A Timely Rescue

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

One New Year’s Eve many years ago, a friend and fellow reveller asked me if I am gay. When I answered, yes, he went on to ask why I had never mentioned it, was I ashamed…?

The truth is that, at the time, I was ashamed, having been raised to believe gay relationships were perverted.  I had discussed being gay with very few people in those dark days.

As a direct result of that long-ago conversation, I resolved to come out to the world, the only New Year resolution I have ever kept, and never regretted.

It remains one of the greater tragedies of the modern world that, yes, even in the 21^st century, many gay people worldwide live in so gay-unfriendly an environment that they remain afraid to be openly gay. We can but hope for better times and less socio-cultural-religious bigotry dating back centuries. Meanwhile, no one should ever be ashamed of their sexuality, while  those that would have us be so would do well to take a long look at their own shortcomings and get real.

This poem is a villanelle.

 A TIMELY RESCUE

Before I acknowledged my sexuality

and came out to everyone,

I was scared, frustrated and lonely

Scared of losing my friends and family,

I could but conceal my confusion

before I acknowledged my sexuality

Made to think I belonged to a fraternity

of some perverted  persuasion,

I was scared, frustrated and lonely

Dreaded succumbing to plain honesty,

heavy my footsteps, every one,

before I acknowledged my sexuality

Slow to grasp at straws in an angry sea

of heterosexual convention,

I was scared, frustrated and lonely

Rescued, came to understand eventually

that I am but human;

before I acknowledged my sexuality,

I was scared, frustrated and lonely

Copyright R, N. Taber 2009; 2014

Perfect Strangers

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

Sometimes we sense a mutual attraction but can’t be sure, past mistakes gathering like vultures to pounce on the remains of yet another disappointment or worse.

Gay or straight, you know the feeling…that this just might be the One, but self-confidence is shaky after taking so many knocks…  

Well, what’s the worst that can happen? He (or she) is not interested. It's hardly the end of the world...

Whatever, every stranger is a potential friend if not more, so...worth finding out, surely, and letting time and tide take its course? 

Someone may not turn out to be the love of our lives, but the love of a good friend can never be overrated. 

PERFECT STRANGERS 

Shirt front hung wide open, red hairs

on his chest;

tongues of fire, leaping out at me,

licking at my nipples,

rekindling desire, teasing this cold heart

with dreams once cherished,

long forsaken;

liquid eyes spilling over, soaking my tee

like spring rain,

letting a body breathe again after years

of choking on ashes,

living on flashes of memory

I long to take this stranger in my arms,

be close to someone again,

yet dare not even ask his name,

can but look, my life

an open book if he but cares to flick a page

or two, sewn with paper thin threads

of flesh and bone, sure to snap

should he come any closer, neither of us

quite ready to give word or sign

that we’re peeping through the keyhole

of a door to a heaven

that has rarely welcomed us before

Lips parting, tongues shyly peeping,

hearts fairly leaping...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2011

[Note: revised from an earlier version that appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Messaging Christmas Day

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

[Update, Nov. 2018: A mixed (general and gay-interest) selection of my best poems will be published by Austin Macauley under the title 'Addressing the Art of Being Human' within the next few months; previous titles were self-published and sold well, but were only available in the UK whereas A M have offices in London and New York so it will be widely available.] RNT

Now, whether you celebrate religious festivals like Christmas or not, alone or with family and friends…may the most important wishes on your wish list will come true.

Yes, this poem is another villanelle.  As regular readers will know, I love villanelles and have written nearly 200. Readers have asked if they are available in a collection but the answer is, no. I have approached a few poetry publishers but none were interested, partly because villanelles are considered old fashioned in poetry circles these days and partly because some are on a gay theme. 

I suspect you would be surprised how many poetry publishers and magazine editors won’t accept gay material ... yes, even in the 21st century.  Some 600+ of my poems have appeared in various poetry publications world-wide since 1993 (excluding any that have only appeared in my collections) yet barely 2% of those have been on a gay theme. 

Let’s hope next year will not only be the year the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority grow up and get real about gay boys and girls, men and women…whatever their socio-cultural-religious background...but also a few poetry publishers/editors too.

