Crisis at Christmas OR Love is the Key

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

For many readers, it will not be a very happy Christmas Day this year, and for most of us it will be a Christmas break like no other for all the wrong reasons. Even so, there are vaccines on the way so still reason to think positive and look forward to better times in 2021.

Here's my favourite ghosts (from happier times) and I  wishing you all love and peace always, and many thanks for dropping by the blog.

Hugs,

Roger

CRISIS AT CHRISTMAS or LOVE IS THE KEY

Christmas, in a year
with many a tear in many an eye 
for a year that’s seen
so much grief, anger and pain,
yet, also a sense
of being a common humanity
in a world inclined
to view certain differences as weaknesses,
due to its own short sightedness

In a year that has seen
the devastating effects of Covid-19
on world economies
and personal lives, a sense of unity
attempts to rise
above that grief, anger and pain
all but dominating
everyday life, whoever and wherever we are,
any differences notwithstanding 

In times of crisis, people
will often pull together, bridging chasms
between old enemies,
suggesting bigots have second thoughts
asking of religions
that they practise what they preach
in so far as matching
deeds to fine words, embracing peace and love
without either caveat or favour 

For many, Christmas,
among other celebrations, but reinforce
an overwhelming
sense of loss, regret, loneliness, and losing out
in such everyday move
as humanity makes, potentially this way,
potentially that…
now, raising hopes, now (invariably) taking credit
for (inevitably) losing out to ‘Fate’

So, what can we do,
who are left to pick ourselves up, start over?
For a start, never forget
there are such people in the world who care
about others,
will lend a helping hand and see us through
to a kinder end,
while it’s a positive mindset (no weakness) that asks
for help, more likely to find happiness 

There will always be
the good-bad in this world, the happy-sad too;
we can but try
to rise above it all (down to me, down to you)
even compensate
for such evils as humankind may yet do,
let love be the key
to  mind-body-spirit left free to live, let live and let die
if (still) begging the question, "why…?"

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: this post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RT

The Spirit Within

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

Today's poem appeared on my general blog yesterday. At an LGBT reader's request, I am posting it here today. Relatively few  readers visit this blog now so I may discontinue it by the end of the year. Hopefully, some readers will  still find my general poetry blog of some interest. I will not delete the blog so readers can still visit the archives and are welcome to email me any time.

Meanwhile...

Despite the computer hackers, conspiracy theorists, common criminals, those ignoring Covid-19 safety regulations and anyone else hell bent on targeting the human spirit, its resilience to such destructive forces remains an inspiration. Yes, it can feel pain and immeasurable hurt, but in most of us, it is blessed with powers or recuperation, survival and renewal second to none. 

Not long ago, I saw an elderly man slip and fall on a plastic coffee cup carelessly thrown on to the pavement. Fortunately, although badly shaken, he was able to raise a smile and reassure me that no bones appeared to be broken, only bruised, and adamantly refused to let me play safe by calling an ambulance. “I can walk, so can’t be too much the worse for wear,” was his lively response, “NHS staff have too much on their plates at the moment with the coronavirus, I can’t go adding a few bruises when there are people’s lives to save…” I gave him my phone number and he promised to call if he needed any help later. As I watched him go, at first a little shakily then with growing confidence, I had to admire the man for an indomitable human spirit not untypical of his generation; it struck me as something quite beautiful, and I felt inspired for witnessing it. 

Having felt very unwell recently, that simple act of defying odds and self-resolve to overcome them continues to encourage and inspire me to view the rising threat of a new mutation of Covid-19 with a positive-thinking mindset. 

There are, after all, things in life that may well defeat us in part, but never as a whole, given a whole that includes a human spirit that, as likely as not, will leave its mark not only on the Here-and Now, but for generations to come.

'Beauty is power; its smile is a sword . - John Ray

THE SPIRIT WITHIN

World, grown dark,
its peoples sick at heart
for the fears
insinuating mind-body-spirit,
threatening
its positive life forces, giving
negatives
all the excuses they need, and more
to assume control 

Powers of darkness,
the likes of prejudice and hate.
attempting
to win over such powers of light
as empathy,
humility, modesty, such love
for humanity
as would always see its natural affinity
with beauty kept safe 

Beauty, a feeling for all
that’s right, good and fair, giving
the Spirit of Light
an advantage from the start
over any negatives
that may well find ways to send
humankind
into free fall, have us answer to mortality
even before our time 

Beauty, though masking
its finer qualities from time to time
to keep them safe
from such hackers as connive
to turn enough tables
likely to wreak chaos, destruction,
even worse,
engages with the Spirit of Love to mentor all
those who live to learn 

Such is the spirit within, empowering humanity
to turn any (apparent) defeat into a victory 

 Copyright R.N. Taber 2020

 

 

(Another) Window on Christmas

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

A reader wonders why the Government here are prepared to put people at risk by relaxing Covid-19 safety regulations for Christmas, but not other religious celebrations that have come and gone since the pandemic began. We are, he reminds us, a multicultural society, after all.  A good point, I think, although I do not subscribe to any religion myself other than a feeling for Pantheism.. 

Whatever, we are a common humanity, after all.

Another reader asks for " … at least one more Christmas poem to see us through what may well be a very difficult time for many of us this year.” 

Hopefully, today’s poem may go some way towards satisfying both readers.

Take care, everyone,

Hugs, 

Roger

(ANOTHER) WINDOW ON CHRISTMAS

It’s redbreast’s song bursts on my ears
as at my window I watch snowflakes fall,
missing you so, wishing we could share
such gifts of love as meant for one and all 

In the distance, I can hear bells bringing
tidings meant to fill sad hearts with cheer,
spread thoughts of peace and goodwill
where much of the world left living in fear 

Caught in a window’s wintry reflection,
I watch tearstained faces reach for the sky,
weepy eyes smiling for a moment divine,
as Apollo drops by and blesses us, you and I 

This mind-body-spirit uniting with yours,
though Covid-19 bent on keeping us apart;
love, it makes us one, and all the stronger,
for distance means little to the human heart 

It’s Love’s song, bursting Christmas at its seams
with humanity's dearest desires and dreams…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

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

Private Lives OR A Lesser Known History of Everyman

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

Another revised poem today that I found while rummaging my print files; it has not appeared on the poetry blogs before.

