Lost and Found

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

‘The only sure way ahead is straight.’ they said, ‘No detours, no turning corners, just be straight…or suffer the consequences.’

Ah, but I made a detour, turned a corner many years ago, and have no regrets. No regrets about acknowledging my sexuality, that is, after years of teenage angst.  [Show me someone who says they have no regrets and I will show you someone who is being a shade economical with the truth...]

This poem is a villanelle.

LOST AND FOUND

Told a mad world I'm gay,
rose above native fear;
lost, now found my way

Weary of running away,
voice loud and clear,
told a mad world I’m gay

Finally, at home to stay,
seeing my way clear;
lost, now found my way

Even bland faces of clay
seen cocking an ear;
told a mad world I’m gay

No matter what some say,
it’s good to be here;
lost, now found my way

Neighbours had a field day,
(Hey, was that a cheer?)
Told a mad world I'm gay;
lost, now found my way

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

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

Chain Gang OR Doing a Runner

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

I published the poem below on my general blog in May 2012. As well as the abusive emails I received in response to it at the time were some from closet gay people and gay-friendly straight readers who were pleased to find a gay-interest poem on a general poetry blog; all were hoping for 'more gay-friendly societies worldwide as our heterosexual brothers and sisters learn to live and let live', as one reader from a very gay-unfriendly African country put it. Yes, more have learned to do just that although , in my experience, there remains a prevailing bad attitude towards LGBT folks just about everywhere, although I dare say exponents of political correctness will argue differently. My problem there, though, is that what people say and what they think are often poles apart as their subsequent behaviour (when not under any authoritative microscope) illustrates  Even so, hope springs eternal ...

Now, I am happily, openly gay. But it wasn’t always that way. 

As regular readers will know, I am still haunted now and then by dark, cold, closet years when I was afraid to tell anyone. Throughout my youth and early years of young manhood, gay relationships were illegal here in the UK. Yet, even after these were decriminalised, I was still more in that damn closet than out of it.

Part of the reason I hesitated to be openly gay was that I had such trouble shrugging off all the offensive stereotypes with which I had been burdened for years. Another reason was that I could rely on no support from family or friends for much the same reason. In many areas there are support groups available now; there is also a LOT of support available on the Internet that includes access to gay forums. [Always keep your wits about you when chatting to people on the web, though, as not everyone is as genuine as they may seem.]

Much has changed for the better since those dark days some 30+ years ago. Many of the stereotypes still exist but are countered these days by supportive (rather than just defensive) arguments, and in some parts of the world gay men and woman can turn to Equal Rights legislation.; in other parts of the world, though, there is none of this and gay people, especially young gay people, are suffering much as I did all those years ago.

It has to stop. Societies whose leaders support anti-gay legislation must be made to see sense by more enlightened societies; political pressure must be brought to bear and seen to be brought to bear.

All the blame for the continuing suffering of all LGBT people, often struggling with their sexual identity and in need of support and reassurance, does not always lie at society’s door. Support and understanding starts in the home. Even in the so-called liberal West, many gay boys and girls, men and women, are (still) living in a gay-unfriendly environment.

Wherever you look, and closer to home than you may think, various socio-cultural-religious anti-gay pressures are being brought to bear on gay people.

As I keep saying and will keep saying, the key to supporting gay people in home, school and workplace lies in educating, family, friends and work colleagues into just what it means to be gay; dismantle all those same stereotypes and arguments that kept me in the closet once and for all. Parents and teachers worldwide must start taking responsibility for this along with just as societies’ less enlightened leaders.

Those readers who get in touch to tell me I am being a dinosaur, things have changed and gays have never had it so good should take a closer look at what is happening in Uganda and many other African countries, for example, also in Russia where gay people amongst others must be aghast at Putin’s policies.

Homophobic hate-crime remains  an ugly stain on the human race along with all other acts of physical and verbal abuse committed by perpetrators driven by its prejudices.

