It and I

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

I have some good friends, but live on my own and sometimes feel lonely. (Don't we all?) At such times, I will often I often go for a stroll on nearby Hampstead Heath, feel close to nature and not in the least bit lonely any more.

I love the Heath for its wide variety of trees, rolling green slopes and ponds whose wildlife residents are invariably as noisy as they are inspiring. Yet, there is another aspect of the natural world that befriended me many years ago. Indeed, readers often ask why it is I have a passion for clouds…

Here's wishing you all peace and love now and always,

IT AND I

I lay on the ground, gazing into a cloud

and we talked, it and I,

touching on things never spoken aloud

A face reassured me I should be proud

of not living a lie;

I lay on the ground, gazing into a cloud

I felt as if I’d spotted a friend in a crowd,

a gleam in each eye,

touching on things never spoken aloud

I struggled with words, once not allowed

(something to do with sexuality);

I lay on the ground, gazing into a cloud

Kindly, like a fairy tale giant, it towered

over me, brushing off fears I let fly,

touching on things never spoken aloud

Enlightened, with Apollo’s heat endowed,

we moved on, it and I;

I lay on the ground, gazing into a cloud,

touching on things never spoken aloud

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Mystic River

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

What better time to recall a hot summer than in winter? I wrote this poem just after I graduated from university. I have revised it only slightly.

It was summer, 1973. Few people knew I was gay in those days and, to be honest, I still nursed random thoughts about ‘going straight’ in spite of the fact that I’d had sex with men since I was sixteen. Yes, homosexual relationships between ‘consenting adults’ had been legal in the UK since 1967 but an awful lot of people still had a problem with it….just like an awful lot of people still do.

There was another student I had fancied for a good two years but he always had a girl on his arm so I’d long since reconciled myself to the bitter-sweet martyrdom of unrequited love. I was sitting by the banks of the river Stour that runs through Canterbury when he came along and asked if he could join me. We had exchanged a few words but barely knew each other. Even so, I guess I was a familiar face and most of the students had already left. We chatted a while and later ended up in a local bar. I got tipsy (light-headed already, just spending time with him!) and blurted out the truth…that I fancied him like hell…then made a dash for the loo, a nervous (all of a sudden, dead sober) wreck.

He followed me, demanded to know if I was serious. I nodded miserably. He grabbed my arm and I thought, ‘This is it, he’ll rough me up good and proper.’ Instead, he kissed me gently on the lips and we spent the most of the next 48 hours in his room at the university…before going our separate ways.

We didn’t stay in touch. I moved around a lot in those days and will never know if he even tried to contact me again. Ah, but when I rediscovered the poem on a scrap piece of paper, faded to yellow and folded for a bookmark in a copy of Giovanni's Room, a fine novel by James Baldwin… those 48 hours fast forwarded a good 40 years...

MYSTIC RIVER 

We sat by the river,

a river that flows forever

into an endless sea

We talked by the river,

a river that flows forever

into prose and poetry

We played by the river,

a river that flows forever,

letting even art go free

All ages in the river,

a river that flows forever,

fish for someone’s tea

In love by the river,

a river that flows forever

into the heart of me

Copyright R. N. Taber 1973; rev.2009

Supper With Leo

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

When he was twenty-four years old, Leonardo Da Vinci was arrested, along with several young companions, on a charge of sodomy. No witnesses appeared against them and the charges were dropped. Renaissance Florentines didn't make the distinctions we make about sexuality today. Apparently, it was not uncommon for young men to get into sexual relationships with each other.

Leonardo had no known relationships with women, never married, had no children, and raised many young protégés, including one nicknamed "Salai" which means "offspring of Satan. Salai was generally thought to be something of a rascal. Salai stayed with the painter for over twenty years and appears many times in Leonardo's sketchbooks.

It’s interesting (to say the least) just to speculate that one of the greatest painters of all time may well have been homosexual. At the same time, why should a person’s sexuality even matter?

Those Renaissance Florentines had the right idea and no mistake.

This poem is a villanelle.