MESSAGING CHRISTMAS DAY

What else is there left to say
but to wish peace and love to all,
in messaging Christmas Day?

May lonely people find a way
out of free falling in a Black Hole;
what else is there left to say?

Listen to the homeless as they
may well be making Hope's last call
in messaging Christmas Day

May the world, its fears allay
that a War on Terror not see it fall;
what else is there left to say?

Let peace-and-love have its say,
wake the world with its rallying call
in messaging Christmas Day

May young and old ever say 'nay'
to denying Human Rights a lead role;
what else is there left to say,
in messaging Christmas Day?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; Rev. 2018

Learning Curve

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

I have lived alone for many years, but it was not always that way, and I will always feel the same warm glow I like to think made me a better person for travelling love’s learning curve. Love, of course, comes in all shapes and forms - people, pets, nature, to name but three - all deserving better than to be taken for granted.

Sexuality is a learning curve for all of us, of course. Gay, straight, bisexual or transgender, we all need to show respect for each other's sexual orientation, not least by rejecting what are invariably misguided and (only too often) offensive stereotypes. 

LEARNING CURVE 

I could not believe I am gay;

it went against everything told and taught,

yet catching sight of you every day

urged me to account for tears on my pillow

every night

I tried to refuse you entry

to my dreams with some safer distraction

than an emerging sexuality,

but you would always invade, relish centre

of attraction

One day you suggested a meal

at your house, implying others joining us,

but not long after my arrival

I understood no one else would be coming,

and grew nervous

I wanted to leave, needed to stay,

slowly relaxed, began to unwind, feel free

to let my body have its way

with the heart’s desires, for all its growing

intensity

When you kissed me, I nearly died;

you instantly withdrew, a tableau of dismay,

till my kinder senses rallied

and I finally embraced the sure knowledge

I am gay

Soon after, I told family and friends

we are partners, and you're my dream lover;
some accept us, others can't,
but that's life, and we will see ours through 

together

I could not believe I am gay;

it went against everything told and taught,

yet loving you more each day

is a learning curve, sure to dry any tears 
we share at night

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Finding Freedom

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

I was not always openly gay, having grown up as a youth and young man at a time when gay relationships were a criminal offence and considered a sin but most religions. 

Now, thankfully, the broader-thinking West at least has learned to accept that being gay is genetic and no more unnatural than being born. Sadly, though, not everyone among the heterosexual majority shares this enlightened view. Across the world, even in the so-called ‘liberal’ West, gay boys and girls, men and women, are growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment, encouraged to believe they are the lowest of the low for being gay.

It took me some time to stop feeling self-conscious about being gay, to understand (and act on it) that we must never let anyone put us down for our sexuality, least of all ourselves.

For whatever reason (whatever our colour, creed, sex or sexuality) many of us are often made to feel slaves to that fickle creature, 'Convention'; the inner self deserves better.

FINDING FREEDOM

I once walked narrow streets

in the bitter cold and dark of winter,

body, mind and spirit

crying out to be heard, trusted,

loved, and free

No one in those narrow streets

gave me a second look or seemed

to care that I was in crisis,

duped into believing I had no right

to even be there

I paused at a bright shop window

whose lights and colours turned me

into a patched-up clown

(minus wide smile) in a circus ring,

raining sawdust

Suddenly, a burst of wild applause

for my doppelganger clowning it up

in the window and loving

every minute, soaking up applause

like spring rain

I raised a smile, a chuckle, a laugh,

and continued along the narrow streets

that seemed broader now,

people nodding and smiling at me,

a common humanity

Apollo peeped from behind a cloud

as if to complement a metamorphosis,

welcome a lonely gay man

into the human race, its prejudices

melting away

Now, as I walk those same streets

in the bitter cold and dark of winter,

body, mind and spirit

rejoice for having found a voice, love,

and freedom

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Heart to Heart, a Plea for Common Sense

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

Several emails from readers worried sick about the reaction of family and friends to their coming out prompted me to write today’s poem.