CHAIN GANG or DOING A RUNNER

Shovelling lies, bundles at a time,
though wore my hair long and sang,
making out I didn’t give a damn,
breaking my back on a chain gang

Yes, thought about breaking loose,
though rarely let it tease me for long;
couldn’t face ever having to choose
between alter ego and the chain gang

For long hours, days, weeks, years,
I slogged on, never putt a foot wrong;
no one ever saw me shed any tears
for making a career of the chain gang

I knew the politics, chapter and verse,
yet still kept singing the same old song,
ringing changes, for better for worse,
and more new faces on the chain gang

One face lingered in my mind’s eye,
wry grins sure to catch me responding,
couldn’t ignore, even though I’d try
‘cause it just ain’t done on a chain gang

Too scared to come clean and get real,
told gay love ungodly so must be wrong,
but how could I argue with a smile
that lets heaven shine on a chain gang?

We got to know each other better daily,
mindsets more than merely getting along,
office gossip machine churning madly
(for our not doing right by the chain gang)

We did a runner one day, my love and I,
got a life, determined to do our own thing,
happier at work (even happier at play)
just two gay people getting on with living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007 

Sometimes, Love asks too many Questions OR Harvest Home

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

This poem first appeared on the blog some years ago; it is repeated today at the request of several readers who have clearly followed the blog for some time, and many thanks for that.. 

Years ago, someone put it to me that we may well be asked to fight many battles in this life; against poverty, hunger, disease, loneliness, prejudice, culture, religion, and even ideas that sometimes become confused with ideals. Invariably, whatever the rights and wrongs of the matter, it is plain enough who is our enemy and where the battle lines are drawn. Only on the battlefields of love is it not only sometimes unclear just who the enemy is, but also where and when to draw a line.

Whatever, no LGBT person should let the less enlightened among us put us down simply for our sexuality. Everyone is different and it can never be said often enough that our differences don't make us different, just human.

As the COVID 19 pandemic continues to spread, we all - whatever our race, religion or sexuality - need to sat calm, positive, and think of others - especially health and other shift workers - whenever we may be tempted to buy more groceries than we need.

SOMETIMES, LOVE ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS or HARVEST HOME

I met a man in a gay bar,

felt his passion feed on mine,

let him take me to a place

for sex divine, and later, spent
and weary, as relaxing
in my arms he lay, confided
a dilemma in being black, closet
and gay

He hadn’t told his family,

said they wouldn’t understand,

but accuse him of betraying

their homeland;

but this is my home now,

he told my heart, and hot tears

on my skin felt like flames

licking at his fears;

his mouth on mine, we

made love again, again, again;

me, wishing we had forever;

he, dousing his pain

Why do those we love

demand we make such choices,

see us all but devoured

in a conflagration of kisses?

Years on, I often wonder

if he found the strength to say

to friends, family and workmates

‘I am gay’

He is good man (and lover)

deserving better...

Copyright R. N. Taber  2010, 2020

[Note: This poem first appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; alternative title added later.]

Cover photo: The folly at Virginia Water

Heart to Heart

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

People often tell me I should concentrate on my general poetry and ‘forget the gay stuff.’ But the ‘gay stuff’ is as much a part of me as the rest so I will press on. If some readers and critics don’t like it…well, they don’t have to read it. Besides, I can’t win; the same critics tell me that my poetry is too conventional, that rhyme and ‘form’ poetry is old hat and I’m an anachronism etc.

Let them rant. As long as people continue to read the blog and continue to email me from time to time to say they have enjoyed a poem, I'll press on. 

Now, this may not be one of my better poems but sometime after it first appeared on the blog in 2008, I received a lovely email from someone who had read it aloud to his family in the course of telling them he is gay. He didn’t say what he or they thought of the poem but it doesn’t matter; what matters is that ‘afterwards…it was hugs all round.’ It appears they are a religious family, too, plainly inspired by a spirituality that lends itself to love no less than to religion. Oh, but how wonderfully reassuring!

I should add that for every LGBT person who has emailed to say they feel rejected by family members and /or friends, others have said they have been reconciled, even if it has taken awhile for those same family members  and/ or friends to understand that our sexuality makes not a scrap of difference in the sense that we are the same person whom they have come to love, regardless. 

HEART TO HEART

I told family and friends

how, come what may,

I’ll tread a straighter path

for being gay

I remain the same person,

sharing with you still,

a universal understanding;

love conquers all

If love imposes conditions,

what does that imply,

other than the human heart

has told its spirit a lie?

