Into the Light OR Half Sick of Shadows

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

I rediscovered (and slightly revised) today’s poem a couple of years ago having written it in  2003 after seeing and admiring a painting by John William Waterhouse while visiting the City Art Gallery in Leeds; it captures the moment in Alfred Lord Tennyson’s poem The Lady of Shallot when the Lady turns her head and sees Lancelot riding by. (See below.) I was in Leeds to give a poetry reading at nearby Headingley Library.

Incidentally, The Lady of Shallot is one of many ‘story’ poems my mother used to tell me as a child; she could recite them all by heart and would do so with all the dramatic effectiveness of a born storyteller.

“I am half-sick of shadows!” said the Lady of Shallot...

Oh, but I know how she felt! During my closet teenage years and early manhood when gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK, I seemed to spend half my life among shadows; in the twilight world of gay cruising. Even after decriminalization in 1967, attitudes were s-l-o-w to change and I continued to live half in and half out of those same shadows for far too long before finally coming out into the open once and for all.

Tennyson himself is known to have loved a young man named Arthur Hallam whom he met at Cambridge University. The poet was devastated when Hallam died, officially of a stroke although speculation since suggests suicide. Tennyson then began work on ‘In Memoriam’ that was published anonymously some years later and would scandalize most Victorian readers once it became generally known it was penned by Tennyson; they had assumed it was a love poem written by a woman to her soldier husband.

Those who remain gay-unfriendly for various socio-cultural-religious reasons might care to give some thought as to how they might react if a son or daughter were to admit they are gay, and how they might feel about all the pain their beloved children must have endured while feeling bound to keep their sexuality a secret for fear of rejection.

We don’t ‘become’ gay, but are born this way. There is no shame in it. Besides, don’t parents have a duty of care to those they bring into the world, and shouldn’t love override any socio-cultural-religious dogma?

INTO THE LIGHT or HALF SICK OF SHADOWS

I walked in shadow,

scared to show my face

in case anyone

should read between the lines

and guess why

I ran with shadows,

scared to lift our faces

to the light

in case Apollo tell the world

the reason why

I kissed shadows,

too scared of petty minds

persecuting us

to heed any wistful pillow talk

of coming out

I lay with shadows,

scared petty conventions

hounding us

might spot secrets in our eyes

and ask, ‘Why?’

We were but shadows,

yet love made us stronger

than the sum

of its worst fears, now insisting

we demand, ‘Why?’

We quit shadows,

accepted Apollo’s challenge

to come out

and let the world read our faces

as it will

Wherever gay lovers

among the world’s shadows,

may its humanity

call upon an open mind and spirit

to bring us…

Into the light

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Evergreen OR G-A-Y, Classic Portraits

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One of my favourite novels is Maurice by E. M. Forester, not just because I am gay but because Forster is not only a great writer in the sense that he not only embraces homosexuality as no less as important feature of life than its heterosexual counterpart, but invites all readers to do the same.

Years ago, I was friendly with a married couple with whom I shared more than a few drinks one evening, in the course of which I blurted out that I am gay, and were they OK with that? The husband laughed and said, "We'd worked that one out, Roger. Besides we've both read E. M. Forster's Maurice. The wife added, "and loved it." Both asked simultaneously, "Does that answer your question?" It did, of course ...

Humankind has always taken its cue from nature and sexuality is all part of the same equation. It is, after all, on record that there are gay couples in the animal world. So the next time someone tries to tell you that being gay is ‘unnatural’ tell them we are as much part of nature’s scheme of things as they are. Complex, the scheme may be, but we gay men and women are no less a part of it than our heterosexual brothers and sisters; as I have said previously on the blogs, our differences don't make us different, only human, with as much to offer a world playing host to a common humanity as they. 

I have held this view for many years. A gay-unfriendly cleric once retorted that my logic is flawed since it is God, not nature, in whose grand scheme of things we rise or fall.

‘Isn’t your take on nature that it was created by God?’ I asked.

‘Of course,’ he snapped.