If acknowledging to ourselves we are gay is traumatic experience, coming out to friends and family can prove even more so. especially if we live in a gay-unfriendly socio-cultural-religious environment. 

here we are in the 21st century and still homophobia is alive and kicking. In my experience, this is often because so many straight people have no understanding about what it means to be gay, trenagender of simply 'different'. - not least because they have neither really thought about it nor had a chance to discuss it, calmly, objectively and intelligently either at home, school or wherever. Consequently, they remain hung up on misleading, invariably offensive stereotypes that continue to attach themselves to gay and transgender men and women in the minds of the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority.

As I have said any times on my blogs, our differences do not make us different, simply human.

The problem with so-called political correctness is that too many people are afraid to say what they really think. How can we put people right unless we know what they are thinking? There is nothing worse than being tolerated. Sexuality deserves better. For a start, it deserves respect.

A heart to heart can work wonders. (Did I say it would be easy?)

HEART TO HEART, A PLEA FOR COMMON SENSE

Dear family and friends,

see how, come what may,

it really makes no difference

I’m gay

I’m the same person,

that’s sharing with you

the same heartfelt conviction

love is all

If love but conditional,

where does that leave us

as supposedly more spiritual

than beasts?

I crave love and peace,

and if you loved me once,

why should you love me less

for my sexuality?

Infant, now grown3 rev. 

no less a Child of the Earth

or free to run with nature’s own

for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004, rev. 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was written in 2003 and first published in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

What Goes Around, Comes Around

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

For as long as I can remember, Brighton on the East Sussex coast has always been a gay-friendly place. Many years ago, I met someone there with whom I had a brief fling that lasted all of one day. It was raining and we spent most of the time in his hotel room. It was my first experience of sleeping in a four-poster bed.

In recent years, I met up with an old friend who introduced me to someone with whom he had been at school some 50 years ago…who turned out to be the same young man (much older now, of course) I’d met that rainy day back in 1966. In those days, of course, same sex relationships were still illegal in the UK.

Incredibly, we recognized each other at once. Confiding some but not (quite) all to our mutual friend, we seized an opportunity later to take a trip down Memory Lane…in more ways than one.

True enough, it is a fact of life that, more often than not (one way or another) what goes around comes around …eventually.

This poem is a villanelle.

WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES AROUND

What goes around, comes around,

no matter, gay or straight

as spring seeds to wintry ground

Let time, our mistakes, compound

(love will always see us right?)

what goes around, comes around

As dogs of war run peace to ground,

see humanity put to rout…

as spring seeds to wintry ground

In all nature, no finer, sweeter sound

than love songs killing hate

what goes around, comes around

Let martyrdom, its myths compound

where light and darkness mate

as spring seeds to wintry ground

Where sexuality dares speak its mind

(or society construct a closet)

what goes around, comes around

as spring seeds to wintry ground

[Brighton, East Sussex, March 17th 2010]

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Win Some, Lose Some

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

I suspect most if not all of us have been there, when sex is (temporarily) enough and a relationship just isn’t on the cards.

Have fun, but be careful out there…

WIN SOME, LOSE SOME 

We got raunchy in a sauna

but didn’t get very far;

others wanted in on the act

and we really weren’t up

for an orgy so we drove

into the country,

had sex among the trees,

songbirds nesting

above, indifferent and snug

as you please

Bodies kindling each other

like rolled newspapers

to a flame, plagiarizing

soap opera storylines

till dawn when we rose,

passion faded

like the moon, got real

and went home;

I didn’t ask for his number

or give mine

We both knew there wouldn’t

be a next time…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (only slightly revised here) appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Immortal Beloved

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

Regular readers will know that my partner and I only has a few years together before he was killed in a road accident, and that was a long time ago. I think about him every day. Yes, I am often sad because I miss him, but it is a sadness tempered with the joy of having loved him and been loved in return; it always lifts me, and rams home the message that love never dies.

I experimented with drugs in my long-ago youth until someone told me that you can never get higher than getting high on love. So who needs drugs? Oh, but that is so true. Love is the only high worth having if only because it lasts the longest, continuing to let people like me access a spiritual dimension that has nothing to do with either religion or sexuality...and why should it?