Let those without a dream

to call their own

rally all life’s lonely losers

to cast the first stone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

Branded

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

I am so fed-up with many religious minded people (not all, thank goodness since a significant minority manage to resist the usual brainwashing and reconcile their religious beliefs with open hearts and minds) telling me that same sex lovers are committing blasphemy.  For my own part, how can I blaspheme against something I don’t believe in?

Regular readers know my views only too well. Even if I were of a religious orientation, I cannot believe any God would condemn anyone for their sexuality. Moreover, my early interpretation of the New Testament (long before I was old enough to realise I am gay) is that Jesus, for one, would agree.

Besides, there are other things going on in the world that should give us all far greater concern than who sleeps with whom, not least the coronavirus pandemic.

Oh, but I so love this quote by Dr Seuss: 'Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.'

This poem is a villanelle.

BRANDED

Branding gay lovers blasphemers,
those wolves robed in sheep’s clothing
calling for world peace at prayers

How dare they judge us for sinners,
(relishing a holier-than-thou posturing)
branding gay lovers blasphemers?

Taking us for fools, many Believers
known to compromise on their fasting,
calling for world peace at prayers

No faith would make us its prisoners
or sacrifice us to some clerics' gathering
branding gay lovers blasphemers

Taking us for scapegoats, deceivers
failing to practise what they’re preaching,
calling for world peace at prayers

Last seen touting homemade blinkers,
courtesy of rhetoric well worth exploiting,
branding gay lovers blasphemers,
calling for world peace at prayers

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

A Poet's Shrewsbury

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The poet, Wilfred Owen, was born on this day in 1893. Owen, a homosexual (the word ‘gay’ was not used in this context in those days) is probably one of the best known of the World War 1 poets. His name appears on the Great War Memorial tablet inside Shrewsbury Abbey.

A poetry reading in 2007 took me to Shrewsbury where I engaged with a lovely audience in a local bookshop. I did not get around to including my poem in a collection until this year and have to say I feel more than a shade self-conscious about posting a poem of mine alongside mention of such a fine poet as Wilfred Owen.

Wilfred Owen (1883-1918)

Photo: Shrewsbury Abbey

‘Symmetry’ in the grounds of the abbey is sculpture, by Paul de Monchaux commissioned by the Wilfred Owen Association (Owen went to school in Shrewsbury) to commemorate the poet’s life and work; it was unveiled in June 1993. The line "I am the enemy you killed" engraved on one side is from Owen’s poem, ‘Strange Meeting’ The design is meant to convey the symmetries in Owen’s poem as well as the trenches of 1917 and the Sambre-Oise canal in 1918.

Photo: ‘Symmetry’

On 4th November 1918, the British 32nd Division crossed the Sambre-Oise canal at Ors, in the face of strong opposition. Wilfred Owen was killed on the towpath on this side of the canal about one kilometre to the north of the bridge.

Photo: Western Front Association plaque for Wilfred Owen by the Sambre Canal, Ors, France. 

Regarding my poem, I should mention that Laura's Tower is a folly built on the summit of Shrewsbury Castle motte around 1790 by Thomas Telford for Laura, the daughter of Sir William Pulteney, as a summerhouse. It is of an octagonal design in red sandstone with conical copper roof. The river Severn flows by

…Photo: Laura’s Tower

Mount House, birthplace of Charles Darwin

A POET'S SHREWSBURY

Follow the market trader’s cry

across old Shrewsbury town

where the fickle Severn flows by

Discern in history’s cloudy eye

scenes of Parliament v Crown;

follow the market trader’s cry

At Laura’s tower, dare lift high

the hem of Nature’s gown

where the fickle Severn flows by

Swans over the English Bridge fly

with dive-bombing precision,

follow the market trader’s cry

See sunset’s flames lick at the sky

as if the grand abbey burning down

where the fickle Severn flows by

Ponder a war poet casting the die,

Darwin giving heaven cause to frown;

follow the market trader’s cry

where the fickle Severn flows by

[Shrewsbury, August 2007]

[This poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012 and on my general poetry blog in October 2012 where it has been visited many times; feedback suggests it has helped foster a more gay-friendly attitude among some readers.]

Loudmouth

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

This poem was originally written in in the 1990’s and first published on the blog in 2009, about the time I started writing it up.

