Home for Christmas

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

I am not a Christmassy person, but no spoilsport either and will always wish everyone a very Happy Christmas/ New Year, and mean it. 

As an agnostic,, I don't celebrate Christmas in any religious sense. As a poet with a strong sense of spirituality - that I take from nature - I enjoy taking stock of my life at this time of year, counting my blessings and glossing over numerous flaws in the status quo.

On Christmas Day, I like to be on my own (yes, really!) strolling down Memory Lane and re-living the GOOD times while allowing myself time to be sad for the bad times. I like to remember those I have loved and lost, again dwelling on happy times together while not attempting to stem any tears.

If I spend Christmas with anyone, I feel obliged to make an effort rather than quietly surrender to any feelings of sadness and let them pass of their own accord.  I am not a sad person. On the contrary, I am a very positive thinking, lively guy. No one, though, can be positive thinking and lively all the time so when I feel sad, I let myself BE sad, and the sadness quickly passes, invariably replaced by happy memories to which the positive thinking, lively, part of me can more easily relate and build upon. Christmas brings many sad memories rushing back; I need to let them rush past me so I can enjoy the many happy memories I have shared with those I may have loved and lost but who sustain me still. 

We hear about families and friends getting back together for Christmas...but poles apart again by New year's Day. Let us never forget that love is not (and never has been) just for Christmas or any other religious festival where it needs to make an appearance. Any love worth having is worth saving, even if that means having to agree to differ with loved ones and accepting that our differences don't make us different, just human...

New Year? Well that's a different story altogether, celebrating a whole twelve months ahead to enjoy with friends and rediscover the true meanings of peace, love, and joie de vivre...

HOME FOR CHRISTMAS 

I’d hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart would sink for memories
of so many lonely Christmases
since love walked out of my life and family
never understood

I’d hear carols at Christmas,
and my heart would skip a beat or two
for recalling happy Christmases
when love took centre-stage in my life,
nothing else mattered

Friends planning for Christmas,
with smiles on their faces for all the fun
of such joyous Christmases
as once I had, and never (quite) abandoned
by fate, chance, love…

Christmas Eve, everyone rushing
for last minute buys, and then back home,
ever hopeful of Christmas
fulfilling its promises of peace and goodwill
around a festive table

Me, I hear talk of Christmas,
and my heart leaps  just for remembering
our conspiring with Christmas,
we total strangers, one starry Christmas Eve
of rediscovering love

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Shaping up for Life

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

Many years ago, I confided in someone that I was gay but was scared of the consequences if I came out to family and friends. He simply commented, “Yes, well, just remember that body, mind and spirit only ever need to justify themselves to each other, no one else.’ I suspect that’s as good a benchmark for contentment if not happiness as I will find anywhere.

At the time, I thought it was a rather selfish approach to life. Looking back, however, (I will be 70 on the winter solstice) I can see only too clearly that it’s only during the relatively few times in my life when I have been really happy that mind, body and spirit have achieved the greater harmony.  While I am not unhappy now, I live alone and don’t have a partner, without whom any life-harmony is only ever likely to be a halfhearted affair. Life, though, is all about making the best rather then the worst of things and I think I do a pretty good job of that.

Now, anyone can (and will) judge us as and when they like, but no one but the self knows how far (or not) it achieves harmony between body, mind and spirit. We are the best judges of that, no one else, just as where there is discord…we need to at least try and do something about it.  For example, while I am not a religious person, the suggestion that ‘Blessed are the peace makers’ has a lot going for it.

Above all, life is about developing and building on a native, all-embracing capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms - as far as we are able  and others will let us) -  and that goes for each and every one of us, whatever our sex, sexuality, race, religion and, yes, age too.

