http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
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?
Did I mention Michelangelo? Yes, well, even the Vatican now openly acknowledges its debt to some of the greatest artists that ever lived, and were gay:
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 worldwide.
IMPROMPTU RENAISSANCE
I battled against the snow one night
and winter would have seen me dead;
no star in sight or midwinter 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
staying true to the 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, bringing art to life,
resuming its place in the subject field
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
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?
Did I mention Michelangelo? Yes, well, even the Vatican now openly acknowledges its debt to some of the greatest artists that ever lived, and were gay:
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 worldwide.
IMPROMPTU RENAISSANCE
I battled against the snow one night
and winter would have seen me dead;
no star in sight or midwinter 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
staying true to the 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, bringing art to life,
resuming its place in the subject field
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
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