At the time, I had only days earlier, been sitting behind two people on a crowded bus engaged in a conversation on the subject of contemporary society; one as loudly aggressive in his manner as the other was quietly defensive, the former receiving murmurs of agreement from other passengers.

A cleric sitting in front of me, directly behind the pair in question, kept nodding his head sagely, although it was unclear at whom or at what part of the conversation he was nodding.

While debating with myself as to whether or not I should make a positive contribution to what was, after all, meant to be a private conversation, I was pipped to the post by a guy who said (very loudly) as he left the bus, “I’m not especially proud of being gay or HIV, but I’m damned if I’ll be made to feel ashamed of it by other people’s sick ignorance.” I am pleased to say that several people clapped him (very) loudly among whom, of course, I was one.

During the time that passed before my alighting a few stops further on, no one spoke.

Some twenty years later, people keep telling me that attitudes towards gay people and those with HIV-AIDS have changed for the better and how there is even legislation (in some countries) to back it up. Have I not heard of Political Correctness, and Human Rights? So ... why don't people like me just shut up and count our blessings?

Why, indeed ...?

LOUDMOUTH

I tell you, homosexuality
is no less a blasphemy in this
twenty-first century…

Why on earth should we
accept, let alone tolerate those
committing sodomy?

As for lesbians, how dare
they argue that in love and sex,
all is fair?

It’s a poor example we set
when society lets gay people
have a say in it...

How can we ever justify
letting everyone stake a claim
for equality?

What more dreadful legacy
to bequeath future generations
than HIV?

Religion, culture, morality,
better these heed a rich rhetoric
than poor humanity

What’s that I hear you say?
Better we try and save the planet
than rail against being gay?

You may have a point, I guess;
maybe we should make love more,
and war less…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2016

A Misty Rain, Metaphor for Love

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Sometimes love needs must take its time to find it way through the maze of human consciousness that is invariably bogged down with potential consequences, not only for those engaging with it lovers, but family and friends as well.  

Love invariably asks and deserves such commitment from us all as rarely comes without likely consequences reaching beyond love itself, consequences we need to consider, ask of ourselves whether mind-body-spirit is best served by the heart or  some other abstract often dictated by others in the name of  so-called 'common sense'; their version, that is, well-meaning perhaps, but not necessarily ours

It is a dilemma that many lovers needs must confront and rise above, none more so than LGBT lovers in a world that likes to think it is 'progressive' but continues to be party to socio-cultural-religious aggression, not least regarding sexuality. 

Why, I often ask myself, can so many among humankind who acknowledge that we are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity, fail to come to terms with the fact that our differences do not make us different, only human? 

No one culture, religion, philosophy (or poet)  has all the answers, of course, but of one thing this poet is certain; whatever our sexuality, it would be a better world for a greater inclination towards a kindness and understanding that isn't a load of patronising bullshit adopted by those whose hidden agendas require they needs must be seen paying lip service to so-called 'political correctness'.

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming.” - Pablo Neruda

A MISTY RAIN, METAPHOR FOR LOVE

Even the sun took time to cry

as we parted, you and I,

not knowing if we’d ever meet again,

heartbeats in a misty rain

We swore to write every day,

be true, come what may,

fear of never seeing each other again 

killing us in that misty rain  

I watched you go, saw you turn,

felt blown kisses start to burn

a hole in my heart where we had been,

left to ghost a misty rain

The sun stayed behind a cloud

as I named my love aloud,

leaving a summer wind to bear my pain

on the wings of a misty rain

Autumn passed and winter too,

yet I heard no word from you;

heartbeat, an illusion, hope on the wane,

love’s dream but a misty rain

Suddenly, the sun reappeared

from behind a tearful cloud,

shining for us, we lifeless flowers reborn

in the sweetest of spring rain

Birds sang all that glorious day

for lovers (straight and gay);

echoes of Earth Mother’s eternal refrain

if sometimes in a misty rain

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2014

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since written in 2008 and subsequently included in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2012.]

Reality Bites

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Gay or straight, dating is a wonderful thing - online or otherwise - especially if we don't expect too much too soon. 

Someone advised me against online dating once because I was sure to meet lots of boring people. Well, no one can be that boring if they are up for improving their social (and sex) life. Besides, all we on-line hopefuls are  in the same  boat, so what right have any of us to sneer? In my experience, a social evening is only ever doomed from the start if either or both parties approach it with a preconceived ideas of how they want it to turn out. 