SHAPING UP FOR LIFE

Scared of who I am,
trapped in conventions that birthed me,
locked in the mind of a child
competing with siblings and peers for love
I would keep, oh, so close…
(so much a part of me, no desire to lose)
yet, compelled to choose

Scared of who I am,
fretting over wet dreams and fantasies
born of a growing sexuality
suggesting (confirming) much I’d been told
regarding human relationships
since knee high…a lie…created to taunt me
about me sexual identity

Scared of who I was
until we met in a bar one wintry night,
and as we talked, grew closer,
till in the thick of everyday conversation
I felt the throbbing pulse
of mutual attraction coursing my body,
mind-talk consuming me

Scared of who I was,
until he touched my hand reassuringly
as if to calm my frantic spirit
with piano fingers taking me through
a haunting symphony,
flooding emptiness left by unspoken fears,
and drying unshed tears

Unashamed of being gay,
those other parts comprising my whole,
ganging up on me for centuries,
hating me, despising me, rejecting me,
leaving me confused, scared…
finally accepting of this only-human need
to share his bed 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Breaking Out OR G-A-Y, Standing Up for Sexuality

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

A homophobic neighbour once snarled at me, ‘I hope all you gays get your just deserts.’

I hope so too … and may it include the freedom to fall in love and be loved in return by the person of our choice just as nature intended - for us all, whatever our ethnicity, sexuality, religion or, yes, age too.

BREAKING OUT or G-A-Y,  STANDING UP FOR SEXUALITY

Shedding shackles that bind,

leaving fear and suspicion behind,

getting the life we deserve, born free

to fall in love ...

Coming but into our identity,

nature’s gift of life and sexuality,

deaf to threats of those world cultures

clinging to its scriptures

Refuting legends of Creation

denying us any hope of salvation

for fearlessly and, oh, so passionately

embracing our sexuality

Taking on biased critics

misinterpreting the hieroglyphics

supposedly expressed in ancient theses

on living nemeses

Mending fences torn apart,

reclaiming territories of the heart

under attack by a (so) bigoted morality

sponsored by Society

Making a stand for humanity

against those calling for ‘propriety’

based on some so-called  ‘moral’ stance

that we cause offence

Shedding shackles that bind,

leaving fear and suspicion behind,

getting the life we deserve, born free

to fall in love …

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Winter Wonderland

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

.We should never underestimate the lasting power of true friendship. Yes, some so-called friends are shallow and easily offended, especially when they are nursing a hurt ego, while others may well need time to understand that a hurt ego needs nursing back to health, and not left to fester. (Yes, I know I have said much the same thing many times on my blogs, but, something worth saying is always worth repeating.)

It can come as a shock to some family members and friends when a gay man or woman flings open his or her dark closet and lets in the sunlight. Sunlight can be blinding sometimes.

Years ago, when I was just a boy at school, a teacher asked why I had fallen out with my best friend. I can’t remember over what we had argued, but I do recall it was something that seemed important at the time, but with hindsight was trivial. The teacher made a comment I have never forgotten, to the effect that a friendship worth having is always worth saving, whatever it takes.

Over the years, I have fallen out with lots of people for various reasons (as most if not all of us do) and I always ask myself this question, does it really matter?  Sometimes, the answer is an unequivocal ‘yes’ in which case I will always do my best to patch things up with that person.  Where the friendship is strong, I always succeed, and if it means swallowing a little pride, it has always been worth it.

I guess there is nothing like falling out with someone to make us realise whether or not we really want that person in our life. If we do, we just have to hope they feel the same way, and wherever the friendship runs true, an olive branch will (nearly) always do the trick. Someone, though, has to make the first move...

WINTER WONDERLAND

The first snow of winter falling,
as I walked in woods alone,
I heard a familiar voice calling,
asking where I had gone

I'd seen nothing of you for ages,
since we’d argued one day
over filling time’s blank pages
with graffiti for my being gay

Suddenly, I heard a robin making
the case for your defence, 
our friendship up for the saving,
no matter what odds against

You said I should have been open
about my being gay;
I'd raged, hurt by your reaction,
ignoring all you had to say  

Calmer as the snow began settling,
(my feet, minds of their own)
I faced demons I’d been wrestling,
resolved to put them down

At your front door, I rang the bell,
wondering if you’d answer;
when you did, a big hug said it all,
the best of friends forever

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2015

Open to Question

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

Hi everyone. Hope you like today’s poem. Some blog readers contact me via the comments button, but I do not post comments, good or bad. Please include an email address if you want me to reply. (I love to hear from blog readers worldwide.)