SUPPER WITH LEO 

A great painting,

like supper with a friend,

says everything

Eating, drinking,

living, loving without end;

a great painting

Promising, denying,

sharing wine with a friend,

says everything

Giving, taking,

those trying hours we spend;

a great painting

Believing, disbelieving

what’s seen, heard to the end,

says everything

Passion, suffering,

though death, too, a friend;

A great painting

says everything

[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

This Life

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

[Update) (August 26/2016): Sometimes I post photos with my poems and several readers have complained that I include photos of gay men kissing. One reader writes, ‘I am OK with gay people and quite enjoy many of your gay poems (I am not gay) but find photos of gay men kissing offensive.’ In other words, the reader has no problem with gay men so long as they are discreet and out of sight. Sorry, but this attitude makes me see red. Similarly, some religious leaders claim that it is OK to be gay so long as we don’t ‘do’ anything. Such attitudes are absurd in this day and age and very hypocritical (but not uncommon) among those who claim to be ‘OK’ with sexuality. What can I say other than, get real and grow up?

Now, whether or not this life is all we have, it is all we have as we know it so ... let's make the best of it, yeah? Even in countries where same sex relationships remain a criminal offence (to their shame) there is room in our private space for love in all it shapes and forms so let's not make LGBT relationships an exception ... and maybe, hopefully, there will come a time when they are acceptable everywhere. There will always be socio-cultural-religious bigots, of course, if only because the old saying is so true; you can please some of the people some of the time, but you can't please all the people all the time. 

[Photo taken from the Internet]

THIS LIFE

That first time you touched me, I found myself,

but it took your kiss to acknowledge it

That first time we made love my heart took flight

to a sunny heaven once as dark as night

That first time we lay, spent, in each other’s arms

I heard Pan’s flute, seduced by its charms

That first time we quarrelled and resolved to part,

I experienced the sorrow of a broken heart

That first time we spilled sexuality's loving cup,

we shared the sheer ecstasy of making up

That first time we tested the world’s prejudices,

I felt so proud to be gay, and forever yours

Once lost, and no one quite understanding why.
now found, and embracing this life till I die


Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'That First Time' in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

More than Bit Parts on the World Stage

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

A new poem today, inspired by a recent conversation with a complete stranger in his mid-50s with whom I got chatting in a local bar. His story is one that invoked core feelings of despair, loneliness, confusion and a determination to rise above these to which I suspect I am not the only gay person can easily relate. 

When all seems lost, the way ahead long and bleak, we can but embark on a voyage of rediscovery..

MORE THAN BIT PARTS ON THE WORLD STAGE 

I was but a dreamy youth
when they cast me out, family and friends,
from birth home and hearth
into a winter of the heart that would last
(oh, so many lonely years)
cast adrift  on a raging river of tears,
dreams ebbing away,
rage screaming at me I’m not to blame
for the world, my enemy,
time refusing to let me think  long
on a place to belong

Why should it matter I’m gay
when all that really matters in this life
is that we give it our best shot,
do right by that still small voice
playing director to we actors
in the greatest play on Earth till the curtain
falls to (hopefully) some applause
where we’ve acted out the art and soul
of human sexuality, bared it
to the critic’s eye, dared it deny us
in all fairness?

I grow old, yet adrift no more,
but safe and content enough on a shore
much closer to home
than ever thought possible years ago
during that winter of the heart
where it longed so to skip among lambs
in the first throes of spring,
swim a river into a long, hot summer,
leap with salmon into autumn,
let Memory’s glowing coals defy
wintry snowfalls

All I yearned for and thought
but a dream, you showed me, gave me,
loved me as only true lovers can,
and though some said our love was a sin
because we were two men,
we’ve skipped among lambs in spring,
swam rivers into summer,
leapt with salmon in autumn, fanned
Memory’s glowing coals
in the faces of those who wish us
wintry snowfalls

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

G-A-Y, Telling It Straight

http://www.youtube.com/user/rogerNtaber

I received an email some time ago - one of many - from the parent of a gay person who feels somehow 'to blame' for their being gay. In the sense that I believe sexuality is in the genes, I suppose this may be (very) loosely true. But gay people gave a choice. Most of us could live a 'straight' life if that's what we want for ourselves, and some do. Just because a man is gay, doesn't mean he can't have sex with a woman. Similarly, lesbians might prefer intimacy with other women, but that doesn't mean they can't have sex with a man.

Society - even these days - doesn't make the choice an easy one. Gay men and women may have to give other people time to get used to the idea, especially family and friends (unaware of the struggle going on within us) who may feel hurt that you hadn't confided in them sooner.