I am still very poorly, but remain Covid-free, am feeling a little better every day, and hope to continue writing new poems and publishing them here before too long.

The poem is a kenning and appears on both general and gay-interest poetry blogs today. 

Sadly, many LGBT folks worldwide still remain fearful of the consequences of their choosing to look the world in the eye wherever bigotry persists in making itself felt. As I've said before - and daresay will again - there is so much more to anyone than their sexuality. I suspect the bigots among us, too, (like many if not most of us) know all about engaging in a tug-of-war between keeping up appearances and bringing certain home truths into the public domain.

PRIVATE LIVES or  A LESSER KNOWN HISTORY OF EVERYMAN

We lurk in personal space
conspire to confuse feelings 
likely to light it up,
expose me for watching them
from shadowy corne
while they dance all cares away,
pretending not to know
I am nearby or why, refusing to cry
over spilt (sour) milk 

We manage the living dead,
calling tunes and pulling strings
who would deny me,
mistake me for such bad dreams
as plague humankind
for infiltrating a mind-body-spirit
that is but weak
where it likes to fool itself otherwise,
and everyone else 

We're no strangers to mortality,
walking daily in such shadowlands
as haunt humanity
throughout its daily sleepwalking,
calling on life forces
least likely to penetrate is defences
see it break cover,
confront and/ or excuse its true identity
for acknowledging me 

We are such secrets as never on the loose
for fear of Truth getting the better of us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: Do explore the archives while I am not publishing much on either blog as they contain many of my best gay poems - e.g. Apollo in Winter - ; access the archives on the righthand side of any blog page.]

 

 

 

 

 

Alone at Christmas OR Flowers of Peace Revisited

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

Poet on the mend here, slowly but surely, while Muse insisting I keep looking on the bright(er) side of Christmas 2020. Muse, though, is not averse to a little cheating, hence an old poem revised only today.

Now, Christmas - like all religious festivals – is a time for coming together. Sadly,  it can also be a time when divisions become more clearly marked than ever.

Where family and friends do come together, those who are and/or made to feel excluded can feel terribly alone and isolated. Birthdays, anniversaries, special moments we long to share with family and friends, these are times when not being able to share them, for whatever reason, can make us feel physically sick with the intensity of exclusion.

Anyone made to feel excluded because they don’t meet the expectations of others, but made their own way in life, deserves better than pity. Indeed, it is high time some people realised that, much as we may want the best for family and friends, we have no right to tell them how to live their lives; we should respect the decisions they make instead of harping on about how they could and should have done things differently. Nor is turning to socio-cultural-religious traditions any excuse for making people feel guilty about how they choose to live their lives...or rejecting them for it. [Multicultural societies will never work well until more of its leading lights get real and bring their followers into the 21st century.]

Let those of us who fare better, wish all those who are alone and unhappy a peaceful time over a particularly tough Christmas this year, and always.

 Peace of mind may well play hard to get, but it is there if we look hard enough; it involves keeping faith with ourselves as well as, if not more than, with each other. Gay, or straight, male or female, we all need to believe in ourselves and can but trust others will come to believe in us too, albeit it may take time for some to accept us for who and what we are.

At the end of the day, there are always loved ones to keep us company, whether or not they can be with us in person.

For those who are  lonely or unhappy, for whatever reason, there is always much comfort to be found among our kinder ghosts and the felt presence of loved ones and friends whenever unavailable in person.

ALONE AT CHRISTMAS or FLOWERS OF PEACE REVISITED

Never (quite) alone at Christmas
for memories kept close to the heart
among flowers of peace full grown

For errors made, we can but atone
(join a common humanity for a start)
never (quite) alone at  Christmas

Let the world see past a tombstone
in whose memory beats many a heart
among flowers of peace full grown

Recalling wise words writ n stone
(keeps us close, though made to part)
never (quite) alone at Christmas

But revisit past kindnesses shown 
and rejoice with all mind-body-spirit
among flowers of peace full grown

Summon doves of time long flown,
taking comfort and joy in their return;
never (quite) alone at Christmas,.
among flowers of a peace full grown

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2020

[Note: this post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.]RNT

Christmas 2020 OR Love Rules ok

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

Hi folks, 

Yes, I’m back, still feeling poorly, but managed to write a poem. . 

Not one for sending Christmas cards, I have nevertheless written many a poem in lieu, by way of letting friends know I am thinking of them, blog readers too. 

Coming up with a poem this year has not been easy, its having been the worst many, if not most of us have ever had to endure. Hopefully, it captures something of that love and peace which Christmas celebrates, whether or not in the name of Jesus Christ, albeit I suspect he would approve. For me, Jesus is an outstanding historical figure for whom I have the greatest respect, but have never been able to come to grips with the idea of a personified God. I share the view of the pantheists of old, that God is nature rather than its creator. 

While I respect all world religions, we must simply agree to differ. We are a diverse, common humanity whose differences don't make us different, just human. 

Now that various vaccines are already or potentially on their way, I feel better able to wish you all a Happy Christmas, Covid-19 and Brexit notwithstanding. 

Hugs, 

Roger 

CHRISTMAS 2020 or LOVE RULES OK 

Christmas 2020,
will be as never before,
no carol singers
at anyone’s front door
earning extra pocket money,
hoping for more 

Christmas 2020,
a more subdued occasion,
less decoration
to mark its celebration
with fewer family or friends
able to join in 

Christmas 2020,
will see a relaxing of rules
across the UK
regarding a coronavirus
with no respect for human life
(or Christmas) 

Christmas 2020,
seeing last-ditch Brexit talks
on tenterhooks
lest they should fail,
EU and UK last seen dangling
from the same nail

 Christmas 2020,
empty chairs at its grand feast,
in remembrance
of favourite ghosts
to whom we’ll raise our glasses
and give toasts 

Christmas 2020,
whatever our religion (or none)
we can but agree
it’s l-o-v-e rules OK
in offering gifts of comfort and joy,
come what may

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: For those of you who visit both poetry blogs, this post-poem will also appear on mygeneral gay  blog today.]

