Portrait of the Artist as a Young (gay) Man

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

Once I had a really awful nightmare. I was fifteen years-old at the time. None of my family knew about my awakening homosexuality. I did not feel I could confide in anyone because gay relationships were illegal at the time. Yes, I had found ways to explore my feelings with other gay youths and men, but it was pretty scary all the same.

My mother’s explanation was basic, but very much to the point. She explained that dreams, even bad ones, are a safety-net for feelings we cannot explain or put into words because, for whatever reason, we have no conscious grasp of their wider implications. We might be in denial or grappling with emotions on the surface without really and/or truthfully understanding or acknowledging their depth. While good dreams can be inspirational, bad dreams are nothing to fear because (she assured me) the Sandman is always on our side and has our best interests at heart.

As an adult, I still take reassurance from the fact  the sandmen are on my side even if it took a good few years for me to be convinced.

PORTRAIT OF AN ARTIST AS A YOUNG (GAY) MAN

A blackbird flew me into dawn’s
early glow, and together we discovered
where the Sandmen go;
gathered under a rainbow
among sunbeams, mixing its colours,
painting our dreams

Mind and body told me I should leave
without delay; in my dreams, he alone
would have the last say;
I couldn’t pick and choose
from the best, no artist dare ignore
the worst

The blackbird would have flown on
into the day, but I was having none of it,
would have my say;
How could a Sandman
always get it right, invade free spirits
each night?

‘Ah,’ said the Sandman, ‘it’s for you
to find your own way through the rainbow
to what lies behind;
the human spirit is a complex affair,
heaven forbid we should either prompt
or interfere.’

‘A human being is a unique creation,
free to fly at will, nor are we its keepers;
we can but try
to offer ways of seeing
the inner eye can observe, inspiring
hope and endeavour.’

‘Yet, humanity is but a fragile thing,
despite hidden strengths that will see it
right as often as not,
and it is down to us Sandmen
to see where it’s broken, pieces fallen,
patch it up

Blackbird dropped me there, left me
but half awake to ponder the implications
of daybreak,
and I thought I heard
it singing out there, where it’s a Sandman
has the last word

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

A (Gay) Poet's Take On Stoicism

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

Only recently, I was chatting to someone in a cafe who, after a while, asked me if I am gay. When I answered in the affirmative, he confided that he, too, is gay, but scared’ not only of coming out to family and friends he had reason to suspect would not be supportive, to say the least, but also of his understanding of the whole gay ethic. ‘I’m not sure I want to live a gay life,’ he told me.

So what is a gay life? For goodness sake, apart from our sexuality, we live no different a life, for better or worse, than those among the heterosexual majority. Being in a minority may mean we have to work harder to assert ourselves more often than not, but my gut feeling is it’s only human nature to be up for this challenge or that. Moreover, the human spirit does not suffer fools gladly.  

Let’s face it, even being actively closet, in those countries in the southern hemisphere whose governments continue to hold a candle to the ignorant ramblings of various socio-cultural-religious bigots, is not only a challenge but is also knowingly and invariably bravely sowing the first seeds of a deservedly inauspicious end for our enemies.

So let’s go for it, yeah?

A (GAY) POET’S TAKE ON STOICISM

Temptation drove me to cliffs,
where I contemplated rocks below,
despairing of such an end as this,
seemingly no place else I dare go;
the cliffs, they yelled defiantly
above the furious roar of a raging sea;
their words struck a chord in me,
Life and Death vying for my sanity

Nature raised a Gorgon's head
like a devil among the monstrous foam,
wishing me ill (better still, dead)
resolved to turn my better self to stone;
Love it was that had other ideas,
and joined the battle for my salvation,
converging on my worst fears,
blasting them with ancient canon

Life ill-deserves such derision
as to be tossed in a storm’s fierce jaws,
the consequences of our action
condoning betrayal of all natural laws;
where nature vents its fury
on lesser humanity’s short-sightedness
to colour, creed, sex or sexuality,
let' stand firm, reconcile differences

I answered Love’s call that day,
and the sea began to calm, the sun shine,
dark clouds steadily driven away,
like prejudices (eventually) in decline
while I returned, my corner to fight,
argue the ages-old case for sexual identity,
expose myself to human right,
walk tall, proud, confident and free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Woman, Gay Man's Best Friend

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

Many thanks to those readers who have been in touch to say how much they enjoy my YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Meanwhile...

Some readers tell me I should invest my poetry with more humour. Well, there is a wry humour in many of my poems if you happen to be in the mood to catch it. Or maybe you would prefer something more up-front, like this...?

WOMAN, GAY MANS BEST FRIEND

Once upon a time, I tried to go straight,
even went out on a female date;
she sort of liked me, and I felt the same,
but the chemistry wasn’t there
so (oh, dear) we just settled for a game
of strip poker

Needless to say, she got the better of me,
but, oh, how we laughed helplessly
till I blurted out blushing, ‘I think I’m gay’;
she just told me to get dressed,
poured two stiff drinks that saved the day,
and I confessed

I told her about a gorgeous guy in my office
and how I’d tried not to notice,
how he stares at me when I thinks I’m busy
so won’t get any ideas,
but (oh, dear) I already had plenty, mostly
in my trousers

She said I should chat him up without delay
since the chances are we’re both gay,
better (surely?) grasp the proverbial nettle,
and let human nature do its job,
no matter if it means I play teapot to a kettle
on the hob

So I took her at her word and caught his eye,
let him see, if he was lusting, so was I;
to my undisguised delight, she’d been spot on,
and soon we were enjoying our first date,
the irony being, it had taken a pretty woman
to bring us out

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011