Despite positive legislation, being 'out' in the workplace can be just as tough, especially if you work with children and young people. So many misleading, outdated and offensive stereotypes continue to attach themselves to gay people, particularly gay men. We are not perverts and, for the record, paedophilia is not - nor has ever been - synonymous with homosexuality. Most gay people get on well with children and young people (possibly because they too know - only too well - the frustration of feeling misunderstood and/or patronised). Invariably there will be a few exceptions (aren't there to every rule?) that grab the attention of the media. So it is that stereotype continues to be piled on stereotype...

Blame implies guilt. Gay people have nothing to feel guilty about. Nor have their parents.

Guilt is a destructive force. Once it strikes, you have battles royal on your hands. You win some, you lose some. The important thing is to focus on winning the war. I lost one major battle many years ago and it led to a nervous breakdown. But I survived. Moreover, in doing so, I learned a lot about human nature, including my own.

There are a LOT of GOOD people in the world ready to believe the better of people, not the worst. True, I still suffer from depression. But people had faith in me at a time when I had none in myself. I cannot let them down.

One of the reasons for my breakdown was that I had not confronted my sexuality head-on. Oh, I had gone around the mulberry bush a few times and been in and out of the closet like a jack-in-a-box. But you cannot make a choice about something unless you face up to it and explore the implications. It was a long, hard process. I like to think I have come through it a better person. Certainly, I discovered a sense of spirituality that religion never gave me. This, too, helps me rise above depression and get on with my life…not as gay person, but as a person who just happens to be gay. No excuses, and none needed. No one to blame, it's a fact of life. Gay people aren't perfect, but who is?

G-A-Y, TELLING IT STRAIGHT 

They told me being gay I would regret,

that I should take the conventional road

so family, friends, and people I met

wouldn’t be offended or get tongue-tied

The onus was on me to realize

an obligation to society,

rendering to Caesar what is Caesar’s

rather than courting impropriety

Having listened to all they had to say

and seen how some straight people carry on,

I beg to differ - it’s not being gay

that’s letting, dragging society down

Among the world’s worst and saddest vices,

something said about stones and glasshouses

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

  

Getting the Better of Winter

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

Across the northern hemisphere in winter, we think of cosy fires and keeping warm while on the other side of the world it may well be the sun’s heat sea is throwing out an invitation to jump in the sea and cool off.

Wherever, fortunate indeed are they for whom a warm glow engages with the heart and  throws out an invitation it cannot refuse.

Me, I love the seaside in winter. Yes, it can be a lonely place, but so can anywhere else where we feel the need to home in on love...

GETTING THE BETTER OF 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]

Gay is (not) OK, Says Who?

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

]Update (August 11th 2019: Several readers worldwide have suggested I create another gay-interest blog with fewer poems as he or she thinks there are ‘too many to browse’ here while others have said they cannot often access this blog at all.  Regarding any searches, , I can only suggest readers use the search field located in the top right hand corner by entering a keyword; e.g. culture, dogma, family, human spirit, human nature, life forces, love, personal space, positive thinking, relationships, religion, self-awareness, stereotypes etc.

Now, today's poem last appeared on the blog in 2010 so will be new to some of you who don't have time to browse the archives. It was written in 2007 and I still get fed-up with people telling me that ‘being gay is just so OK now’ and ‘gays have never had it so good.’ True, life is much easier for many gay men and women now than it was when I was a young man, but sadly not for all … and easy? I don’t think so.

For a start, gay relationships remain a criminal offence in some countries, and even in the so-called ‘liberal’ West, it is as tough as it ever was to be gay if you happen to be living in a gay-unfriendly home-school-work environment.

Moreover, it has been my experience that far too many people pay lip service to political correctness, saying one thing in public and the opposite in private when it comes to all manner of issues, including sexuality.

There is still much work to be done worldwide (no exceptions) when it comes to  getting societies to realise and accept that LGBT people have as much to offer as anyone else, often more because we know what it’s like to feel marginalised, criminalised and victimised.

We all need to think positive, feel positive and BE positive about making the world a kinder if not better place.

GAY IS NOT OK, SAYS WHO?

If the world is, oh, so politically correct,

why should it matter if people suspect we’re gay?

(How many fathers, how many mothers

ask if their sons, daughters, have same sex lovers?)

Whatever happened to just being straight

about who it is we are and what it is we stand for?

(Aren’t we protected now by legislation?)

Gay, we’re told, is OK - so why any hesitation?