Accessing the poetry archives

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

Dear Readers,

Sorry, no poem today as I am very unwell, although no Covid-19 symptoms so hope to feel better sooner rather than later. I will be 75 soon and, as regular readers may recall, have been living with hormone therapy (for prostate cancer) since 2011. Later the same year, a bad fall resulted in a fractured ankle resulting in a clot for which I had to self-inject for three months, during which time I was housebound. 

Last year, a venous ulcer on the same (left) foot took some managing, but I am walking again fairly well with the aid of a walking stick and compression stockings.

Through all these crises, I managed to keep looking on the bright side of life, thankful that I can walk again as doctors warned me I might not while being treated for my fall in 2011.

So … I am taking a short break from writing up the blog. Meanwhile you may  enjoy exploring the archives where you will, hopefully, find some poems to your liking; the archives can be accessed on the  right hand side of any blog post; just click on whatever date you want to explore.

Take care and keep well,

Roger

 

Looking on the Bright(er) Side

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

We are all waking to another day of Covid-19, although hopeful that any approved vaccine will reach us and loved ones in time,before mortality strikes any devastating blow. Should it come too late, as for some of us it inevitably will, let our tears be joy as well as grief, celebrating a life and our having been a part of it.

LOOKING ON THE BRIGHT(ER) SIDE

Seagulls crying,
tide coming in fast, anxious
to offer consolation 

Breaks in clouds,
a sunbeam breaking through,
hinting at a kinder day 

A little light rain
as if to refresh a troubled Earth,
feed its hopes for spring 

Skylarks, flocking
to new habitats, but continuing
sing us into wintry dawns 

Humanity, waking
to yet another day of living fearful
of Covid-19 coronavirus 

Tears, for loved one
spirited away on wings of mortality
to nests of remembrance 

Nature, an example
to us all in persevering, keep looking
on the bright(er) side

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

 [Note: this post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.]  RNT

Smiling Through

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

Years ago, while walking along the banks of a river, I met a young man with whom I struck up a friendship that would blossom into love. We lay chatting in the bosom of a weeping willow tree and it was all but love at first sight.  Gay people were much despised in those days – as by some, we still are – so we kept our love a secret. He was killed in a road accident barely eighteen months later, and I bitterly regret that particular secret. As it was, neither of us were openly gay, and I even made excuses not to attend his funeral in case the extent of my grief betrayed us; something else I will always regret

.Years later, wandering along that same river bank. I saw two young men emerge, laughing, and holding hands, from the leafy bosom of that same weeping willow. They paused to share a long kiss, then continued on their way towards me, smiling both warmly and defiantly at me as they passed. Needless to say, I smiled back. Any defiance faded instantly, and all I saw was warmth.  How I envied them, less for being young (I was already in my 60’s) than for a sexuality they plainly felt free to express. 

As regular readers will know, I was 30 before I began coming out to the world as a gay man.  Happily, for many gay people it is much easier now. Sadly, for as many others worldwide, it is as hard as it ever was. Bigotry has to be one of the world’s greater human tragedies, worse because it invariably exists behind smiling eyes that are as closed doors to those who support Human Rights in case they are called out for their hypocrisy. 

So, what is a gay-interest post-poem doing on both blogs? As I have pointed out many times, a poem is a poem is a poem, open to readers whatever its theme; no less so, a person is a person is a person whoever, wherever, and whatever their sexual persuasion. There is more to a poem than meets the eye, just as there is more to any of us than our sexuality.

SMILING THROUGH

Willow tree, willow tree,
well may you weep for me
that saw the start
of a love that gave my heart
cause to beat faster
for having found just cause.
no more pretending
all was well in my world, nothing
and no one missing 

Willow tree, willow tree,
you took us in a leafy embrace
when others looked
the other way, wishing us both
in another place
for being gay, and determined
that together we’d stay,
letting our true feelings express
our love and happiness 

Willow tree, willow tree,
well may you weep for our being
scorned and rejected,
even though accepted by others
for being a vital part
of who we are to the human race,
given that love
wears as many faces as humanity
poses questions of equality 

Willow tree, willow tree, within each tear,
a smile for every day we stay together

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: this poem-post also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Covid Christmas

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

Here in the UK and many homes around the world, people will be wondering how best to spend Christmas, where we should risk seeing family and friends, much as we would love to, while Covid-19 remains active.

No matter how we choose to celebrate Christmas, whether for religious reasons, being with family and friends, or both, it is, like any religious festival, a time for taking stock of any discrepancies between where we are in life and where we hoped or expected to be. 

Religion may well help us find answers, while many who follow another religion (or none at all) invariably face the same questions. 

Most of us are left to find our own answers in our own way, whether guided by Divine inspiration or not. Regular readers may recall the old aborigine I met in Australia; in so far as he pointed me in a direction I had always wanted to follow, but which had been closed to me for various reasons, he was a life-saver. It meant returning to the UK and many things (and people) I had been running away from, but, in time, I would find such peace of mind as I’d felt impossible since leaving school barely five years earlier. 

“I feel so alone,” I remember whingeing. 

“Well, you are not alone now,” he chuckled, “… and two heads are better than one, so let’s see if we can’t set you on the right track, yeah?” I nodded, and he did.  

Every Christmas, I drink a toast to that old man. He is probably long dead by now, but his presence is as real to me as it was all those years ago. That is the wonderful magic of memory; no one ever dies who has been meaningful in our lives. Better still, it allows us to pick and choose, reject unwelcome guests and join together with those who have brought light into our lives.

Many of us will be alone this Christmas, but the Gates of Memory are open 24/7. Besides, there is also telephone. zoom and other technologies to help us out as and when ….