‘And doesn’t that include human nature?’

‘Of course,’ he snapped again.

‘So if your God has no problem with sexuality, why should you?’

‘Trust a gay man to resort to a trick question like that,’ he snapped yet again, and walked away.

I rest my

EVERGREEN OR G-A-Y, CLASSIC PORTRAITS 

Your naked body, an open invitation

to sample the fruits of anticipation;

teasing the tongue, bending the ear

like a song half sung by grasshoppers

poised at evening dew to spring lightly

into eternity, let wings of memory

take us to heaven, lower us down

on finest silk of emerald sheen, richer

for all we’ve tasted, heard, seen

Evergreen

Your pouting lips, an open invitation

to sample the fruits of anticipation;

teasing the tongue, bending the ear

like raindrops dripping on leaves,

(a sound like guitars at crescendo)

loath to let us go separate ways,

now but gently falling, tucking us in,

scented sheets of emerald sheen, richer

for all we’ve tasted, heard, seen

Evergreen

Our quiet bodies, proven expectation,

ripened fruits of anticipation;

teasing the tongue, bending the ear,

the sweetest silence that nature

ever brought to bear, hint of a breeze

on wings of summer folding down

until grasshoppers at dawn,

earthy silks of emerald sheen, richer

for all we’ve tasted, heard, seen

Evergreen

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it appeared in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; (revised) e-edition in preparation. NB.  Any new collections and revised editions of my collections will (eventually) appear as e-books...unless any poetry (print) publishers ot there show an interest.]

Human Nature Redeemed OR G-A-Y, War Zone

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

Some readers have asked me to repeat the link to my poetry reading on the 4th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square back in July 2009 as part of UK sculptor Antony Gormley’s ‘living sculpture’ project One and Other in which 2,400 people from all walks of life were given an hour to do their own thing 24/7 over 100 days:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [NB For now, this link does not work since the British Library installed new software with which it is not compatible, so it is no longer available to the public. However B L assure me that they still have the complete video (lasting an hour) and everyone will be able to access it at some future date] RNT Oct 16 2020 

Meanwhile...

This poem reiterates a point I make time and again in my poems; if some people from various socio-cultural-religious groups can remain true to their beliefs and still keep an open heart and mind...why not all?

Where is the humanity in any expression of prejudice, and what worth any religion or human life force without it?

HUMAN NATURE REDEEMED or G-A-Y, War Zone

As lightning flashed

and thunder came crashing all around

the church steeple,

we two friends sought shelter within,

but a priest moved us on

since we were not of his congregation

so would not be confessing

any sin and didn’t look the sort

likely to offer reparation

by way of a generous contribution

to the collection

Still, lightning flashed

and thunder crashed around the heads

of we wretched pair

who sought shelter in a synagogue,

but a rabbi moved us on

since we were not of his persuasion

and he was no Good Samaritan

(we could be robbers for all he knew)

nor must he keep his Hebrew class

waiting any longer for basic instruction

in the Torah

Under a hail of bullets we ran,

canon to our right, cannon to our left,

and drenched to the skin,

hoped a Sikh temple might take us in,

but were turned away again

since not of that persuasion so why

put on a show of compassion

to Unbelievers and upset the hierarchy

(especially the everyday devout)

so, no, better to play safe, stay dry,

let God test our spirit

Exhausted, we could stagger on,

fallen telegraph poles to left and right

that had the air of corpses

on a battlefield in this untimely night,

and then a mosque loomed into view

dark shadows beyond a half open door;

begged shelter from the storm

since Islam preaches love and peace

(well, doesn’t it…?) but the door

slammed shut, nothing said, left to take

our chances with the dead

We saw a kindly light in a window

that went out as we passed the house,

but its front door was flung wide;

a man and woman beckoned us inside,

welcomed us, found us blankets,

dried our clothes, fed us, fetched us tea,

without once asking our religion

or caring that (being gay) we weren’t

of their persuasion, but preferred

to forget sounds and signs of a war zone,

made us feel at home

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Coming Out, an LGBT Take on Existentialism

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

Today’s short poem provoked some hate mail when it appeared in the first volume of my Love And Human Remains (2001) along the lines that 'homosexuals have no claim to spirituality' but I tossed it the bin among other rubbish.

Religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality.

Invariably, it is not religion that is didactic and persists in being judgmental…but those who preach it. If these same people were to demonstrate more humanity and less desire to exert power and influence over every man, woman and child in the street, I might feel less despairing of the world’s religions. As it is, I love much of the music and architecture along with the spirituality of peace and love these often invoke.

It is the politics of religion that leaves me cold, not least because it is to blame for so much pain and suffering in the world. Fortunately, many people feel the same way and follow their religion more closely than they are given credit for by steering well clear of its politics.

Nor is it only gay men and women made to suffer by those who practice and/or preach their religion (and should know better). We have only to consider the world’s rising toll of HIV-AIDS victims and ask, where is the humanity in prohibiting the use of a condom? For that matter, what is the point of any religion without its humanity?

Me, I prefer to look for spiritual reassurance and strength in nature rather than in some ‘closed shop’ led by too many people supposedly in the business of saving souls, but for the greater part, inspired by the power buzz that particular chosen career gives them.

The poem was written in the 1980s when I was still getting over a severe nervous breakdown and only just starting to feel my way back into my sexuality and poetry again.

 COMING OUT, AN LGBT TAKE ON EXISTENTIALISM

Like a time-probe,

your tongue appropriates me;

I sink into your heat

burrowing dark centuries,

bearing

my loving cup

  penetrating

layer upon layer of bigotry;

till (finally)

kneeling at the altar

of our history,

I declare myself

Copyright R. N. Taber 1987; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Coming Out' in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Longtime Companions

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

They are fortunate indeed, those who get to share the best part of a lifetime together. [Oh, yes, it happens, be sure of it.] Love, though in all its shapes and forms lasts a lifetime. The true love of my life was killed in a road accident after we had been together only a relatively short time.; worse, it had been a closet relationship due to a prevailing  animosity and suspicion towards gay people in those days,so I was left to grieve alone. Our love, though, along with other loves of my life -  my mother, close friends, nature, favourite places... - have inspires and sustained me always, and will continue to do so.

The poem below is a villanelle.  Now, villanelles can say a lot in relatively few words; so too, of course, can love. 

The poem was inspired by meeting up during New Year’s Eve celebrations a few years ago with a gay couple I first met in the early 1960s. Both died within months of each other in 2008 after 46 years together.

So to any young sceptics, I say, don’t ever let anyone tell you gay relationships never last.

Mind you, gay or straight, it takes two to make a relationship work just as it takes two to break it up unless some awful tragedy strikes as happened to me many years ago. The keyword here, of course is ‘work’; all the best relationships find both partners working at making it succeed.  Discovering the art of give and take rarely comes easy.

This poem is a villanelle:

LONG-TIME COMPANIONS 

One evening in May

at dinner for two,

I told you I am gay

Any doubts fell away

in eyes are blue

one evening in May

So much more to say,

(trusting in you)

I told you I am gay

It had been a long day

leading up to …

one evening in May

Hoping you would say

you love me too,

I told you I am gay

Years on, and grey

(breakfast for two);

I told you I am gay 

one evening in May

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; rev.2016

Predator,Invisible Enemy

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

Gay or straight, there is no room for complacency regarding HIV-AIDS. We all owe it to ourselves and any potential sex partners to be responsible about sex and use a condom.

It might help if HIV-AIDS were not still something of a taboo subject with many people...

Education has to be the key to raise HIV-AIDS Awareness, in which context I wholeheartedly support organisations like DAMSET whose volunteers created a mural for people who have died of AIDS across Dorset; it involved going into schools and talking about HIV-AIDS. The tiles on the mural were designed by schoolchildren.