Body language says it all...but is easily misunderstood, too, so you have to get it right .

Oh, but who has not been there, sitting at a bar, cafe, wherever... alone, glancing around...wishing and hoping ..? 

OPEN TO QUESTION

He looked at me, smiled,

made my day,

and I could only wonder.

is he gay...?

He was with a friend

chatting away,

and I could only wonder,

is he gay...?

I smiled back uncertainly,

wistfully, shy;

was it just a friendly smile

or…why?

He did not look at me again,

my fantasy guy,

leaving me to but wonder,

can a smile lie?

They left, these two friends

I ordered  a beer,

thinking how life is a bitch,

my way unclear…

Man with the Smile returned

on his own,

grabbed a bar stool by mine,

tossed me a grin

The way his eyes engaged me,

made my day,

and I did not have to wonder,

is he gay...?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Destination, Now-or-Never

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

More than one person I know (gay, straight, male and female) has confessed to wet dreams about a stranger they have seen on a train time and again, but to whom they have never found the nerve say a word…

'With love and patience, nothing is impossible.' - Daisaku Ikeda

DESTINATION, NOW-OR-NEVER

We’d catch the same train

to work, and (more often than not)

the same train home again,

alighting at the very same station,

and I didn’t dare say a word

lest my voice betray the extent

of my growing attraction

to his looks, smile, even the way

he would idly play

with his necktie while gazing out

at the world rushing by,

(unmoved by our leaving it behind)

a frantic desire in me 

that we share an impossible dream

of incredible intimacy

One wintry evening, snowing,

trains running late so we had to wait

on the station concourse,

eagerly watching out for signs of life

on the departure board,

and he stood by me, commenting

on the inability of trains

to run to schedule at the first hint

of weather like this,

and we chatted together like friends,

me, weak at the knees,

dreading the moment (all to soon)

making us strangers again,

and I would be left feeling even more

hopeless, helpless, alone 

Suddenly, he's suggesting

we might go for a coffee while waiting

for the running-late train,

and I can hardly believe my own ears

or manage a silly grin

before we're on our way, small talk

order of the day

but more than enough for me just to be

in his company, flying high

on his voice, his smile, everything

about him taking me 

where we dreamers fear being woken

at some reality check

throwing us into freefall for despairing

of love’s hurt garden

Over coffee, I continued to fly

on his every word, timbre of a voice

making my spine tingle

as I wondered if he was single, attached,

married, with a partner,

bi-curious, even gay, although no idea

how to ask so said nothing,

feeding on our small talk as a sparrow  

might on garden crumbs

after a heavy snowfall, wanting to live,

needing to survive,

mind-body-spirit on the same autopilot  

that would have us on the run

from scary unfamiliar circumstances  

outside our comfort zone 

We exchanged first names,

and a few (irrelevant) personal details

before an announcement

over the tannoy, our train arriving soon,

time to be on our way;

it was now or never, and I blurted out

how I liked him a lot,

hoped we might be friends, inviting him

to make himself at home

in that place beyond words and temporality 

where sexuality takes us,

plucking heart from sleeve, refusing

to (ever) let us go free

until we agree to keep it safe, nurture

through season after season

He suggested with a cheeky grin

that we start over, have another coffee, 

catch another train,

idly playing with his necktie, confiding

I was an unknown quantity

and he'd, oh, so wanted to know more, 

but mind-body-spirit 

had been too shy to ask for fear of breaking

the spell I had him under,

leading him to imagine us together

ultimately, intimately;

any last minute doubts abandoned me 

to a high, the more so 

for we two having ghosted such dreams

as we'd  thought impossible

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; rev. 2020

What-a-Mess

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

A reader once emailed me to say he or she found it “disturbing if not offensive” that my poetry collections include poems on a gay theme.

What can I say? Our sexuality is only a part - albeit an integral one - of who we are. There is more to us all, gay or straight, than our sexulity. Do we ignore the rest? Of course not, yet I have noticed that once a straight person knows I am gay, many are inclined to look no further. 

