Green Fingers

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2010. Only recently, someone got in touch to say he identified with it so much that he showed his house-sharer...and they are now partners in every sense of the word.

Now, sometimes close friends need to get closer, and getting close to nature might just be a push in the right direction...

Oh, but I so love a happy ending, don’t you?

GREEN FINGERS

Each time I’d look up and see you

smiling from some herbaceous border,

sparrows on the washing line,

daisies on the lawn, sunshine spread

like a burst balloon; I longed
to know for sure what’s in your head?
Do I take it as read I’m only here
to cut the grass, prune the rose trees,
weed the beds, rid the greenfly,
get the garden looking as it should?

Oh, and I would, if only you’d see
to that damn border instead of grinning

at me as if to say other things
need sorting too (Oh, and how!)
like...NOW

Come on, what are we waiting for?

Let’s get going right away, the daisies

will still be here another day

and Earth Mother told the sparrows

we’re gay; a lonely Eden,
this shared pain left unspoken,
the sparrows' cheery chorus
covering up for its ties, unbroken
even by our silences...

Oh, labours of love! Busy hands
in the earth, green fingers

learning all about life, death, rebirth,

how you and I will find our way,
looking world and sparrows in the eye

every day...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[Note: Slightly but significantly revised from the original poem that appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

G-A-Y, Tales of the Unexpected

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

An early poem today, written in the 1980s while I was still recovering from a severe nervous breakdown. I dare say some readers will find it just as relevant now nearly 30 years on.

The poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010 and I hope new readers will enjoy.. 

Now, there are times when...if in doubt, GO for it!

G-A-Y, TALES OF THE UNEXPECTED

An unexpected kiss

sent me in a spin as I hadn’t

really thought much

about men having feelings

for other men like this

A knee jerk reaction

was to push you away as hard

as I could, feign horror,

reel off a string of nasty names

unworthy of repetition

Oh, days, nights, years

in a cold sweat, trying to forget

how my whole body

had thrilled so to an intimacy

wringing me to tears

I’d rather cross the street

than pass you, risk my confusion

spilling down my jeans,

giving myself away, wrestling

as I was with my guilt

Such exquisite passion

as I’d never dreamed existed even;

if sex with a woman

came close, it had but transcended

a vague dissatisfaction

We met again one day

at a in-service training session

about discrimination

against groups within society,

including gay

Later, as colleagues do,

we went to a bar and chatted

over a few drinks;

one by one, the others left - till

just me and you

I didn’t flinch as before

at that first, shy, unexpected kiss,

could see, too, in your eyes,

brimming with tender desire,

a way of life we’d share

Copyright R. N. Taber 1985; 2010

The Smile

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

The first poem appeared in a Poetry Now (Forward Press) anthology Within My Soul in 2004 and in my collection the following year. Both poems can be found in The Third Eye and I think they go together well so am including them both here.

After all, we live in hope...and who knows...?

THE SMILE

The first time I saw your smile,

I wished it just for me,

inviting these lips to rest a while,

ease this trembling body

I felt the adrenalin race,

this heart fill to bursting;

Like a brand, your face

on mine slowly burning

I saw us naked in bed,

enjoying the fruits of passion,

by a mutual loving led...

(All power to illusion?)

“I’m gay,” these eyes confessed

where your smile chose to rest

THE KISS

We kissed, a steady flow of feet

rushing by like overflow

from a gutter… and heard voices

mutter,  ‘It’s not right to do that

in a busy street, would be different

if they were normal, for heaven’s

sake!  It’s a fine modernity that will

permit promiscuity in full view

of people going about their business,

causing no offence, setting

an example to our kids, keeping

a weather eye on their peers

even if it means getting paranoid

about tabloid whistle blowers,

wondering whose head next will fall,

Big Brother at school, on TV

or at the office making mischief

while terrorists are marking 

our cards, ready to take charge - unless

we, in turn, make a stand,

can be sure of dealing ourselves

a winning hand…’

‘So much to do, think about, without

having to look at gay folks kissing

in the street as if they had as much right

to be there as we everyday consumers

doing our damn best to rig share prices

and put the world straight.’

We kissed again, a steady flow of feet

rushing by like overflow from a gutter

and voices muttering…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2010

[Note: Both poems appear in 1^st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004. The second poem has been slightly revised and will appear in its present form in a 2^nd (revised) e-edition at a later date.]

