The Two of Us, a Love Story

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

Reader ‘Jean-Claude’ who lives in Paris once emailed me about this poem to say how much he could relate to it. What better praise for a poem than it lets the reader into it?  I wrote it as my thoughts turned to a particularly memorable June night there many years ago...

I would also like to take the opportunity yet again to recommend a delightful DVD  'Juste une question d'amour' ( Just a Question of Love) which take a delightful and sensitive look at the difficulties the parents of some gay people experience in coming to terms with their son's homosexuality.

I have a friend who lives in Lille who still feels he cannot break it to his parents that he has a boyfriend even though they have been in a relationship for some years. Sadly, there are gay people worldwide who feel they cannot be open about their sexuality for one reason or another. In my friend's case, he is burdened with a whole load of Catholic guilt; in other parts of the world, gay people have anti-gay legislation to contend with and live with the threat of imprisonment or worse. It is a sad indictment on a 21st century from whose socio-cultural-political and religious elements we deserve better.

I find the rise of the Far Right across Europe very disturbing, not least because it plays on people's fears regarding the extent of immigration. While it is true that many immigrants are from cultures that are intrinsically homophobic, and many seem unwilling to change their attitudes towards gay men and women, we should never forget that the policies of the Far Right are as essentially homophobic as they are racist. No one who deplores prejudice of any kind should ever vote for these people.

Gay couple outside a cafe in Paris; photo by Braden Summers (Internet)

THE TWO OF US, A LOVE STORY

Under Paris stars, 
one night in June - a nightingale 
sang our tune;
we embraced, 
exchanging vows - with tongues
of fire

No chill of darkness
undermining or intruding upon
our happiness;
your hand in mine 
as kissed and exchanged rings
said it all...

Come morning, 
sweet night bade us each a fond
"au'revoir";
a minute’s silence
for two singles joined together
(no matter what)

Cock crows 
as we embrace a parallel dawn,
bask in its glory;
love, icon
for all seasons, opening its petals
to the sky

Story told, the world over, me 
and my gay lover

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appeared as ‘The Two of Us’ in First Person Plural, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; revised ed. in e-format in preparation. 

A Hitchhiker's Guide to Christmas

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

Well, yes, it’s that time of year again.

Now, I’m no killjoy and it is always GOOD to see people happy and celebrating whatever the occasion. Regarding religious festivals, regular readers will know that I do not subscribe to any religion. Christmas cards were only ever a way of keeping in touch with people before the advent of computers.  (For anyone like me who have terrible handwriting, e-mails are a great idea.) 

Many thanks to all of you for supporting my blogs. I can but trust you have found at least some  poems to enjoy. 

As for Christmas, however you feel about it, whoever and wherever you are, ENJOY and may its message of peace and goodwill to all humankind be for all time, not just at this time of year. Who knows? Maybe, just maybe, all humankind may even listen and learn one of these days…?

A HITCHIKER’S GUIDE TO CHRISTMAS

One Christmas Eve,

I sat alone by the fire,

content awhile

to watch familiar shapes

in feisty flames

invoke happy memories

of times long ago,

the world a kinder place

place where such

as you and me would live,

love, and hitch rides

to gay-friendly galaxies

on wishing stars,

exploring the potential

for Happy-Ever-After

One Christmas Eve,

I felt alone by the fire,

saddened so

to watch familiar faces

coming and going

like players on a stage

acting out memories

for an audience of one,

all those who lived

for love by hitching rides

to gay-friendly galaxies

on wishing stars invoking

Happy-Ever-Afters

for any less touched by love

than seems fair

One Christmas Eve,

I almost let the fire go out

for empathising

with flickering flames

struggling

to stay feisty, a losing battle

from the start

where the heart not in it

when suddenly

one flame leapt higher

than the rest

as if making the point

that all’s not lost

till we wish it of open hearth

and inner self

One Christmas Eve,

I took a new lease of life

for taking my cue

from a fire all but gone

to embers,

the spirit of love and peace

risen like a phoenix

for getting push and shove

from an understanding

that past loves never fade,

are an inspiration,

forever banging on doors

to be let in…

if only to share more hitchhikes

on wishing stars

Copyright R N. Taber 2016

A Window on Christmas

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

There is nothing sinful, criminal or wrong with the love between two gay men or women. Others will always disagree, and sometimes we might even feel sufficiently put down by various socio-cultural-religious bigots among the heterosexual majority to start doubting the deeper truth and wisdom of our own feelings.