I would love to see similar projects worldwide:

http://damset.co.uk/

[See also:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKzi9VRjuq0 on my You Tube channel OR search for 'Autobiography of a Beach' on the blog where the video accompanying it is also available.)

PREDATOR, INVISIBLE ENEMY

I have no need to look far for prey,

just follow footprints in the clay

where careless minds feed on a heat

in the blood as if it were for water,

rice or bread, answer to an everyday

need; no problem for a seasoned

tracker such as I, descending upon

bodies nursing what surely has to be

the world’s worst inhumanity

Unable to tell where my axe will fall,

some convince themselves I am

no real threat at all, rather something

akin to a bogeyman, hardly a figment

of the imagination but best consigned

to a cosy corner of a mind less likely

consider why so many get so careless

in the first place. Besides, who wants

to look a bogeyman in the face?

Men, women and children cannot run

from me unless privy to such ways

of the world even I cannot pin down,

kill slowly or, for a while at least,

subject to slavery; every act, thought,

bought with their sweat and tears,

save for those who have the measure

of my intention and can readily access

the means of best protection

In the blood, tracking footprints any size,

I, the predator, who am HIV-AIDS

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

The Heart is a Free Country

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

It is not only gay lovers who write to me about estrangement from families caused by their choice of life partners. More often than not, families come round, but it can take time and it’s tragic but true to say that sometimes they don’t.

I dare say gay relationships will always remain incomprehensible to the extent of being unthinkable to the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority. Even so, we should never underestimate the power of the human spirit, especially where love and friendship are concerned, or its predilection for good over bad. 

Bigotry, prejudice, entrenchment in some socio-cultural-religious time warp…a way round these issues is never easy for those who cannot see and will not hear the voices of sense and sensibility. They may well need time, some more time than others, to ask what love means and discover that there may be no easy solutions, but only one answer.  On this very subject, a favourite DVD that I always recommend to gay men and their parents is a wonderful French movie called Juste Une Question D’Amour.

Once they can answer honestly, hopefully they will start considering a positive course of action even if it would not have been their preferred choice. Whatever, once they choose love, they are likely to discover that even the toughest road ahead is well worth the trip.

As for the world’s star-crossed lovers, along with the more enlightened among us, they have only one choice, let love or let die.

This poem was inspired by a recent e-mail from a gay couple who parents have finally accepted their relationship after an estrangement of some years.

THE HEART IS A FREE COUNTRY

In tears, we agreed to part,

not ready yet to hold our heads high

and remind the world

it’s all for one and one for all,

let love or let die

Parting was worse than death

my lonely bed each night a fresh grave

left open to the sky

for night owls and wishing stars

to grieve

One watery dawn, I heard birds

sing ballads about life beyond the pale

of closed minds

whose worst betrayal has to be

the unthinkable

I listened to songs of gay lovers

and others transcending cultural divides

to reassert the integrity

of life, love, hope, humanity - and

more besides

Above all, they were songs of joy

the birds were singing, so why on earth

should I take its life

before even making time to do justice

to its birth?

I called him on the mobile

and said we could not go on living this lie

but needed to get real

about our feelings for each other, a case

of let love or let die

We chose love, trusting family

and friends may reach the same conclusion,

that love is love

and gay love may be different, but different

is but human

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

Condiments and Consequences, a Brief Discourse on Gay Rites

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Someone asked me recently if I could recall the moment I acknowledged to myself that I am gay.  

It was an easy enough question to answer…

CONDIMENTS AND CONSEQUENCES, A BRIEF DISCOURSE ON GAY RITES

I reached across the table

for the salt just as he did too;

our fingers touched lightly

but long enough for me to feel

the blood rush to my head,

sensual shivers down my spine...

