK bookstores and amazon.co.uk:

http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=nb_sb_noss_1?url=search-alias%3Dstripbooks&field-keywords=R.+N.+Taber&x=19&y=17 

Your (UK) public library may well order you a copy too for a minimal reservation fee.

Overseas (as well as UK) readers can order a signed, personally inscribed copy directly from me at a discount on (retail price+ shipping) so please say where in the world you are. 

Enquiries to: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Poetry Collection’ or ‘Blog Reader’ in the subject field.

I read the poem in Windsor for YouTube some time ago so have also repeated the video below. It relates to a time long, long ago when I was still coming to terms with my sexuality and learning to shrug off various offensive stereotypes which the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority continue (even now) to attach to gay men and women world-wide. As always, nature rescued me from doubt and near despair. 

THE GREEN MAN

Walking in woods one day,

a beautiful stranger came my way,

a youth dressed all in green,

sweet breath chasing clouds away,

in sunny hair, a leafy crown

The young man beckoned me

to take a path I’d not followed before;

I did just that, unhesitatingly,

so commanding, if fair, a look and air

of age-old majesty

Trees, brambles, wild flowers,

making an impressive if chaotic show,

we sprinted autumn’s hours,

keeping pace with its bold amber glow,

undeterred by leafy showers

We came at last to a pretty glade

where the young man bade me lie down

on a spacious grassy bed

then lay beside me, took me for his own

and I, oh, so gladly responded

Pleasurably spent, I slept till dawn,

woke, not in the wood of our lovemaking,

(the Green Man, too, was gone)

but where once I’d be tossing and turning

for fear I was a bad person

A dream, yes, but also nature’s way

of reassuring a youth so tormented by shame

there is none in being gay;

we have but to give the Green Man a name

and live to love another day

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

A Good Sign

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

I felt truly inspired once, some years ago now, watching two deaf gay men signing that they liked each other in a crowded Soho gay bar. I am significantly but by no means profoundly deaf, and cannot sign very well, but did not need to; it was obvious what was happening in any language. 

I was cruising on my own (and getting nowhere fast, as we do sometimes) and felt very humbled by these two guys as well as delighted for them. There was I, fretting because no one was showing any interest in me and fast developing something of an inferiority complex, and here were these two guys showing me how it’s done by the sheer force of their personalities. From where I was standing, they lit up the whole bar and put the rest of us in the shade.

I know some deaf and partially deaf people don’t consider deafness a disability. I do, if only for all the stress it has caused me since early childhood. Deaf people have their own culture, and hearing people feel part of a community they often take for granted. Significant, but not total hearing loss means you belong to neither. For years, I felt a strong sense of exclusion in so far as everyone else gave me an impression of ‘belonging’ in a way with which I could not easily identify. As a child, I had neither the experience nor articulation to understand I was partially deaf; pitch or perceptive deafness is particularly confusing as so much depends on acoustics as well as the pitch of a person’s voice and, of course, whether or not they are facing you; lip reading - conscious or not - is a necessary skill for hearing impaired people.

I learned to rise above my hearing loss and compensate for it. Even so, when I finally acquired hearing aids when I was 40 years-old, it made a huge difference to my quality of life. Even now, I can’t help thinking how much greater my learning experience at school and university would have been if I hadn’t been struggling to hear all the time.

Disabled people invariably have an uncanny knack and inner strength for rising above their disability. Sometimes I think we focus too much on the disability and forget the person doggedly rising above it. They have the same aspirations and desires as the rest of us; among them, many gay men and women.

Gay people are often made to feel excluded if not always intentionally from mainstream society. Imagine how it must be for a disabled gay person.

I slept with a disabled guy once who was wheelchair bound. I liked him at once, but hadn’t considered anything else until he gave me a long, searching look, a huge knowing smile and informed me that he was missing two legs, but there was nothing wrong with the third and his bum was the original. We went back to his place, and had a great time. It was one of my few truly unforgettable one-night stands. (Most of the others were already a distant memory the next day.)

.A GOOD SIGN

White tee, blue eyes,

cruising a gay bar, looks around 

as he orders...

Settles on green eyes

lit with the kind of smile

an angel would gladly

die again for, crosses to sit

nearby and shyly

nods a ‘hello’ but - no reply

so gets up to go,

Green Eyes running fingers

through golden hair,

full lips pursed, exposing

a hairy chest,

stretching a downy leg

in lycra shorts...

(Blue, slowly drowning

in wildest thoughts...)

“I’m deaf,” he says quietly

in the queerest voice,

clearly making up his mind,

staking his choice;

Blue grins, winks, signs

that he’s also

up for a close encounter

of the intimate kind

Among lonely hearts

in a crowded Soho dive, two pairs

of hands come alive

Copyright R. N. Taber

[Note: Soho has been a very gay-friendly area of central London (UK) for many years. An earlier version of this poem appears in 1^st eds. of First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; 2^nd ed. in preparation.]