In my experience, something (or someone) always happens along to restore our faith in ourselves, in human nature and in a greater good that does not exclude the gay ethos in its ringing endorsement of human love.

A WINDOW ON CHRISTMAS

I could hear cock robin’s song in the air;
at a window I watched first snowflakes fall,
missing you so, wishing we could share
that gift of love at Christmas meant for all

Your religion forbids our kind of love,
you feared rejection by family and friends,
so we kissed farewell under stars above,
forgetting that true love's dream never ends

In the distance, I could hear bells ringing
tidings meant to fill lonely hearts with cheer;
at my own front door, an angel singing
about love. peace and goodwill everywhere

Caught in a window’s wintry reflection
I saw a tearstained face raise a sunny smile,
broken hearts mending, moment divine,
snowflakes reminiscent of a wedding veil

I rushed to my front door, flung it open wide
to fall into your arms, our first Christmastide

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'First Christmas' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Human Spirit, the Making of Us (All)

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

There will always be some who refuse to get their heads around the fact that there are millions of us gay people amongst all humankind making as equally valuable a contribution to its humanity as our heterosexual neighbours. The trouble is, humankind comprises multiple closed shops marketing multiple closed hearts under various socio-cultural-religious and political umbrellas. Fortunately, the human spirit is an open house and will yet see the  greater part of humanity prove itself the better for that.

Spirituality emanates from a person's mind-body-spirit; no religion has a monopoly on it. To me, it seems absurd to suggest that a non-religious person cannot, by default, experience a sense of spirituality; bonding with nature is no less of a spiritual experience than embracing God as defined by whatever dogma. Yes, people will argue for one concept or another, but is it not agreeing to differ that makes us human?

HUMAN SPIRIT, THE MAKING OF US (ALL)

When folks ask why I’m gay,
I tell them I was born this way

Some will say it can’t be true,
any God has better things to do
than create distorted images
to blot humankind’s copybook,
rewrite history’s pages,
make religions take a long look
at themselves, leave cultures
to those power-hungry vultures
that love to preach and lead,
assuming their authority as read

Some suggest my sexuality
is irreconcilable with spirituality;
they, so blessedly taken in
by interpretations of Holy Books,
a case for eternity that brooks
no argument among those afraid
of condoning, let alone trying
to understand bigotry they’re sold
by those we’re told know better
how best we live with one another

People accuse me of blasphemy
(at best, a penchant for immorality)
thus putting me on the defensive
for what has to be a clear distortion
of what Holy Books have in mind
for each person (Oh, so what am I?);
Ah, but taking issue asks we see
how and why there is a place for each
and every one of us, regardless
of our colour, creed, sex or sexuality

Those folks who ask why I am as I am
might well ask the same of themselves

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem under the title ‘Found Wanting' appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2012]

Oh, but Santa's running So-o-oo Late

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

This poem was written in 1996. In many societies and communities, attitudes towards gay people have changed for the better, but many remain bigoted, a carbuncle on the face of human nature. Yet, we are a common humanity driven by a common desire for love and peace…so where, oh, where did humanity lose the plot?

Religious festivals, Christian or otherwise, acknowledge the power of peace and love so if we all seek the same goal, why can’t we put our differences aside and put spiritual aspiration into practice across a world that still has much to learn…?

Many gay people enjoy family life, but many others find themselves rejected by family simply because even love is not enough to overcome old prejudices. Family should be all about love and peace...should it not? (Mind you, mine hasn't for years, as much my fault as theirs,) 

Religion, too, is frequently found to contradict itself, not least by being somewhat selective as to whom it offers 'universal' peace and love since one invariably needs to be of the same persuasion for it to be meaningful in either spiritual or practical terms. 

Oh, there are exceptions to every unwritten rule, and bless 'em all, the irony being that coming together in peace and love  has long been recorded in those very Holy Book from which world religions profess to take their cue.

OH, BUT SANTA'S RUNNING SO-O-OO LATE

Christmas, a special time of year,

thoughts of home deserve a special tear;

loneliness, greater than a fear

of nights and days, maze without end

(it seems) in worst waking dreams;

whatever creed or need, here's hoping

for the strength to endure, ways

to be sure that - for all our pain - we’ll get

to laugh, find peace and love again

Kisses flaunted on Queer Street, 
one for each chair left haunted each year,

along with with evergreen comfort and joy
just for being there

Ah, Christmas! Dreamy yearnings

of the heart, wistful thoughts like mistakes

on a fire; flames risen higher

and higher as we pile on self-blame,

calling out in Someone's name

to restore us, cool and clean - to a world

that needs must hang its head 

in shame no more or leave us for dead

at some mindful spirit's door

Who to wipe our tears, calm our fears, 
rewrite history, let us hold our heads high
while we negotiate (blindly) a festive maze 
of bigotry and hate?

