The Snowman

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

Christmas  is coming! Do we cheer, sigh or groan? Take your pick.

Now, when we celebrate a religious festival, obviously we are celebrating that religion whether it is Christianity, Judaism, Islam or Hinduism...whatever. At the same time let us remember those who are no longer with us, especially those who taught us how to keep its spirit alive with and open mind and heart so that all we celebrate has meaning way beyond its holy books and various rituals.

Regular readers know I am not a religious person but religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality. I, personally, found that in nature after religion let me down. Even so, I bear no grudges and respect other people’s religious beliefs – just as nature does - even though these are often tainted by intolerance and prejudice, including homophobia. Could that be, I ask myself, where human nature far too often goes so badly wrong?

The UK is experiencing its worst early snowfalls for eighteen years. The snowmen at least have never had it so good.

THE SNOWMAN

Snowman in the sun, icy patches
on the ground;
eyes of conkers soaked in vinegar,
reminder of autumn roll-over;
grandpa’s army coat lent a vintage look;
carrot nose, smiling mouth
(like a rhubarb stick);
we called him Jack, grandma’s cane
helping him stand or, rather,
rd keep him steady in reindeer tracks,
ready to lend a hand

Through the night we waited to see
if Jack would take his cue
from the likes of you and me, fairy lights
on the tree...but we dozed off;
we opened our eyes,
Ma flinging the curtains wide,
(no sign of Jack outside);
among gifts around the tree,
for any who care to look and see,
a card attached to a plain white box
reads simply...

'Thanks for the Memory'

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2004

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Christmas, Hall of Mirrors

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

Yes, a new poem today, appearing on both poetry blogs.

We all like to think we have fewer flaws than the next person, but it is invariably true of many if not most of us. Let’s face it, human nature is flawed, not least because we often have reason to believe it has let is down, even failed us with its complex set-up of contradictions, deceptions and preoccupation with appearances. We can but do our best to overcome these, and most give it our best shot; sadly, this often falls short of its target or misses it altogether, not always our own fault, but down to our target being human and we human beings adept at misreading signs in any shape or form. Many a close relationship has failed dur to those concerned failing to see the bigger picture; indeed, often enough, any picture other than they expect to see it, regardless of how the other person’s expectations. Too few people talk things over, but prefer to think that appearances speak for themselves.  Oh, but appearances rarely do…

Now, what has this preamble got to do with Christmas? Well, as much as it has to do with daily life all year round, but more so because it is a religious celebration; religion is meant to be about love, peace, and goodwill as well as (mutual) tolerance and understanding to all, not just the select few that share and practise our own socio-cultural-religious views and/or approach to life and people. While sharing and caring may well bring people closer, it should not follow that ‘outsiders’ are exempt from the caring aspect which, in my experience, especially with regard to my being gay, has so often been the case. Even so, there have been notable exceptions, supporting my view that religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit is far greater than the sum of all its stereotypical misnomers upon which most world religions are inclined to base conversion tactics. I have nothing against religion except where its followers disrespect those who refuse to enter into its dogma, for whatever reason.

Whatever, ENJOY the seasonal festivities whoever and wherever you are, regardless of religion, race or sexuality; like it or not, we are a common humanity, and more commonly flawed that many if not most of us care to admit, yours truly being no exception.

CHRISTMAS, HALL OF MIRRORS

At Christmas past,

wary of all we might see. Memory Lane

not always the pleasure

we would have it be, certain moments

in time best left for dead

than revived, reawakened, reinvented,

turned into pulp fiction by a mind-body-spirit

arguing against redemption

At Christmas past,

revisiting ghosts, letting them stir us up

with wooden spoons,

mixing fairy tales, Santa Claus, and elves

into an indigestible fudge

of broken promises, missed opportunities,

playing blame games as leave mind-body-spirit

to filter the consequences

At Christmas past,

calling on ghosts to move on, leave us free

to travel Memory Lane

as it used to be, enjoy fun snowball fights

among long-ago peers,

gifts and fairy lights on Christmas trees,

messaging home comforts and joy to passers-by,

carollers, and rough sleepers

Christmas Here-and Now,

calling upon all we Children of Earth Mother

to embrace the twin spirits

of Peace and Goodwill, and play our part

(no matter big or small)

in showing the wariest and fragile of hearts

a global consciousness that needs must prioritise

an inclusive human kindness

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2019

Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.