We should take poems - like people - as we find them, surely? By all means, be critical…but not judgemental. We might even try to learn if not always take pleasure from them. Besides general and gay-interest poetry simply reflect different (but not separate) voices of the same genre; similarly, whatever our ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality, we comprise the same human race. 

Well, don't we...?

WHAT-A-MESS

I’m gay, okay? That’s me,
so take it or leave it, love me,
make time for a chat (world
to rights, tit-for-tat) or let me be;
all in the same boat, none of us
the better, worse, wiser, less able 
than anyone else to explain
where common sense has gone
in respecting other points of view
since acknowledged human

I mean to say, society's a mess
without gay folks driving home
the point, must be something 
in who shouts the louder gets heard
the sooner (if not listened to)
no one else finding an ear, unless 
they so happen to be fighting 
some politically sensitive corner, 
given that all's fair in love and war
notwithstanding glaring errors

Better we do our own thing
and go our own ways, no matter
our 'betters' enjoy the benefit
of their field days, closing ranks
for doing their well-meaning
best or worst by whatever colour, 
creed, sexuality or our station
in life who would but stay true
to ourselves and each other if only
to keep body and soul together

Whatever anyone else may say
or do, 1+ 1 one will always make
the two of us, though a precious
humanity get it wrong, preferring
to do certain sums differently,
inclined to forget just how much 
diversity contributes to Society
except when needs must tap into
its voting power, take us all for fools
for believing it's got its sums right

Copyright R. N.Taber 2004; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was published under the title 'One to One' in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

With a little Help from Nature

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

Now and then, I find someone to chat to in a bar and now and then people tell me stories that set off a poem in my head…

Such a time was one evening recently. I met two gay guys who have been partners for years, and they told me how they first got together. I commented how they had been through a lot together, bad times and good. One simply shrugged and pointed out, "If it's out of our past we shape our present, it has to be out of our present we shape our future, right? It takes a positive thinking ethos to find any of us in good shape at the end of the road...or why bother?" He grinned, adding, "Besides, we love each other and you don't get more positive than that, do you?" 

It struck me as a timely reminder of how acknowledgement of and reconciliation with the inner self can move mountains...

Oh, but I do so love a happy ending, don’t you? History is full of them, of course, but for some reason human nature tends to focus more often on the unhappy ones. (Could it be they make for a more interesting conversation?) Whatever, we should celebrate happiness as the foundation stone of life not simply an aspiration. Think happy, be happy. Oh, and why not...? It has to be better than think sad, be sad... doesn't it?

WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM NATURE

I asked the wind if you loved me,
but the wind could not say;
I asked the trees for a love poem
but the trees stayed quiet
and still, till I began to despair
that you might ever truly care for me
as I (so) cared for you

Two rabbits, a fine pair they made.
scampering openly in a glade…
Envied them a freedom if only brief,
enjoying the autumn sunshine
as I would with you, only I had yet
to trust your heart might ever see me
as more than a playmate

Closet ways, tearful days, loneliness
clawing away at all of me;
body, mind, and spirit now caving in
to desire, on fire, desperate
for an embrace, everyday masks
tossed aside, now, a fearful welling up
inside of anxious sexuality

You, too, were in the woods that day,
and chance would have it
we should meet, and we were different,
you and I, as if conjured up
like rabbits out of a hat, mindful
of a gentle wind urging ages-old trees
to help us find our voices

Nor does love have any need of words
to make itself known, heard;
all it took was an accidental-on-purpose
stumble against each other
and a clumsy, intimate, helping hand
transcended into an embrace for gay love
to prove to us it has a voice  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Homing in on Priorities

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

Even in countries like the UK that now permit gay marriage, coming out is not necessarily easy, especially to people close to us who think they know us through and through but to whom it has never occurred we might be gay.  Now, coming out may or may not be tough on us, but we should always remember it can be tough on family, friends and colleagues. too, so we may well need to give them time to get used to the idea, not automatically feel rejected and misunderstood simply because they don’t always react positively at first. Religious-minded people, especially, often find it hard to accept the existence of a ' gay gene' that is passed on from generation to generation, sometimes missing a few but invariably resurfacing eventually. 