Oh, but Santa running so-o-oo late...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016 (Rev. + new title, 2018)

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared under the title 'Crisis at Christmas' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]

Opening Closed Doors

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

While I often write in the first person, it is neither necessarily autobiographical nor simply to invest a poem with a sense of directness, but also to draw the reader into a ‘felt’ experience; one that I may not have shared at first-hand, but to which, in one way or another, I can relate. I guess the jury is still out on whether or not my approach works for them.

Recently, I received an email from a Catholic man who was finally persuaded to be openly gay during a holiday in Rome. He writes, ‘…for the first time in my life, I met someone who doesn’t see being gay and Catholic as a contradiction.’ He adds, ‘Nor does my friend think this way for his own convenience, but genuinely believes - as I do now - that whoever we are, and however we choose to imagine God, no concept of God can truly exist in a discriminatory context against anyone or the very principles of religion, love and peace, start to fall apart at the seams…’

I could not agree more, and although I do not subscribe to any religion myself, I applaud any gay (or straight) person who arrives at an understanding - however long it takes - that a sense of spirituality and an LGBT lifestyle are NOT mutually exclusive, except perhaps in the hearts and minds of those who choose to insist differently for their convenience.

Years ago, I knew a Christian man who confided that, while he agreed me ‘in principle’ about not discriminating against anyone because of their sexuality, he would never say so openly because he could not bring himself not to fear what he called 'God’s response'. He readily conceded that the New Testament effectively refutes interpretations of God in the Old Testament as a one quick to anger and effect reprisals. In its place, yes, we find a God of love and understanding. At the same time, my Christian friend was unwilling to put that belief to the test by openly disputing that God’s love cannot be assumed to extend to gay people. (It is all very well for an Archbishop of Canterbury, for example, to say he has no problem with gay people, even clerics, so long as they are not practising sex, but sex is a natural human urge. How can a religion preaching that God created all humanity deny its being invested likewise with a sexuality of one persuasion or another?

OPENING CLOSED DOORS 

It was at the heart of Rome,

a lonely heart caught

its first shy glimpse of a place 

to (finally) call home 

Oblivious to tourist crowds,

I confronted my self

in a fountain as honest with me

as passing clouds

A sad face, etched with pain, 

accused me of all sorts

for deceiving my friends, family,

and (worse) religion

Another face looked in at me

through this window

on a so-beleaguered conscience

addressing sexuality

I couldn’t prevent an intrusion

into this dialogue

with feelings I’d nursed for years

and kept well hidden

Not a word passed between us

as kindred spirits

engaged freely in open mind-speak, 

spreading like ripples

Coin faces applauding us pair,

encouraged me

to look up and smile if tremulously

at the person there…

He grinned, and said ‘Hello’

(I was lost for words)

and then walked away, glanced back

to see if I’d follow

Yes, follow I did, a free mind, 

body and spirit

for sensing St Peter’s natural affinity

with all humankind

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Something to Declare

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

As we are growing up, many experiences - and the emotional context in which we relate to them - are new to us; sometimes we guess how we are meant to behave, guess wrong and try to mask our confusion and any embarrassment by playing the fool (well, I did ) if only because it takes the heat out of whatever situation it is that we haven’t a clue how to handle. (Heaven forbid we should appear ignorant of the appropriate conventions!)

As we grow older, we (hopefully) find the self-confidence to express our own views and feelings without fear of being contradicted or even put down because we are more adept at holding our own in this or that situation, this or that point of view. We can dispense with masks, up to a certain point…at which we may well feel the need to retrieve one that has helped us out in the past if only for token reassurance.

I suspect most if not all of us all have a variety of alternative faces hanging in that wardrobe of the mind we call memory, one for every occasion. I do, although I binned the heterosexual mask with which I grew up more years ago than, at 70, I care to remember; my own face will have to do, warts ‘n’ all.

We are who and what we are, a complex mix of identities - including sexual identity - and that has to be as personal as anything gets. Half the battle, in my experience, is getting to grips with self-awareness; if needs must we remain in a closet, once alter ego has access instead of having to bang on the door demanding entry, it becomes much easier (rarely easy) to live with ourselves, and get a life.