G-A-Y In The Subject Field

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

Yes, this is the poem from which the blog takes its title. It hasn’t been on the blog for a couple of years now and ‘Malika’ has asked me to post it today as she and her partner share my passion for clouds. I love to hear from lesbians as it reassures me that it is not only gay men that dip into the blog. I appreciate that some lesbians prefer the term to gay, but I know many more that are happy with gay.

Feedback suggests that some transgender readers enjoy the blog too, and that’s great news. After all, we are all people in the same swim, often against this or that society’s tides and that’s what counts. If we do not continue to press for equal right around the world, those countries where gay and transgender people are still victimised, ostracised, even executed with less dignity that you would put down a sick animal ... nothing will change. for my own part, I feel very heartened that so many straight young people from all walks of life take the trouble to email me and express encouraging sentiments about both this as well as my general blog. One reader even said he and his girlfriend both enjoyed reading the gay novels serialised in my fiction blog.

Change always takes time, changes in certain socio-cultural-religious attitudes invariably longer, often (far) longer than we would like. In our young people, though, I see more good than bad; in them especially lie the hopes and aspirations of  yours truly and other men and women, boys and girls around the world weary of being made to feel they need to apologise for their sexuality or, worse still, live out their lives in some awful closet.

G-A-Y IN THE SUBJECT FIELD

I read it in the clouds one day

when I was feeling lonely,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

I hadn’t found the way to say

how I felt about sexuality;

I read it in the clouds one day

Alone on life’s great highway,

till passing clouds told me,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

I couldn’t help feeling the way

I felt about you and me;

I read it in the clouds one day

So much I wanted to say

and did eventually…

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

Life is rarely roses all the way,

though nature set us free;

I read it the clouds one day,

‘G-A-Y is good, means gay.’

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

All Patched Up and Ready

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

Years ago, I was ‘queer bashed’ more than once. Fortunately, homophobic attacks are less common these days. However, when I posted my poem Ode To A Homophobe on this blog some time ago, several readers emailed me who genuinely believe homophobia is a thing of the past.  

Oh, but I wish!!!

Only a few years ago it was reported on TV that a gay man was stabbed to death and his partner injured in the London area during an unprovoked homophobic attack in their own home.

Since then there have been several high profile homophobic attacks here in the UK, usually on gay men, but I suspect many more go unreported and almost certainly include women especially among ethnic minority communities whose the culture of origin is intrinsically homophobic. Imagine, for example, how tough it must be for a gay Muslim, and I am assured by those I have met that there are plenty.

We must not be scared back into the closet by these thugs (or be afraid to come out of it either) but do our best to set an example and defy such ignorance and bigotry. Oh, and as far as I am concerned, they are no better than thugs, these holier-than-thou types who prefer to use gay people for a punch bag with socio-cultural-religious rhetoric rather than physical force. 

Meanwhile…be safe and - enjoy!

ALL PATCHED UP AND READY

A leg brushed mine

and the pulse of his sexuality

passed into me,

tore through my whole body

like an express train

A hand brushed mine

and the heat of his sexuality

passed into me,

embracing my whole body

like summer sunshine

A cheek brushed mine

and silk threads of sensuality

passed into me,

patching up my whole body

where holes were

A mouth brushed mine

and the joy of his sexuality

passed into me,

wishing my whole body

a safe passage

Naked flesh against mine,

the demands of our sexuality

passing into us,

joining our whole bodies

making us complete

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

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

Engaging with the Spiritual Nature of Love

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

Some people will argue that love is either platonic or romantic. Yet, there are various shades of love in between. For example, those same people might argue that sexual passion does not even come close to love, or even romance, and in many ways they would be right although any mutual sexual attraction has the potential for engaging with love in its own way. Even in sex for its own sake can take us beyond the parameters of simple pleasure while between two people who truly love each other there is invariably a spiritual dimension (that has little or nothing to do with religion) in the coming together not only of bodies but also minds, elements of mind-body-spirit experiencing a  sense of fulfilment that dims with neither age nor time.

And then there is rapport. There can be such a rapport between friends that may not be romantic, but is far more than the everyday platonic.

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2009. I wrote it a few months after the death of a very dear friend who was also an occasional lover. He was not the love of my life nor was I his, yet we were able to physically as well as emotionally comfort and inspire each other in a way I cannot describe.