In latter years - as I grow old(er) - I have been tempted sometimes to go on-line if only for some sex-related digital playtime.

Now, not everyone is turned on by sex alone. I, for one, was never interested in sex just for its own sake; there has to be at least some chemistry, a connection of sorts.  (So I'm living in cloud cuckoo land?) Whatever, I have made a few friends this way, but it hasn't happened very often; it has usually been a case of into bed and out the door.

Oh, well, nothing ventured, nothing gained, we just need to be careful out there, and trust our instincts. whatever our socio-cultural-religious background. 

Religion, by the way, doesn't have a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit  has plenty to say about the spiritual nature of close human relationships even where they may be but temporary, as in matters sexual, for example.

REALITY BITES

We chatted on-line

one miserable day (raining hard)

finally agreed to meet,

hoping to make a real connection

the way some people do

who seem to have a lot in common,

fuelling expectation

We met up in a bar,

and everything was going well;

he came back to mine…

where things went downhill fast,

the way high hopes can do,

on slippery slopes of expectation

belying anticipation

Sexually, we were no match

although we got along very well,

and I liked him a lot

for his feisty, sunny personality,

the way some people are

in whom we have a lot in common,

if not shades of sexuality

I asked to see him again

since we were getting along so well

and he seemed to agree,

feeling much the same way as me,

but I was fooling myself,

his only commitment, to anonymity

regarding sexual identity

Now, when  I chat on-line

on miserable days (getting hard)

and someone agrees to meet,

hoping to make a real connection,

the way some people do

who seem to have a lot in common,

I keep a sense of proportion

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Hell is a Place called Closet

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

Sometimes life gets too much for us and we feel a need to run away from everything and everyone. Only, there is no running away unless it is to that dark, distant place we call loneliness. Oh, we might plan to stay just a little while, but time has a nasty habit of playing tricks on us, and before we know it half a lifetime has passed.

It is always good to talk over problems with a good listener. Never bottle things up (I speak from harsh personal experience) as they will always break out in the end, sometimes with devastating results. As regular readers will know, I put a severe nervous breakdown many years ago down to just that.  There were many reasons for the breakdown, not least my having to keep my sexual orientation a secret from friends and family during teenage years and young manhood; gay relationships were illegal in the UK in those days. 

The gay factor was part adventure, part nightmare for me during those closet years. I’d cruise when and where I could for the company of other gay guys. My dream was that one day I would not only be free to acknowledge my sexuality, but also let a gay-friendly world in on my secret. That dream has been partially fulfilled; we even have pro-gay legislation here in the UK and other parts of the West to back it up. Tragically, though, it, is not the same for gay people worldwide. Mind you, there is no legislating for bad attitude; homophobia is alive and kicking just about everywhere.

Gay or straight, the going may be tough sometimes, even most of the time, but it has been my experience that it pays to tackle the rough along with the smooth rather than keep putting off the inevitable until some proverbial tomorrow that will never come unless we focus on the kind of person we are not the kind of person we (or anyone else) might have preferred us to be. Once we focus on that, accept responsibility for it, and start making our own choices accordingly, only then have we earned the right to be counted among the world's free spirits.

Now. as I have said before in the blogs, whether or not a person decides to be openly gay is a personal choice and depends on his or her circumstances. I have no time for the ugly process of 'outing' people. Whatever the apparent reasons behind a person's decision, we should respect that decision; the chances are we don't know the whole story, and it's none of our business anyway ... or is it?

HELL IS A PLACE CALLED CLOSET

There’s a place

as gloomy as a hermit’s cave;

only, caves

don’t have holes in the roof

for bird droppings;

it’s a place as cold as a tram shelter

in winter;

only, no there’s no history

of tramlines;

it’s a place as scary as a graveyard

by moonlight, headstones letting slip

the letters of my name

I should leave

this gloomy cold, dead, place;

only, I long since

lost all sight of alternatives

(and choices);

a voice tells me to take a leap of faith

into the light;

only, it is so high, so far away,

and I’m scared;