 A COVID CHRISTMAS 

Outside, world looking grey
even where sounds of children’s
laughter breaking through
weary faces and muted voices,
reliving such yesteryears
as mind and spirit better able
to redeem a host
more anxious to explore than exploit
Earth Mother 

Outside, a diversity of masks,
driving home the necessity to care
as much for the well-being
of others as any twinned selves
struggling to put caution
before desire rather than throw
either to the wind …
if only to be seen doing the right thing
by humankind 

Inside, a diversity of humanity
making its way down Memory Lane
among fairy lights
and Christmas trees, choir voices
singing songs of praise,
families and friends making merry,
putting aside any misery,
as only such togetherness has succeeded
in all its history 

Outside, Covid-19 hell bent on having a say;
inside, Christmas continues to have its way

Copyright R.N. Taber 2020

 [Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog.]

Life, Sunny Side Up OR Love, Open All Hours

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

One of my general blog readers has emailed about my previous poem here -  posted on both blogs - so far as to ask “You have a gay poetry blog so what on earth is a gay poem doing on this (general) blog. If anyone readers are in the least bit interested, they know where to look. I enjoy many of your poems, but don’t expect to find gay stuff …"

Well, a poem is a poem is a poem, whatever the content, and if the reader cares to look closely, he will see that it is not a gay poem except in the sense that gay folks, like most if not all of us, are capable of jealousy; it is, after all, a common human trait. 

A gay man, I choose to write both general and gay-interest poetry not only for my own pleasure, but also to remind us all that there is more to any of us than our sexuality; readers are as welcome to make up their own minds about the poem as they are about the poet.

Meanwhile …

Today’s poem touched on a theme to which I return to time and again, the enduring power of love and its related consciousness - ‘live’ or posthumous - offering any mind-body-spirit a safe and happy haven from its worldly woes.

LIFE, SUNNY SIDE UP or LOVE, OPEN ALL HOURS

There is a place I know
where the sun always shines,
children playing,
adults engaging in cheerful chat,
where all time spent is sheer magic
nor any Covid-19 to spoil it

There is a place I know
that lets human spirits go free
from troubled minds,
encourages human hearts to look,
learn, love, even be happy, no lifting
it from a favourite storybook 

There is a place I know
that’s an open secret between
family and friends,
lovers, too, accessible to any of us
who believe in a common humanity,
for all its common weaknesses 

It’s a place I got to know
during early years, kept as close
as hand on heart,
no need for any rose-tinted glasses
just a growing sense of live and let live,
a global shortage of glass houses 

So, what and where, a place
any loved one can rediscover joy,
this dream-come-true?
it’s that home from home intimacy
that endures just for sharing it with you,
within and beyond living memory

Where time invites us to enter its portals,
choose well, and revisit love’s immortals

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

[Note: This post-poem has also appeared on my general blog this week (with a few minor amendments) and I am posting it again here as email feedback continues to suggest that many gay readers only access this blog.]RT

Seeing is Believing, True or False?

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

Years ago, after school, two friends (we’ll call them A and B) were caught kissing behind the bicycle sheds at the back of our school playground by a teacher working late. On being asked for an explanation, one friend said, “We love each other, sir.” 

After a long, ominous silence, the teacher asked “Do your parents know?” The culprits shook their heads. 

“Are you going to rat on us, sir?” Boy A asked, swallowing hard. 

“Somethings need to come from the horse’s mouth,” was all the teacher said, albeit sternly, before dismissing them. 

The two friends thought they had got off lightly, but no such luck it, not least because society was such that it would be years before either felt able to come out of the closet and tell the world they are gay, by which time they hadn’t even kept in touch. 

The following weekend, A spotted B in the local park with another boy. A’s emotions, at fever pitch since the incident in the bike shed, erupted and he let rip with a torrent of abuse; it was only later that he realised it has been aimed at himself. 

Gay or straight, we all do and say things we regret. Boy A was jealous, of course, but the incident in the bicycle sheds only days earlier had scared him more than he cared to admit. It was not a good time then to be gay, and issues on the home front made it impossible to follow the teacher’s good advice and tell the family that, at 14 years-old, he had already discovered his true sexuality.

It was a gay friend who told this story about himself, to me and several straight friends some time ago. All of us admitted we recognised ourselves in it, having suffered mixed emotions in similar situations, not least that love-hate peculiar to jealousy.

 Gay or straight, whoever and wherever, what are any of us but human when all’s said and done?

‘Love sees sharply, hatred sees even more sharp, but Jealousy sees the sharpest for it is love and hate at the same time.’  -  Arab Proverb

SEEING IS BELIEVING, TRUE OR FALSE? 

I am, to any life force,
its own worst enemy, that light mist
descending on a wintry
season of the heart mistaken for spring,
taken in its stride by mine host,
a vision of summer haunting the heart
that’s sure to thrive on its heat
if only for letting the power of illusion
fire passions of self-deceit

Like a rose, its thorns
forgiven for the beauty of its having
been nurtured by the love
of Earth Mother, with no small input
from yours truly, anticipating
showcase summers, a rose garden
of our own making,
pledging our love, oblivious to any threat
by storm clouds gathering

One evening, gone jogging,
I chose to take a longer route than usual
for no reason but a whim
to chase pigeons into a sunset, no matter
it put me to such shame
as would be my undoing in showing me
someone picking a rose
and giving it to you with a kiss that drove me
where no sane person goes 

No lovers but old friends had I chanced upon;
jealousy, my hurt-rage-loss-prison

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RT

 

 

Life Force, Second to None

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

It is news to no one that feel-good factors comes in many shapes and forms; romantic or otherwise, for a person, an activity, whatever … a life force second to none, always on hand in the Here-and-Now  to cheer and sustain us through thick and thin.

Yesterday was Remembrance Sunday here in the UK, a time to remember our debt of gratitude to the members of the armed forces who died in the two World Wars and later conflicts; in our minds also, inevitably this year, those across the world who have died fighting a very different kind of war, a very different kind of enemy, the Covid-19 coronavirus.