Footprints in the Snow

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

Today's entry is from my general poetry blog archives for December 2011.

‘Karin and Tomas’ have asked me to repeat 'my video links'. They do not say which one/s so here is the link to my You Tube channel and the link to my (very informal) poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square as my contribution to Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live sculpture' project  in 2009. [The You Tube clips are only a few minutes, but the One and Other video lasts an hour.] I hope you will enjoy them, and will be able to watch in an Internet cafe since you appear not to have a home computer

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT

Meanwhile...

Many gay-friendly heterosexuals I know seem to think I am exaggerating when I tell them that gay men and women worldwide still feel threatened; even here in the West. Perhaps they should take more of an interest in their fellow human beings. Mind you, that isn’t easy when the media all but ignore gay issues except when occasions like World AIDS Day demand they pay some token attention.

I recently received an email from the U.S. based All Out organisation regarding recent anti-gay activities in Russia and Nigeria, but there will be gay people from all countries and of all religious persuasions that will have little to celebrate this Christmas or during any of the world’s religious festivals.

Last week, pressure on the Russian government prevented a vote on its anti-gay bill from taking place. All Out members around the world amplified the voice of Russian activists, forcing world leaders to speak out against this law that justifies hate and discrimination. Russia’s gay men and women remain hopeful, but the fight is far from over; the bill may still come back.

Unfortunately there's no time to celebrate. The Nigerian Senate has just followed Russia's bad example, passing a bill this week which would make it illegal to publicly support LGBT rights. Simply showing up to a gay bar could land you in jail for 14 years, regardless of your sexuality.

www.allout.org/nigeria

Nigeria is already an incredibly dangerous place for LGBT people, and this latest piece of legislation will only further push the Nigerian LGBT community deep underground.

Here’s a BIG HUG from me for gay people world-wide unable to openly stand up for their sexuality for whatever reason.

Now, Christmas is looming fast. As regular readers will know only too well, I do not subscribe to any religion, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect anyone, anywhere, whose religion plays a very important part in their lives. Besides, all religious festivals are times when people, especially families and friends, come together in peace and love. Well, that is how it is supposed to be although it has been my personal experience that peace and love are sometimes in short supply; celebration is by its very nature infectious, and there's nothing wrong with that so long as people remember to live by whatever it is they are celebrating long after the festivities are done and dusted.

And what of those who spend Christmas alone? Well, I personally can honestly say I have spent many a wonderful Christmas alone; yet, never really alone because I am surrounded by the ghosts of Christmases and other ‘together’ times past who never fail to invite me to spend a happy, peaceful if reflective time with them. Moreover, I consider myself a son of Earth Mother, and she is never far away.

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW

I woke one morning to find
snow in the ground;
where my garden used to be,
a vast, white sea,
waves whipped up by the wind
like a frozen Tsunami threatening an island
of woebegone leaves

Footprints across this icy sea
beckoned me;
soon I was following them out
of the garden gate,
where once chirpy fields were,
to winter’s unfeeling whims now laid bare,
trees, like icebergs

The footprints halted suddenly
where daises used to be
you’d made into a chain for me,
each flower a memory,
and we’d promised that spring day
our love would last forever, always find a way
to bring us together

Distant bells ringing joyously,
a snowman smiling at me,
fair Apollo’s coming out to smile
on lovers going that last mile
for one another even in bleakest winter,
all confirming the daisies are with Earth Mother
for safekeeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Suburban Hero OR The Good Neighbour

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog for October 2012.

Today's poem has not appeared on this blog before. I have nothing to add, but will let it speak for itself.