I glimpse the tip of a bird’s wing 

through a hole

in my sky, can only wish it well clear

of human malice 

I hate this place,

yet I know it like I know the self

that never meant to stay 

as long as it did after mind-body-spirit 

met its demons

and only mind and body ran away, 

found faux safety

in a cave, leaving my spirit

to its imaginings 

of birds in flight and contending

with human nature

at its worst in this, the awful loneliness

of its despair

For sure, high time

I reconciled with alter ego after years

of its telling me to dry

my tears, leave this hell for a heaven 

of my own creation

instead of making do as best I can

with stereotypes

profiling differences, equating rights

with wrongs

and causing such chaos,

as to prevent fake news spreading,

being taken to heart and (worse) acted on

in good faith

Now, coming out, 

to show the world I'm made of far more

than meets the eye

so quick to judge us by appearances

and body language

incompatible with whatever imprint

of self-image

formative years may have nurtured

in circumstances

beyond its line of vision at the time, left

to find its own way,

by hook, by crook, by this or that random

learning curve

G-A-Y, ready to come in from a bitter cold,

integral to the oldest stories never told

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011, 2019

[Note An earlier version of this poem -appeared on the blog in 2011 under the title 'The Place'.]

Love.My Comfort Still

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

It is a well-worn adage and some would say a corny one. Yet, it is so true. Love lasts forever. Whether it is for a partner, family member or close friend…where tragedy strikes, our love for them and theirs for us will mount a rescue operation in due course and replace the burden of grief with the lighter, even humorous touch of happy memories

Now, I refer to Earth Mother the poem and regular readers may well wonder why as I am not a religious person. Yet, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality and God is many things to many people. (I'm an agnostic, not an atheist, while verging on pantheism.) Nor is there any reason that I can see why God should not be female.

I rejected religion for nature even as a child. Yet, who is to say that Nature and God are not the same? I respect religious beliefs even if I do not share them. As I was give to understand as a child, religion is meant to be about peace and love, yet a good many religions prefer to take their cue from hierarchical (mostly stereotypical) interpretations of what it means to be of an LGBT persuasion; they can neither respect the fact we are not only capable of love but of a more spiritual than religious nature.

As I have said elsewhere on the blogs, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the mind-body-spirit common to us all, must find its own way.

Okay, so I am a romantic. But, yes, in my experience, love is one of the few truly blessed aspects of life upon which we can rely to stay with us always…provided we don’t shut it out, for whatever reason.

LOVE, MY COMFORT SILL

Whenever tears falling like winter rain
for thinking of our hurt and suffering,
I think of springtime, find you once again
beside me - hopeful, happy, laughing

As my heart cries out in darkest despair,
in pain for the tragedy of our plight,
I think of summertime and see you there,
jumping for joy in the sun’s gentle light

We can but trust in Earth Mother's care
wherever bigotry found doing its best
to break us simply for being who we are,
gay lovers asking but to be left in peace

Beyond any Here-and-Now, love never dies
though its lovers parted by secrets and lies

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

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

Identity, Dotting I's and Crossing T's

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

As regular readers will know, I was 'closet' for years, and had told relatively few people, not least because I had grown up in a homophobic society that was all but toxic. During that time, though, I was acutely aware of gossipy speculation on the part of family, friends and work colleagues as to why I did not appear interested, romantically at least, in the opposite sex. (I have always enjoyed the company of women, and always will.) A part of me was wary of Coming Out, the rest of me dug its proverbial heels in and took the view that if people wanted to know if I am gay, they can damn well ask!

I was late coming out to the world as a  gay man. Even now, 30+ years on, I am haunted by those closet years, no longer bitter, just sad’ more saddened, though, by the fact that there are (still) many gay people around the world, including the UK, who feel they cannot be openly gay for various socio-cultural-religious reasons. Why cannot everyone accept that we are as we are, and we are all different versions of the same common humanity?

As I have said many times on my blogs, and doubtless will again, our differences do not make us different, only human.

How anyone can fail to love and/or respect another person because of their sexuality is beyond belief. Take the world religions, for example, preaching love and peace, yet invariably among the first to condemn the whole LGBT ethos. We are a common humanity and LGBT folks are part of its past-
present-future, so the bigots among us need to get real, hopefully sooner rather than later.