His brown eyes met mine

briefly, a glance seducing me

frankly inviting me to see

passion in them equal to my own

desire for him

I looked away in confusion

at a salad bowl hosting a profusion

of leafy delights, mushrooms

and peppers the colour of his lips

(parted slightly, seductively)

as I helped myself from the bowl

while imagining his kisses

on my mouth, his hands exploring

my body as they stripped me

bare of inhibitions and reservations

regarding my sexuality

I picked at food on my plate

but every delicious mouthful I ate

could not even partly satisfy

a growing hunger in me for the man

sitting opposite, smiling at me

now and then as if having to work

at being polite and friendly

as we made love in a makeshift bed,

damask tablecloth a sheet

making us, oh, such willing captives

of our selves

I spilt slivers of a red pepper

on my shirt that grinned up at me

like the lips pinioning mine;

with one shaky hand I wiped it away

while the other spilled wine

on my trousers and I began to panic,

felt exposed to every eye

around the table, but no worries there,

everyone far too busy

sizing each other up for this or that

after passing the salt

Brown eyes, creating a template for life;

salt cellar, outing me to myself

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

No Voice In The Classroom

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

I read recently that homophobic bullying is on the increase among young people. I see no end to it, especially in a multicultural society, until parents face up to the fact that there are gay people out there and a child of theirs might even be one of them.

Here in the UK we have gay-friendly legislation, but relatively few parents will entertain the prospect of any classroom discussion about gay issues. Until they get real about the world we live in, gay people worldwide will be deprived of a voice in the classroom where perhaps it most needs to be heard;  our children and young people deserve better than that. Education is a broad church and students need to be taught how life IS, not how various socio-cultural-religious groups would like it to be. 

As a teenager, I agonised about being gay because I had been taught at home and church that it was unnatural and a sin. I would not wish that on any young person. If I had learned that there are gay people from all walks of life around the world, it would have made a huge difference and I would not have spent what should have been among the best years of my life feeling  confused, ashamed, angry ... and scared of family and peers discovering my sexual identity. Anyone objecting to homosexuality being included in any school curriculum should feel ashamed of themselves for failing to give their children a more complete view of life as it is. 

NO VOICE IN THE CLASSROOM

We were fighting for real

when suddenly he kissed me

passionately on the mouth

and I lashed out confusedly

at my impotent alter ego

My body thrilled to his kiss

(so unexpected though it was)

but my mind flatly rejected it

for I had been taught only this,

that gay is ugly, dirty, sinful

My fist crashed into the face

I so longed to cup in my hands

and be spirited (safely) away

into corners of time and space

free of judgmental inhibitions

In a smoky mist, I saw him flee,

unable to call him back, my feet

(like my tongue) stuck fast…

his kiss continuing to engulf me

in the sheer ferocity of  its heat

That night I felt the two of us

making love with such intensity

there was no room for shame

as I braved giant waves of reality,

surfing desires  denied for years

The next day I waylaid him,

stumbled over a tearful apology

as gently, warily, he drew me

into his arms, joy in our sexuality

letting all conscience go free

It was a time of stereotypes

feeding off society’s prejudices

so we never dared go public,

any world for schoolboy lovers

kept waiting on its education

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013

G-A-Y, of an Age OR Sexuality, an Affinity with Mind-Body-Spirit

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

As regular readers will know, I had realised I am gay by the time I was fourteen years-old and was sexually active with other boys and men throughout my teenage years. It would have helped to be able to take this over with someone instead of being forced into a closet by so-called public opinion. In some parts of the world, public opinion may have shifted for the better, on the face if it at any rate, but the closet is still there for anyone growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment to hide in and/ or be tossed into like an unwanted item of clothing and/or have the door locked behind them and only allowed out for communal meals or prayers.

The old adage is unfair and morally reprehensible that children should be seen and not heard, and if older people are living longer so children are maturing more quickly. I will be 68 years-old on the next winter solstice, and it has been my view for more than half a century that to suggest a teenager is still a child is an error of judgement in law, principle, and the minds of many among those said to represent ‘public opinion’.

These days LGBT young people as well as older men and women can look for a local support group and/or forum on the Internet in the absence of a close relative or friend with whom they can discuss their sexuality. It remains a tragedy, however, that many are forced to do so in secret. We may have Political Correctness, Equal Opportunities and various diversity policies and projects in some parts of the world, but many of these are purely cosmetic. If the whole world can’t wake up to the fact that LGBT is OK in the 21st century, it says precious little for a common humanity.