However, I would say to the reader who kindly says he enjoys many of my poems but thinks my collections would sell better and that I'd probably acquire a higher media profile within the arts media if I 'scrapped the gay poetry altogether...' Well, yes, you may well have a point. [Do I care?]

The reason I insist on publishing both general and gay-interest poems is because there is far more to anyone than how their gender or sexuality meets the eye, especially the judgemental eye. Yours truly,  for one, get fed up with the level of such short sightedness in societies worldwide.

SUBURBAN HERO or THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR

He was just an ordinary man, living
an ordinary life on an ordinary street,
and whenever we chanced to meet
he would always make time for a chat,
ask me (for example) did I know that
Mrs T at number ten had been ill again
with lumbago, old J at number five
caught a bug in hospital and was damn
lucky to be alive?

He was such an ordinary man, living
such an ordinary life on such a street
as you might expect to find anywhere
if you care to look beyond dull fronts
of ordinary houses, could be forgiven
for thinking no worse fate (surely?)
than this spending one’s days in such
predictable ways, the stuff of suburban
myth for centuries

He was such an ordinary man, died
only a few years ago in a road accident;
no complicated will, only a pre-paid
funeral insurance, a few items to friends
and the house to an HIV-AIDS charity
that found everyone confiding how they
had suspected he was ‘one of those’
but …immaterial, and the whole street
turned out for the funeral

Such an ordinary man, nothing special,
simply a nice, neighbourly homosexual

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Bks., 2012]

A Christmas Truce

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog from its archives for December 2010.

Religious festivals should bring people together. Yet, so often they follow the age-old tradition of religions worldwide and, in the end, but cause division among family, friends, neighbours....

Christmas is no exception for many of us.

Even where people are brought together for a day or two, it is often no more than calling a truce. Before we know it, we are divided; fighting, insulting, demanding more than we deserve, failing to enter into each other’s points of view...or simply ignoring each other again.

Even so, calling a truce can be a new beginning ... if we let it, always bearing in mind that it takes two to tango' there has to be the will to get together, albeit often absent for all kinds of reasons it is not for any of us to judge.

A CHRISTMAS TRUCE?

Sought, a safe haven on Christmas Day
from family stuff, presents round a tree,
giving the rein to how things should be,
denying what stares in each tinsel face;
A stranger in red mentioned such a place
where I might escape, find sanctuary,
even peace - away from all pretence
at burying home truths under layers of truce,
letting sweet carols on the ear replace
a harsher cacophony of lies, more lies,
accusation (and retribution?) for crimes
against the ego (never mind humanity)
in the daily round of sheer hypocrisy
and petty discrimination against whatever
points of view that can’t, won’t, shouldn’t
always go with the flow in case we tread
on Someone’s feelings, trigger into motion
a tedious, even violent chain reaction,
that might go on for years, spill more tears
than for Judas or lied about Christmas

So, where to go? I asked a jolly man in red
who started laughing, said to use some
common sense and moved on, leaving me
for dead among piles of pretty wrapping,
more calls for a truce, plates of mince pies
and sausage rolls blind to a soul’s fears,
deaf to its prayers

[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

Making Peace with Christmas

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

This post is from my general poetry blog archives for December 2012.

Now, I have never minded being on my own at Christmas and my kinder ghosts make sure I never feel lonely. I enjoy doing my own thing, in my own time, and in my own way. It’s selfish perhaps, but it is a delight not having to make an effort for anyone, but just be myself. Traditionally, I run the gamut of emotions from past sadness and regrets to being (eventually) reconciled with and thankful for the Here and Now…those ghosts dearest to me always making sure any demons don’t get a look in.

For those that can spend a happy time with family and friends, that’s wonderful, but being alone doesn’t have to mean being lonely; you don't have to be with anyone to enjoy fond thoughts, happy memories, favourite music or even just a feel-good movie/ programme on the radio or TV likely to inspire a sense of peace and love.