Yes, I know it was in the news today,

about someone brutally killed for being openly gay,

but that was a cultural, ethnic blip or flaw,

all tied up with old religion-speak and tribal law,

nothing to do with the likes of us trying
to rationalise a twenty-first century equality of sorts.

We can legislate for a common humanity.

but that doesn’t mean to say its bigots will keep

an open mind so, no, we shouldn’t wait

to tell the whole world we’re gay…or how else

this world, its way, expect to find?

Come a time, we'll yet hear human voices worldwide

ceasing to pause at a three-letter word?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2019

[Note: Slightly revised from the version that appears in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Mind-Body-Spirit, Renaissance

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

Today’s post was written in 1998, and is based on events that took place many years ago. 

Now, it has always been one of life's greater tragedies that just about anyone can be subjected to bullying by ignorant cowards who have no respect for their victim’s sex, sexuality, ethnicity, creed or even age.

Although bullying went on in schools even when I was young, there is no escape from it these days as the bullies taunt their victims on their mobile phones and social media sites. Some children and young people have even been known to commit suicide as a result of being bullied, adults too.

Parent and schools must spare no one’s sensitivity, but make their children confront the awful circumstances of bullying.

As for the bullies themselves, plainly they have psychological problems and need help to overcome them, but that does not mean we should go softly, softly with them; exposing them for who they are and condemning their actions unreservedly would be a good start. For far too long, various School Heads and parents have been in denial about bullying taking place under their very noses.  

Bullies may be in a minority among children and young people, but it is a very significant minority that needs to be tackled before they carry their sick ways into adulthood.

Now, we all have our own ideas about 'Heaven' but  is it not the Here-and-Now that matters most and making that as comparable as we can with whatever concept we might cherish regarding what may come later? No bullying culture - at school in the workplace or wherever - should be tolerated and needs must be nipped in the bud or else the young bully may well grow up to be an older bully. 

Anyone being bullied should find the courage to seek help and support. there is no shame in that, any shame rests with the bully. 

The worst punishment for any bully is public exposure for being just that, a bully. 

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, RENAISSANCE

Local park, lonely tree,

child looks up in a bloody pool

who should be at school

Tall, grown old,

branches outflung

at a brave new world;

small and sad, kid in uniform

hugs a photograph

before taking a penknife

to scratch out a life

on rough bark. Tree submits.

Hanging skylark lets out a cry

as chick-in-the-nest

prepares to fly

Climb, climb!

Terra out of mind.

bullies down our way, chaff

on the wind …

Tears for mum and dad and pal

heffalump.

Gran and grandpa, show ‘em all,

not afraid to jump.

A still, small voice 
whispering in the ear,

‘Look! Beyond that runny nose

there has to be
a way clear to confide bully fear 
in someone near

and (who knows?) eventually

make it disappear.’

And it did, I know.

That kid at the Hanging Tree

long ago, but walked away

free...was me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (written in 1998) appears under the title 'Heaven Can Wait, in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Sow-Nurture-Reap, to Every Heart, its Seasons

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

As I grow old(er) incidents and conversations from my childhood and younger years return to haunt me, in the nicest way, but make me wish I had learned sooner to listen more for what often lies behind certain words, phrases and sentences people select to use at any given moment in time… instead of just taking them at face value.

BOY ROGER:  I hate winter. It’s cold and horrible and so long. It just goes on, and on, and on...

MOTHER: Never mind, dear, it will be spring before you know it.

BOY ROGER:  Huh! I’ll believe that when I see it.

MOTHER: Yes, well, give up on spring and you really will have a long winter. Why don’t you go out to play instead of moping around?

BOY ROGER: No one will want to come out to play on a day like this.

MOTHER: Perhaps not. But you’ll never know unless you make the effort to go and find out, will you?

BOY ROGER: (grudgingly) I suppose not…

No matter how hard a time we may be having or how it may strike us (at any age) that the winter of our years has struck prematurely, we should never forget that another springtime will follow as sure as day follows night. Oh, and I well recall how I did make the effort on that occasion all those years ago and did find someone to play with; a cold, grey, winter’s day didn’t seem nearly as bad after all, just for being able to share it with someone, and create a lasting happy memory.

