Pride and Joy, the Zen of Sexuality

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

This villanelle was written for a young reader who says he is in his teens and feels ‘so guilty’ because he finds  ‘...intense spirituality as well as physical enjoyment in gay sex’ while his parents ‘continue to express disgust and want me to see a psychiatrist.’ At least the guy is ‘out’ to his family, and that is half the battle won already. As he becomes  more self-confident in his sexuality, hopefully his parents will learn to have more confidence in him as a gay person and in themselves as the parents of a gay son.

Sometimes we need to give ourselves time to adapt to and/or work at improving certain situations and/or relationships; we should not begrudge others the same.

Many of my poems are variations on the same theme, but as my late mother used to say, if something is worth saying it is always worth repeating.

I can only hope my positive take on sexuality encourages anyone made to feel guilty and ashamed by the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority, including some parents and siblings, to shrug off that particular yoke.

Sexuality is part of who we are, and we should never feel ashamed of that, but accept it for what it is, a way to access the wholeness of our being including, for many if not most of us,  a spiritual dimension that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with religion.

Enjoy!

PRIDE AND JOY, THE ZEN OF SEXUALITY

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality,

(gay, lesbian, straight or transgender)

confirming a unique spirituality

Religion never had a monopoly

on the spiritual side of human nature.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality

Acknowledging our sexual identity

Inspires selfhood’s greater endeavour,

confirming a unique spirituality

Where truth declares itself openly,

bigotry’s acolytes vainly run for cover.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality

No finer anatomy of individuality

than its inner eye on integrity’s mirror,

confirming a unique spirituality

If love inspires a common humanity,

peace but asks we respect one another.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality,

confirming a unique spirituality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Finding Out About Coffee

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

Many thanks to a reader in Canada who has been in touch to say she enjoyed Predisposed To Murder as serialised on my fiction blog:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com. [It is irritating that sometimes the font keeps changing. I have asked Google for the reason, but have heard nothing back and they have done nothing about it. Please, also, bear with any typos etc as I have no one to proof my books and it is not easy having to do it oneself; the writer is too close to it and inclined to read how it should read rather than how it does.]

Now, positive feedback is always welcome although I have to say that any constructive feedback is very helpful whether in praise of something I have written or otherwise.

So...

Many thanks to readers who have been in touch to say they enjoy the videos on my You Tube. Everyone has understandably commented on how the inevitable background noise that comes with filming outdoors obscures my reading of a poem. Sorry about that, folks, but I only have a cheap camcorder. My close friend (and cameraman) Graham and I thought filming ‘on location’ would be more interesting for viewers than just having me read a poem sitting indoors or in the garden.  Since our early efforts, I have acquired a digital Dictaphone and am mow able to record over videos.  I won’t disappear from the camera altogether, but this is likely to be the way of things in future.  In the meantime, we are not trying to impress the BBC (or anyone else) so we hope you will enjoy our efforts without taking us too seriously:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Readers keep asking for a CD recording of my informal poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in London’s Trafalgar square back in 2009 that includes poems on a gay theme among others. Unfortunately, Sky Arts would not play ball on that one so I’m afraid you will just have to make a note of the link:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [Sorry, this link does not always work now but I am looking into it.] RT Nov 2016

Some readers have also asked whether or not I have a Facebook account. Sorry, no. I have too many reservations about Facebook, especially since being victim of ID fraud some time ago for which I suspect my details on Facebook were responsible.

Meanwhile...

The school holidays will soon be here and many colleges and universities have already gone down for the summer vacation. I dare say many young gay men and women will be finding out about coffee (of the proverbial kind...) as I did so many, many, years ago.

FINDING OUT ABOUT COFFEE

When I first realized I am gay

I hadn’t a clue what to do or say,

even where to start satisfying

this gnawing hunger in my heart

If telling family and friends

was hard enough, then I thought

the worst part must be over

(hadn’t I finally blown my cover?)

