Friday, 10 February 2017

Addressing the Psychology of (Open?) Relationships or G-A-Y, Settling for Less while Hoping for More

It can (and does) happen to anyone, gay or straight, male or female, young and old alike; we fall in love and, in return, are offered an ‘open’ relationship, no strings. It all sounds very ‘modern’ and we convince ourselves we are OK with the arrangement rather than reject it (and be rejected, in turn) for the raw deal it is. I know people who have spent the greater part of their lives persuading themselves that any deal is better than no deal, any arrangement better than none, all the one-sided sacrifices worth every heartbeat,

This happened to me once. At the time I was feeling lonely, unloved and could see no light at the end of a long tunnel. I savoured every moment we spent together closing my mind to those aspects of his life in which I was never invited to play a part. I convinced myself I was a martyr to love and almost enjoyed the role.

Ah, but only almost…

Few people knew about us, such was the nature of our relationship. One day, I confided in a friend who told me I was a fool to dance to his tune. I protested, insisting love was a tune to which only a fool would not dance. “On your own?” he asked, incredulous. “Sometimes, yes, but all the time…?

I knew he was right, of course, but it was a few years before I would admit it to myself, thereby freeing my tearful heart, from self-imposed shackles I had convinced myself were pretty ribbons around a box of delights I could not nor should not resist. On opening it, though, I saw only what I wanted to see, failing to understand the psychology of an empty box.

Like most learning curves, it was a bumpy ride but, yes, worth every heartbeat to get my life back. 


For a body preoccupied with public perception,
yours offered but a temporary haven, no strings

You warned me not to fall in love with you,
that it was sex alone not love, your spur;
for love is only for fools (you said) its course
running true but in dreams, and we 'worldly' types
know better

Gladly I’d let your incredible body take mine
in the hope you would come to love me,
despairing as each frantic, mindless, orgasm
ripped into us, much like that double-edged sword
we call honesty

My lover, ever as indifferent to true love’s needs
as the hypocrisy upon which its loneliness feeds
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

Saturday, 28 January 2017

Ode to Love or G-A-Y, Rhyme and Reason

Regular readers may recall how my partner died many years ago after only a short time together. As it turned out, I never met anyone else with whom to share my life. Even so, I have some good friends and have met some wonderful people whose life stories – happy and sad alike - have inspired many of my poems.

Sometimes people ask me how I can face growing old alone. Well, yes, I live alone but that does not mean I am alone. I have plenty of company, not least my poems.  Besides, love, in all its shapes and forms, sustains and inspires me just it has always done, especially whenever I am feeling low or start feeling sorry for myself for whatever reason.  Friends, places, nature, they haunt my memory and invariably come to my rescue to help me rise above whatever may be troubling me at the time.

My long-ago love is never far from my thoughts and our love continues to guide me through the complex maze we call life. He brought out the best in me and it is that which prevents me dwelling on mistakes, letting wishful thinking distort all the Here and Now has to offer me and (hopefully) I, it.

Time and again, life calls on us to learn and move on from our experiences, good and bad. We can but do our best. At the same time - as I have said many times on the blogs, and doubtless  will again - it is always worth remembering that moving on doesn’t mean leaving anyone behind, especially those we have loved.


I so love you for a smile on your lips, 
the laughter in your eyes, the way 
your hair blows in a summer breeze,
how tears fall like a gentle rain
from heaven whenever we watch 
soap television

I so love you for a song in your heart, 
how it echoes all around, 
sweeter sound even than skylark 
or nightingale, lifting my soul 
on wings of a prayer given thanks
for your being here

I so love how you flare like a candle 
in the wind whenever 
we quarrel, making up before 
the day closes, recharging 
our bodies, the more joy and power 
to each other

I so love how you shoulder hardship,
brave and true, my hero
though folks tread roughly
on our dreams
you’ll keep us safe, hold my hand, 
quick to reassure

Who could ask for more...?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared under the title ‘Ode to my Love’ in 1st eds of First Person Plural by R N Taber, Assembly Boooks, 2002; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Monday, 23 January 2017

It Is As It Is (Or So The Story Goes...)

As a child, my mother would often read or tell me stories. Consequently, I became an avid reader. I loved fairy stories, myths and legends. I used to have a collection of stories by Hans Christian Andersen and many surface in my head even to this day. (I am 71 now!). I could not appreciate the value of those tales at the time, of course, but as I grew older I began to realise how many home in so sensitively on aspects of human nature, and with disconcerting accuracy.

As a teenager, I was past reading fairy stories, but several made a valuable contribution towards shaping those troubled years, I realised I  am gay, but felt obliged to keep this observation to myself. Being gay, I had been told, was something dirty, ugly. I often felt dirty and ugly although that did not stop me seeking out sex with other boys and men whenever the opportunity arose. Andersen’s tale of The Ugly Duckling was an inspiration then and, to a lesser extent, remains so to this day. It took some time, though, before I saw that what looks ugly from one perspective can appear beautiful in another.