(Image from the Internet)

MAKING PEACE WITH CHRISTMAS

It was the night before Christmas
and the world was uncaring and grey
as I made my way home
from bright, cheerful, carols in The Square
knowing that when I turned the key
in my front door there’ll be no one there
just like so many Christmases before

I took my time along the road
and the first snowflakes began to fall
as I made my way home
joyful voices stinging, ringing, in my ears
remembering how once I’d turn the key
in my front door, and you’d be there for me
just like long-ago Christmases before

I passed a tree, its leaves glistening,
and seemed to hear your voice calling me
to hurry, hurry, home
if only to be warm and safe from harm
if oh, so, alone, shutting the door
on a world  making out that all things holy
embrace even the lonely

It was the night before Christmas
and the world was uncaring and grey
as I made my way home
from bright, cheerful, carols in The Square
knowing that when I turned the key
in my front door, the dearest of all my ghosts
would be waiting for me there

Love, lifting me so as it always does,
I made my peace with Christmas

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

The Upbeat Heart

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

Today's entry is from my general poetry blog archives for September 2013.

You don’t have to be in the media spotlight to influence people, even society, for the better; big or small, every contribution counts and we can all make one.

Setting a good example can make a big difference; it may start off as a small ripple on a BIG pond, but it will spread. Much the same can be said for setting a bad example, of course, and we would all do well to remember that. At the same time, in various socio-cultural-religious respects, different people have different takes on what constitutes good and bad. I guess all we can do is engage with and trust our better, kinder, instincts. (At least the meaning of kindness is universally understood if not always much in evidence.)

Ah, but if we can see a ripple spread, we rarely get to see what difference our words and everyday behavior make. Take good manners for example; they seem to have gone out of the window here in recent years, but just saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to someone may well encourage them to do the same and so on, making more of us feel just that little bit better, even hopeful that this sorry world of ours might also take a turn for the better any time soon. Our differences, too, can make a difference to the much divided world in which we live and its splintered societies..by pulling together and creating a better world to pass on to those who deserve better.

This (revised) poem is a kenning. Like many of my later poems, this one is the more mature version of an earlier piece. So why publish the earlier piece? Well, it seemed a good idea at the time, and like many good ideas feedback has since shaped it into something much the same yet significantly different. 

THE UPBEAT HEART

How will it all end,

if they have their way, clerics

and politicians pulling me  

in all directions?

Will some fallen angel

pick on me and drag me away

or will a gentler spirit

have mercy, find a place for me

come Judgment Day?

Shall wolfish death

delight in tearing us apart

or strike swiftly

and cleanly at the human heart,

lost doves find their way,  

defy infernal dark, fly eternal light

or (conveniently) consigned

to mythology, out of human mind

and history’s sight

Not ours to know the how,

where, or when, but be glad to give,

learn, unite in Love and Peace

than passively wait Death’s turn

with us while our ‘betters’

play politics with common sense,

and the better, kinder, part

of human nature gets on with making

all the difference

I am that up-beat of the human heart

that gives humanity a head start

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: This poem has been substantially revised from an earlier version published in 1^st editions of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004 and subsequently in Ygdrasil:, a Journal of the Poetic Arts, May 2006.]

The Other Side of Christmas

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

Today's entry is from my general poetry blog archives for November 2013.

Religious festivals are, among other things, about thinking of others and not taking all we have in life for granted since, there but for good fortune, go you and I...

For those men and women (some of them gay) fighting wherever there is conflict for a better, kinder, world,  may the future hold some real progress in that direction. As for the politicians who send them there, let’s hope they won’t lose sight of those finer aims either, in spite of being preoccupied, as they invariably are, with their own personal standing on the world stage. Nor should we forget loved ones left behind while those in the thick of war risk their lives on a daily basis.

Many fight another war, this time on the Home Front; against poverty, prejudice, loneliness, depression, rejection, unemployment…

I recall, some years ago now, sympathising with a elderly neighbour who had fallen on hard times after a company in which he had been a major shareholder collapsed. " A bad business," he agreed, "but it's as the wife says, so long as we have family and [or]friends we care about and who care about us, who needs shares in anything else?"  At the time, it struck me as a rather trite comment, a way of saving face perhaps. In my 70's now, I often contemplate the wisdom of those words, and cherish the sense of well-being with which they never fail to fill me.