Someone's death is invariably someone else's tragedy too; remembrance  is one of the many faces of Grief, yes,  ut also a celebration of those who, for many of us, remain a 'living' inspiration.

LIFE FORCE, SECOND TO NONE

World, all but on its knees,
sickness and death paying home visits
just about everywhere …
No change there but for its assuming
the mantle of a coronavirus
striking a greater fear in us for its ability
to catch us unawares
snatch us from family and friends, no time
even for precious goodbyes 

Hospitals overrun with cases,
doctors and nurses working all hours
to save lives, risking theirs,
while reassuring anxious relatives
or having to break
the very news they have been dreading,
yet little time for such tears
as compounding fears confronting humanity
with its own vulnerability 

Battles fought, survivors recalling
loved ones lost with such mixed feelings
as remembrance inspires
love alone able to temper both pain
and grief, lifting hearts
with happy memories, the likes of which may
well never come again
yet enough to sustain a sense of joie de vivre
that, if we let it, lasts forever

Find any human heart’s capacity for endurance
sustained by love’s Spirit of Remembrance

Copyright R. N Taber 2020

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

No Comment OR Silent Witness

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

Someone once asked me why people hold grudges. From personal experience, I would say it is because many would rather suffer in silence than risk … what? Being made to look, foolish or small-minded for one thing, proven wrong for another; the possibilities are endless and invariably negative. 

So, what of the positives like clearing the air, preventing estrangement, staying friends … - a shorter list, perhaps, but far more important, surely, to achieve the better result? 

I have said before and will almost certainly say again, in the course of a post-poem, how fortunate, indeed, are those with families and friends willing to talk any differences through and agree to differ rather than burn good bridges. (Let’s face it, none of us are perfect, most of us far from it.)

Whoever emerges winner of the U.S. presidential election, it is clear that America is a very divided country' we can but hope that Democrats and Republicans will start talking to rather than at each other and find common ground in healing rather than deepening its divisions. (Not, as a rule, the nature of world politics perhaps, but in everyone's interests,surely, not least its own?)

NO COMMENT or SILENT WITNESS

I love festive occasions,
am invariably at the centre of things,
places all but brimming over
with joy, enthusiasm, peace, love,
and no reason to suspect
such goodwill cannot last for years
(or hours, at least);
everyone made welcome who’s at mine
for the feast 

Made only too often aware
of flaws in human nature by tête-à-tête
leaving nothing to imagination,
I can’t help but overhear, left wondering
what on earth is going on
between mother and daughter, father
and son, brother and sister,
as best friend to another, and how on earth
will it all end? 

Although I rarely chance to see
beyond my surrounds, I’m of two minds
whether or not I really care;
all human life is here, and I no judge, juror
nor executioner, if tempted
(frequently) to bang heads together, make
people see the hurt they cause
by taking in third party rumour as and when
they choose

Me, I’m but a table, no say in, just looking on
at what passes for civilisation

Copyright R. N. Taber 
(Nov. 5th, 2020) 

[Note: his post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today as requested by reader A. J.] 

 

All our Tomorrows OR A Coat of many Colours

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

As the world waits with bated breath to see who will win the US presidential election, it continues turn - for better, for worse - on the ups and downs of everyday life.

Me, I just try to keep looking on the bright-(er) side of life and make the most of any ups while I still can.  The downs? Well, most of those involve age-related health issues. Along with the rest of the world’s ageing population, I can only do my best to rise above them, kid myself I am in control, and try to imagine as many good things waiting for me as far forward as I find myself regularly looking back.

"Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow, · Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, · To the last syllable of recorded time; · And all our yesterdays have lighted fools." - Macbeth

ALL OUR TOMORROWS or A COAT OF MANY COLOURS

Shadows,
so gracing some gently flowing river,
like iconic dancers
treating us all to the music and poetry
of life

Sunlight,
now peeping through autumn leaves
like a child at a letterbox
watching grandma struggling to reach
to the door

Rainbows,
reminding the human race of its own
promises to communities
worldwide to engage with and be proud
of its diversity

Sunsets,
dressing clouds in patches of yellow
and red over misty greys, 
reminding us it’s a coat of many colours
civilisation wears 

Darkness,
striving to take possession of dreams
called upon by those among us
left trusting that mind-body-sprit may yet
keep its promises

Shrill cries 
of a cockerel echoing our frustrations
with all humanity’s wrestling 
with a hurt for its finer, greater part's missing
the boat?

Copyright R N Taber 2020

(Note: This post-poem also appears on my general blog today. Although feedback suggests more readers are dipping into both blogs than when I started them up ten years ago, it also confirms that many gay readers still don't.  A poem of course, is for everyone.)

 

A poem of course, is for everyone.)

In the Frame (Again)

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

Many people in denial are not consciously aware of it. Ask someone if they are homophobic or racist, for example, and the chances are they will deny it even if their behaviour suggests otherwise. Yes, they may well not want to openly admit they are guilty of something they know in their hearts is morally indefensible, but some people are genuinely in such denial they cannot and will not accept any such accusations. 

The subconscious, however, has no such inhibitions and it can lead to a sense of confusion that, in turn, can cause depression. Take yours truly, I was never in denial of being gay from about the age of 14; not to myself, that is. It’s true to say that, in those days, LGBT folks were not well received by society, and I felt obliged to keep my sexuality to myself. It was not until after my mother died, in my early 30’s, that I came to realise that it was not my sexuality that had kept me in what had been, for the most part, a very lonely closet for years but my family. There had simply been no doubt in my mind that – apart from my mother – my family would not be in the least supportive.

Maybe I was wrong, maybe not. More than 60+ years on, I'll never know for sure any more than I suspect they will either.