While it’s true to say (technically at least) that we were occasional lovers, we never thought of each other as such, but only very close friends.  Our relationship is the only one I have ever had that transcended platonic while never coming close to such heights of feeling I would experience when  being with the one great love of my life.

My friend died of AIDS some years ago. If he was still here and I was still sexually active, he would be yelling at me as he once did, ‘Make sure you play as safe as it gets, Rogie, and damn well get yourself tested because there’s no such bloody thing as foolproof.’  He was a lovely guy and would have been 70 years-old today.

No, it this not a gay poem. But then love doesn’t give a damn who or what we are, does it? It leaves that to those content to remain slaves to certain historical conventions, dogma, culture, whatever...for which, thankfully, the human spirit is more than a match when challenged by any or all.

ENGAGING WITH THE SPIRITUAL NATURE OF LOVE

Death, rippling the summer corn

like the stirrings of a child unborn,

wondering in the womb - what

freedom between cage and tomb?

I lift my head to a gorgeous sky,

loose a few more dreams, watch them fly

like the tail of a child’s kite

flapping bravely against heaven’s might.

Now, barely a flicker, waved out

of sight with tearful eye and puckered brow,

the child I was, resuming now

across wintry years to wet an eye

that might have stayed dry

in the summer air, seeking all it never found,

hurting without making a sound,

feasting on harvest corn, caged in a breast

deprived of rest, tired of hearing

all’s for the best, weary of waiting

for waiting’s end, lonely for want

of a dear friend running free in summer corn,

smiling wistfully at me who’s left

with a heavy heart to somehow weather

the pain that’s let us part, cut to quick

by a look on your face that says this world

could have been a kinder place...

Music, murmuring a summer breeze

like a guitar strummed with artist’s ease

to lull earth’s restless womb

before the breaking of a Great Storm

spreading alarm amongst the corn.

I spot a field mouse (or maybe not?)

so tiny, quick, soon forgot, and should hasten

my own tread, the music fair bursting

in my head. Oh love, life! Instead, I’ll linger

in this summer place and to the wind

I’ll lift the face of one who is, oh, so happy

for witnessing this transcending

of our history, passing into such natural beauty

as I’d forgot is no less a part of me

than these shoes badly worn through a world

sadly torn in two, three, and more...by love,

hate and war; famine too, I have to say,

as in the corn I kneel to pray although to what

or whom (in this life) we may never know.

Ah, dear friend, I grieve to let you go, but joyous

for a chance to give thanks for a love

we shared that’s alive in me, keeping us close

though you pass into a spirituality Time

likes to keeps secret from us, but for kisses

to remind that what was, still IS...

Storm breaks, yet returns me to a kinder world

for a summer playing love songs in my head

Copyright R. N. Taber 1993; 2001; 2017

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised from an earlier version that first appeared under the title, 'Once More, Dear Friend' in an anthology, How Can You Write A Poem When You’re Dying of AIDS? ed. John Harold, Cassell, 1993 and Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Challenging the Status Quo

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

Among other things, the Olympic Games bring people together, athletes and spectators alike, from all walks of life regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality...which has to be a GOOD thing for all of us whether we are sports mad or not.

This poem is a kenning. I wrote it on my late partner’s birthday; we were only together a few years, but I cherish the memory of our love and some great times together.

Love is a fine pacemaker; pair it with pain and we are well-equipped to run the gamut of this sorry world’s testing times and places.

May the collective spirit of the Olympic Games endure for London 2012 and across the world long, long afterwards... [Oh, and wouldn't be great if more gay sportsmen and women set a good example and came out for us all?]

We gay people may be a relative minority, but we are a very significant (and growing) minority;we continue to help set the pace for change in societies and communities where, for far too long, socio-cultural-religious conventions have turned blind eyes and deaf ears.

CHALLENGING THE STATUS QUO

I am a cry in the night,

world cocking but half an ear

to heads like waves
on a feisty sea of pillows

in need of laundering

come morning if only to hide

tell-tale patches
of grief, guilt, loss of face

or worse ...