Now, I never give advice, but will always give an opinion if asked. Only (very) recently, a reader e-mailed to say he cannot live without his (closet) boyfriend but neither can he face being openly gay. What should he do?  Well, no one can make that decision for him, but hopefully, today’s poem might help him to make up his mind and acknowledge where his heart lies.

[Photo taken from the Internet]

HOMING IN ON PRIORITIES

He said we must part
because I would not come out
of my safe (if scary) closet and say
this is me, I am gay

I was afraid of exposing
my all  to the world’s stark light,
laying myself open to sentiments
parading its ignorance

I should ignore the bigots
he would say and I had to agree,
but even our passion fuelled my fears
fed on unshed tears

At the parting of our ways,
I cried and begged him to reconsider
the only demand you ever made of me,
no more closet sexuality

He kissed me goodbye
and walked away, leaving me alone
to endure a dark, so-cold pit of misery, 
all my senses numbing

I tried to hate you for that,
but rage never (really) stood a chance
against needing to love, be loved in turn,
reconcile with being born

So I told the world I’m gay,
not (quite) as hard as I had imagined
at the moment I contrived that we’d meet,
and kissed you in the street

Now, we share words of love
anyone might overhear, and respond
for good, bad, or not at all... so who cares?
Not our problem, but theirs


Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

You-Me-Us, a Safekeeping

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

I am retired now and have lived on my own for many years. I have some good friends, but would often go to a pub for a few drinks after work in the hope of finding someone to chat to rather than head directly home to an empty flat.

At such times, I would usually avoid gay bars so guys would not assume I was trying to chat them up, and a predominantly straight but gay-friendly bar I knew was always a favourite option. Sometimes, I might well find myself attracted to someone after chatting for a while. Then of course, I would have to try and work out if he was gay and whether he might even be similarly attracted to me. Invariably, I’d just enjoy the company and leave it at that rather than risk making a fool of myself. Yet, every now and then I’d consider the risk worth taking …and take it.

 ‘Win some, lose some.’ ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ All the old clichés conspired (with several pints of ale) to persuade me…

YOU-ME-US, A SAFEKEEPING

We had only just met
in a crowded, gay-friendly bar
(I liked him a lot)

He had views, opinions,
a very open-minded sort of guy
(how time did fly!)

Bar closing, time to part,
and he invited me to his place
(to share his space?)

I could not even be sure
He liked me much the same way
(was he even gay?)

He was so dressed to kill,
and I was in old jeans and a tee
(did he really like me?)

Bar closing, time to choose
if going back with a total stranger
would put me in danger

He seemed a genuine person,
and the evening had gone so well
(I so fancied him like hell)

I’d take my chances and agreed,
enjoying the ride in his so-cool car
(still no hint of…whatever)

Later, we chatted over a coffee,
and I managed to turn conversation
Into homo erotic speculation

He laughed.  I thought I should go,
got to my feet, resigned to losing out
(but, oh, so glad we had met

I thanked him for a nice evening,
and expected we’d just shake hands
but found myself in his arms

We kissed and it was all so natural,
just like our getting together had been
(my idea of seventh heaven)

One night stands may come and go;
love, its beautiful dream left sleeping
till waking in our safekeeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; 2017

Closet Lives

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

Years ago, I had a fling with an Austrian guy called Günter. He was not openly gay in Germany, but enjoyed being so with me here in London. (I have lived in London 30+ years.)  We had a great time, seeing London - including a few gay bars, most of which have since closed down - and getting to know each other better.  The affair only lasted two weeks, and then he returned to Austria. We kept in touch for a while, but there was no Internet then and neither of us was good at writing letters. (Post-Internet generations are so lucky in as much as it is so easy to keep in touch with people by e-mail, even Instant Messaging.) 

I have often wondered if Günter ever took the plunge and came out to family and friends as he was very unhappy about not telling them. He asked me what I thought he should do, but I never give advice, only express an opinion. If he was unhappy, I said, he needed to do something about it. He agreed, but seemed doubtful so I often wonder…

It is a curious phenomenon, unhappiness; hard, near impossible to put aside, but can and needs to be superseded by a life focusing on sufficient satisfaction if not joy to keep it in the shade where it belongs. Like many trite sayings, there is much truth in ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ More often than not, the way is neither easy nor plain sailing, especially in the shorter term.

