Extracts from a (gay) Sailor's Log

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

I have known a few sailors in my time and have always had a strong affinity with the sea, in all its moods.

A gay sailor once told me, ‘If the sea is my mistress, my sexuality is my master. The two get on well together so who am I or anyone else to argue with that?’

Who, indeed?

EXTRACTS FROM A (GAY) SAILOR’S LOG 

Like a ship in stormy weather,

engaging with festy waves, 

we’d steer safely into harbour

We’d ride life’s roller coaster,

trusting in its kinder ways,

like a ship in stormy weather

Fighting dark threats together

(would God hear our prayers?)

we’d steer safely into harbour

Lies tossing us about in anger,

we answered but to the stars

like a ship in stormy weather

In time’s tides finding favour,

(two men, daring to be lovers)

we’d steer safely into harbour

Our love tested us like no other

on a sea of laughter and tears,

like a ship in stormy weather,

we’d steer safely into harbour 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Passion-Pride-Poetry, World Without End

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

I wrote this poem the day after a crowd of young men and women shouted abuse at me as I left a London gay bar in 2004. Expressions like “Fu**ing Queer Wrinkly” and ‘Stupid old gay Bastard’ were among those ringing in my ears as I walked away. I neither responded nor looked back. Many years of living here has taught me much about the art of self-preservation.

On the whole, London is not a gay-unfriendly city although perhaps less friendly than it used to be since a flood of immigrants from countries and cultures that continue to persecute gay men and women. I have no problem with immigration, but I wish people coming to live here would leave their prejudices behind. The majority do, of course. As usual, the world over, a vocal minority lead where foolish sheep will always follow.

Meanwhile…

Does anyone ever forget their first love, no matter how many times we fall in love again or settle down and live happy ever after with The One...? 

The one true love of my life died in his late 20's, but our love sustains me still, and always will.

PASSION-PRIDE-POETRY, WORLD WITHOUT END

The first, passionate love in my life

taught me to believe in myself, walk tall

where others warning of such pain and strife

I knew it was this or nothing at all

The first, passionate love I embraced

taught me to be true to my heart’s desire;

although others warning of a soul disgraced,

I kept faith, warming my hands by its fire

The first, passionate love in a world

that scorns me, (even now) for being gay

saves me from cut and thrust of cruel words,

no matter the worst some people may say

That first, passionate love, I feel it still,

making of my life, a poem, always will 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Passion, Pride and Poetry' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

The Borrowers OR Love, a Mind of its Own

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

[Update, August 15th 2020]: Readers often ask me why I revise poems. Well, reading them after a period of years, during which I have (hopefully) become a better poet, often demands I make changes. Feedback suggests that some readers prefer the original, so... decide for yourselves; the first version of The Borrowers here is one I revised only today, 15 years later, and the second is the original.

I was in love with a close friend for a long time. He is gay, but has never felt the same way. Even so, he has always loved me as a friend and I’ve had to be (more than) content with that.

In time, I learned how to let passion go and settled down to enjoy a platonic love we lend and borrow by way of supporting each other all the time.

Better a life with love in it than without...yeah?

THE BORROWERS or LOVE, A MIND OF ITS OWN

You lay your head on 
my shoulder, its presence there
stirring such feelings in me 
I thought, long gone, no part of me again,
but I was wrong;
my heart bursts into song, if sadly
 for such love cannot be
as I would wish but must settle 
for - what, exactly? 
Not less or (ever) second best,
but first among equals 
where friends touch base with Plato,
no need for words

You are a treasure my heart 
will prize above all else, be glad 
for each time I see your eyes
 smiling into mine or tears even for waves 
of hurt rising like a flood 
in you while I can but do my best 
with mere words to aid, 
inspire, reassure, lend a shoulder 
to trust, an arm to lean upon, 
embrace you as friend to friend, 
longing to hold and kiss you, 
yet unwilling to risk more (far, far more)
than I could bear to lose

True, your love comes not 
as I would dearly have it, yet no less
truly beautiful for that,
nor let it ever be still, this passion in me, 
but forever grow, 
lending you to me and me to you 
in ways this body dare not 
even hope to know ... 
where wishful thinking asks questions 
of history’s blurring sight 
for watching antics of a heart 
deserving more than its slow-fast beatings
here, on my shoulder

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005, 2013; rev. 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (see below) appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]


THE BORROWERS

You lay your head on my shoulder,
a fragrance in the hair
stirring feelings in me I thought
long gone, never to be
a part of me again. I was wrong.
This heart bursts into song,
yet sadly. for such love cannot be
as I would wish but must
settle for … what? Not less
or (ever)second best,
for you are a treasure in my heart 
above all else, to prize, 
be glad for each time I see a light 
in your eyes smiling 
into mine or tears even for waves 
of hurt rising like a flood 
in you while I can but do my best 
with mere words to aid, 
inspire, reassure, lend a shoulder 
to trust, an arm to lean upon, 
embrace you as friend to friend, 
longing to hold and kiss you, 
yet unwilling to risk more (far more) 
than I could bear to lose,
for though your love comes not 
as I would dearly have it, 
it is (in so many ways) as beautiful
for that. Let it be never still,
this passion in me, but forever grow, 
lending you to me and me 
to you in ways this body dare not 
even hope to know ... 
and memory daub question marks
on history’s blurring sight