Unhappy people have told me how they hate being told to count their blessings because they are too few. Maybe they - and more, if not all of us - need to look (and count) again...?

THE OTHER SIDE OF CHRISTMAS

No Christmas tree in the window,

no cards or festive decoration,

no real interest in some Baby Jesus,

cause of starry-eyed celebration

As for listening out for reindeer,

deaf ears will catch no sound

or bells ringing out glad tidings

of great joy to (all?) mankind

No joy in snowflakes whirling past

like dervishes on a battlefield

assured of spoils in this, my city,

by climate change across the world

As for taking comfort and delight

in any religious celebration,

fat chance, when all its factions

primed for eternal division…

Nothing special for Christmas lunch

(but better than going hungry)

yet I dare say we’ll survive another

parody of common humanity

Some folks struggle, same folks cope

for shares in Love, Guardian of Hope 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Christmas, Cue for an Open Heart

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

This entry is taken from my general poetry blog archives for December 1916; like many if not most of my poems, the sentiments expressed apply to all readers everywhere...[I am gay, yes, but - as I often reaffirm in posts and poems - there is a LOT more to any of us than our sexuality, however we define it.]

For years now I have written a general and gay-interest Poem for Christmas and sent it to everyone on my contact list instead of a Christmas card, not least because (as other poems on the blog may well illustrate) I am not a particularly Christmassy person.  I empathise with the spirit of Christmas, though, if not with the religion and it is my pleasure to share this  with you. 

Incidentally, some of you may be interested to know that I am giving a sponsored poetry reading for Prostate Cancer UK on World Poetry Day, May 21, 2017. I will not only be celebrating having seen my poetry in print for 60 years (my first poem appeared in my school magazine, 1957) but also living with prostate cancer since the spring of 2011.

As I am not a religious person, Christmas means nothing to me in that sense. While I can appreciate and respect the fact that religious festivals are important to those who wish to celebrate their religion, it often seems to me (being gay) that any messages of love, peace and goodwill to everyone are little more than empty words. 

Religions are only closed shops, though, if their followers choose to make them so; many if not most (but not all, thank goodness) have closed hearts, open only to those who follow its dogma to the letter. (Heaven forbid, anyone should ‘deviate’ even in the name of humanity). Any inhumanity is easily put aside for a Heaven that’s any sheep’s reward for not having the temerity to stray from the dogmatic fold as preached by ‘betters’ who would appear to have His (or Her?) ear. 

Some readers may think my Christmas poems disrespectful, but I can assure you that it is not towards religion that I am so minded but towards those who - in my experience - pay little more than lip service to the major lessons (any) religion professes to preach; e.g. peace,  love, equality, respect and fairness amongst a common humanity…

Thank you for reading my blog/s, hope you have found plenty to enjoy, and here’s wishing you all a VERY Happy Christmas. 

CHRISTMAS, CUE FOR AN OPEN HEART

A pet is not just
for Christmas
nor should December
have a monopoly
on spreading peace 
and goodwill

Love is not just
for Christmas
nor should celebrating
any religion
mean shutting one
up or out

Caring is not just
for Christmas
nor can token gestures
of goodies
repay neglecting
the real thing

Mind, body, spirit,
have no need 
of fairy lights on trees,
decorations,
or even and being seen 
going to prayers

Let’s celebrate
the heart
that’s open all seasons
and all hours,
no one turned away,
no excuses 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Letting Go, a Song of Twilight

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

This poem is from my general poetry archives for July 2014.

Regular readers will know that Hampstead Heath is not far from where I live. Read about it at:

http://www.hampsteadheath.net/index.html

- and find some poems under the 'Culture' heading

& .hear one of my Heath poems - the very first one - (On Hampstead Heath) on my YouTube channel:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A1z_NiNpRQw&t=114s

Now, I have often said on my blogs that letting go of the past and moving on does not necessarily mean leaving anyone or anything behind.