I am tears in the rain

no one able to tell I am crying,
no matter a part of me

is dying for want of showing
a kinder side than seen

by those who have no pity

for the likes of a cry

in the night or tears in the rain

soon forgotten

I am shadows in twilight,

made to witness darker deeds
than any God imagined

or else He (or She) would never

have laid life on me

but left me to pass like a dream

across time and space,

no cries or tears or fretting

about losing face

I am the voice of the human heart,
call me Mind-Body-Spirit

Copyright R N Taber 2012. 2019

[Note; An earlier version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Gay in the Park

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

We hear much talk here in the UK of gay men and woman having equal rights along with the heterosexual majority, but woe betide a gay couple (especially two gay men) seen kissing passionately in a public place...

I have lost count of the times I have sat alongside a straight couple enjoying a snog on a bus or train or just walking along the street. There’s nothing wrong in that, so why should it be ‘wrong’ for a gay couple?

Here’s wishing gay lovers everywhere, good luck, good health and a good write-up by press and public. As for those countries where a public show of affection is a criminal offence for socio-cultural-religious reasons , it is high time they came into the 21st century and brought their people with it.

  

GAY IN THE PARK

A scent of summer roses in the air

fills this loving heart with peace

as I recall a time we passed by here

and shared our first public kiss

Some people paused to stare at us,

moved on, voicing thoughts aloud

about how plain disgusting it was

that gay folks flaunt love with pride

Love, they declared, was personal,

for two people to share in private,

not treated as an exhibit universal

for the whole damn world to debate

As for gay people, they must learn

not to ‘flaunt’ their sexuality so

in the face of public moral concern

that can only (surely?) grow…

Though words meant to hurt our ears,

a gentle breeze softened each blow

while a heady scent of summer roses

assured us a peace only lovers know

We’ll laugh again, share another kiss

all thorny thoughts withstand…

for some will always begrudge us this,

as summer roses prick the hand

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

Jack-in-the-Box

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

Many thanks to those readers who have been in touch to say they are enjoying Dog Roses and Blasphemy, gay storylines serialised on my fiction blog. I hope to upload them as e-books later this year or early next:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com

Meanwhile...

Looking back, I feel ashamed that I was such a Jack-in-the-box for so long before coming out of the damn box once and for all.

My only excuse is that it took a long time to shrug of the shackles of criminality imposed on me throughout my youth and in the early years of adulthood by a society that, in those days, saw gay relationships as not only a criminal offence but also something lower than anything the proverbial cat is ever likely to drag in... It is the 21^st century’s continuing tragedy that some people and some societies still do.

Never condemn a gay person for caving in to socio-cultural-religious pressures and trying to go straight, but hope for their sakes that they see sense and salvation sooner rather than later.

 JACK-IN-THE-BOX

Once, I’d make up life as I went along

with Jack, my invisible friend;

He was always there for me, teasing

but never passing judgement;

Only Jack knew I was gay, a teenager

in love with the boy next door

whose mother thought fate meant me

for her daughter; cue for laughter

from Jack , no matter my shame for

going along with the farce, even

asking the daughter on a date because

her brother is her mate’s boyfriend

and we’d all hang out; I’d grab every

chance to be close to him, feel his

breath on me, a finger brushing mine,

getting higher on the sheer poetry

of his voice than any music, dancing

or wine

At his door, I’d kiss her briefly, ignoring

the pain in her eyes, her best friend

embracing my love nearby, lips meant

(surely?) for mine, a place in his life,

stealing my passion, usurping my dreams

and (worse) making them real while I

dare not reveal how I feel, Jack at my ear

saying less harm in lies than let truth

run its course, better play charades than

drop the mask, show a private face;

(Oh, to feel his heat and taste his kiss!)

She knew, of course, yet kept saying

she loved me and I fear she did, though

Jack knows I never said the words

she longed to hear nor let her passion

get the better of us, he at my ear

saying, no matter…wasn’t as if I didn’t

care for her at all

Youth long past, stumbling into maturity,

I finally told everyone I am gay;

Most people stood by me, gave me a hug,

said it didn’t matter, sexuality less

important than a sound mind, good heart

by far; most people, that is, except the guy

who used to be the boy next door;

But I don’t need him any more and Jack’s

gone too, nor is gay love a make-believe

dent on the pillow next to me, invisible lips

mouthing words of desire…for I am out

in the world, high on a love and friendship

restoring my integrity, replacing regret

for an unrequited youth with a self-respect

and honesty; the man I used to be, scared

of reality and behaving badly, finally ready

for a sexual identity demanding I accept

responsibility for it

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

A Ballad for Gay Pride

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

Today’s poem is often accessed in the archives, but not everyone has time to browse the archives, and not everyone has a computer at home that enables them to browse the Internet at will. Feedback suggests that many readers, for whatever reason, only read my blog entries for the day on which they access them.