G-A-Y, OF AN AGE or SEXUALITY, AN AFFINITY WITH MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

Fourteen years-old,
told we’re not old enough
to know our own minds,
warned never to surrender
to any ‘peculiar’’ feelings
we might have for each other
or (worse) so much as consider
we might be gay

Fourteen years-old,
not cleared by law or canon
to know our own minds,
assured lots of boys and girls
have ‘strong’ feelings
for each other, but it doesn’t
mean we’re criminals or (worse)
we could be gay 

Fourteen years-old,
told it’s only natural to confuse
affection for a friend
with something more, but not sure
what or why because
we don’t have the experience
in life to really be in love or (worse)
be sure we’re gay

Fourteen years-old,
vulnerable to aspects of illusion
conspiring against us
along with misleading stereotypes
some parents take as read
so would save us from following
in the footsteps of history’s giants
who were gay

Fourteen-years old,
growing surer of ourselves daily
and discovering feelings
no one ever talks about at school,
religions ignore or shame,
politicians fall back on diplomacy
media’s take on public duty, ‘outing’  
celebrities suspected gay

Fourteen years-old,
wise beyond our years, old enough
to know our own minds.
unafraid to explore feelings we have
for each other,
sick of being driven to subterfuge,
impatient for that milestone birthday
setting us free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Deserving Better OR Gay in Egypt

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

I have been reprimanded by a minority of readers of my general blog for posting anti-war poems that refer to members of the armed forces that are gay. [Do I care?] Now, my poetry may not stand up to comparison with theirs, but I will continue to write poems inspired by some of the finest UK war poets of World War 1; among them, Rupert Brooke, Wilfred Owen, Siegfried Sassoon and Vera Brittain.

I dare say the so-called ‘Arab Spring of 2011’ includes its share of gay people where sexuality has everything and nothing to do with a desire for peace or freedom.

Last year I chanced to meet a young Englishman who had fallen in love and begun a secret relationship while living and working in Egypt a few years ago. Tragically, his Egyptian lover was killed during the 2011 uprising. The English guy received a letter from him written only days earlier. He took the letter from the breast pocket of his jacket and let me read it. It was a love letter and very moving, all the more so in the circumstances.

It was that letter that prompted me to write this poem for lovers whatever their ethnicity or sexuality (as if it matters) parted by war the world over.

Cairo - Photo from the Internet

DESERVING BETTER or GAY IN EGYPT

All week together,

(a wonderful time together)

my gay lover and I

though it, too, must play a part

in his going to war

One afternoon together

(it rained, but didn’t matter)

my gay lover and I

swam the ethos of conscience

and going to war

That evening together,

(a so-romantic evening together)

my gay lover and I

faced up to the inevitable,

his going to war

That last night together,

(one glorious night together)

my gay lover and I

vowed our love would survive

its going to war

I still carry his letters

about the weeping landscape

of war, how he so feared

dying there, our time together

wishing us home

No medals won for its battle scars,

love’s one toast is, ‘Togetherness’

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

High Noon, an Epic Confrontation

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

We should never forget that in some countries, same-sex relationships are still a criminal offence, punishable by long prison sentences or even death.

A reader in the UK but whose family live in Nigeria has been in touch on several occasions to say he has a gay relation there who is suicidal. I can relate to that. Gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK all through my teenage years into early manhood. I did not feel I could confide in anyone, least of all my family, and found it hard to get on top of my struggle with an emerging sexuality that contradicted everything I had been told and taught.

As regular readers know, I won my battle, but it contributed hugely to a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s during which I contemplated suicide more than once; on one occasion, I took an overdose that was no cry for help but a serious attempt to end my life. Thankfully, I came through all that, and am all the stronger for it. Even so, it was a living nightmare that haunts me even to this day. Whenever I hear about people brought to the edge of suicide or have taken that final step, my heart goes out to them.