IDENTITY, DOTTING I's AND CROSSING T's

For years, I lived with folks suspecting

I’m gay, but no one ever asked

just gave me the kind of look, day after day

that says I must me a bad person

for not complying with that convention

that pairs men with women

They hadn’t a clue, didn’t really know me

at all for making assumptions

grounded in years of getting mixed messages

from all sections of society,

whether it be bad press, or dogma written

on tablets of ages-old stone

For years, I carried the burden on my back

of living a lie, mind-body-spirit

left with no choice but seek the love it sought

in closet corners of a world

that balked at the likes of an LGBT mindset,
least worthy, best forgot

One day, without warning, upon awakening,

it struck me what I’d only dared

to argue with my own shadow, what every man,

woman, child, needs must own;

we are the sum of all our parts, and it’s they

that may yet make us human

I came out to family, friends, workmates, 
many of whom were shocked,
suggested I was but confusing fact with fiction
in a mad, fantasy flirtation
with homosexuality, inciting the rebel in me,
two fingers up at conformity

Now, your eyes as I wake you with a kiss
speak of love’s resolve to tell on us; 
although the world’s bigots condemn LGBT folks,
ask how we live conscience clear,
I can only answer with integrity and sincerity
“All the better for being me.”   

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

A Life in the Day of an Armchair

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

Regular readers will know that I am not well these days, although a positive thinking mind-body-spirit prevails.  When we are young, we think we are invincible, but life invariably proves us no less vulnerable to its eternal ups and downs than anyone else. I guess, the secret of any upbeat heart is to keep focusing the inner eye on the ups and let the downs go into free fall. Easier said than done, of course, as a feisty youth passes into an uncertain middle age, yet one we can continue take no small pleasure in rising above if not outmanoeuvring more ups and downs. Then, one day we wake up and realise we not only growing old, but all the more vulnerable for that.

We all have to find our own way through life, and old age is no exception to that golden rule; whether we are fortunate enough to have loved ones with whom to share it or not. Some people look back with anger, others with an increasing bitterness for feeling that their future offers so much less. Neither attitude helps anyone, least of all ourselves. Oh, there will be moments, yes, and plenty of them, when we find the winter of our years darker, for whatever reason, than we anticipated; we may even feel cheated, deserving better. Whatever, there is much to be said for the old adage - 'There’s no point in crying over spilt milk.' What’s done is done, what’s past is past, and it is down to us to make the best of the Here-and-Now, rather than dwell on the worst. Never easy, especially if you’re lonely, poor, unwell,hospitalised or homeless…but there is another old adage that has served me well since my recovery from a mental breakdown many years ago – 'Where there’s life, there’s hope.'

Lose hope, and that may well be the beginning of our end, yet I say to you from personal experience that human nature is full of surprises, and can help us turn our lives around as and when push comes to shove... if we let it; not perhaps immediately, but that’s not only life for you, that’s time, too, its partner in crime.

Now and then readers and other associates ask me if I regret being gay. I ask them, in turn, how does anyone reconcile themselves to living a life that does not draw upon who we are rather than whom anyone else would have us be, no matter how well-meaning? The bottom line is that we are responsible for ourselves as well as looking out for others; at the very least, honesty demands we accept that responsibility, sooner or later...does it not?  Certain judgemental societies and individuals worldwide would do well to keep that in mind.

Sadly, not all LGBT folks can be open about their sexuality for various socio-cultural-religious reasons in certain countries and communities around the world, including here in the UK. Closet life is tough, closet love even tougher, but we should never underestimate the power of the human spirit to help us make the best of the good times and take the bad times in our stride. The bigots among us may win many battles, be be sure that we will win the war.

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF AN ARMCHAIR

The world, it’s passing me by;

though time slow enough for me to ask questions

about the whys and wherefores

of life, it only answers me with more questions,

demanding I look closer to home,
ask of mind-body-spirit how and why
it has brought me to this
dismal failure of expectation and imagination
if ever there was one

So, what is ‘this’ that I find harder

to bear as memories assail me (good, bad and ugly),

now offering comfort enough

to bring a smile to my face, now torturing me

with errors that, unmade,
may well have seen latter days kinder
than a tearful armchair
failing to empathise with a mind-body-spirit
finding itself wanting