The gay Pride festival season will soon be upon us here in the UK although I like to think the spirit of Gay Pride is evergreen and eternal, no matter what or whom we might find ourselves up against in various parts of the world now or at any time in the future. Everyone needs self-confidence to survive the ups and downs of life, and that includes confidence in our sexuality; it is as integral to the integrity of the individual as the pride he or she needs to take in that very individuality. [Human beings are not a race of clones (yet) thank goodness!]

Taking pride in ourselves is an easy enough pose to adopt for appearances sake, but more often than not a hard lesson to learn for real. Not everyone is receptive to individuality, let alone sexuality. You only have to look at various religious fundamentalists, for example, who are about as individual as they are original with their singing from much the same doctored hymn sheet in whatever language it may be written.   

Homophobia is a sickness for which the only cure is example; it is, as it has always been, the responsibility of gay men and women worldwide to set a universally better one. Where we succeed, we can be well pleased with ourselves. Where we are seen to fail, we should not be quick to judge since behind every failure is always a damn good reason; some people, for example, are as easily misled by stereotypes as they are by less enlightened heterosexual clerics. 

Whatever, this poem is for gay people everywhere, inspired by our individual and collective triumphs over an individual and collective homophobia (in all its quasi-acceptable socio-cultural-religious shapes and forms).

A BALLAD FOR GAY PRIDE

Gay love is for fools, they said,

and for years I believed

it was so, hugged my sexuality

to myself, afraid to let go

Gay love is for fools, I was told

by family, friends, work mates,

so stayed in a convenient closet

designed for straights

I hated all that straight-speak

about opposite sexes

lighting fires, pouring cold water

on gay desires

One day, pinned to someone

on a train during rush hour,

a smile chanced to embrace me

like a hot shower

Oh, how I relished same sex lips

homing in on mine

and closed my eyes, primed

for that moment divine

It didn't happen that way of course

and my dream lover left the train,

leaving me to reflect how I needed

to feel that way again

Gay love is a sickness they said,

and for years I believed

it was so till until a greater wisdom

taught me, myself, to know

Gay love is for fools, I was told,

by family, friends, workmates,

preferring (and welcome to) closets

designed for straights

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

The Zen Of Counting Beans

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

Several readers have asked why I usually include the link to my Wikipedia entry on each blog post.  Well, apart from providing more info about myself and my work for anyone interested, feedback suggests that it also encourages readers to take me more seriously as a person as well as a poet given that poetry on a gay theme is rarely given either a good press or high profile.

I post most of my Gay Awareness poems on my general blog as well. One reader contacted me a few years ago to say I am ‘compromising the very integrity of poetry by using it to suggest that being gay is remotely respectable or can ever be acceptable in civilised society.’ Someone else has called me ‘a nobody with literary pretensions.’ On the other hand, most feedback appears to confirm that because the Wikipedia editorial team take me seriously, readers - especially gay readers who live in a gay-unfriendly environment - are more likely to take heart for knowing that the more serious sentiments expressed in my poems are not taken lightly by blog readers worldwide.  Now, anyone may disagree with them, of course, but at least they get a public airing. Oh, and if I manage to ruffle a few feathers along the way so much the better...

Having said all that, I just hope readers enjoy my poems and try to leave space in them enough for the reader to find his or her own way.

Meanwhile...

I am often asked to repeat this poem; it last appeared on the blog in 2010.  ‘Miles’ got in touch to say he had searched the blog archives but could not remember the title and the tags he tried came up with too many poems! Oh, dear. Well, here you are Miles, and I hope it cheers you up as it did me when originally inspired by a reader whose happy-ending tale is  related in the poem.

  

THE ZEN OF COUNTING BEANS

"I’m gay,"I told a mirror on the wall;

the mirror said nothing, nothing at all,

eyes staring at me filled with tears;

I felt older, much older than my years

and went downstairs

"I'm gay," I told the family at dinner;

No one said a word and only a clatter

of stainless steel on best crockery

broke a silence I thought must surely

last forever

"How can you be sure?" Mother said;

Dad sniffed and snorted, shook his head;

Bro swore aloud and Sis ate her greens;

I fought emotions way beyond my means,

and counted my beans

"You're sure?" Mother wanted to know;

I could only nod, put on as brave a show

of self-confidence as any ham,

suggest it’s no big deal, just how I am,

and why give a damn?