Taking Sides

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

Love gets the blame for many things. More often than not, though, the offender is a bad attitude that some people seem determined to cultivate despite being confronted with any finer humanitarian arguments against.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are..."  How the childhood game of hide-and-seek takes on a a whole new meaning in adulthood! The fear of being discovered will always overcome any thrill of being invisible to the naked eye.  Yet, what a relief when it is all over and we can breathe freely again....

Oh, yes, straight people have closets, of course they do, in which bad attitude loves to hide away among home truths and dead flies, refusing to come out even for his or her salvation.

TAKING SIDES

Love will embrace us, straight or gay,

and is always on our side;

no matter what some may do or say,

let love be our guide

It isn’t love bent on tearing us apart,

love is always on our side,

but teachings that won’t let the heart

take love for its guide

It isn’t love saying we shouldn't dare

(love is always on our side)

but a cultural prejudice rooted in fear

and nowhere to hide

It isn’t love telling us we don't deserve

to ascend a spiritual plane

nor any Philosophy of Religion save but

those on its gravy train

Take heart, gay folks the world over

should time not take your side,

be sure truth will blow a bigot’s cover,

let love be its guide

Though time waits for no one, love will stay

in the heart forever, be it straight or gay

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Blossoms In The Dust

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is repeated today especially for ‘Jonas and Kasper’ who are celebrating the second anniversary of their civil partnership.

Now, love doesn’t care whether we are gay or straight, male or female...so why should anyone?

Tell that to any socio-cultural-religious bigot, and see him or her blush for being lost for words if only briefly.

BLOSSOMS IN THE DUST

You’ll come naked to my dreams

and breathe life into me,

repair my body at its fraying seams,

fill me with ecstasy

You’ll croon a love song in my ear,

play on the same guitar

I bought you for Christmas the year

we first kissed each other

You’ll make love to me, our passion

a bitter-sweet hymn to Creation

for I must wake too soon, too soon,

at time’s cruel persuasion

Yet, parting, as Apollo says we must,

we shall stay as blossoms in the dust

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2010

Going By The Book

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

While I do not subscribe to any religion, neither do I doubt that ‘God’ is no homophobe. It is a very foolish person that will tell you otherwise, someone with but a tenuous grasp on the basic precepts of religion; peace and love.  [What is all the ritual really worth without either?] 

Too many people choose to interpret the various Holy Books for their own bigoted ends.

GOING BY THE BOOK

I stood at the Gates of Love

asking to be let in;

a security guard refused,

said I’d committed a sin

and he could not see his way

to admitting someone

openly, unashamedly, gay

I stood at the Gates of Love

demanding to be let in,

wanting to know just why

such as I should be

refused entry now or ever

because of such bigotry

this whole, sorry world over

I stood at the Gates of Love

pleading to be let in

but, unmoved by my tears,

the security guard insisted

he hadn‘t the slightest intention

of opening up to someone

daring to question convention

I stood at the Gates of Love,

about to turn away

when I heard a firm voice say,

‘Open the gate

and let him in immediately.

Love has no quarrel

with colour, creed or sexuality.’

I entered the Gates of Salvation,

its Voice seeking no explanation

Copyright R. N. Taber 1964; 2010 

[Note: This poem was written in 1964, rediscovered and slightly revised in 2010.]

A Twenty-First Century Take On Greek Gods and Everyday Heroes

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

Today’s poem proved popular with readers when I posted it here in 2010 so I have included it in my new collection, Tracking the Torchbearer. Mind you, someone did contact me to say ‘there is nothing heroic about being gay, it is sick.’ [If he had understood the poem, he would realise I am not saying that anyway.] Now, that person is of course entitled to his opinion. In my book, though, there are few things sicker than trying to make a virtue of ignorance.

Oh, but what we gay men and women owe the Ancient Greeks, especially perhaps we arty-farty types!

Me, I’ve always been fascinated by tales of Ancient Greece, convinced since a teenager that I was born in the wrong place and the wrong century...

A TWENTY-FIRST CENTURY TAKE ON GREEK GODS AND EVERYDAY HEROES

Like a Greek god risen from the sea,

naked but for trunks coloured red,

he demanded I accept my sexuality

He prised loose my grip on ‘morality’

to embrace erotic icons in my head,

like a Greek god risen from the sea,

Fighting nature’s cause magnificently,

crossing the sand, not a word said,

he demanded I accept my sexuality

His beauty set a fever raging in me

(where sex on desire hungrily fed)

like a Greek god risen from the sea

Content to let Apollo dry his fine body,

sprawled close by on a towel bed,

he demanded I accept my sexuality

The full lips parted, oh, so invitingly

as he left, knowing I followed…

Risen like a Greek god from the sea,

he demanded I accept my sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Shadows In A Mist

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Are they ghosts, these silver shadows that follow me everywhere, even into my dreams? Whatever, they seem friendly enough, even protective, and plainly mean no harm.