SOW-NURTURE-REAP, TO EVERY HEART, ITS SEASONS 

Once there was a time

it seemed like winter every day,

only a watery sunshine

streaking a sky that’s leaden grey  

life barely worth living

Past and present, unforgiving,

catching me out  

in what I took to be a loneliness

of old age as I’d read about

in novels, rarely taking notice,

forgetting the roots

of fiction lie in such harsh reality

as now had me in its grip,

leaving me to fret that only much

the same lay ahead, cruel

twists of fate by any other name,

delivering me into a spiral

of heavy, leaden grey depression

No hope of rescue till into my life

you came, bringing light,

warmth and joy, making of a lonely

winter of the heart a fair copy of some

eternal springtime 

Oh, and such a spring! Come to lend

even its shadows a touch

of wry humour, so lessening the burden

of my distress that I could

once more make space for a happiness

of which neither age, gender,

culture, creed or sexuality may justly

(surely?) claim a monopoly

content (finally) to let sleeping dogs lie,

cease berating a rose

for its thorns, rain for catching me out,

but dry my tears, start to love

and laugh, feel young at heart again

Where society so loves to put down

its gay lovers, be sure our season will long,

outlive its own, and even when time

brings us to where dark winters looming,

we'll never give up on spring

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Voice of a Rose

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

Today’s poem first appeared in its original form in an anthology, Truly Mine, Poetry Now (Forward Press), 2003 and subsequently in my collection. I have only recently revised it. 

I have discussed revising poems - and titles - in the past and am aware of the arguments for and against. However, it is my view that as a poet moves on, there is no reason why a poem should not move on with him or her. Some people will argue that a later version loses its spontaneity, yet as I re-read some poems, a spontaneous revision springs to mind as I sense something missing in the earlier poem despite its good intentions.

The poem relates to an affair with a deaf-gay man years ago who, among other things, did his best to teach me sign language. I fear I have forgotten most of what I learned in that respect if not in others… 

Partially deaf since childhood, I’m afraid I have never been good at sign language (but can lip-read) probably because I’ve not had much opportunity to practise it. Even so, I have never had a problem communicating with any deaf or hard of hearing friends; lip-reading, facial expressions, a custom-inspired-signing-of-sorts and shared sense of humour (plus the written word where all else fails) have always proved more than enough to let us enjoy each other’s company. It was the latter that especially attracted me to him. We were both members of a local walking group and had stopped for a pub lunch. I was zipping up my fly in the toilet when he entered, paused, saw what I was doing and gave me the wickedest grin. followed by a questioning glance to which I instinctively nodded. I eft and we had little more to do with each other for the rest of the walk after which I had planned to catch a bus home. At the bus stop, he pulled up in his car and I got in. He helped me with my seat belt and gave me another wicked grin, and that was the start of a love affair that lasted months and a friendship that spanned a good 30+ years. He had a fatal heart attack on a sea voyage and was buried at sea., but I only have to close my eyes to enjoy his company all over again. 

VOICE OF A ROSE

Love gave me a rose,

fond hands signing

in a light summer breeze

like petals waving

Its fair petals falling

like heaven’s tears,

hands helpless at my side,

pricked by thorns

Thorns, drawing blood

where love’s fingers

get a feeling for nature’s

darker dreaming

Dreams, like parodies

of summer roses

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2012

View From A Bedroom Window OR On Seeking Inspiration and a Voice

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

I wrote this poem in 2003; it is based on another I wrote when I was just thirteen years-old and growing up in my home town of Gillingham in Kent. In those far-off days, the view from my bedroom window was much as the poem describes. I was born in that same house and the bedroom remained mine until the family moved across the river shortly after my 14th birthday.

Our red (Irish) setter was called Barney and next-door’s cat was named Jakesey. Barney was 14 years-old when he got ill and had to be put down. Jakesey had long since been found dead one morning (at a good if uncertain age) under the hydrangea bush, his favourite place.

At the time I came across the original poem, I was already an adult and had not lived in Gillingham for many years. The poem took me back to my old bedroom, and it was a comfort as I was missing a boyfriend with whom I had enjoyed a passionate fling before his return to Australia only a few days earlier. [After a relationship with someone that lasted only a few years before he was killed in a road accident, I was destined to have to settle for occasional flings…]

I loved that room. It was my bolt-hole, a refuge from family, school and other problems with which I hadn't a clue how to cope. Nothing was ever the same after we moved away and life would get a whole lot worse for a teenage Roger Taber (not least for struggling to express a sexuality that was considered criminal then) before they began to get any better. Ah, but that’s another story…part of which you may well read between the lines in another poem...