In my experience, the moment of letting go and placing it in the time capsule we call Memory is invariably as intense as it is exquisite; intense, because it is so personal and so exquisite for being so highly charged with the bitter-sweet smells and tastes of recollection, the inner eye selecting the best of the best while tactfully (or conveniently) skipping the worst.

This poem is a villanelle.

LETTING GO, A SONG OF TWILIGHT

On Parliament Hill, I let go of a kite
and watched it drift over London
till just a speck of summer twilight

I felt humbled by the glorious sight
as if I were sailing heavens;
on Parliament Hill I let go of a kite

Fair, copycat bird in graceful flight
filled me with awe and inspiration
till just a speck of summer twilight

The faintest star, harbinger of night,
tracking me down Memory Lane,
on Parliament Hill, I let go of a kite

Empathising with passing daylight,
gripped by a sense of hanging on
till just a speck of summer twilight

Putting wrongs aside (if not right),
time enough for celebration...
On Parliame

Looking Out for Christmas, Anyone

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

Today's post/poem first appeared online in my general postry blog, November 2013 and can still be found in its archives.

So who's looking out for whom at Christmas, the world needs to ask itself, whatever socio-cultural-religious ethos we may or may not subscribe to...

Yes, Christmas will be with us in less than a month. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.

Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If God doesn't mind, why should anyone else?]

No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.

We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.

At the heart of every religious celebration is (or should be) love in all its shapes and forms...or what is there left that any God would have anyone celebrate?  

LOOKING OUT FOR CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?

Come, hear the bells of Christmas

though lost, alone, in the snow,

recalling times past when we’d leave

a card for Santa, hot cocoa

and a mince pie, try to sleep while

listening out for reindeer hooves

pounding across the sky, a cheery cry

ringing loud and clear for children

everywhere to hear, know (for sure)

that we are loved, no matter who

we are or how our lives shaping up,

whether or no we’re finding signs

of Christmas or much the same cruelty

(or worse) than the day before

Peering ahead down an endless road,

lost souls, alone, no place to go

till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love

and peace, count blessings, let bells

speak for us, echo high and low, anxious

to share out the joys of Christmas,

fearful for lost souls looking for refuge

from a bitter-sweet winter snow
where no pretty flowers able to grow
yet nurtured out of sight and light
by Earth Mother, chief carer for a world
beyond even mind-body-spirit,
where all the odds stacked high against
mutual understanding or trust

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2013

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it first appeared in Christmas Remembered, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

Shades of Eternity

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

This post/poem is from my general poetry blog archives for June 2014.

Love is as global as it is eternal, like centuries of birdsong composed by Earth Mother and meant to be enjoyed by everyone; no more or less so for its acolytes being gay or straight.

Lovemaking is as natural as a flower’s petals opening up to sunlight; no more or less so for its lovers being gay or straight.

If beauty is in the eye of beholder, the inner eye needs to see the clearer; no more or less so whatever  our sexuality or gender identity.

SHADES OF ETERNITY or LOVE, TIME TRAVELLER

Days, getting longer,
human spirit, all the stronger,

any pain worth enduring

for the sheer joy of its being

at one with Earth Mother

Eventide, lighter longer

human love, all the stronger

no pain (quite) eclipsing 

its eternal joy for (still) being 

at one with Earth Mother

World, no passing stranger

to seeing its peoples in danger,
left looking back in anger

for any straying from our being
at one with Earth Mother

Days, now getting shorter;

human heartbeats all the fainter,

though any sweet dreams

no less sweeter for our being

at one with Earth Mother

World, darkening sooner,

its lovers left hurting all the longer,
yet hearts beating the stronger
for celebrating their forever being

at one with Earth Mother

Come a world darker or lighter,

we are one with Earth Mother

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem  appears in On The Battlefields Of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Art, a Measure of Home Truths

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

This poem is from my general poetry archives for October 2016. More than one reader has emailed to ask why these archival poems have not appeared on this blog. No reason at all, except that feedback from most of you made it clear that the majority were only interested in accessing one blog or the other so, on the day, I had to make a choice. Poetry, though, like any art form,is all things to all people; we ignore what we choose, enjoy all that with which we can readily identify...and call it art/s appreciation.