Perhaps that is why, when asked if I believe in ghosts, I have always answered ‘yes’... out of a sense of loyalty rather than any fear.  They encourage me to keep faith with my deeper self; not the chameleon that puts on a  front every day. It is thanks to them that I finally found the self-confidence to be openly gay after a tormented youth and early manhood in a cold, dark, lonely closet. 

Where would I be now, I often wonder, without those silvery shadows giving me the support and encouragement I have often desperately needed, even as child, where there was no one else who could even begin to understand why, including my family?  Oh, and they keep company with me still in this this winter of my years that is nowhere near as hard as it so easily might have been.

As I have said on the blog many times before, if we cannot keep faith with ourselves, how can we expect others to have faith in us?  [As my dear, late mother used to say, if something is worth saying, it has to be worth repeating.]

SHADOWS IN A MIST

Silvery 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

Silvery 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

Silvery 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

Silvery shadows, but inspiring us

to keep faith with ourselves

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Tracking The Torchbearer

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

Today’s post appears on both blogs.

2012 is the year the Olympic Games come to London and Her Majesty The Queen celebrates her Diamond Jubilee. To mark both occasions, I have produced a new collection whose title is, not inappropriately, Tracking The Torchbearer. Overall, it tries to capture something of the spirit of The Games rather than focusing on sporting events.

The book costs £9.99 and will be soon available from U.K. bookshops, amazon.co.uk and some public libraries; there is no charge for postage for UK readers and overseas readers can have a discount on (retail price + shipping) so the cost will depend on where you live.

The book comprises 100+ poems in seven themed sections - including a gay section - for easy reading. Among poems on love, nature and contemporary society, you will find such themes as the so-called Arab Spring, a tribute to trapped miners in Chile and their dramatic rescue, earthquakes in Christchurch, New Zealand and the earthquake/Tsunami off the coast of Japan as well as a record of happier occasions like a royal wedding and Her Majesty the Queen's Diamond Jubilee. Oh, critics will argue that I include too many poems,  but regular readers say they love having seven little poetry books in one...and you, my readers are far more important to me than any critics.

Enquiries to: rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog Reader’ in the subject field (or it will probably be deleted). Oh, and please remember to say what in which part of the world you live. [NB. Some pre-general publication copies are already available.]

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 that I publish my poetry collections under my own imprint. Most if not all poetry publishers seem to disapprove of poems on a gay theme appearing alongside poems on other themes and/or believe it to be a non-commercial proposition. I am delighted to have proved them wrong. Not only do my books sell well (for poetry) but gay and straight readers alike frequently get in touch to say they enjoy them; new readers among the latter usually express surprise at  enjoying ‘even’ my gay-interest poems, and some even start dipping into both blogs. Yes, I get some complaints and hate mail for supposedly ‘promoting’ a gay lifestyle, but not a lot and it doesn’t bother me in the least.

Now, no one writes poetry for profit (just as well!) and sales will pay for a final collection in 2015 (by way of marking my 70th birthday). I have also started work on 2nd editions of previous titles that will be available after 2015; these will contain significant revisions of some poems. 

Please at least consider buying a copy of Tracking The Torchbearer, but no hard feelings if you can’t afford it or simply choose not to. Whatever, I will continue with the blogs for some time yet so you will always be able to view poems here.

Here's a BIG HUG from your truly because, as I write the blogs, I have a wonderful sense of your being there; it's a GOOD feeling.

TRACKING THE TORCHBEARER

No cheers just for those who win,

everyone playing their part

in the race to show we’re human

If old gods saw the Games begin

and new gods losing heart,

no cheers just for those who win,

Torch lit and crowds making a din,

all set to make a start

in the race to show we’re human

Brave new societies, putting spin 

on an overloaded apple cart;

no cheers just for those who win

Where old gods stir under the skin,

a new order falling apart

in the race to show we’re human

Come Apollo, wearing a wry grin

Earth Mother, raising a shout;

no cheers just for those who win

in the race to show we’re human

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Listen With Mother

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

When I was in Brighton the other day, I kept thinking (gladly and fondly, not in the least sadly) of the times my mother used to take me there for day trips when I was a child. Someone contacted me to ask what I am thinking about for much of the time as I stroll along the beach in the video. Now you know:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Like many of my poems, this one appeared in an anthology before I subsequently included it in a collection; it is, for obvious reasons, a favourite of mine.