SOMETHING TO DECLARE

I was never any good at school,

my schooldays were a sham,

I’d mess around and play the fool

because I couldn’t quite get to grips

with who I am

I had a working class education,

didn’t ever dare aim high,

couldn’t see the point of ambition,

so I’d mess around and play the fool,

content to live a lie

I had a real problem with identity,

couldn’t bear anyone to know

it was an awakening homosexuality

saw me mess around and play the fool,

put on a side-show

I’d have sex in sly, secret places,

even fancy guys in the street,

could sense revulsion in their faces

though never one sure, all-seeing eye

would I ever meet

There came a time as I grew older,

I wearied of playing the ham,

resolved to get real and be bolder

about letting on to this sorry old world

just who I am

I came out to just about everyone,

and it was scary, but, oh, so cool

to be free at last of secrets, have fun,

be a man, walk tall, and less of playing

the fool

In those days I never had much of a life,

my early years were a sham;

now, though. if I sometimes play the fool,

it’s because I’m relaxed, happy, content

to be who I am

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2016

LGBT, a Global Player

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

[Update (July 21, 2016): I don’t use social media but friends have been in touch about abuse aimed at Tom Daley there. Appalled and saddened, I posted an update earlier today to my poem ‘Olympic Games’ on my general blog: http://rogertab.blogspot.co.uk/2016/08/olympic-games-or-old-gods-new-gods-and.html You will be pleased to know that, as a result, more (heterosexual) readers have contacted me already who are equally supportive of Tom than abusive towards me; whether or not they liked the poem, they clearly approved of my comments regarding what sadly remains a homophobic majority worldwide. No worries, we ARE getting there, thanks to people in the public eye like Tom. Despite the social and religious bigots, the whole world may yet realise that people are people, deserving of equal rights and mutual respect regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality.]

Now, I rediscovered today’s short poem (dated 1982) among a pile of papers while clearing out my studio apartment in London some time ago. To be honest, I don’t recall writing it, but the date is significant as I was still recovering from a severe nervous breakdown; it would be some time before I was well enough to start looking for a job and nearly a year before I started work. Sadly, it is as relevant now- for many gay people around the world -  as it was then, and I have only slightly revised the original.

Poetry, as regular readers will know, has always been a form of creative therapy for me,. Having suffered from depression since early childhood - at a time when depression in children was either dismissed or not taken seriously by either parents, doctors, teachers or social workers – it became a restorative escapism for the harsher realities of life, and remains so to this day. (I am in my 70's now.)

Growing up at a time when gay relationships were not only a criminal offence here in the UK but being gay was considered ‘sick’ by the heterosexual majority, I had to stay in a cold, dark closet during my teenage years and as a young man. Indeed. So hard was it to shrug off those years that I was in and out of the damn closet for a long time after gay relationships were decriminalised in 1967. I am in no doubt that this ordeal made a significant contribution to a nervous breakdown in my early 30’s ...

Sadly, even in so-called ‘liberal’ countries like the UK, gay men and women growing up in a gay-unfriendly home and/or school and/or work environment. I can only urge them to discover the power of positive thinking and let everyone know that most stereotypes still that continue to attach themselves to gay people in the minds of the less enlightened are not only misleading and offensive but invariably a pack of lies.

By the way, readers contact me from time to time to complain that my blog post/poems are somewhat repetitive.  I offer no apologies for tackling similar themes time and again although I do my best to vary form and content. I have been happily and openly gay for a good 30+ years but am painfully aware that many gay people around the world are (still) unable to come ‘out’ for various reasons; it is one of the more appalling and tragic aspects of the 21st century. 

Bigotry takes various forms, of course, and doesn't only target gay people. Whatever, we gay people from all walks of life - have a major, indeed global part to play in stamping it out worldwide or at the very least leading by example in getting the better of it ...

LGBT, A GLOBAL PLAYER

Some people, as a matter of course,
ask what being gay means to me,
and then (oh, so subtly) put forward
assorted perspectives on perversity

I take them by surprise when I reply
that I’m proud of my sexuality
in the sense that it inspires me to try
and make good a native spirituality

Being gay doesn’t make us different
in how we live (except sexually);
sadly, some will rush to judgement,
casting aspersions our integrity...