So where does Red Riding Hood fit into my life? Well, for one thing, I learned that appearances are often deceptive and we need to guard against wolves with human faces…

Saturated with perceptions of human nature though these tales were, some had happy endings, in the hopeful search of which I have spent the greater part of my life. I experienced some for only a short time, others for longer, but the quintessential Happy Ever After remained beyond my reach. Even so, any share of happiness is better than none and never to be taken lightly or resented for never quite living up to expectations. Happiness, like love, comes in all shapes and sizes whether it relates to a person, place, whatever; if it remains in the memory and inspires us to adopt a positive rather than negative perspective on life, even on its downside, it remains a treasure without comparison. [Why do so many people insist on making comparisons when they are invariably irrelevant; we are all different, with different aspirations and views on life; different, too, in what (and who) makes us feel happy, sad,  inspired …whatever.

As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences don’t make us different, just human. Many if not most of us learn soon enough that life is no fairy tale, but I learned more about human nature from them as a child to help me find my way through its maze. Oh, yes, I have had my share of bad times as well as good, made mistakes (and plenty of them) but - not unlike the ugly duckling - I came out to the heterosexual world with pride and took my place among swans…[I was in my 30's and it had taken a severe nervous breakdown to make me see that being gay is - to borrow the title of one of my poems - worth every heartbeat.)


The child I was…
would regularly go for a swim
with the Ugly Duckling
or go rushing off into dark woods
to warn  Red Riding Hood
about a wolf on the prowl likely
to devour her

The youth I was …
would regularly wish himself
a very different person
to the one haunting every thought
and move, each hour   
of each day on the prowl likely
to devour me

As a young man…
I would eagerly make friends
with gay characters
in this book or that movie, share
their rollercoaster lives,
suffer a thousand cuts from wolves
with human faces

Growing older…
I gave my ghost-self the heave-ho
left make-believe behind,
began to enjoy being who I am
without a thought
for that sad other ‘me’ living in fear
of being discovered

Growing old…
just as I take others as I find them
so I expect them to pay me
the same courtesy without rushing
to any judgement
coloured by stereotypes, tailored
to fit small minds

Grown old…
I still swim with the Ugly Duckling
whenever the whim takes me
and regret I was always too late
to warn Red Riding Hood,
but take in my stride that it is as it is
or so the story goes…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Tuesday, 3 January 2017

A Late Evening Surf or G-A-Y, Couplet for an Heroic Poem

Readers sometimes ask me how I cope with being gay and growing old on my own without a partner. (What has being gay got to do with growing old?)

Well, I have some good friends so I don’t feel so alone, and my Muse may be fickle but she can be inspiring when she likes. Besides, I live near Hampstead Heath so there’s always plenty of trees and bird life to sustain me whenever I feel the need, whether or not any human company on hand.

It may well be too late for me to find love again, but maybe not. I was 71 on the winter solstice, but only recently I met a couple about my own age in a local gay bar celebrating their anniversary. When I asked how long they had been together, both grinned from ear to ear and told me how they had met in that same bar just two weeks to the day. They were so happy, their years falling away even as we chatted. I might have been in the company of lovers in the first flush of youth.

As with many (by no means all)  of my poems written in the first person, the poet-storyteller is Everyman with whom the reader may or may not choose to identify to the extent I do as I let imagined experiences take me wherever…

Never, but never, say never… 


Friendly fingers ruffling my hair,
Apollo’s belated kisses
bringing blushes to my cheeks
as I slumped by the sea, let your tears
drip rainbows on my heart
if low, grey clouds all but refusing
to be titillated

I’d thought your feelings for me
were as mine for you,
but your, stunned expression
when I took a leaf out of Apollo’s book
had me pinioned to a crab’s back,
scuttling over sand pebbles mocking
all human despair

Sea horses prancing all around,
daring me choose one,
head for lost horizons shrouded
in a shadowy mist harbouring pirate ships
and slavers crewed by ghosts
last seen flailing among sharks’ fins
alerted by bad blood

Friendly fingers ruffling my hair,
your belated kisses
bringing blushes to my cheeks
after you caught up with me, let your tears
drip rainbows on my heart,
low, grey clouds capitulating to Apollo’s
surprise breakthrough

Two gay men, couplet for an heroic poem, 
charging a sunset on bold, white horses

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Monday, 19 December 2016

Paris, in Defence of Home Truths or G-A-Y, the Two of Us

Reader ‘Jean-Claude’ who lives in Paris once emailed me about this poem to say how much he could relate to it. What better praise for a poem than it lets the reader into it?  I wrote it as my thoughts turned to a particularly memorable June night there many years ago...

I would also like to take the opportunity yet again to recommend a delightful DVD  'Juste une question d'amour' ( Just a Question of Love) which take a delightful and sensitive look at the difficulties the parents of some gay people experience in coming to terms with their son's homosexuality.