Whatever, it is always a good start, achieving peace of mind, in one sense if not another…and who knows what lies ahead?  Nor is it so different for gay people coming out of a dark, lonely, closet than for heterosexuals harbouring secrets they would prefer not to keep but fear the consequences of breaking their silence?  

Most if not all of us tell lies sometimes, but we are kidding ourselves to suggest it does no real harm. Oh, yes, we tell truths too.  The trouble is humankind tends to have different versions of each. Most lies - and just as many home truths - invariably hurt someone, somewhere. Better then to develop a greater affinity with truth, and be less judgemental even if it doesn't happen to coincide with our own version of it?

CLOSET LIVES 

Shadowy stalker,

haunting you day and night,

however hard you try

to put me out of your mind

with various distractions,

given that even the human spirit

(easy prey to convention)

sees me as a tough adversary,

never easily defeated

Whatever fine strategy

you may devise to put me down,

I come up with another,

and we lock horns, you trying

to beat me at my own game

while I play dirty, reminding you

of all you stand to lose

if you so choose to give the heart

its straining head

Yes, I play dirty, and well,

teasing inner selves with scenarios

that would have any victory 
of mine a petty, piecemeal affair 
compared any peace of mind

my silence offers, whose riptide 

ever closing in as you run

for cover, having known no better

than secrets and lies

Playing hide-and-seek in your space,

I am Conscience, its saving grace

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Thinking Outside the Box

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

I once asked two gay guys how they first got together, and this poem is – in effect – their story. It is one to which I, too, can relate if not quite in the same way, which is probably why it is a long poem. I found myself wandering Memory Lane and wondering whatever happened to a long-ago good mate of mine…

As some of us struggle with our sexuality, it is only too easy to imagine we are the only ones facing trial by conscience; a conscience moulded into shape over formative years when we had neither the experience to understand the implications nor the articulation to ask the right questions. Our elders and betters knew best, end of story.

As we grow into ourselves, strive for a sense of personal identity, we may well start to wonder how much of that identity comprises the real self and how much is the result of well-intentioned brainwashing. We ask of ourselves the questions we never thought to ask, often struggling with the answers our experience of the world so far feels inclined to offer; not just gay people of course, but many if not most of us who begin to question what we had been raised to believe was unquestionable. 

For gay men and women, the consequences can (not always) be traumatic…until we make a decision as to whether or not (and how) to move forward or slip quietly, unobtrusively, back into our comfort zone. The trouble is, the chances are it will no longer offer anywhere near the same the degree of comfort, no matter how conscientiously we address the task of playing hide-and-seek with human nature. 

THINKING OUTSIDE THE BOX 

A mate (among others) for years

kissed me out of the blue

and I sent him flying, left him lying

in a bloody heap on the floor,

ran to the door and into the street,

telling myself I was so angry I could cry,

and, yes, I did, but (much) later

After that, I ignored him for weeks,

satisfying the intense curiosity

of family and friend with a pack of lies

everyone seemed to swallow,

urging that we kiss and make up

quite oblivious to the irony of that phrase,

well meant, but like a knife in me

I missed him so much, the hurt in me

sent my mind rapidly spiralling

into dark places I had not been before,

yet among faces I easily recognized,

mouthing words I had only ever heard

in the school playground, on street corners,

folks taking the piss out of queers

How had I never guessed he was gay,

this good mate of mine for years,

with whom I had enjoyed doing the things

mates do, even chatting up girls now

and then (what on earth was he thinking?)

all the time, holding out on me, living a lie,

hidden feelings I could barely imagine

Imagine, though, I did as time crawled by,

dragging half-forgotten memories

into a pattern of sorts I had either missed

(or chosen not to see?) - revealing

as much about me as my former mate,

uneasy nights and restless days haunting

every move I made, ever word I said

I called at his house one rainy weekend,

much as per usual in the old days,

and his mother was so pleased to see me

I felt guilty for having stayed away,

feet dragging on the stairs as if leaden

as she showed me up to his room, his pain,

like a scar across his face, plain to see

What to say, where to start? I had no idea,

Having struggled with my feelings

to reach a (very) piecemeal understanding

of why I’d said and done what I had

and couldn’t undo or unsay so let instinct

have its way, let my senses run free wherever,

gave him a big hug, hoping for the best

He asked me nervously why I had come.