Hear LGBT folks speak with one voice
in a divided world (its own choice)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Least Said, Soonest Mended

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

(Update May 11 2017): People with HIV are living around a decade or so longer than they did 20 years ago, according to a new report in the medical journal, The Lancet. While doctors and charities are calling the increase in life expectancy for people with the virus in Europe and the US a “tremendous medical achievement” they warn many are missing out on life-saving drugs as they have not yet been diagnosed as HIV positive . Meanwhile, HIV infection and AIDS among children continues to be a significant problem in developing countries. there is no room for complacency.] RT

It appals and upsets me whenever I (still) hear of people with the HIV virus being demonised for it. While no one can deny living with HIV is never going to be easy, medical research means that people can live with it for a good many years now with the appropriate medication. Those years would be made more bearable and far better spent by those affected if the disease were not (still) treated as a taboo subject by so many people worldwide.

Diana, Princess of Wales' commitment had an amazing effect in challenging attitudes towards people living with HIV and breaking down stigma and misconceptions.

Sexual responsibility is down to every sexually active person; male or female, straight or gay. It is pathetic - if typical of a universal ethos where everything is always someone else’s fault - that gay men are (still) expected to bear the brunt of the blame for the spread of the HIV-AIDS virus.

When I was active sexually (sadly, at 70, I am not if by medical necessity rather than choice) I would regularly get tested for HIV-AIDS and count myself fortunate that the results were always negative. It makes me angry when I hear people saying they won’t have the test because they would rather not know. Maybe they wouldn’t, but what about any partner to whom they could potentially pass it on? Nor is even using a condom a guarantee of sexual health since condoms have been known to leak; safer sex is a (very) low risk option, but there is no such thing as no-risk sex.

We are living in the 21st century! That prejudice towards people with HIV-AIDS should continue to raise its ugly head among the less enlightened in societies worldwide has to be one of the greater (of many) modern tragedies; not least because, in many cases, it goes unchallenged. 

‘Shame on the body for breaking down while the spirit perseveres.’ – John Dryden 

'Those that will not reason, are bigots, those who cannot, are fools, and those who dare not are slaves.' Lord Byron

This poem is a villanelle.

LEAST SAID, SOONEST MENDED

Bigots claim we shame human history
(always, of course, knowing better)
we sinners, 'animals', for spreading HIV

Deserving no room at an inn or charity
(imagine, feeling much like a leper);
bigots claim we shame human history

First among equals, no local dignitary
above consigning us to rumour,
we sinners, 'animals', for spreading HIV

Grand Masters in the art of sanctimony,
(as but comprising the natural order)
bigots claim we shame human history

Turning a deaf ear to such hypocrisy
God forbid any get a cold shoulder,
we 'sinners', 'animals', for spreading HIV

Beware inhumanity posing as morality
where holier-than-thous join together;
bigots claim we shame human history
we sinners, 'animals', for spreading HIV

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: This poem was written in the early 1990’s and has been revised given that attitudes have changed (for better, for worse) since then as more  people have become better informed and less judgemental regarding anyone contracting the HIV virus; an earlier version appears under the title ‘Spelling it Out’ in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

F-A-T-E, Grains of Sand OR G-A-Y, True Grit

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

NB. Having published this post/poem this poem on the blog only a few days ago, I removed it after niggling reservations about the (original) tittle's persisted.

Now, I have met Christians who insist it is ‘nothing personal’ that I will go to hell for being gay, but ‘just a question of faith.’ I have also met Christians and those of other faiths who take the view that if we all were created by a God of Love, He is unlikely to make exceptions on such discriminatory grounds as sexuality...or much else, for that matter. Oh, and yes, I have also met gay Christians as well as gay men and women of other faiths, many of whom were cast from the fold like demons. So what kind of religion is it that demonises people for their sexuality?  

Regular readers know I do not subscribe to any religion, but take what I like to think of as a strong sense of spirituality from nature. At the same time, I utterly repudiate any suggestion that faith and sexuality are mutually exclusive. It may interest some of you to know that I came to that conclusion at the age of 10 while attending Sunday School. If I had the faintest idea then that I am gay, it was one for which I had neither the experience of life nor articulation to even begin to formulate. Like all children, though, I would overhear things. Rumour had it that a neighbour was a homosexual. My mother was shocked when I asked her what the word meant and said it was one that 'good' boys did not ask about. Naturally, I looked it up in my dictionary. 

Given that God created all humankind (as my Sunday School teachers would have me believe) it struck me as a grave injustice that anyone should be thought any less of simply for the way God had made them. This is probably why I felt no guilt when, at 14 years-old, I realised I am gay, and raged inwardly at everyone around me for years. (No one understood why, of course, or bothered to ask, so sure were they that their assumptions were correct, thereby missing the punch line altogether.)