So … what did this say about me, as much as my family? It took a nervous breakdown to finally admit that I had no real sense of family, and my subconscious had been wrestling with this since my schooldays. If we had been a family that talked things through and could really talk to each other, things might have been different, but it was as it was; no one to blame except perhaps ‘society’. Whatever, the emotional estrangement I’d felt with my family took a physical turn, and I doubt whether any of them will every understand why. I blame myself for not standing up for, LGBT rights, letting anger, hurt and resentment get the better of me …and more. But any attempt at reconciliation would be a waste of time, nt least because I don’t want one any more than I suspect, at heart, they do. 

If I could put the clock back, the one thing I would definitely do would be to insist we talk to each other as a family, no rushing to judgement. Sadly, though, 1950’s society was inclined to rush to judgement on many matters that continue to haunt even a so-called ‘progressive’ e 21^st century when it comes to prejudice and discrimination to which, notwithstanding Human Rights and Equal Opportunities, many societies and communities around the world remain in denial.

IN THE FRAME (AGAIN)

Whenever I am feeling low,
I stroll in a field where sunflowers grow,
reaching for the sky, as do I 
when moods have me slump in an armchair,
wondering where I go from there, 
searching a wall for answers
finding none, inspired to go looking in a field
of sunflowers  

Engaging with me, my sunflowers
talk me through all that a mind-body-spirit
in free fall needs to know
if to prevent a battering from the such winds
and rain as even humankind 
finds hard to bear as, all but beaten to a pulp
by mixed emotions, times changing for the worse,
no easy solutions 

They will touch upon ancient myths,
these giants of their kind, rework them for me,
place them in a Here-and Now,
where, just as Apollo failed to win Daphne
for his own, so, too, must I home in
on any suspect motivation and blind speculation,
fuelling apprehension and self-doubt, follow instincts,
make a decision 

All thought processes now hopefully
more open to home truths and common sense,
time to focus, get real,
leave a field of  sunflowers on my wall
to its fading, antique frame,
shake off my slump, demand all mind-body-spirit
pull together as one, reason the need, dare to give it a name,
put it (back) in the frame

Yet another existential traveller, looking for answers
in a field of sunflowers...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

[Note: This post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today.]

Applause, a Majority Verdict

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

Another (new) tree-related poem today. I was in my late 30’s before I finally came out to the world as a gay man; it was no easier then than it is now for many gay men and women around the world. To many families and friends, it makes no difference, they love us no less for being “different”. 

As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human. Most people get that; sadly, though, many never will. Bigotry seems to be a way of life with some people, whether it is homophobia, racism or whatever; they cannot see that one of the wonders of the human as well as natural world is its diversity, without which its common mind-body-spirit would have seen nowhere near the progress it has made over centuries of narrow mindedness and narrow vision. 

We can blame a socio-cultural-religious-political upbringing and we might well not be far wrong, but it is no excuse for narrow mindedness; it is up to us all, each and every one of us, l to assert ourselves as bigger and better than that, accept that every person is unique and respect him or her for that instead of homing in on what we choose to see as their flaws and weaknesses. (Let’s face it, we all have our share of those.) 

Many people will not admit to bigotry, of course, if only because it is not ‘politically correct’; it is not what we say that counts, though, but how we feel and what we do about it. 

APPLAUSE, A MAJORITY VERDICT 

I could hear a voice screaming
begging for aid, to be let out, go free
from whatever trap it was in,
and I would have turned a deaf ear
to its pleas, far too close
for comfort, demanding I attempt
to answer its calls, no mind-body-spirit
deserving any prison walls, my heart aching,
for it just as dawn breaking 

From my window, I could just se
a pattern of light among the branches
of a splendid old tree
that had been so good a companion
for more years than now
than I care to recall, a pattern shaped
much like a skylark singing
a cheerful greeting, the anonymous prisoner
still in pain, and screaming 

As the lark sang, the leafy pattern
of light began to assume other features,
skylark still a felt presence
if conveying less joy than pain, and then
I saw that lark and prisoner
were one and the same, nature playing
a cruel game with me;
in no time, I could put a name to the leafy face
and the prisoner’s voice 

Sure enough, image once complete,
I saw myself, trapped in an alien persona,
no idea what to do or where
to turn for aid, only able to scream over
and over again, of a lark no sign,
only this pathetic specimen of humanity,
its very mind-body-spirit
refusing to rally, raise the alarm, give me a break;
Apollo, yawning, but half awake 

I reached within myself, daring to go
further than ever before, needing to know
what's happening to me,
my image at the heart of a tree screaming
to be set free, could it be
I was unhappy with my lot, refusing to see it
for what it was, but a pretence
of being happy, and suddenly, it’s as clear as day;
I need to tell the world I’m gay 

True, the world may not want to know,
and there will always be some who choose
a bigoted agenda for reasons
best known to themselves, although excuse
enough provided by this religion
or that cultural tradition’s setting itself
apart from a common humanity,
for being a shade better, such is the folly, vanity,
and diversity of human nature

Years on, it’s but a lark’s sweet voice I hear singing,
Apollo applauding, humanity (still) debating

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

 [Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RNT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Growing Wise to Ways of the World

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

A reader writes that “My partner and I love your tree poems, and always find them a comfort and inspiration. Can we have another please? Well, many thanks for that, and it’s my pleasure to oblige.

I only discovered later that the reader and his partner are gay; they have since been in touch again to ask me to post the poem here as well as on my general blog. 

When I first started the blog, feedback made it clear that readers welcomed the idea of a gay-interest poetry blog, and there seemed to be relatively little interest in my general blog although I have always made a point of posting gay poems there as well from time to time. I am pleased to say that, 10 years on, more gay readers seem to be dipping into both blogs now; even so, it is clear that many don't, which saddens because a poem is for everyone. It is true to say, of course, that much the same applies to general blog readers as feedback suggests few ever dipinto my gay blog. 

Poetry should be breaking down socio-cultural divides, at least that was my hope when I started the poetry blogs back in 2010; feedback suggests that hope has been realised in part, but just as in societies around the world, we still have a way to go yet; even so, some progress is better than none.😉

Whatever, I can only hope and many if not most of you, will enjoy this new poem that  has taken me down the sunny side of Memory Lane and helped restore flagging spirits; I can always rely on nature to engage with and rally the latter, even when I cannot get out and about to enjoy it  for real. Yet, no less real is the presence of nature in any of us if we will but let it in; no way does the creator-performer in any art form have a monopoly on nature unless in so far as it is their raison d'être to provide food for thought.