I am fortunate enough to live in a country that now permits me to be openly gay, but even here in the UK there are young gay people growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment and facing much the same inner struggle with their sexuality as I did all those years ago. (I am in my late 60s now.)

What can I say? I can only reassure gay people worldwide that they have nothing to be ashamed of although, yes, in some countries and within some families of various cultural origins they may well have reasons to be scared.

The freedom to be ourselves and not as others - even if not especially those closest to us - would prefer us to be is one of life’s greater gifts; we may well have to wait, even fight for it (emotionally if not physically) but it is my personal experience that either is well worth the effort.

To those gay boys, girls, men and women who live under repressive regimes that continue to fan the flames of homophobia I can only repeat, never feel ashamed of your sexuality or believe you are a less of a human being for it. Whether or not our circumstances allow us to be openly gay, there is an inner freedom that no one can take away from us.

Regular readers will also know that I support euthanasia in certain circumstances. More often than not, though, suicide is a temptation that is our enemy, Surrender to it, and we let the enemy win. It has to be better, surely, to live to fight our corner, each in our own way?

Yes, I am gay, but each to his or her own personal battles, whether it be with homophobes or certain other socio-cultural-religious bigots bent upon giving this early 21^st century of ours not only a poor start around the world but also a bad name. 

We hear much talk of ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’ but even here in the West, there is too much rhetoric and not nearly enough done to ensure that, within reason, we are left safe and free to be ourselves rather than puppets of someone else’s convention, morality, politics, culture, religion…

HIGH NOON, AN EPIC CONFRONTATION

I had adopted a stoic pose at a cliff edge,

preparing for whatever, although no Icarus,

but able to rectify my mistakes

Despairing of promises my inner self

would gladly have let me keep,

but for a life eroding like a coral reef

for whom even its Big Fish fear

in still waters running far, far, deeper

than the, oh, so fickle foam below

now yelling, ‘I told you so’ for the times

I’d turn a blind eye and deaf ear

to all a better, kinder, self in me refused

to hear or see for its both feet kicking

at reality, too busy kidding as true a self

as ever wore a size eight shoe

Conscience was clear and not to blame,

accomplice (by any other name)

to dark forces as likely to smash against

the walls of the mind as the sea to rage

at the world’s cliffs simply for being here,

where I stand - NOW - at a moment

in time and space above cultural hang-ups,

religious dogma, the rhetoric of politics

or philosophy, turning my back on poetry,

rejecting plain fact and pretty fiction,

answering for size eight shoes by making

a gothic horror of friendly ghosts

summoned to decide and execute my fate

(ultimately relieving me of its weight)

Ah, but they know me too well, my ghosts

and utter not one word of reproach,

or persuasion even to listen to what some call

the ‘voice of reason’ - but preferring

to watch and wait as I move closer to the edge

of mortality, martyr to infinity, gift wrapped

in foam for tin gods to argue over its contents

without even opening me, a galling enough

metaphor for eternity, come a high tide intent

on swallowing us whole dare we surrender

to it. Not a whisper in the wind, only the sound

of angry gods rising to the bait…

(a pretty if senseless enough simile for fate)

where I flinched for feeling mocked

Taken for a fool by world, ghosts and Muse

for not only refusing to be overlooked

but eager to enter any fray that might justify

pole position at my shoulder like a parrot

repeating such facts of life and death by rote

as I may have been known to utter now

and then (voice of reason or drama queen?)

returning to haunt me, remind me

I’m no Gary Cooper challenging high noon;

(If I don’t cave in, I still can’t win.)

So what to do? Where to go? Time to start

trusting my friendly ghosts implicitly

Coming clean, letting life get real with me,

holding my head high for being gay, tin gods

left to their quarrelsome play

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012, 2019

[Note: This poem takes its title from the classic western 'High Noon' (1952)]

In Love and War

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

World War 1 was meant to be the war to end all wars. Yet, World War 2 came along and there have been wars since; so many deaths, so many injuries and so many lives devastated.