VIEW FROM A BEDROOM WINDOW or ON SEEKING INSPIRATION AND A VOICE

Stone yard below,
honeysuckle crowding
a trellis gate

Red setter on the alert
to make a break for it, see
the world

Next-door’s cat
yawning, teasingly,
on a fence...
leaning, precariously
over a flowering hydrangea,
but in no danger
from a dog’s
merely quivering
snout

Reflections of a bed
left unmade, where I sleep
without you...
dancing with daisies
on a lawn untouched since
you’ve been gone,
left me alone
with a dog, next door’s cat
and…what?

Shopping, cleaning,
washing-up, contemplating
irons in the fire

Dog ears pricking,
killing time till it sides with
the heart’s desire


Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2012

[Note: I have changed the appearance of this poem on the page and slightly revised the last stanza from the original version as it appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

A Song For Gay Lovers

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

We all have bad days from time to time. Some months, too (like November) bring the kind of weather that does nothing to cheer us up. Here's hoping today’s poem will bring a smile to any long faces; it has not appeared on the blog since 2010…so time for an airing methinks.

  

A SONG FOR GAY LOVERS

It doesn’t matter that we’re gay,

our love is pure;

whatever people say, it will endure

It doesn’t matter that we’re gay,

happiness is ours;

day by day, winging heaven’s towers

It doesn’t matter that we’re gay,

time is on our side;

ebb or flow, let golden hours decide

It doesn’t matter that we’re gay,

we can dream too;

come what may, we’ll see it through

It doesn’t matter that we’re gay,

our love is pure;

whatever people say, we will endure


Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

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

To Love, the Victory

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

[Update, 13/5/18: So-called Islamic State have said it is responsible for the latest terror attack on ordinary people going about their own everyday lives, this time in Paris. France, along with the whole civilised world remains defiant against these people. Human nature is such that, to the end of time,  the power of love and respect for its finer intentions will always triumph over hate, hate crime and a malicious stereotyping that I dare say will always be with us just as its perpetrators will always fail to acknowledge that they are, in reality, but wasters and losers.] RNT

Now, a number of readers have asked me to repeat the link to my (very) informal poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square back in July 2009; it was my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One & Other ‘living sculpture’ project that ran 24/7 for 100 days during which time 2,400 ordinary people were invited to do their ‘own thing’ for an hour. I included some poems on a gay theme among others. [The entire web-stream is now archived in the British Library.]

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

Meanwhile…

Photo: taken from the Internet

Let blinkered homophobes say what they will, the love two gay or transgender people share runs as true and stands every chance of lasting as long as that shared by any heterosexual couple. Nor is it likely to be frowned upon by any God so those who believe God is Love need have no fear that their sexuality in any way compromises their religion. As for those socio-cultural-religious bigots who may well tell you otherwise, plainly their capacity for love (other than for themselves) is sadly lacking. Even, so, human nature's capacity for love is - and always has been - far  stronger than any rogue capacity for hate as we continue live in hope of a better, kinder world.

This poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010 and is a favourite of mine.

TO LOVE, THE VICTORY

I tried to kill my love (it would not die),

banish emotions that refused to go;

Some said you were the guilty one (not I)

those enemies of love who cannot know

It takes two to begin a love affair

and two, again, to bring the shutters down

yet only one to bring true love to bear

on a heart growing dark and all but done

I begged another chance to defy them

who always said our love could never be;

dare I say it’s the singer, not the hymn

shall raise us to rousing tunes of glory?

Still, some gossip and spread tales about us

but we (though gay) in love, victorious

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; 2^nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.]

  

A Song Of The Earth

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

A straight friend once commented that sad as it is, bigotry is a fact of life and we just have to try and learn to live with it. I found myself thinking back to when I wrote today’s poem; it last appeared on the blog in 2010 so now is as good a time as any time perhaps to give it an airing.

I don’t agree with my friend. Bigotry is a fact not of life but of human nature, one of its worst failing no less, and we don’t have to try and learn to live with it at all. 

Surely, it’s better for everyone that we at least try and teach the arrogant bigots among us some humanity, not to mention some humility into the bargain? We are, after all, a common humanity regardless of any socio-cultural-religious differences; nor to the latter make us so different, only more human.

Oh, and why are the idealists among us constantly pit down for advocating peace on earth, goodwill to all, and an end to propagating stereotypes?