No love dearer than watching antics 
of a heart deserving, oh, so much more
than resting here, on my shoulder

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

[Note:  This second version of the poem was the genesis for the first and appears  in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

A Short (Gay) History of Cinema

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

I visited the National Film Theatre on London’s South Bank last night; it is hosting a season of Montgomery Clift films throughout February. I really enjoyed watching a young Elizabeth Taylor and Clift in A Place in the Sun. I have also pre-booked to see them again in the American Civil War epic, Raintree County and Suddenly, Last Summer later this month. Both were very beautiful people as well as incredibly talented actors. Clift was gay, of course, so I was able to give my imagination a free rein…

I am feeling a little low and tense at the moment. I see my prostate cancer consultant again on Feb 27^th and will have a cataract removed on March 1^st. Fingers crossed that all goes well…

Oh, but there’s nothing like a trip to the cinema when you’re feeling low!

A SHORT (GAY) HISTORY OF CINEMA

He stepped out of a movie,

came and sat next to me where I was alone

between rows of heads

so close together the screen was in pieces

(just like I was…)

He put his lips to my ear

and told me no one has a monopoly on love

so why don’t I do something

about sitting here on my own, torn in pieces

by strangers

He put an arm around me

letting his tongue caress the lobe of my ear

gently tugged at my chin

till I was being sucked into the whites of eyes

like a priest’s silk

He kissed me on the lips

gently prising mine apart to let in his tongue

while tender hands explored

nether regions of a body I scarcely recognized

as my own

Oh, but I responded as eagerly

as the child hugged by a relative come to stay,

but never long enough

to put together all the pieces of the family jigsaw,

make it whole

He returned to the movie

where music was playing, credits already showing,

leaving me hungering for more

where I sat in pieces, but coming together courtesy

of strangers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

Biopic

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

Revisiting happy memories is like watching a favourite DVD.  We can rewind and play it again at our leisure; it can be a comfort when the real thing is not available for whatever reason, but never a substitute. Even so, better to have created it in the first place, and always have access to rewind, than never to have created it at all.

BIOPIC

Sunset, a pink sky, same shade
as your shirt

Bodies, buds on a stem loath
to shut down

Heartbeat, banging madly away
at cloth ears

Twilight, drowning us both 
in birdsong

Dreams, CCTV of our lovemaking
for posterity

Rewind, one head, one pillow
clocking in

Stop (pause?), forefinger gestures
an alarm call

Dawn, a grey sky, same shade
as your absence

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013


[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared on the blog some years ago, but was somehow deleted. I have been asked to reinstate it, having also (slightly but significantly) revised it. Hugs to everyone - Roger.]

A Feeling for Freedom

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

As I grow old(er) I often find myself, for better or worse, on Memory Lane. True, it has more than its share of potholes, but there are some nice, half-forgotten surprises too.

I once confided in an old sea dog that, much as I loved the sea, it was something of a puzzle to me that I had never wanted to be a sailor. As I am from a seafaring family, I could only suppose it was in my blood.  ‘The sea, perhaps, or nature… Whatever, it’s a feeling for freedom you have,” he told me, “and don’t you ever lose it, my lad, because it’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. Ask anyone who has ever sailed the sea or climbed a mountain…anyone who talks to nature and to whom nature talks back. 

At the time, I was a closet, gay teenager, but it was not until I finally came out of that awful closet to stay that I really understood what he meant. 

It's not only gay men and women, either, who are sometimes forced into a dark closet by various socio-cultural-religious influences being brought to bear upon them;  love may cross such divides, but family, friends, and (in some countries) society at large may well feel unable to condone, let alone follow.  It is one of the world’s greater tragedies that far too many divides of a socio-cultural-religious nature not only exist but continue to threaten and often destroy the hope of a common humanity ever living in peace. Even so, it is some consolation that love will invariably have the last laugh and word.

Now, people laugh when I speak of going to the seaside and communing with the waves or going for a walk in the country and talking to the trees… Well, let them. 

A FEELING FOR FREEDOM 

Feels like centuries ago 
we’d sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts 
(much like us) asking of humanity
only to be free

Feels like centuries ago
we ran through the streets of town
to some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me and ghosts
(as scared as us) pursued by cries 
that would see us slaves

Feels like centuries ago
we’d hear seagulls calling and run
to some misty-blue horizon
just you, me, and ghosts
(lovers, too) left to nature’s devices
among secrets and lies

Feels like centuries ago
we were discovered making choices
on some misty-blue horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts
(found peace) in the wake of history’s
issues with compromise

Feels like centuries on
we sit on the sand, reaching out
to some misty-blue, horizon,
just you, me, and ghosts 
(much like us) asking of all humanity 
only to be free  

Misty-blue tears at the sea’s edge,
sum of our sacrilege

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013