Although I often write poems in the first person, few are strictly autobiographical. Even so, there are elements of autobiography in all my poems although just where is left for me to know and you to imagine…

F-A-T-E, GRAINS OF SAND or G-A-Y, TRUE GRIT

You were leaving a church,

a Holy Bible glued to one hand

as we exchanged glances,

all sense of body, mind and spirit 

like grains of sand descending

an hour glass, delivering us a world

we barely recognised as ours

You hastened on your way.

all but ran to the end of our street

while all I could do was try

to forget how you had affected me so,

scared you suspected

my returning a shy smile with a grin

exposed a maturing sexuality

I barely slept a wink all night

for thinking of you, me, and an ‘us’

never (surely?) any more then

than just wishful thinking on my part

for fear a secret I kept close

to this lonely heart have its way,

and all hell break loose

You skipped school the next day.

(the rumour was that you were sick)

and my pulse kept racing

for revisiting a subtly anxious glance

reflecting my own hunger

for a same sex relationship, love

but a welcome bonus   

I hadn’t subscribed to ideas of fate

till finding you by my side at the bell,

preparing to head off  

in the same direction, a freak shower

demanding our attention,

inviting us to make a decision,

make a mad dash for cover

Inevitably, we were soon engaged

in the kind of meaningless small talk

that means everything,

reading between lines and innuendos,

the suggestion we be friends...

while acknowledging so much more

without having to find the words

We were lovers but a short time,

(good mates the rest of our lives)

killing demon stereotypes,

exposing a world of prejudices,

religious dogma, bigotry...

as an any-excuses-better-than-none

mindset for abusing the rest of us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Leap of Faith OR Peace in Our Time

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

Apologies for the length of this post, but it seemed a good idea to publish the poem here at the same time as answering a number of queries regarding my fiction. (Some of my novels will be of special interest to gay readers.)

Since I first learned to read at 4 years-old, I have been an avid reader, especially of fiction; it offered an escape from certain realities of home life, not least an appalling relationship with my father.  At the same time, I have always enjoyed poetry; my mother would often recite dramatic poems like The Highwayman (Alfred Noyes) and The Ancient Mariner (Samuel Taylor Coleridge) at bed-times as well as or instead of reading a story.

My first poem appeared in my secondary school magazine in the summer of 1955 when I was 11 years-old; ever since, I have always thought of myself as something of a poet. At the same time, my passion for reading fiction remained my chief raison d’être throughout my childhood, teenage years and young manhood; as I became aware of being gay in a society where gay sex was a criminal offence, so the greater my need for escapism. [My partial deafness was also a factor in my hunger for fiction, given that I was constantly mishearing and consequently being misunderstood; at times, my reality was kind of hell.]

The more I read, albeit more fiction that non-fiction, the more I felt an affinity with the darker as well as lighter experiences of its various protagonists; I would often identify with the former and take heart from their (eventually) overcoming the worst of times while the latter encouraged me to develop a wry sense of humour which would carry me through many a humiliation down to both my hearing loss and being verbally abused for being gay. 

A teacher at my old secondary school was something of a mentor. I had confided in him about my sexuality as he was one of the few people in my life that I felt I could trust. I also told him about the conflict within me between distancing myself from a Christian upbringing and my feeling closer to nature than I ever did to religion. "Whatever," he said with a wry smile, have faith in yourself, Taber. Learn to trust your better instincts and feelings, and the rest will follow. What doesn't seem right to some people, doesn't make it wrong, just so long as it feels right to you." On the whole, I hated my schooldays, but I had some of the best teachers a very confused teenager could wish to have.

I wrote the poem below while thinking about my first Gay Pride march and writing my first gay novel, Dog Roses. The book was never published except on the blog. No publishers were interested, but that did not matter because by the time I had finished writing the poem, I realised why I needed to write it in the first place; it was as if the poet in me was telling me to stop thinking about exploring human nature through fiction, but get on with it, give it a go. I have no regrets about leaving a permanent job for what would now be called a zero-hours contract so I would have time to do just that. (In those days, there was plenty of work available.) I have enjoyed every minute.

For anyone interested, my gay-crime novel ‘Blasphemy’ has been published on Google Play: 

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ&hl=en_GB

- although I have also reinstated it (in two parts) on my fiction blog after many requests to do so, and will not be uploading its sequel, Sacrilege, (see my fiction blog in serial form) to Google Play. For more information about my fiction, see below and:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Someone once described the act of Coming Out as a leap of faith. How true that is. I took that leap  om my first Gay Pride march years ago, and never looked back.  It was was truly a leap of faith; faith in myself and that I was committing to a good life, one of which I had been in denial (to most people) for far too long. On that march I experienced a new sense of completeness and personal freedom that dispelled any lingering doubts as to whether or not being openly gay was right for me. For me, yes, but I can see only too well where others are coming from who may feel it's not the right move for them, especially any gay people living in a gay-unfriendly environment. Even so, there is no feeling quite like shedding the shackles of misinformed formative years...