But after being attracted to men

for about as long as I could recall,

it was time to consider seriously

how they may be attracted to me

I went on the Gay Scene but felt

out of place, very uncomfortable

with chat-ups and conversation

about likes, size, and group action

Self-esteem hitting rock bottom,

I went to a straight bar, met a guy

from school (a real good-looker)

and we played a game of snooker

I won the game, a flagging faith

in myself restored, feeling relaxed

and confident enough to agree

to go back to his place for a coffee

Feeling brave, I told him I’m gay

(the expression on his face said it all);

everything we’d left unsaid

led us safely, sensually, to his bed

He was very patient, taught me

how to enjoy making love as I do now,

letting sex come into its own,

mutual rapport expressed in passion

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

PS  Be sure to have fun, and play safe...

Wishing you love and peace always,

Roger x

In the Swim, Whatever

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

We are each and every one of us in the swim of life; some are strong swimmers while the rest of us can barely keep our heads above water.

Whoever and wherever, we can but strive towards a shore that is sometimes distant, sometimes agonisingly close but always inspiring shoreline where dreams and best intentions beg our attention.

Life is a fast flowing river of good times and bad for everyone, although I suspect most if not all we LGBT folks endure more than our fair share of the latter. We can but swim  on and hope to arrive at some fair shore that will welcome us, and there are many.

I well recall once telling my mother she had a wonderful sense of humour to which she replied, with a wry smile, how we'd all be much the poorer without one. (A wise woman, my mother, dead some 40 years now but always in my head and heart.)

IN THE SWIM, WHATEVER

I grow old and, yes, the bottoms

of my trousers are rolled,

treading water in a vast sea, afraid

to swim, let a heat mist

swallow me up, let roaring shores

disappear since no respite there

for a troubled mind, but crowds

oblivious to my missing you,

Apollo’s kisses on me like darts

inflicting the bloody poetry

of pain, though waves wash it clean

so no one sees, no one reads

but upon whom it outs and feeds

I grow old and, yes, the bottoms

of my trousers are rolled

as I soak up the last of summer days

inclined to follow autumn’s ways

even as Apollo’s heat on me assumes

the contours of your body

against my bare skin and we are joined

as once we were, promising

to stay together forever, not knowing

life had other plans for us,

consumed by a summer’s history,

left to but blindly drift

the teasing shores of eternity

A sudden thrust of time and tide

demands an instant decision

(swim or drown?) Panic seizes me

in passion’s grip, my body

thrashing wildly like a lover in the heat

of an incredible lovemaking,

caught out confessing and climaxing

a bloody poetry of pain

no waves need wash clean, spoils

of ecstasy for all to see,

lovers finding rhythm enough to swim

the waters of eternity,

no matter who, or our sexuality

Swimming strongly now for the shore,

drawn by sounds of love and laughter

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2017

[Note: This poem first appeared in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Deliverance on a Wet Afternoon

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

Sometimes even a wet afternoon can be inspirational. Besides when did the weather ever put itself out to accommodate the life and loves of us human beings?

Photo taken from the Internet

DELIVERANCE ON A WET AFTERNOON

Sat on a park bench in the pouring rain,

letting ripples on a pond run circles

in my mind, wondering if I had the energy

to pick myself up yet again from crises

life thrown at me like confetti at a groom

though barely room for love in a heart

forever running circles across the mind 

like ripples on a pond in rain soaking

my clothes (good camouflage for tears);

you sat by me and we began chatting

as if we had known each other for years, 

yet we were strangers, and your voice

eased the pain running circles in my mind

like that pond’s ripples in a pouring rain

that brought you to me and helped me feel

my way through to (finally) breaking free,
for there’s no pain we cannot rise above
if we but believe in ourselves, each other
and the healing power of love

As you listened and took my hand, I felt

my fears start to ease, sun breaking through

dark clouds where a rainbow shone for us

one lonely, lovely, rainy day acknowledging

I am gay, drying the tears on my face,

replacing them with, oh, so dazzling a smile
greeting yours, making it ours, reaching
an understanding that would know better
in future than to give ripples on a pond leave
to run circles in my mind

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010 (without photo) 

Beauty and the Beast

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

In the so-called liberal West, we have come a long way in achieving the same rights for gay men and women as anyone else; it is a huge step forward and needs to be emulated by more countries around the world  where gay people remain under threat of imprisonment or worse simply because of their sexuality. 