Among the many wonderful qualities of love is that it does not discriminate against anyone, whatever our race, religion, sexuality ... Oh, yes, and age too.

IMMORTAL BELOVED

My gay love gave me a yellow rose

so that I might always recall in my heart

how love, if tended, nurtured, grows,

to a flowering only wisdom can impart

My gay love gave me an apple green

so that I may always savour at every bite

that what was, is now, always has been,

Tree of Knowledge filtering Eden’s light

My gay love gave to me a gentle kiss

to which my heart responded with its all,

a thank you for a lifetime of summers

whose birdsong a metaphor for the soul

My gay lover passed away some years ago,

but love never dies, this I've come to know

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'The Truth About Love' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Haunted, Wherever Love Loses Out to (so-called) Convention

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

Years ago, many gay men and women would get married or even enter a religious order rather than confront their sexuality head-on and learn to live with and enjoy it. For a start, for those to whom  it is an important part of mind-body-spirit, religion should be a path to fulfilment, not a means of escape. While it isn't only gay people who find themselves having to sacrifice the love of their lives to various socio-cultural-religious expectations, if not dogma, this is primarily a gay-interest blog so...

It is one of our greater modern tragedies that so many gay people worldwide are still growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment and seeking escape rather than fulfilment; it is likely to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

HAUNTED, WHEREVER LOVE LOSES OUT TO (SO-CALLED) CONVENTION

When I was a young man,

I tried out dating girls because that’s what young men

are expected to do

I couldn’t understand

why I felt so attracted to another man as I’d been told

it was a sin

I tried to stop these feelings

overwhelming me, but couldn’t get you out of my mind

no matter how I tried

You haunted me

day and night, couldn’t concentrate for long on anything

but you

I so needed to know

more about your body, mind, and spirit than making love

in wet dreams

I’d hold you close,

kiss your smiling mouth, entwine with your naked body,

let it into mine

I can but remember

that starry night we had when you said you loved me too,

but being gay was not for you

At your wedding

the radiance of your smile spread like summer, won over

everyone but me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Where the Road is Bare, Plant Trees

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

Many years ago, I had a Russian boyfriend. (I would love to visit Russia. Yes, in spite of President Putin’s anti-gay stance. One day, maybe…) His name was Anatoly and he was studying here. He answered to Nat although I’m not sure even he knew how this had come about. He was not only a genuinely nice guy but also good looking and a brilliant cook. In short, he was every gay man’s dream of a partner and way out of my league, or so I thought. Yet, somehow Nat and I became more than friends during his stay here.

Nat is the only boyfriend I’ve ever had who loved poetry. (Yes, even mine.) I missed him a lot when he returned to Russia and hoped we would stay in touch, but Fate had other plans for us. About three years later, I received a brief note that has been forwarded from several different addresses to say he was getting married to ‘a girl called Anna.’ It was just as well he hadn’t put an address or I would probably have caught the next plane to Moscow.

While my poetry is a diary of sorts. no one but me will ever know which poems are based on my own life or on observations of other people’s lives or just wishful thinking on all our parts. It is not surprising then that, as I browse my poems, faces, places and circumstances spring to mind that may be directly related to the poem or simply passing at a tangent to it. So now I find myself thinking about Nat and wondering what happened to him, hoping he is happy, but concerned that a hot-blooded young gay man should have chosen to marry. Has Anna made him happy? Do they have children? I will probably never know.

None of us are perfect nor do we live perfect lives. Yet, it is in those very imperfections that the roller coaster ups and downs of everyday existence lie. Whether or not we are feeling quite up to the ride is another matter…

As I grow old(er) I find myself looking back on the past and regretting much of it for one reason or another.  After all, where has my life brought me but to this growing old alone…and me with such a capacity for love?