"Well," said dad, "what will be, will be."

(grabbed a handkerchief, sneezed noisily);

"Could be worse," Mother supposed;

Bro tossed a wink, now more composed,

and Sis praised the potatoes

Dinner proceeded much as it always had

and beans never tasted so good

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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

Staying the Course, Ticking Boxes Custom Made

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

I was drinking in a bar with a few gay friends once and a BIG guy called out, ‘Hey, shirt lifters. Do us all a favour and drop dead, yeah?’

Suffice to say we not only didn’t comply, but also stayed on for another round of beers even though we had intended to leave.

He strutted over to our table and jabbed a finger at me. ‘Hey, you,’ he shouted, ‘Are you deaf or something?’

I pointed to my hearing aids. ‘As a matter of fact, yes, I am. Do you have a problem with that?’

‘Not that, the other thing...,’ he sneered.

‘Sorry mate,’ I said in all seriousness, ‘I’ve only got two ears. Maybe you’re a bit drunk and seeing things, eh?  I can do you a third leg though...’

The whole pub exploded with laughter and the blushing homophobe retreated to rejoin his mates.

Some of you may have read a recent post that related an encounter I had once with a poetry lover who could not see why any ‘serious’ poet would want to write a villanelle - or any other poetic form - on a gay theme. Well, if being a ‘serious’ poet means being selective about what themes should be taken seriously, it is probably just as well I’m only a poet.

This poem is (oh, yes!) a villanelle.

STAYING THE COURSE

Gay folks won’t run away,

though some prefer we leave;

be sure, we’re here to stay

Let bigots have their say

(worn clichés up the sleeve);

gay folks won’t run away

Born, come what may,

to laugh, cheer, love, grieve,

be sure, we’re here to stay

Let pious pretenders pray

who refuse to live and let live;

gay folks won’t run away

Where cultures prey,

they only  themselves deceive;

be sure, we’re here to stay

Let history seize the day,

and its worst fake news believe;

gay folks won’t run away;

be sure, we’re here to stay

Copyright R.N. Taber 2010

[Note: an earlier version of this poems appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N Taber,Assembly Books, 2010]

Gay Is Beautiful

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

Readers keep asking me to repeat the link to my informal poetry reading in Trafalgar Square  in July 2009 when I read a selection of my gay-interest and other poems as my contribution to Antony Gormley’s One and Other ‘live sculpture’ project; 2,400 people from all walks of life did their ‘own thing’ on the 4^th plinth for one hour 24/7 over 100 days. The entire web-stream is now archived in the British Library. Make of my efforts what you will and (hopefully) enjoy:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile...

Some time ago, I rediscovered this simple poem in a ‘sketchbook’ of poems that I kept for years. I vividly recall writing it  for a young gay man (not ‘out’ at the time) who once cried on my shoulder, despairing that being gay is ‘something ugly’, having been told so (along with may of us) since he was knee high to a grasshopper. It may not be a great poem, but it did the trick and dried his tears. [What more can a poet ask?] Although working again by then, I was still recovering from a severe nervous breakdown several years earlier. 

Writing the poem also helped me find the confidence to come out to the world and stay out after years of playing at being a jack-in-the-box. Even so, it would be a few more years yet before I began getting poetry on a gay theme published in poetry publications worldwide although relatively (very) few compared to a growing number that would publish my non-gay material. Sadly, but significantly, that trait continues to this day.

By the way, that young man is now married (isn’t a civil ceremony a wedding in everything but name?) to his partner of 20 years and they expect to live happy ever after.

Call me sentimental but...oh, how I just LOVE a happy ending!