An art teacher at my old school once told the class that we should not only learn how to look at art but how also to feel it. That was a good half century or so ago, but I am grateful for the tip to this day.

When we look at a painting, for example, it is obvious what we are looking at; less obvious is what lies behind the painting, how the painter saw his subject through inner eye and various absorbed impressions. The artist’s choice of colours and their shades, the force of certain brushstrokes, all are clues to what he or she is saying not only about his or her subject but  also about themselves.

The best art forms are not only delightful on the eye (or ear) but also draw us into them and thereby into ourselves. In this way, many art works survive centuries and a posthumous consciousness remains available to be tapped into by the discerning art lover who may not even be an expert, simply open to ‘live’ impressions. When we look at a work of art, we inevitably if subconsciously, look into ourselves ... and what do we see?

The Ancient Greeks, of course, produced one of the earliest well-developed examples of gay art. Going their own way from other ancient cultures, the Greeks considered free adult male sexual attraction to be both normal and natural. Gay people  like me were spared tortuous closet years imposed on us by public/cultural opinion; it is one of many modern tragedies that it remains the case for far too many of us worldwide.

ART, A MEASURE OF HOME TRUTHS

Studying me, it’s likely
that far more
than all you see will touch
mind, body and spirit,
sufficiently firing imagination
to give inspiration
a voice for home truths
ghosting paths of times past
and present…

Observing me closely, find
the inner eye
homing in on brush strokes,
the lighter here
and heavier there, colours
chosen for warmth
or cold, and touches of light;
dark, dreamy twilight,
moody gloom…

Seeing is not always (quite)
believing that creativity needs
an audience;
desires one, yes, if only to share
impressions of mind,
body and spirit laid bare
in such a way
as to make a presence felt
that would out

Art, a psycho-creative presence
redefining subject and audience


Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Christmas Lights

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

December, and a new poem. Over the next few weeks I will be publishing archival posts (on and from both blogs) leading up to Christmas. No, I do not celebrate Christmas, but like many if not most religions and religious festivals, it brings out both the best and the worst in people, challenge enough for anyone, not least a pantheist poet.

I was walking home with a work colleague one year, close to Christmas, and remarked on his generosity to a rough sleeper. He told me a story from his past that today's new poem can only partly relate but which hopefully captures something of the spirit of Christmas, indeed of any religious festival, often found sadly lacking, all but buried under layers of dogma that so often blinds people, especially families, to the fact that the roots of any religion lie in peace and love to all humankind, not just to those who happen to fit in with its beliefs and traditions. As my mother - a Christian woman - used to say, "God loves us, no matter who, what, or where we are."  Now, we may or may not enter fully into  the Christian spirit of that message, but any human spirit is free to embraces it just as wholeheartedly, surely?

No religion has a monopoly on spirituality; it is in that evergreen aspect of a common humanity that hope truly spring eternal.

True, we cannot love everyone, might even let hate get a look in from time to time, but love and hate are strong emotion if not sides of the same proverbial coins, inclined to blur at the edges into feelings which, for whatever reason, we may not care to dwell on... as much in so far as they reflect on ourselves us as on the other person...?

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Christmas lights
casting shadows long, short
and, oh, so tall,
across the sky, my ceiling
where I lie
in a sleeping bag, pretending
I'm as snug
and warm as by a cosy fire fuelling
family myths

Cast out, simply
for loving you, needing so
to run true
with the 'me' no one knew
(as no more did I)
till you penetrated my disguise,
burrowed the lies.
let in the light of day, vowed we'd live
proud and gay

Only, I hated you
for leading me into a reality
as dark as any closet,
ran away from any you-me-us
in the making,
heart near breaking, mind losing
its way, spirit needing
to turn an angry tide of exposed identity,
failing miserably