GROWING WISE TO WAYS OF WORLD 

Once, I had a friend
that would always listen
to my worst concerns,
ease the troubled mind
of a child who didn’t yet understand
the ways of the world

Once, I had a friend
that always knew just how
to cheer a sad heart,
bring light to any darkness,
company to ease a growing loneliness
for ways of the world 

As the child took on
the seasons of life, it learned
to take each as it came,
the good, the bad, the ugly,
let the heart sing even as it would weep
for ways of the world 

Now and then, the child
would return to bond yet again
with its old friend
in dreams if not reality
save a mind-body-spirit close to free fall
for ways of the world 

Though a time must come
when death us do part, old friend,
your spirit lives on
in all who care to engage
with an ages-old wisdom being passed on,
generation to generation 

Whenever ways of the world would defeat us,
find new life forces to be had in its trees

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Take care, folks, and be sure to nurture a positive thinking mindset,

Hugs,

Roger 

 

Forgiven

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

Today’s (new) poem was inspired by a tale of two old friends of mine, lovers for years, having made it up after a nasty tiff; the tiff itself, probably made all the worse by the tension we are all feeling during this awful pandemic.

 FORGIVEN

A masked man sat near me
in a bar, and social distancing with his body
while getting up close
with wide blue eyes dispensing with any need
for words 

I found myself listening to eyes
enabling words of love to pierce cloth ears,
invade my personal space,
take my heart prisoner, be sure I catch the sob
in its voice 

Any resistance on my part, futile
from the start, those eyes long since engraved
on a mind-body-spirit
regretting harsh words spoken in the rising heat
of a moment 

As I swam in those beautiful eyes,
waves lapping intimately at all parts of me,
it was like a homecoming,
all your senses and mine embracing a missed-you
kind of greeting 

The masked man drained his glass,rose
and headed for the exit without looking back,
nor was there any need;
four eyes had said all there was to say, two bodies
left on love to feed 

Back home, masks off, in a bubble
of comfortable silence, we ate a meal abandoned
in rage, now forgotten,
tucking in, confident of glorious days ahead for our
having been forgiven

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Take care, folks, and try not to let Covid stress get to you even if looking on the bright(er) side of life requires peering through an emotional fog to find it,

Hugs,

Roger 

[Note a gay-friendly married couple insisted I post this poem on my general blog as well today on the grounds that "It will probably ring a bell with couples worldwide, gay or straight ...]

Nature, Mentor

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

 Another new poem today if only by way of my making (some) progress in warding off depression; it is an old enemy of mine, depression, and poetry has always proven more effective that any antidepressant. 

 Hopefully, dear readers, the end product will be of some comfort to you during these hard times as writing it has been for me.

 NATURE, MENTOR

A fat thrush flew to my window sill
from a branch of an old oak tree,
one of several guardians keeping watch
over house and garden, peered at me
and cocked its head to one side, possibly
curious about its reflection in the glass
or perhaps wondering why a human being
slumped in an armchair doesn’t spread wings,
take to the air, shrug off dull care 

The thrush flew off, and I lost count
of leaves torn away from the tree
by an autumnal breeze letting the world
know its intent to unsettle nature
and human nature simply because it can,
no other reason than that, and I’m left
envying a thrush for being able to go about
daily life in much the same way as it always has
and always will, no worries 

When next I looked, a squirrel squinted
back at me as if amazed that anyone
would prefer to slump in an old armchair
on a fresh, sunny day, winter on its way,
all the greater reason to be up and about,
nature not ready to go to sleep just yet,
swallows flown south and tortoises dozing
but Earth Mother insists we must put a show on,
not a full cast, better than none 

The tree, it returned squirrel to its heart
with a leap and a bound, out of sight
if not out of mind, and I fancy I can hear
Apollo’s lyre, urging me to get on with life,
no matter a coronavirus imposing chaos,
take my cue from nature, carry on regardless;
though it may sometimes be in short supply,
there’s joy to be had in the simplest, everyday task,
that cannot be hid behind a mask 

Wherever Covid-19 would strike humanity down,
be sure its mind-body-spirit will see us rise again

Copyright R. N. Taber
(October 21^st 2020) 

Take care and stay safe, folks,

Hugs, 

Roger

[Note: For those readers who dip into both blogs, this poem also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today.]

Forever Young OR Ghost, Life Force

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

A new poem today, the one I was working on before I started posting archive titles, but became too stressed-out with coronavirus-related events to continue. I remain stressed, but, as always, the creative therapy provided simply by writing (and finishing) a poem has significantly (if not completely) restored my positive-thinking mindset. 

Sadly, the Covid-29 coronavirus continues to take its toll on the world population, each death a personal tragedy for families and friends left behind to grieve, and ask “Why …”

Me, I still miss the person-to-person contact with those I have loved and lost, but their presence in me, by way of a posthumous consciousness, allows me to keep company with their ghosts whenever I choose.

A reader writes that “Ghosts suggest someone who cannot rest in peace for whatever reason. You should not encourage people to deprive the dead of their right to rest in peace, it is very selfish act.” 

We are all entitled to our points of view, of course, but this reader and I must agree to differ. I think anyone would know if the Spirit of Love returning loved ones to us in this way was unhappy about our calling on it to do so. None of my ghosts summoned by love have appeared in the least unsettled by the experience, quite the contrary. 

There are, of course, ghosts that may haunt us for reasons other than love, those that appear of their own accord, that we would much prefer leave us alone; that, in my experience, is a matter of conscience demanding to be squared, and up to each and every one of us to find a way to oblige.