  

GAY IS BEAUTIFUL

Gay love is no less beautiful

than any other loves to be had

that make life so wonderful,
on our side through happy-sad,
a fairy tale ending or in tears

Gay life is no less beautiful

than any other lives to be had

that make love so wonderful

on our side through happy-sad,
mind-body-spirit of our years

Gay folks are no less beautiful

than Creation intended for us all,
to every human heart, its goal,
love's unique take on happy-sad
tailored to our hopes, our fears

Let common humanity take note;

we gay people, too, play our part

Copyright R. N. Taber 1984; 2009

Postscript To An Obituary

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

Update (June 13 2016): The shocking events at a gay nightclub in Orlando, Florida, in the early hours of Sunday morning, when 50 people were killed and many others injured by a gunman suspected of being sympathethic to Islamic State, has sent shock waves around the world, not least among its gay communities. Yet, we should not rush to judgement regarding Islam, a religion of peace and love in spite of many latter day rogue elements. It is true that most Muslims I have met and worked with have expressed anti-gay sentiments. At the same time, though, the vast majority respect my right to be as I am just as I respect their right to believe as they do. (Gay Muslims are given a much harder time by other Muslims just as gay people who subscribe to other religions are far too often given a hard time by fellow Believers... as if any God of Love would condone homophobia.

...................................................

Readers sometimes complain that I go on about the problems facing gay people in societies worldwide and should focus more on the fact that ‘Gays have never had it so good...

‘Enough doom and gloom please’, someone recently wrote.

Well I hope no one sees this as a doom and loom blog! I try to be positive, encouraging and supportive, especially with readers in mind who are perhaps not having it so good for one reason or another.  According to Blog statistics, G-A-Y in the Subject Field is read around the world, including some countries where gay men and women are still harassed, hounded and even executed.  Even in the West, gay people who are not fortunate enough to be growing up or living/working in a gay-friendly environment can easily feel their self-esteem under threat.

Many of the poems on this blog are also repeated on my general blog if not always at the same time; they address the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority as well as gay readers.

I have to say that most feedback is very positive and many thanks to those readers who take the trouble to get in touch. Don’t forget that if you would like a reply, use my e-mail address (see in the blog heading) rather than hit the Comments button. I never post comments (but I read them all) and few ‘comments’ provide a means for me to contact he person direct. I love to hear from readers so feel free to get in touch about anything any time.

Meanwhile....

Tragically, homophobia is alive and kicking across the world.

While more could be done to educate those who mistake the worst gay stereotypes for the real thing, we can at least be sure that love will always rise above hate, and the love gay people have for each other is no exception.  

Lovers across the world are among the luckiest people alive. Anyone who attacks love on the grounds of sexuality or along the lines of any socio-cultural-religious bigotry is a sad, foolish, misguided person.

  

POSTSCRIPT TO AN OBITUARY

It didn't matter we were gay

or young and starting out,

we loved each other anyway

We'd share kisses every day,

dawn woke us with a shout;

it didn't matter we were gay

Gossips said we'd rue the day,

(no idea what g-a-y's about)

we loved each other anyway

At college, at home or at play,

our love left us in no doubt;

it didn't matter we were gay

Happy to follow nature's way,

(though homophobes about)

we loved each other anyway

You helped make a bully's day

(left you dying in the street)

it didn't matter we were gay,

we loved each other anyway

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Surprise, Surprise

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

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010. (I try not to post poems too close together, but repeat them as and when asked or for readers who don’t have time to browse the archives or perhaps don’t have a computer at home but rely on other venues for Internet access.)

Now, you have probably noticed how very intelligent people sometimes say very stupid things.  I read a villanelle at a poetry reading once and a ‘self-confessed poetry lover’ in the audience (why else would he be at a poetry reading?) said how much he enjoyed hearing a poem on an ‘intelligent’ theme. He smiled patronisingly when I admitted to a passion for villanelles and confessed to having written some 200+. Then he said I must find writing in poetic forms ‘a nice change from writing gay stuff.’  ‘I mean to say,’ he went on, ‘whoever heard of anyone writing gay villanelles?’ When I told him I have written lots of villanelles on a gay theme, he just grinned inanely, laughed nervously, and promptly sought refuge in someone else’s ear...

Yes, this poem is a villanelle.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE

It’s a feel-good something every day

getting the better of me;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

If I have the look of a man on his way,

who am I to disagree?

It’s a feel-good something every day

Making best of worst come what may

(two cheers for democracy);

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

Risen above fear since fear doesn’t pay

if you’re in a minority;

it’s a feel-good something every day

Forgiving folks who go out of their way

to attack my integrity;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

In nature, I rediscovered a spiritual way

denied me by society ...

it’s a feel-good something every day;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010