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]

[Please Note: My collections are only on sale in the UK but anyone can order (signed) copies from me at a generous blogger discount. For details, contact rogertab@aol.com with ‘Blog reader’ or Poetry collection’ in the subject field.]

Rites Among Men

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

When I was a young man I’d go cruising known gay areas for love, knowing full well that all I was ever likely to find was sex; it was both an exciting and despairing experience.

Sometimes, though, lonely people really do strike gold …

RITES AMONG MEN

There was a time I was in love with love;

every man I met was the one for me;

each night I’d gaze at the bright stars above,

wishing for someone to be there for me

Again and again, I’d mistake lust for love,

reeling from foolishness, loss and pain

till one night, gazing at those stars above,

you came, stayed, put a hand in mine

Two lonely men cruising, out for a thrill,

we believed in that first sad kiss;

your mouth, arms, body heat in for the kill

found me baring my heart for sacrifice

Old gods applauding among stars above,

we rediscovered ancient rites, made love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2012

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised (2012) from the original version as it appears in 1^st eds. of A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

More than Words can Say

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

In my early years, I had a problem with words and language, and still do sometimes; it is one of many reasons that my chosen form of creative therapy is writing, both poetry and fiction. Should any readers be interested in my fiction, just go to:

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Now, I have been partially deaf all my life and need to wear hearing aids. Even today, some people see my aids and assume I am retarded or, at best, as thick as two planks. (Fortunately, I have a sense of humour.)  Today’s poem is posted especially for a profoundly deaf gay couple, one of whom celebrates his 50th birthday today; they have been together for 21 years this week.

Yes, life is an emotional rollercoaster and no, you cannot fully do justice to emotion in words. Believe me, though, when I say from personal experience that it helps one helluva lot to try ... !

Gay or straight, when words fail you, you can invariably count on your eyes to say it all ... for better or worse.

“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”  - Mark Twain

MORE THAN WORDS CAN SAY

I cannot hear
nor shall I wish my life away
but sign to you
how we mean more each day
than spoken words
can say

You cannot speak
nor do you wish your life away
but sign to me
how we live more each day
than spoken words
can say

In eyes of desire,
our love rising from the heart
like a fire
in winter till death us part
and for its second spring
we'll wait

Copyright R. N. Taber 1997

[Note: The poem was written to coincide with the US publication of Eyes of Desire 2: A Deaf GLBT Reader ed. Raymond Luczak, Alyson Books, 1997 to which I contributed an article.]

Somebody To Love

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

Today’s post appears on both blogs as Queen has fans everywhere. The poem takes its title from the hit song first recorded by the rock band on their album A Day at the Races. Written by Freddy Mercury at the piano, "Somebody to Love" is a soul-searching piece that questions God's role in a life without love.

If God is love and a life without love - in all its shapes and forms - is no life at all, where does that leave those of us who don’t believe in a God as expounded by various religions? And who’s to say any religion or religion per se has a monopoly on its understanding of God? Perhaps it is the other way around and Love is God? Who knows…?

I love nature. Perhaps nature is God. Perhaps I am mistaken when I say I don’t believe in God and what I really mean is that I cannot take anything religions have to say literally, preferring a metaphorical take on Holy Books, but… if Love is God…Well, yes, I sure do believe in love.

As for gay love…Love does not discriminate and if God is Love it follows that no God would either so never but never let anyone tell you that gay people in love share anything less beautiful or less godly than their heterosexual counterparts.

What’s that? I’ve said this before? True, nothing new here. Ah, but as my dear, late mother told me once, if something is worth saying it has to be worth repeating.

SOMEBODY TO LOVE

Somebody to love, my life, my dream

wherever I go;

I am the cat that got the cream

(as well you know)

Apollo makes light of our fears

wherever we go,

soul mates swimming the world’s tears

(seas of joy and sorrow)

We’ll rise above all prejudice

wherever we go,

holding hands, pausing for a kiss

(let everyone know)

We’ll prove them all mistaken

wherever we go,

who say gay sex can’t exist but as a sin

(what do they know?)

Waking beside you every day,

wherever we go,

I feel much blessed for being gay

(sunbeam on my pillow)

Passion’s fire will see us right

wherever we go,

blazing a trail through the darkest night

(for others to follow)

Somebody to love, my life, my dream

wherever I go;

I am the cat that got the cream

(as well you know)

Copyright R. N. Taber 197-; 2012