and it was only then I knew

why his loss had left me so empty a shell,

and how to fill it, mind and spirit

embracing a body hungry for such dreams

as I’d thought impossible, going there anyway,

much relieved he was kissing me back

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Closet Fear

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

Here in the West, it has been my experience that many gay people take freedom of sexual identity for granted.  True, there is no denying that homophobia is still alive and kicking. Yet, I have listened over the years to chilling tales of how it is to be gay in countries where same sex relationships remain a criminal offence (Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia and various African countries among many) punishable by a public whipping, prison or worse. I have learned to count my blessings…even during those low points in my life when they may otherwise have seemed too thin on the ground for much comfort.

The heart is a free country, not a prison; wherever its every beat expresses fear of exposure under pain of punishment, even death, that's more than an abuse of Human Rights, but makes any of any religious dogma advocating it the greater abuse or sin against humanity by far. Religion is meant to be an expression of love; no God of Love would condone hate crime in any shape or form. I left my local Church Sunday School for this very reason at the age of ten years, four years before I realised and acknowledged (to myself at least) that I am gay. 

It is a tragedy for the West that many if not most immigrant families bring their religious dogma with them, forcing their gay young people into the kind of closet public opinion forced me into years ago; one which resulted in a mental breakdown in my early 30's and a suicide attempt. Even now, I bitterly regret not coming out to family, friends and work colleagues, whatever their take on homosexuality,  until my early 40's.

CLOSET FEAR

No one can know we’re lovers,

(everyone sees us as good friends)

nor any peace of mind, given a love

that's taboo

No one can know we share a bed

whenever I stay over at your place,

taking each day as it comes, for good

or ill

No one can know we’re gay men

playing hide-and-seek with shadows,

one mind-body-spirit no less deserving

of nurture

No one must guess our secret,

war weary of judgmental stereotypes

dragging us down even as we recharge

its batteries

No one must catch a single look

between us that even hints at a story

that dare not be told though reworked

for centuries

No one must guess we’re lovers;

many would have us publicly stoned

to death to satisfy an inhumanity baying

for blood

Yet, we will lie, bodies entwined,

away from prying eyes and loose talk,

make love among far kinder hypotheses,

dream on…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

  

Homing in on Moon Craters (Day or Night)

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

Now and then, readers of one or other (even both) my poetry blogs  - all ages, both sexes, gay and straight - email to say they are in London or coming to London and would like to meet up for a chat (about anything and everything) over a few drinks or a meal. I always enjoy these catch-ups, have met some very interesting people and keep in touch if only by email. So feel free to contact me any time, even if a meet-up is never likely to be on the cards. While I don’t allow comments on the blogs, I will always reply to emails; a lively exchange of views and opinions is always fun.

My mother used to say that if something was worth saying, it was worth repeating. So, yes, I often comment on the blog how sad it is but true that many gay people still find it hard to be openly gay, more often than not because they happen to live in a gay-unfriendly home and/or school and/or work environment.  We may well be attracted to the same sex, but whether or we do anything about it can be the toughest decision some of us make in course of our entire lives. There are always consequences, of course, good and less good. We need to consider likely scenarios and ask ourselves how or if we are up for handling these. Doubts will persist until a decision is taken, but is a half-life of keeping up appearances a workable alternative?

In some countries, of course, gay relationships remain a criminal offence punishable by prison or even death.  Gay people have little choice but a closeted sexual existence in which case, better the human self in a closet than a cage…or worse. Even so, it is possible to be true to the self while paying lip service to everyday survival tactics.  I discovered that for myself as a youth and young man. It is stressful, yes, but sometimes necessary; those of us who can be freely, openly gay need to remind ourselves of that sometimes.