Even as I write, brave men and women, gay and straight alike, are fighting, dying, and sustaining terrible injuries across the world.  

Is it not strange that, even in the 21^st century, we rarely hear how gay men and women, too, make sacrifices for a kinder, better world?  Not surprising, really, I suppose. Let’s face it. Home Fronts can be a battlefield for us as well…

When will humankind ever learn, eh? When will we ever learn...?

IN LOVE AND WAR

As we homed in to hug goodbye,

you moved your head,

your lips brushing against mine

an instant too long

for it to have been just a mistake;

I told myself it was imagination,

conjuring up images

I tried to put aside for its wanting

its wicked way with us,

having us on, playing a silly trick

You went to war in foreign fields

and all I could do

was wish you safe and well

while in a cold sweat

over thoughts of your coming back;

just when I thought it safe to dream

they’d spring an ambush,

shoot me down, leave me exposed,

(no uncommon enemy trait)

for vultures to spot, swoop and pick

You would always find me, comfort

me in my distress

where I’d peer behind death’s door;

one kiss, more than enough

to open my eyes, surprise me awake;

a day came when I slept in late

after hours of fighting off my fears,

waking up to tears on my cheek

I had thought was blood (yours?)

the enemies of love resolved to take

You were sat on the edge of my bed,

grinning from ear to ear;

I flung my arms around your neck,

nor was it any a mistake

as you kissed me, I kissed you back;

our lovemaking told its own story,

(no happy ending assured)

and we, though our hearts near break,

sure to shine its light - where all

closet lovers go in fear of the dark

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Closet Days, a Life in the Abstract

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

Today’s poem is another from the Taber archives, rediscovered last year and dated July 1963; this would make me 17 years-old at the time. I have revised it only slightly. For example, I have removed full stops at the end of stanzas and replaced most upper case letters with lower case; such were poetry conventions in those days upon which many poets still insist. I have to say I hadn’t realised I was already using the word ‘gay’ in poems although I should know by now that memory is not above springing surprises nearly fifty years on.

Homosexuality between consenting adults over the age of twenty-one would not become law here in the UK until 1967. Meanwhile, I was left to guard my secret. The invisible friend of my childhood had become my invisible lover, someone I could be sure would love me, look after me and make all that terrible anxt go away. At heart, I wasn’t so much ashamed of being gay as confused and scared that anyone might suspect.

Is it any surprise, you may well ask, that I had a nervous breakdown in my early 30’s? The only surprise is that I didn’t have one years earlier. Mind you, it was just as well I didn’t. A boy at my secondary school was sent to a psychiatrist and later subjected to electric shock ‘therapy’ for ‘exhibiting homosexual tendencies’. All the more reason to keep my own under wraps!

It was a very lonely time. Thank goodness for that twilight world where I’d meet other gay youths and men suffering the slings and arrows of outrageous bigotry. Even so, I’ll never know how I managed to keep my ‘straight’ act together long enough to revise for let alone pass any exams!

It should be so much easier for young people to express gay thoughts and feelings in this 21st century and, yes, for some, it is. Yet, so much depends on the person’s socio-cultural-religious background as well as their personality and whether or not they possess a natural self-confidence.

At least, in some parts of the world and on the Internet, there is access to various support networks these days. Oh, and by internet access, I mean addresses and phone numbers of organisations that can help. Don’t be taken in by any nasty scams or individuals you have never met and who may be less than genuine.

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CLOSET DAYS, A LIFE IN THE ABSTRACT

Often, I am lonely my bed,

die wishing you were here;

often I turn on my pillows,

die wishing you were there

Often, I feel someone near,

for wishing you were here;

often, I hear feet on the stair,

for wishing you were there

Often, I cross to the window,

for wishing you were here,

often, I caress your reflection,

for wishing you were there

Often, I tell the dark I’m gay

for wishing you were here;

in the end, I can only pretend

one day I’ll find you there

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2010