My window on life misting over;

a splatter of raindrops reciting poems, calling to mind

faces, voices, seeing me through

all my whys and wherefores, their being on hand,
answers in themselves
to any questions I may well have asked
of mind-bod-spirit
had I envisaged then any such Here-and-Now
as, this, even as I speak

Ah, but where inclined to look back on this life in tears,
find the sum of its joys come to rise above its fears

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

Through a (closet) Keyhole

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

Gay, straight or transgender, there is a temptation, especially as we grow old, to look back on our lives if only because there seems more to look back on than forward to. (Not so, as who knows that tomorrow will bring? ,We always need to think positively about that however hard gets sometimes as body fails to keep sync with heart.) There is a further temptation to dwell on our mistakes, bad choices, missed opportunities; we all make them. The result of such negative reflection is that we may well lose sight of all the positives… many of which we may not even be aware,

Some years ago, I visited an old school friend who confided that he was gay, and I was the first person whom he had told. He was ill and had only a few years to live although neither of us had an inkling of this at the time. What bothered him most was that he saw his life as nothing more or less than a string of missed opportunities. “It’s all been such a waste of time,” he groaned, “my whole life,”

My friend had chosen a career in teaching.  I visited him on his 65th birthday, and he let me browse his cards, many from ex-pupils whom he had clearly given cause to remember him fondly, One card included the photo of a young man, his wife and three children, and he had written: ‘You were right. Trust your instincts, and you can do anything you put your mind to, however much other people try to tell you it’s in your best interests to do something else.’ It seems he had joined the police, and made his way well up the promotion ladder against the advice of family, friends and several teachers who had seen a promising career for him as, yes, - a teacher.

There were similar comments on other cards from ex-pupils whom he had plainly influenced for the better and they were clearly grateful.

A waste of a life, indeed…! I think not, and am glad I managed to convince him of that as he died a week later so I never saw him again.

Gay or straight, much of what we achieve in this life, we never get to see through to the end if we are aware of it at all. A word here, a word there, to the right person at the right time can make  the world of difference between their doing well instead of badly…and the chances are, we will never know.

Yes,I try to encourage gay people to .come out, but we are all different and all caught up in different sets of circumstances, some of which make being openly gay impossible. (This is why I despise the practise of 'outing' people.)

Yes, there are far better ways of getting a life than in a closet, but it isn't only LGBT people who have inside knowledge of closets; who doesn't have a secret close to their heart for fear of the harm it might do themselves and/ or others were it to be discovered?

A life without love in it? No way. My friend, for example, loved his job, loved nature, loved travelling ... no disrespect to sex, but there is more to life (and love) than that.

THROUGH A (CLOSET) KEYHOLE

I grow old alone,
those who may have grieved me
gone into that unknown
some call Heaven,
Paradise or whatever, anything other
than Death

Death, a cruel word,
metaphor for a ghost, last spotted
peering over the shoulder
of one such as I
in a bedroom mirror, grown anxious
for sleep

Sleep, harbinger
of dreams, good, bad or too ugly
to ever contemplate
in the light of day
where alphabet lanterns spelling out
my darkness

Darkness, companion
to personal space if sure to keep
a (very) discreet distance
since it would not do
to discover even tenuous connections
in circulation

Secrets, running rings
around me, less able to send them
to those dusty archives
of mind-body-spirit
than younger personae less concerned
with repercussions

Repercussions, haunts
of bygone days, years of answering
to outward appearances,
inner self suffocating
in a closet I let few in, and among those,
nobody to love

Love, always so near
yet so far, on the tip of my tongue
but at the last minute
struck dumb
for centuries of homophobic propaganda
finding its mark

Ah, but what’s that I hear?
voices out of nowhere reminding me
of words said, soon forgot,
(and to whom)
thanking me for lending a guiding hand
to get a life

Alone, yes, but lonely no more
for invisible hands warmly shaking mine
re-awakening sensibilities
half-forgotten;
of despair for a life with little to show for it,
nothing to speak of

Through the keyhole, head high,
no need to make my peace with mortality,
having done my best
for an upbeat heart
in as free a spirit of peace, kindness and love
as I can speak of

Would that I could have spoken out
than let bigotry have its wicked way with me
through formative years
that all but provided
a rope to hang by, but though a time of strife,
I've had a life


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019