Oh, but a pointless exercise, this negative stuff, I agree. Better by far to engage in some positive thinking, be glad for the parts regret cannot reach and try to be that person regret could never touch. Easier said than done, but methinks well worth the effort or old age is likely to be even less of a picnic than old bones would have it…

WHERE THE ROAD IS BARE, PLANT TREES 

Smoky haze on a lonely road,

rogue leaves falling one by one

like faces in a Hall of Mirrors

reflecting such multiple fractures

of times past, hints of joy

and laughter mangled by tears,

as those I have loved and lost

gazing anxiously through my fears;

a merciless naming of parts

(success, achievement…) heads

turned by the darker side

of fulfillment, tiny flames licking

at what we care to call 'soul’

Smouldering seasons lost

to wisps of smoke, scalding caresses,

half-truths let drift with a smile;

familiar faces rallying at such times 

of need as this, reassurances

once betrayed and tossed aside,

now returning to haunt

the self-centred manipulations

and errors of judgement

that brought us here, fuelling a pyre

of purpose-built paranoia;

time to put life’s illusions to rout

and its angrier fires out

Look, and find a hunchback called Pain

planting trees on New Memory Lane

Copyright R. N. Taber 1999; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in the anthology Duende, Poetry Today [Forward Press] 1999 and subsequently in Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2001.] 

Come Light of Day

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

For gay people around the world, from all walks of life, living in a gay-unfriendly environment, being openly gay can be hard, sometimes impossible (punishable by death in some countries!) In the end, though, love and a sense of personal identity - whatever its nature - will find a way; never easy, but worth every heartbeat.

COME LIGHT OF DAY

Come light of day
to midnight’s soul,
a love true and gay

Dark swept away,
hearts made whole,
come light of day

Open hearts, pray
let joyful bells toll
a love true and gay

Cold feet of clay,
hear a wake-up call
come light of day

Breaking away...
No backs to the wall,
a love true and gay

Let the world say
whatever it will...
Come light of day,
a love true and gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2017

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Coming Together' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Ebb Tide

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

Love is often a win some, lose some affair, and I suspect most if not all of us have found ourselves brooding over the latter at some time or another.

The trick is not to brood for too long, and be sure to go with the tide when it turns as invariably, in time, it will…

EBB TIDE 

Black waves

sucking the feet, tugging the soul;

distant lights pricking

the flesh, like pins in this doll man

of yours

Ours once,

moon and stars, a night like this!

Sea breeze, salty

and sensual like a first kiss before

passion takes over

We surfed

the clouds, played in moon craters

like children knowing

that soon, too soon, Someone

would call us home

Black waves

sucking the feet, tugging the soul;

same sea breeze, its promises

stripping us bare, a lifetime to share

gone, gone, gone

You, in another man's heaven;

me, on the mud banks of Eden

Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2014

[Note: This poem has been revised (2014) from an earlier version first published in an anthology, The Shadows of Life, Poetry Today (Forward Press) 2000 and subsequently in 1st eds. of Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

A Beautiful Thing

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

My poem takes its title from a delightful gay movie of the same name. It is one of relatively few mainstream movies (available on DVD) that I have seen whose story line turns on the developing relationship between two schoolboys. [Do so many parents and teachers really think gay men and women emerge into adulthood out of thin air?]

Now, parents sometimes get in touch to ask what they should so about a gay son or daughter. Do? What else, but continue to love and support them?

Gay or straight, love is a beautiful thing; it may be for a person, a place or even an idea. Whatever, it sows seeds in mind, body and spirit that will float like seeds in the wind long after we are gone.

Anyone suggestion that love is any the less beautiful for two lovers being gay is not only a gross distortion of the facts but downright sacrilegious in so far as it undermines the spiritual quality of love as supposedly endorsed by all world religions. Gay voices, though, are as seeds in the wind sure to settle and grow even where socio-cultural-religious bigotry continues to pursue its fight to flourish...

A BEAUTIFUL THING 

Though a day be my last on the good earth

and I regret many things I have done,

I’ll bring hopes of a second chance, rebirth,

to whatever we like to call ‘Heaven’

Though a breath be my last in Nature’s arms,

the world’s judgement upon me unkind,

I will submit to her dear, evergreen charms,

trusting in Peace to be always at hand

Though an eye look its last on a bird’s wing

as it soars with grace and kisses the sky,

I’ll clasp to my heart love’s beautiful thing

that has blessed me and will not let us die

For knowing you, needing you, loving you;

seeds in the wind - gay, free and true

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appears in 1^st (print) eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; new (revised) ed. in e-format in preparation.]