I have a friend who lives in Lille who still feels he cannot break it to his parents that he has a boyfriend even though they have been in a relationship for some years. Sadly, there are gay people worldwide who feel they cannot be open about their sexuality for one reason or another. In my friend's case, he is burdened with a whole load of Catholic guilt; in other parts of the world, gay people have anti-gay legislation to contend with and live with the threat of imprisonment or worse. It is a sad indictment on a 21st century from whose socio-cultural-political and religious elements we deserve better.

I find the rise of the Far Right across Europe very disturbing, not least because it plays on people's fears regarding the extent of immigration. While it is true that many immigrants are from cultures that are intrinsically homophobic, and many seem unwilling to change their attitudes towards gay men and women, we should never forget that the policies of the Far Right are as essentially homophobic as they are racist. No one who deplores prejudice of any kind should ever vote for these people.

Gay couple outside a cafe in Paris; photo by Braden Summers (Internet)


Under Paris stars, 
one night in June - a nightingale 
sang our tune;
we embraced, 
exchanging vows - with tongues
of fire;
no chill of darkness
undermining or intruding upon
our happiness;
your hand in mine 
as kissed and exchanged rings
said it all...

Come morning, 
sweet night bade us each a fond
a minute’s silence
for two singles joined together
(no matter what);
cock crows 
as we embrace a parallel dawn,
bask in its glory;
love, icon
for all seasons, opening its petals
to the sky

Story told, the world over, me 
and my gay lover

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared as ‘The Two of Us’ in 1st eds. of First Person Plural, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; revised  ed. in preparation in e-format. 

Sunday, 18 December 2016

G-A-Y, a Hitchhiker's Guide to Christmas

Well, yes, it’s that time of year again and 2017 is just around the corner…

Some of you may be interested to know that I am giving a sponsored poetry reading for Prostate Cancer UK in London on World Poetry Day, May 21, 2017. I will not only be celebrating having seen my poetry in print for 60 years (my first poem appeared in my school magazine, 1957) but also living with prostate cancer for 6+ years. Not everyone who wants to come will want to donate, of course, but do come along if you can. More details at:

Now, I’m no killjoy and it is always GOOD to see people happy and celebrating either a religious festival or whatever the occasion. Regarding the former, though, as regular readers will know, I do not subscribe to any religion. Christmas cards were only ever a way of keeping in touch with people before the advent of computers.  (For anyone like me who have terrible handwriting, e-mails are a great idea.) 

Many thanks to all of you for supporting my blogs, and I hope you have found a good few poems to enjoy. 

As for Christmas, however you feel about it, whoever and wherever you are, ENJOY and may its message of peace and goodwill to all mankind be for all time, not just at this time of year. . Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, all humankind will listen and learn one of these days…?


One Christmas Eve,
I sat alone by the fire,
content awhile
to watch familiar shapes 
in feisty flames
invoke happy memories
of times long ago,
the world a kinder place,
a place where such 
as you and me would live, 
love, and hitch rides
to gay-friendly galaxies
on wishing stars 
exploring the potential
for Happy-ever-after

One Christmas Eve,
I felt alone by the fire,
saddened so
to watch familiar faces
coming and going
like players on a stage 
acting out memories
for an audience of one,
all others who lived
for love by hitching rides
to gay-friendly galaxies,
on wishing stars, invoking
for any less touched by love
than seems fair

One Christmas Eve,
I almost let the fire go out
for empathising
with flickering flames
to stay feisty, a losing battle
from the start
where the heart not in it
when suddenly 
one flame leapt higher
than the rest
as if making the point
that all’s not lost
till we wish it of open hearth
and inner self

One Christmas Eve,
I took a new lease of life
for taking my cue 
from a fire all but gone 
to embers,
the spirit of love and peace
risen like a phoenix
for getting push and shove
from an understanding 
that past loves never fade,
are an inspiration,
forever banging on doors 
to be let in…
if only to share daily outings
on wishing stars

Copyright |R. N. Taber 2016

[Note: More ‘Christmas’ poems can be found (on both my general and gay-interest blogs) by entering ‘Christmas’ in the appropriate search field.]

Tuesday, 6 December 2016

G-A-Y, First Christmas

There is nothing sinful, criminal or wrong with the love between two gay men or women. Others will always disagree, and sometimes we might even feel sufficiently put down by various socio-cultural-religious bigots among the heterosexual majority to start doubting the deeper truth and wisdom of our own feelings.

In my experience, something (or someone) always happens along to restore our faith in ourselves and a greater good that does not exclude the gay ethos in its ringing endorsement of human love.


I could hear cock robin’s song in the air;
at a window I watched first snowflakes fall,
missing you so and wishing we could share
that gift of love at Christmas to us all

In the distance, I could hear bells ringing,
a sound to fill this lonely heart with cheer;
at my own front door, an angel’s singing
calling on Christmas to bring its love here

In the window’s reflection, next to mine,
I watched a sad face break into a smile,
aching heart soaring, a white dove divine,
lifting the snowflakes like a wedding veil

I raced to my front door, flung it open wide,
a gay love redeemed, our first Christmastide

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2016

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since first appearing in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]]