This poem is a villanelle.

LEAP OF FAITH or PEACE IN OUR TIME

Find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

against the language of bigotry

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Wherever so-called ‘betters’ presume to decide

(and judge) on matters of sexuality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Challenging holier-than-thou types sure to side

against love perceived as immorality

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Among voices debating Convention as guide

and role model in a token reality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Questioning laws passed to incriminate, deride

and silence any significant minority

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Defining all humanity wherever cultures collide

in the course of world history,

find G-A-Y speaking up for peace with pride

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

MY NOVELS

DOG ROSES; a gay man’s rites of passage

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/dog-roses-chapter-one.html

(Gay-interest)

BLASPHEMY: a novel

[Crime/Gay-interest] - Also available as an e-book on Google Play..

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/blasphemy-synopsis.html (Synopsis)

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber.html (Pt 1, blog)

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber-part-2.html (Pt 2, blog

SACRILEGE

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/sacrilege-chapter-1.html

(Crime/Gay-interest; sequel to Blasphemy, continues the adventures and misadventures of Laurence Fisher; only serialised on the fiction blog.)

LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/like-theres-no-tomorrow-synopsis_3445.html

(Crime/Mystery)

CATCHING UP WITH MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/catching-up-with-murder-novel-synopsis.html

(1st Fred Winter [crime/gay-interest] novel)

PREDISPOSED TO MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/predisposed-to-murder-synopsis.html

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2012/04/predisposed-to-murder-chapter-one.html
(2nd Fred Winter  novel)

MAMELON (Book One):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-fantasy-novel-synopsis.html

(Fantasy)

MAMELON (Book Two):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/mamelon-2-chapter-one.html

MAMELON (Glossary of Names and Terms used):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-glossary-of-names-and-terms.html

:

Free Spirit, Free Choices (If only...!)

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

Now, each and every one of us has equal rights of way in life regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. Never let anyone tell you differently. As for people like me who do not believe in a personified God, be sure any ‘Heaven’ connects with Earth Mother just as surely as spring follows winter.

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog a few years ago especially for ‘Helen and Max who emailed to say, 'We are devout Christians, but we love our gay son no less for his sexuality or our religion. God is Love, and to reject our son would be to reject Christianity...’ Oh, but how refreshing to hear of Christians being Christian!  There are plenty of them, of course, good people with open hearts and minds regardless of their religion, but we gay men and women seem to have more than our fair share of encounters with the worst kind.

Yes, there are many in gay-unfriendly cultures, communities and societies who are gay-friendly; on the whole, though, those same cultures, communities and societies still have a long way to go be before understanding - and being seen to understand - that sexuality is a fact not freak of nature. Bigotry and prejudice on the other hand...

Few choices we make in life are important as how we choose to live it. I once met a guy and his partner from Nigeria on holiday here in London. We were in a gay bar and they told me how it was impossible to be openly gay back home. I asked how they coped, and did they think there would come a time when they could be open about their relationship. One grinned and said, "Life is all about making choices, yes? Well, we've made one of the most important choices we will ever make. More to come, sure, but it's as they say, Rome was not built in a day..."

Free spirits, yes. Free choices? Well, I dare say life (like love) demands a payback time (sooner or later, in one form or another) of all if not most choices we make in its name.

This poem is a kenning.

FREE SPIRIT, FREE CHOICES (IF ONLY...!)

At the Gates of Heaven,
legends gave me no choice
but return, for better

or worse, make good mistakes

yet to be made, watch plans

fall apart still to be laid, chance

whatever good it takes

for anyone of my disposition

to make a right decision

At the Gates of Hell

a devil all but defined the art

of choice as heads he wins

tails I lose, my head on a block,

or neck on a line where blind

to eyes flashing warnings,

lips preferring to play lackey

to consensus, V-signs making

sense of bad decisions

At the Gates of Love

an angel gave me a choice;

seize the day, no excuses,

or play out sad mind games,

prefer the stars to the sun,

go baying for the moon alone,

never waking to a sharing

of body heat for fear its joys

but fade too soon

May mind-body-spirit yet find me

ways to live, love, and stay free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

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

Among Tales told by Seashells

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

Today’s short poem is deceptively simplistic; it was written in 2004 and was first published in my collection the following year. I say ‘deceptively’ because I had to reach deep within myself to work out why I was feeling so incredibly restless; at times dispirited, yet also optimistic, rather like someone clutching at straws in a deceptively calm sea, unable to find the strength to even try and swim… [How can I be sure it is how I felt? The poem reminds  me.] 