Even in the more liberal parts of Europe, though, many if not most gay people living and' or growing up in rural areas feel obliged to stay in the proverbial closet, possibly because these are often very close-knit communities less inclined to think favourably towards same sex relationships.  I had to move with my parents to just such an area in the UK while still at school; I was only 14 years-old and as if school wasn't bad enough, living there was a nightmare as I had already realised I am gay.

Homophobia is an offence against humanity.

It has to be said, the West cannot in all innocence deny any predilection for homophobia.  Far too many people continue to say one thing in public and the opposite behind closed doors.  Only the other day, I read that homophobic bullying is rife in many schools. Those parents, Head Teachers and others who turn a blind eye are every bit as guilty of homophobia as the bullies themselves.

It is tough on many young gay people, especially so for those whose culture of origin remains intrinsically homophobic.

The world needs to change for the better in many ways, not least regarding various socio-cultural-religious attitudes towards gay men and women more relevant to the Dark Ages than what should be a forward-looking twenty-first century.

While London, along with other major cities around the world may well celebrate a day of Gay Pride once a year, homophobia remains alive and kicking just about everywhere. Yet, every day should be a celebration of human and personal pride ... Meanwhile, we can but hope a day will come when everyone will participate regardless of age, colour, creed, sex or sexuality.

BEAUTY AND THE BEAST

Distracted on country lanes, my love and I,

by spoilt brats playing up a parent

plainly too scared to but plead for acceptable

behaviour or risk being chased like a fox

beyond the pale, given society’s predilection

for what is just and fair, especially where

children are involved, trusting they will learn

a sense of responsibility, not turn out badly

in the long run

Pausing, my love and I, on country roads

to watch lambs skipping in a field,

reflecting how it was when we were young,

pretending we hadn’t a care in the world

to all but ourselves, looking over shoulders

when we thought someone might see us,

keeping to shadows for kisses they despise

who live in houses made of playing cards

(aces high)

Hugging, my love and I, for how things are

in the world, glad we have each other

to help us through what may pass for morality

but (invariably) is an excuse for sucking up

to those do-gooders who mean well but see

sweeping statements as a rule of thumb,

love to interpret nature’s laws along such lines

as human ends justifying human means

in the long run

Oh, beautiful countryside, all nature living free

but for human nature deriding our sexuality

Copyright R N Taber 2010, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Country Ways' in On the Battlefields of Love by R, N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]

Being Gay, Being Straight OR Diversity, Seeds in Common Ground

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

Some readers may be interested to know that I posted a video and poems about the July 7^th terrorist attacks on London in 2005 on my You Tube channel yesterday.  Not everyone can access You Tube for various reasons so I will be posting both poems and video on my general blog today:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wBo01eRFBKY&feature=plcp

Meanwhile...

A gay acquaintance once expressed genuine shock-horror when I happened to say I have as many straight as gay friends, and promptly accused me of ‘letting the side down.’

Bollocks! 

Our sexuality may be an integral part of our identity but should not be mistaken for the whole. How can I ask people to accept me for who I am without any preconceived ideas relating to my sexuality ...if I am not prepared to do the same? 

Oh, the heterosexual majority may boast its share of the homophobic  (yes, even in the 21st century!) but for every rotten apple on a tree there are always plenty more for us to enjoy ...except for those who hate apples, of course. As a close friend once commented, "There's nothing like being straight about being gay to provoke a response ... one way or another."

BEING GAY, BEING STRAIGHT or D-I-V-E-R-S-I-T-Y, SEEDS IN COMMON GROUND

When I told a straight mate I’m gay,

he shrugged and walked away;

I watched him go, heart sinking, thinking

maybe better I’d said nothing;

yet it felt so good for having found a way

(the words weren’t easy to say);

a sense of breaking free left me on a high

but we were mates and I’d lived a lie;

I could scarcely imagine his hurt, his anger

at discovering I was a stranger,

wished I’d told him years ago. I’d tried...

Kept losing my nerve and lied.