  

All or Nothing

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

 “You’re a fool!’ someone told me forcefully years ago when I came out to everyone as a gay man, adding for good measure that ‘All gays are losers.’

Well, all I can say is that now I know why ‘fools rush in’ and I certainly don’t feel I’ve lost out. On the contrary, in spite of my life’s many ups and downs, I feel all the more fulfilled for being openly gay. Tragically, many gay boys and girls, men and women living in a gay-unfriendly culture and/or environment may still feel unable to do so.

If it is true that love makes fools of us all, then what better way to survive this mad, mad, mad, world of ours...? Besides, we are the sum of all our parts, and as I discovered very early in my teens, we are all or we are nothing; during subsequent years spent in a closet, I came to understand that only too well...

 ALL OR NOTHING 

Who says gay love is fool’s gold

has never mined craters of the moon

or lain with another as naked as the day

they were born

Who says gay love is fool’s gold

will never have slid helter-skelter

on the Milky Way into the loving arms

of Earth Mother

Who says gay love is fool’s gold

may well have admired a lovely rose

in its season, but what of other flowers

other seasons...?

Who says gay love is fool’s gold

will always reach for reality’s sword,

forgetting that live craters of the moon

are not of this world

Who says gay love is fool’s gold

sees history’s notes on stereotypes

as a convenient excuse for more blots

in their copybooks

Who says any love is fool’s gold

has never mined craters of the moon

or lain with another, as naked as the day

they were born

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Second Chances

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

There are night moves and more night moves, but there are no moves quite like lovers homing in on each other to make up following a lonely, soul-destroying separation, especially after a quarrel …

Even some gay-friendly readers have asked why I write gay love poems. There is no such thing, of course; there are only love poems. Besides, I am a gay man and the love of my life, too, was gay; tragically, for both of us, he died in a road accident many years ago.

Writing about love galvanises its flickering flame in me to flare yet again, and makes me feel good (as he always did) especially when I am feeling low. 

The poem is partly wishful thinking in so far as the love of my life and I will never be reunited other than in a posthumous consciousness, and partly in response to a reader, Rob, writing in to say he has just been reconciled with the love of his life and both are 'deliriously happy'. Congratulations, both of you, and enjoy ...

SECOND CHANCES

Fast asleep, foetal position,

I did not hear the seventh stair

that would always creak

even when sly tiptoes trying

to sneak, unheard ...

In a dream, as always, I stirred,

reaching out for you,

making believe we hadn’t parted

the way we did, lashing out

with cruel words, each wanting

to hurt the other more

(it was like committing suicide);

Now, your body pressing

against mine, this dream-self

responding, oh, so eagerly

with passion, hot lips relishing

your tongue, entering caves

of loneliness, teasing me

with the happiness I cast aside

that night we died

What’s this?  A kiss, surely

meant to restore a lifeless heart,

let the blood course anew

through a body all but ready

for a coffin, for all willpower’s

attempting to find its way

pretences at of everyday living,

taking where it can,

giving precious little in return,

unable to feel anything

for longing to taste your lips

again, again, our sexuality

awakening to the rising heat

of a true reality, nor any words

(ever) necessary

Day and night, you haunt me

taunting me with images

of your naked body, loving arms

holding me closely, tightly,

as once they had before I happened

to hear gossip among those

I took for friends, workmates too,

and openly denied you-me-us

because I was weak, needed to be

one of the lads, though it meant

we’d part, no matter mind-body-spirit

likely to be sent into free fall,

by loneliness, emptiness, despair

for its not defending and clinging on  

to all it holds dear

My eyes fly open

and you are here, no mere vision,

but a whole new love affair,

You-Me-Us, redefined, ‘live’ metaphor  

for second chances 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

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

Love, Custom Made

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

As life makes us run the gamut of this world’s (and our) various shortcomings, don’t all its lovers - gay and straight alike - dare to dream of being able to say, ‘We did it out way…’?