I suspect most of not all of us have a sense, at some time or another, of being tossed about on the eternal in-and-out, to-and-fro tides of time; it can be very wearisome, to say the least.

Well, all I can say is if we are but flotsam and jetsam in the Sea of Life, may it be along the ever gay-friendly shores of love…

Okay, it wasn't the love affair of the century, but we were together long enough to remind us both there life, love (and sex) for the over 60's, and how LGBT history, too, has a delightful habit of repeating itself...at any age...if we let it.

AMONG TALES TOLD BY SEASHELLS

Love hadn’t touched me

for many years;

I had let myself drift freely

on a blue sea of tears

I chanced to find peace

(or did it find me?)

searching for the likes of us 

on that same blue sea

Gone, tears of loneliness 

blue, only the sky;
body (left all but spiritless)

a light in the mind's eye

Ashore at last, for homing in

on the heart's outline

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; revised ed, in e-format in preparation.]

Beauty and Strength, Defining (Gay) Pride OR Diversity, Nature Documentary

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

Regular readers will know that I do not subscribe to any religion. Even so, I hate to see gay men and women, boys and girls made to feel their sexuality and religion are mutually exclusive.

Socio-cultural-religious dogma has much to answer for and still has a long way to go before it can even begin to redress the wrongs and pain it has inflicted - and continues to inflict - on LGBT people worldwide.

Religions would have us believe in a God of peace and love. So why should sexuality matter to any God? And if it doesn’t matter to God, why should it matter to anyone professing to be a God-fearing person? Oh, and if sexuality does matter to a God who created all living things, how come the natural world is inclusively gay…?

I am reminded of a favourite quote: "It is time for parents to teach young people early on that in diversity there is beauty and there is strength." - Maya Angelou

Incidentally, several readers have asked me to repeat the link to my favourite You Tube film about homosexuality in the natural world:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oYdcvRe7ox8

This poem is a villanelle.

BEAUTY AND STRENGTH, DEFINING (GAY) PRIDE or DIVERSITY, NATURE DOCUMENTARY

Subject of a cloud movie one day;
the inner eye researching
all human history, inclusively gay

Apes in captivity, humans at play,
world shaping up, reshaping…
Subject of a cloud movie one day

True audience participation by way
of focusing on an all-embracing
all human history, inclusively gay

Signs of a storm well on the way,
as if the heavens protesting…
Subject of a cloud movie one day

A lark rising, its bitter-sweet lay
an ages-old theme, reworking
all human history, inclusively gay

Imprints on the heart sure to stay,
though a hard rain falling;
subject of a cloud movie one day,
all human history, inclusively gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; 2018

No Giving Up on Happy-Ever-After

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

Today’s poem was written in 1998. It is autobiographical in so far as it is meant to convey something of a growing child’s passion for myths, legends and fairy stories; arguably, (since I was not conscious of being gay at the time) these prepared me for a world in which gay people might well be called upon to do battle with dragons breathing fire, but would emerge heroic, each in his and her own way.

Many people, of course, discover a sense of spirituality in religion; I found mine long ago...in nature.

By the way, the old-fashioned carnation name ‘pinks’ comes from the serrated flower edges, which look as if cut with pinking shears. The name of the colour pink is said to come from these perennials, which have been popular in gardens for hundreds of years. 

Is there such a place as Happy-Ever-After for any of us? Maybe, maybe not, but it will always be fun finding out; even impossible dreams have their moments, if not far more.

NO GIVING UP ON HAPPY-EVER-AFTER

Child in the garden

on a white horse,

charged with letting myth
run its course;

youth on the streets

every day declines
to say why no romance,
lets gossip run its course,

and... who cares?

Grown in the garden,

close to the earth,

looking to heaven for salvation

and rebirth;

tired eyes, all but closed

to humanity's faults,
for being stung by smoke 

from a bonfire of its vanities,
ashes left to smoulder

Come, ride a white horse

across the sky...

Higher! Nature and human nature
taking stock

of bold pinks blooming

in everyday gardens,

spelling out high hopes
for a kinder Earth, never giving up
on Happy-Ever-Afters

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2016

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