Christmas lights,
bulbous eyes on me where I lay
worm-like in my pain
and loneliness, not a single passer-by
sparing a glance for me,
swallowed up by a human convenience
less desperate
to be rid of personal anxieties than common
responsibilities

I closed my eyes,
embraced imagination, heard voices
calling my name,
saw the faces clearly, friends and family,
among them yours,
hot tears stinging my cheeks, distant bells
offering comfort
and joy in anticipation of peace and love getting
the better of rejection

Fearful though I was
of opening my eyes, letting cold reality
work its worst on me,
I found myself peering into a mist of light
and making out
the same dream, no dream at all, scarcely able
to take in its charms
till I felt your arms around me, you-me-us invited
to a family Christmas


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Autobiography of a Beach

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

[Update - December 25th 2019: Sadly,I am told the Memorial Wall has been neglected and - worse - encroached upon by commercial ventures to the extent that the path which used to exist taking visitors past the wall and giving a fine view over the bay has been blocked. Apparently, even before the memorial was unveiled five years ago, certain townsfolk made it clear they did not want it so now they, at least, will be well pleased. Complaints to the local council have been ignored, in my humble opinion a disgrace. Yes, the memorial was for those who have died of AIDS in Bournemouth, but - metaphorically - it was also for those who have died of AIDS worldwide; people are still dying of AIDS worldwide, it would appear that human nature is such that it doesn't really care...? Whatever happened to the Spirit of Christmas...?]

This poem appears in my general poetry blog archives for World AIDS Day, March 2012. Improve medication means people are living longer with the HIV virus now, but there is no cause for complacence and, sadly, many are still being stigmatised for it. Have fun, folks, but be careful out there, yeah?

December 1st is World AIDS Day. I wrote today’s poem at the request of the Chairman of DAMSET, an HIV-AIDS Educational Trust in Dorset after giving a poetry reading in Bournemouth public library, and subsequently dedicated it to DAMSET in my collection, Accomplices to Illusion. DAMSET was established with a view to creating a memorial mural for all those in Bournemouth who have died of AIDS, and was later extended to cover the whole of Dorset. The mural is now well established near the pier and I feel very privileged that my poem is included.

For more information about this inspiring project go to: http://damset.co.uk/

I read the poem on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square on July 14^th 2009 as my contribution to sculptor Sir Antony Gormley’s One and Other ‘live sculpture’ and you can still catch it at the British Library archive. [However, be warned; the video of my plinth experience and (very informal) poetry reading lasts an hour.]: www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

I also read it in Bournemouth, by the DAMSET mural, for my YouTube channel and have posted the (much) shorter video below. While feedback suggests some readers cannot access You Tube for various reasons, those who can may prefer to click on the direct link:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cKzi9VRjuq0

OR go to the channel and search under title: http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A BEACH

Sun and moon, sailing fickle skies

to safe harbours;

Sea, like a cabbage-stained tablecloth

edged with white lace;

Heads peering up, peering down

as they have always done,

listening to waves, voices of the heart

that stay with us, move on with us,

play a part in our lives, no matter all

temporal hosts come and gone,

sun and moon out of reach, cabbage

stains on the world’s tablecloths…

tales told by shells on Bournemouth

beach of those whose faces may

blur with time but we remember them,

who died of AIDS and not to blame

(the fruits of love bitter-sweet, yet better

by far to live by it than hate)

nor sexuality, physicality, morality,

any match for our own mortality

but as small boats on a passionate sea

driven by a feeling for integrity;

Come a time when death may put love

out of reach, then take a walk

on the sand, talk with the waves, listen

to shells on Bournemouth beach

(or any other that stirs a grieving soul

to recover the heart’s grail);

join a passing ship awhile, carrying

family, friends, lovers, even

old neighbours…by day and night,

be they gay or straight…cruise

Loving Memory’s fair shores, share

old jokes, laugh about crises

over cabbage stains on best tablecloths

To inner eye (and ear) time never deleted

nor love, though AIDS, ever defeated

[Bournemouth, Dorset, March 2006)

  

[From: Accomplices To Illusion, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]