Being straight with folks was easy after that

but I missed seeing my old mate;

weeks later, we met by chance at a local bar

ignored each other for over an hour

before he came over, slammed down a mug

and lifted me up in a bear hug;

sometimes he’ll even crack gay jokes when

in company or on our own…

because he feels so comfortable with me

(isn’t that how it should be?)

laughs at my jokes about ‘straights’ (fair’s fair);

we can ‘bat for the other side’ and still care

Isn’t that what mates are for?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2010

[Note: This poem had been slightly revised from the original posted on the blog in 2009 and in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

  

Swimming with Bears

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

No bear myself, I cannot deny going with bears during the course of early sexual awakenings....and enjoying the experience immensely.

SWIMMING WITH BEARS

Stroking the hairs

on your chest, its fur engaging

with mine, hot tongue

between my lips, exploring

secret caverns within,

our senses getting the measure

of our bodies as eagerly

as children leave toys behind

for joys of another kind

Opening myself to you,

letting the doors of childhood

slam behind us

as they must, for we are grown,

days of paper chases

long gone and with them,

tears and fears

for the Great Unknown, taking

us now, breaking us in

Giving the lie to tales

about guilt and sin, swimming

passion’s timeless sea,

led by a friendly bear to a safer,

kinder shore than I

for one, had ever known

before or will again, free

to be as we are, nor lesser men

for this, our first kiss

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2012

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 and on the blog in 2010.]

Queer as Folk

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

There was a time when bullies scared me. Thankfully, I discovered that most bullies, especially the homophobic ones, are even  more scared of themselves than I was...

When I was a young man, 'queer' was a term of abuse that the bigots among us would throw at gay men. While I remain uncomfortable with the word, it is good to see how it has been reclaimed by the gay community and reinvented itself for the better.

The poem tells a true story.

QUEER AS FOLK

He was a bully

and I was the coward

too scared to ever
stand up to him though 

he’d call me names,

say all queers should be

shot for the social

vermin they are, to hell
with equality

He led a local gang

that drained every nasty

word he said, awful

things he did, like booze
to an alkie...

He was their god

in whose mind’s sewers

they would freely dive,

invariably come up smelling
of show roses

One day, I turned

a bend, saw him coming

my way on his own,

dived into an alley

and just kept running...

It was a dead end!

He had me cornered,
no point yelling for cavalry
or expecting mercy

He was less sure

of himself on his own,

brow (rid of horns)

starting to sweat,

no one egging him on;

I’ll never know why

but I hit out with my fist,

missed, froze, was aghast, 

fearing the worst

He lunged at me

and we fell to the ground,

his breath on my face

challenging my lips

to let rip with a sound;

I lay still, eyes shut,

way past caring, passively

waiting for the beating

I’d long been expecting

to start...

No blows rained

where I lay in naked terror,

only a kiss on my mouth,

more reassuring even

than a hot shower;

my eyes flew open

and a face homing nervously

in on mine belonged

to someone else, far more
scared than me

Did I have a choice?

No, I struggled to reason,

pinioned to the ground

and dare not resist

this mad, appalling passion;

how could it be true,

these bodies, this rhythm ours,

a growing sureness

and frantic heat, ramming
heaven’s towers?

Spent, we lay,

unable to find a single word

to explain, knowing

anyone might

come by, but no one did;

once on our feet,

he blurted out an apology,

exposing how scared

we’d both been of a restless,
dormant sexuality

He kept his word

and I never knew what lies

he told his cronies, only

that love and hate

went their separate ways;

we never understood

how we felt about each other,

nor were we ever friends,

me and the bully who became
my closet lover

  

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

Gay or Straight, Nothing To Prove

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

“The only problem I have with being gay,” a much younger Roger Taber once confided to a friend, is that you always feel you have something to prove.

“Bollocks!” retorted my friend with feeling, “Love, affection, friendship...these things have nothing to prove, they just are... What does being gay having anything to do with it?”

Now, is that naive or wise? I know which answer I go for...

This poem is a villanelle.

GAY OR STRAIGHT, NOTHING TO PROVE

What is it about love,

breaking our every fall?

Nothing to prove

In dark skies above,

listen for its mating call;

(What is it about love?)

Like hand to glove,

poetry to nature’s spell,

nothing to prove

Songbirds above,

taking us where we will;

(What is it about love?)

Where hunters have

well-honed eyes for a kill,

nothing to prove?

Take hand from glove,

watch it wither, as it will;

What is it about love?

Nothing to prove ...

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