Gay or straight, male or female, where love is concerned it...for real, pretend or make-believe... it is -as it has always been, and always will be - a (private) matter of each to his or her own.  As for those who so love to gossip and/or criticise...they need to mind their own damn business and look to what's is so unfulfilling about their own lives that needs must they get their kicks out of being bitchy abut someone else's.

LOVE, CUSTOM MADE 

We dream of being together,

looking after each other,

seizing each day,

and it really doesn’t matter

we’re gay

We dream of living together,

looking after each other,

leading the way

for those to whom it matters

they’re gay

We dream of staying together,

looking after each other,

come what may

and it really doesn’t matter

what folks say

Dreams that bring us together,

looking after each other,

realised every day,

custom made for all lovers,

straight or gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2014

[Note: This poem  appears in 1st eds. of Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books. 2012 under the title 'Custom Made'; new (revised) ed. in e-format in preparation.]]

Willing Captive

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Of all the accusations levelled at gay people, the idea that we are ‘unnatural’ is perhaps the most hurtful. Certainly, it is the most ignorant. As I have said many times, sexuality has to be in the genes or how come there are so many gay people from all socio-cultural-religious backgrounds across the word.  Many gay man and women grow up in a very gay-unfriendly environment yet still find themselves attracted to the same sex.

Never let anyone get away with suggesting we are unnatural, my friends. What is unnatural is betraying the most fundamental of humanitarian principles by inflicting hurt on those who mean no harm. Yes, I know politicians do it all the time, but that doesn’t mean we have to follow their example. The old rhyme isn’t true that says, ‘sticks and stones can break my bones, but names can never hurt me.’ Names can and do hurt, terribly.

Those who call us names because they are too ignorant and/or lazy to look beyond the stereotype and see the person are beneath contempt.

This poem is a villanelle, and was originally requested by ‘Charlotte’ for her nephew Guy who is too scared to tell his devoutly religious parents that he is gay.

Good luck to Guy. But we should all remember that parents may well need time to get used to the idea. It may well be as hard for them to accept that we are gay as it can be for us to ask it of them. Sadly, it is sometimes the case when people are asked to go against what they have been taught to believe.

But gut instincts are strong, and love is the strongest of them all. Love, especially parental love, does not cave in easily, even to devout socio-cultural-religious bigotry.

WILLING CAPTIVE

Living in nature’s skin,
exploring sexuality;
willing captive within

Trying, anxiously, within,
for a new reality;
living in nature’s skin

Seeking inspiration,
a kinder morality;
willing captive within

Surpassing expectation,
risen to ecstasy;
living in nature’s skin

A sense of valediction
on our mortality;
willing captive within

A lasting benediction
on love’s complicity;
living in nature’s skin,
willing captive within

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appears under the title ‘The Captive Heart’) in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time (by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

An Incredible Journey

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My class of 1959 was once challenged by a teacher to sum up the meaning of life in one word.

People gave various answers; ambition, achievement/s, sport, family, friendship, music, survival... 

For me, it had to be love although I was only 14 years-old at the time and still coming to terms with my emerging sexuality, so the best was yet to come.

Whatever, life is too short to live it according to any code of socio-cultural-religious convention to which the heart does not fully subscribe; the mind may work in mysterious ways, but the human spirit is a match for anything and anyone if we but believe in ourselves.

AN INCREDIBLE JOURNEY

A gay love blessed can hurt,

its wounds fester, let in snake venom;

jealousy, bitterness, hate even

in a dark, lonely, wretched, heaven,

a great sadness creeping in,

killing off its angels one by one;

in a weepy twilight all of love’s own,

embracing its bitter-sweet pain

Yet, listen! Birds, flowers,

friendly ghosts in the clouds, singing

of life and hope, fair sunsets,

sunrises, faery mists, summer kisses

autumn leaves, shades of red

and gold, stories at winter fires told

of love eternal, no self-pity, but thanks

for making its incredible journey

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2019

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