FOREVER YOUNG or GHOST, LIFE FORCE

It was a so-bleak midwinter
of the heart,
the mind’s window on snow
falling, snow on snow,
the human spirit
in free fall even as it reaches out
for no idea what 

The cold invading my senses,
all but freezing
any desire to rise above feelings
of despair and loneliness
for your having left me
to tackle this cruel world head-on,
clueless and alone 

Suddenly, a breath of fresh air
finds its way 
into the prison of my despair,
assisting a breathing
gone as quiet as your grave,
for playing love’s evergreen song
on my heart strings 

I feel a presence where there
had been none
only moments ago, half turn
to see you standing there,
the same flower in your hair
calling on this heart to seek you out
across a crowded room 

Smiling now as you were then,
that long-ago spring,
your sweet lips shaping words
of love needing no sound
to make their meaning as felt
in me as its life force now homing in 
on mind body-spirit 

The vision vanishes as suddenly
as it had appeared,
but what the eye, it cannot see,
the heart, it will conjure up
Spirits of Love always,
its kindlier ghosts  looking out for us
in the Here-and-Now

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; our kinder ghosts are a part of us all, and we are (like it or not) a common humanity whatever our gender, ethnicity, religion, social class or sexuality.] RNT

 

Pride in Love

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

No matter who or where in the world, there will always be those who find the love of their life and those that will never quite make it.  Some, like your truly, are teased by fate; we find it, only to lose it again. Yet, true love found is never lost, even in death; it lives in the heart forever and remains an essential part of who we are. 

Now, sometimes gay readers email me to say I am a “fossil” or a “dinosaur” given that no one cares about whether a person is gay, bisexual, transgender or whatever; they urge to get real and join the 21^st century. Sadly, we must agree to differ. In many societies and homes around the world, LGBT folks are still being rejected and/ or made to feel they are less of a human being than anyone else. 

Nothing is more awful than feeling rejected by family and friends or made to feel it is so likely a possibility that LGBT folks are still forced into a closet existence for fear of rejection. It appears to be happening less, I agree, but that it should happen to anyone, anywhere at any age, continues to put the 21^st century to shame. 

A gay reader has asked for a poem for his closet boyfriend who “… loves me, I am sure, but wishes he wasn’t gay and is too scared to come out to family and friends in case they call him a perv.” 

In my experience, where family and friends really care about a person, they won’t stop caring, and they will say so; those hung up on stereotypes may take a little longer to understand how they have been misled and should be forgiven for that. I only wish I had come out to family and friends when I was a young man instead of staying in a lonely closet for years; few people knew I was gay until ai came out at the ripe old age of 40 some 35 years ago. My only excuse is that attitudes towards LGBT folks were different then, invariably hostile. 

Things are different now, yes, and all the better for it, but many of any LGBT persuasion will continue to risk rejection wherever stereotyping, fake news and plain old-fashioned bigotry are alive and kicking. We just have to show we are better than that. 

This poem is a villanelle. 

PRIDE IN LOVE 

Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
of love, a gay heart would never learn to sing;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day 

Gay love, though (and true) chanced my way,
as we ran for shelter when it started raining
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.) 

We‘re exchanging grins, nothing much to say,
raindrops making merry on the shop awning;
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.) 

Soon we were chatting in a light hearted way;
ice-broken, we embraced a feisty thawing …
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.)

We were mutually attracted, come what may,
each seizing on the chance of a happy ending;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day … 

Love and sexuality, they would have their say,
much peace and joy to us would they bring;
Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.)

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

 

To Apollo, Over

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

The coronavirus, COVID 19, is spreading worldwide and various Governments feel obliged to take various emergency measures; it all smacks of Big Brother to me although needs must we act responsibly and conform to a whole new socio-cultural-political mind-set. 

Whatever, let's stay calm folks, use our common sense, trust our basic survival instincts and we will get though what appears to be the worst global crisis since the second world war. Remember that thousands of people still die of flu every year, and there has only been a vaccine available for about ten years; while this corona virus is clearly far more serious than an outbreak of influenza, we all need to stay positive and help each other as best we can. 

As always, the sick and elderly are the most vulnerable among us so we especially need to rally on their behalf, even if it means getting to know neighbours who are all but strangers; we are a common humanity, after all ... are we not?. 

Me? I will be 75 later this year and have been living with prostate cancer since 2011. I live alone, and mostly stay in touch with friends by phone as many have had the good sense to move away from London. It gets lonely sometimes, yes, but let’s face it, not seeing many people has its advantages during a pandemic. Meanwhile, I continue to take each day as it comes, and hope for the best ...

Oh, yes, the poem … It has already appeared on both poetry blogs and repeated on my general blog; a reader has asked me to repeat it here also “… especially as legend has it that Apollo swings both ways.” 

Old gods, new ways, first dawn, last sunset…world ending with a bang or a whimper, I wonder? 

Bearing in mind Apollo’s sexuality, I like to think he shares with us the same true grit that has seen LGBT communities worldwide survive against any bigoted heterosexual odds for centuries. Long may he shine upon us. 

Nature may well hold most if not all the answers, but wears them close to its heart, and who can blame it given humankind’s predilection for demanding (and getting) its own way, no matter who gets hurt or what damage done in the process…? The natural world is likely to endure long after humanity has failed to learn anywhere near enough from a catalogue of mistakes, not least underestimating climate change; each and every of us need to take our share of responsibility more seriously; less of dropping our rubbish in the streets and on our beaches as good a start as any…?

As for humankind, we can but trust those faceless mandarins stalking the corridors of power across the world may yet be named and shamed, replaced by those whose feeling for humanity is not above demonstrating some old-fashioned common sense as well as proving just how actions speak louder than rhetoric when it comes to Green Issues.

TO APOLLO, OVER 

Broken statues in the dust,
marking many a historic dawn,
shooting long shadows 

Far, far, these shadows fly
across our much-damaged land
like many arrows 

Into a poor scholar’s dugout
an arrow makes its presence felt
at Apollo’s early rising 

Red sun shining on our dust,
revealing broken statues weeping
and bleeding for us

 Copyright R. N. Taber 1999; 2013

 [Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that first appeared in the poetry magazine Meridian (1999) and subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]