It is Mother’s Day here in the UK. I wrote the poem as a tribute to mothers worldwide, not least my own mother who died at the age of just 59 during that long, hot summer of 1976. I was 30 years-old then, and still miss her.

Mum was none too happy when I finally got around to telling her I am gay, but she was supportive in her own way and it made it clear that she loved me no less for it. This has made a world of difference to me, giving me a self-confidence in my sexuality I might otherwise have lacked and encouraging me to be open about it for a good thirty years, even if it did take a severe nervous breakdown to make me shake off the shackles of those offensive stereotypes with which I’d grown up.  

Now, mother love isn’t just about mothers of course; there are many women (and men) who, for various reasons, may be called upon to take on the maternal role to children other than their own; like birth mothers across the world, they, too, rise to the challenge and well deserve our love, admiration, respect and gratitude.

Ah, but we should never forget (as I fear we often do) that mothers are only human; we should give them some space sometimes, and never take them for granted.

LISTEN WITH MOTHER

Listening, she and I, to a mad world

making history

Commuters, shoppers, trick cyclists,

all out to beat the clock

Muggers, pickpockets, rogue hoodies

targeting old ladies

Says a prayer for loved-ones spat on

in our courtrooms

Wonders aloud why, surely, no spring

so cold and bleak?

Yet…claps her hands, laughs, mimics

the first cuckoo in my ear

Proves it just isn’t true that no one hears

nightingales any more

Tells fairy stories with happy endings

to kids with HIV-AIDS

Remarks how grey the landscape where

once green fields

Sings lullabies to frail tree spirits made

homeless in old age

Never a life more lived or, even in death,

a voice more loved

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

Mission Impossible

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

So many readers asked me to include this poem in my new collection Tracking the Torchbearer that I have done so; it will be generally available shortly and I already have some copies to meet orders. Hopefully, some of you will at least consider buying a copy; all my poetry books retail at £9.99 in the UK while readers (including overseas) can get signed, personally inscribed copies direct from me.

I offer a discount on (retail price + shipping). Enquiries to rogertab@aol.com

There is no profit in poetry and no poet looks for it. In my case, though, I rely on sales to pay for reprints and new publications. I am hoping to publish a final collection in 2015 as well as new editions of earlier titles that will contain revisions of some poems.

Regular readers will know that I publish under my own imprint since poetry publishers seem to disapprove of including poems on a gay theme alongside poems on other themes. Me, I see no reason to publish my gay-interest poetry separately. A poem is a poem is a poem. Besides, I want to reach the less initiated among the heterosexual majority as well as gay readers worldwide.

Meanwhile...

Oh, but life is full of the most delightful surprises at the most unexpected times...

MISSION IMPOSSIBLE

We were simply watching TV

and I thought little of it

as you put an arm around me

but lay my head

against you, got comfortable

till a hand tilted my chin,

launching me there and then

on Mission Impossible

I saw a passion in your eyes

I’d never see before

as your lips homed in on mine

for a first kiss

but I wasn’t sure I wanted this

so turned my head away,

even managing to splutter

I wasn’t gay

Your face red with shame,

tears in your eyes

telling tales on frustrated desires

you’d kept from me,

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know

about such things,

but couldn’t run away, knew

I had to stay

I saw hope flare in your face

in spite of the tears;

suddenly, you had me pinioned

against a plump cushion,

my poor heart thumping madly

as your quivering lips

found their target this time

if clumsily

Your mouth on mine warmer,

sweeter than I imagined

another boy’s mouth could be,

I silently confessed - to

wet dreams about you for years,

drooling over your body

in the showers after Games

or P E

The weight of your body lighter,

your kiss less determined,

I felt your confusion burning

a hole in my shirt,

struggled to reason why my mind

should resist this being kissed

that was, after all, but answering

a cry from the heart

You retreating, expressions

of guilt and pain

reasserting senses I’d tried

to ignore,

I flung my arms around you

and drew you close,

free at last to relish the joy

of mutual response

We made love on a fluffy rug

(he’d brought a condom)

till all we wanted to do was lie

in each other’s arms,

no more lies or even words,

just an intimate silence

saying more than even lovers

can express

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

All my poetry titles are still in print, but only on sale in the UK.

There will be no further print runs of 1st eds. except for the latest, Tracking the Torchbearer; I hope to upload e-editions to amazon later this year. 2nd eds. will not be available until after publication of a final print collection in 2015 and will only be available as e-books; these will contain revisions of some poems. Meanwhile, signed copies if 1st eds. can be obtained from me at a generous blogger discount; this applies to overseas as well as UK readers. 

Contact: rogertab@aol.com with 'Blog Reader' or Poetry Collection' in the subject field (or the email will not be opened).