As regular readers will be only too aware, I was in and out of the closet for years before finally leaving it as an openly gay man in my late 30's. To this day, I am l haunted by those long-ago closet days. We should never presume to judge or condemn someone for NOT coming out, for whatever reason; it is a very personal choice.

Instinctively, during a crisis of self-awareness, we feel in dire need of a comfort zone, putting inner chaos in perspective with someone whom those same primeval instincts tell us is wrestling much the same crisis of  self-esteem, self-consciousness and, yes, sexuality.

Oh, but there is something particularly intoxicating about discarding inhibitions, giving sexuality (or imagination) its head with someone special among moon crater, as visible in sunshine as on a clear, starry, night … if we choose to look, and see.

HOMING IN ON MOON CRATERS (DAY OR NIGHT)

Moonlight at the window

like pale lips on a wine glass,

sipping without tasting,

teasing,  pleasing, as if enjoying

good company…

A tinkling laughter of wind bells
floating through

a half-cocked ear encouragingly,
no hint of mockery 

What are you thinking?

Are you wondering, could I be gay

and (if so) what to do,

come over and chat…or what?

Here we are, wallflowers

at some charity ‘do’ wrestling

an intimacy and affinity
with nature for a complete stranger,
no mere passer-by

Oh, but light music enough

to stir a body to mimic spring flowers

in parks and gardens

swaying in a breeze, sending out

mixed messages
hard to read through the misting-up
of one beer glass
after another, hoping (finally) to be rid
of a closet sexuality

Alas, chased by a cacophony

of muffled sounds, making an escape

through French windows;

a mercy, could well have been

so embarrassing…

Better like this, on the edge of time

and personal space,
making-believe I'm in a better place,
no matter the loneliness

Safer, more anonymous

than ever here, outside everything

and (almost) everyone,

no copycat reflections demanding

I circulate, chat, or opt out,

although of what, exactly, unable

to (quite) articulate,

as aware of your presence behind me,

an opening of swing doors

Earth Mother, killing doubts
and fears, insisting no time for tears,
(get my act together)
deafening all mind-body-spirit

with pin-drop silences

as together (if not quite together yet)

we go where passionate kisses

like garden scents invite us to make love

 among moon craters

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2004; 2015

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'A Feeling for Moon Craters' in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Vice Versa OR G-A-Y, At the Cutting Edge of Reason

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

I sometimes receive emails from gay people (and their parents) who complain that I over simplify the act of ‘coming out’ as an openly gay boy, girl, man or woman. Apologies for that, but it is not the impression I try to give. On the contrary, I appreciate only too well how hard it can be for some gay people to be openly gay, especially if they happen to be living in a gay-unfriendly environment.

The first and (in my view) the most important step is that gay people should come ‘out’ to themselves. How they live their lives after that is up to them; that’s where choice comes into the equation. We do not choose to be gay, nature made us this way, but we do have to choose what paths we follow in life once we have acknowledged our sexuality to ourselves.

Gay, lesbian, transgender, bisexual or heterosexual, we all need to come to terms with the multi-facets of human nature and the human condition as it relates to us on a personal level and makes us who we are; once we acknowledge these and bring them together in mind, body and spirit, then and only then are we in a position to choose to make more or less of the opportunity to make more or less of our lives…as we are, not as others would perhaps have us be.

As I have said on the blogs so many times, our differences do not make us different, only human. While it may not always be easy to get other people to see that,  it has been my experience that life becomes a whole lot liveable once we see it for ourselves.

VICE VERSA or G-A-Y, AT THE CUTTING EDGE OF REASON

Told, a devil in me,
all but sold on the idea of my sexuality
as a travesty of morality;
cold, this body for want of intimacy,
grown old before its time, a fragile mind
at the cutting edge of reason

Conventions taunting me,
all but convincing me I entertain a parody
of humanity;
questions haunting me,
demanding of sense and sensibility
a lasting reconciliation

At odds with family
and friends, raging against a raw obstinacy
(all they ever see…);
a frantic  spirit in me
demanding the human right to be free
to be as I am, no one else

Time, applauding me
for going my own way, and purposefully
though remarked foolishly
by those who cannot (or will not) see
life is love,  and vice versa

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015