Love in our Time

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

Several readers have emailed to ask if my new collection will be a combination of gay-interest and general poems, as my others have been. The answer is yes, it will, although I am still unsure whether either of two publishers who have expressed an interest will take it on or whether I will need to self-publish again. In the past, publishers have made it clear that they don’t like the idea of general and gay-interest poetry under one cover; presumably, they don’t see it as commercially viable.  However, I will always insist on including both, partly because I think there is a demand out there among those who enjoy reading poetry, but also because we are living in a more enlightened age now, coronavirus notwithstanding.

Hopefully, the world is finally waking up to the fact that there is more to a person than his or her gender or sexuality, and see stereotyping for the fake news it is.

Meanwhile …

These are hard times for all of us, not least as it would appear that Covid-19 cases are on the rise again worldwide. A welcome distraction today, though, by way of a new poem, inspired by my hearing about two old friends, once lovers, reunited after years apart. Oh, but I so love a happy ending, and wish them all that's bright and beautiful in what, for many of us, can be a dark, ugly world. Me? I just take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life ... 'try' being the operative word as often as not these days. <<wry bardic grin>>

LOVE IN OUR TIME

No kissing, no hugs,
even between we old flames
at a chance encounter
long after any letters returned,
love all but spurned

Covid-19, however,
demanded we at least pause, chat,
no more than that, maybe
a brief, innocent wander down 
old Memory Lane...?

Recalling happier days,
brought us close again, let us
escape the loneliness
we'd both been attacked by lately,
gay bars left empty

At a tree trunk we shared
a take-away meal, a few beers,
fighting back any tears
for all we'd meant to each other,
(nothing left to recover?)

No Covid to blame either,
but two young fools dead scared
of missing out on what life's
all about, not up for settling down,
no thought to being alone 

Time’s up, we're leaving,
elbows knocking on weepy hearts
crying out in pain, scared,
of being so misunderstood yet again,
just as it's starting to rain

We parted, my ex and I,
even managed to say "Goodbye";
no intention of looking back,
but slump shoulders told tales on me,
a tap on mine, oh, ecstasy! 

Without a word spoken,
we went into a hug-cum-bubble;
burst though it yet may do,
we'll see (whatever) through together 
for (still) loving each other

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

even between old flames

on a chance encounter

after years of letters returned,

email advances spurned

 

Covid-19, however

let us pause for a chat, nothing

more than that, it’s true,

but enough to enable us to dally

on old Memory Lane

 

Recalling happier days,

brought us close again, let us

escape the loneliness

we’d both been attacked by lately,

even Soho less friendly

 

We grabbed a free table,

shared a meal and a few beers,

letting fall a tear or two

for times like no other, lost forever,

nothing left to recover

 

No coronavirus to blame,

but a pair of fools, scared off by

the idea of settling down,

wanting to see the world, no thought

to ever ending up alone

 

Time’s up, early closing,

everyone leaving, we’re the last

elbows knocking, feelings

screaming out in pain, scared of being

abandoned all over again

 

We parted, my ex and I,

even said a shaky “Goodbye, friend.”

before walking on, no intention

of looking back, but a slumped shoulder,

rose to the occasion

 

Without a word spoken,

we rushed into a big hug-cum-bubble

and burst, though it may well do,

we’ll see the coronavirus through together

just for loving each othermany years apart. Here's wishing them a truly Happy Ending.

You-Me-Us, a Love for all Seasons

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

Today’s poem is the revised version of an earlier poem; I had already posted it on my general poetry blog this year and a gay couple who are planning to marry soon have asked me to repeat it here for “... friends who think a general blog is too het for them.” I am happy to oblige and send love and hugs to gay couples worldwide. (While I have separate gay and general blogs for obvious reasons, all my poems address a common humanity, regardless of who or where in the world.) 

 I am often asked, especially at poetry readings, why I revise poems, usually at a (much) later date, even if it has been published in its original form. What is the point of having a poem published only to revise it later? I have no definitive answer to that other than I haven’t a clue. I suspect that sometimes a published poem is as good as it gets at the time, but (and the poet has no way of knowing) it is only a first draft.

 Poems have a life of their own; some persist in growing within mind-body-spirit as time goes by, nurtured by various moods, thoughts, emerging philosophies and responses to this, that, and whatever in a subconscious that is an extension of that same consciousness in which the poem was originally shaped. Time, the ultimate mischief-maker, will latch on to a trigger years later and confront the poet with either acknowledging and/ or for compensating for any shortcomings in the original poem; shortcomings of which neither poet nor reader may have been aware at the time although some authoritative critics may have hinted at them without quite understanding at what, precisely, they were hinting.

Now, life doesn’t always go as smoothly as we would like. Trust love to be on hand to help relieve the stress ... although it has to be said that love can also be the cause of stress., especially when found wanting, for whatever reason and/or life tests it (and us) to the limits of endurance, such as when a loved one or close friend dies ...

 Oh, and lovers have no monopoly on love, either; as I have enthused before, and dare say will again, it comes in all shapes and sizes; places and animals, as well as people. Nor, where any of these are concerned does our relationship with love end in death given that remembrance, too, is always on hand to stir the spirit and lift the heart whenever it gets the call.

 My mother once told me not to be sad when someone we care for dies, but “Only shed tears of joy for joy will always get the better of sorrow. Why people think it’s respectful to wear black at funerals is beyond me. Funerals should be a celebration of happy memories, and we all have our share of those or it’s a poor sod who doesn’t … so don’t you wear black at my funeral,” she added with a typical twinkle (or tear?) in each eye. I had no way of knowing at the time that she had a cancer that would find me recalling those words within months.

YOU-ME-US, A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS

In the eyes of whom I love, a feisty light;
memories of flowers come springtime,
birds nesting, badgers mating, a celebration
of mind-body-spirit's timely reawakening
from a winter of the heart ever listening out
to take its cue from Earth Mother

In the eyes of whom I love, a bright light;
memories of sandcastles come summer,
laughter, ice creams, buckets and spades,
shrieking gulls in concert with children
letting rip with lungs applauding joie de vivre
for its magic, ignorant of illusion

In the eyes of whom I love, as pale a light
as of snowfalls come autumn's wake,
cosy fires of remembrance spreading love
and peace across landscapes less lonely
for Earth Mother's harvesting of time and space,
its enduring echoes of You-me-us

On the face of whom I love, a guiding light,
its sun-moon-stars, my every day and night 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005, 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in under the title ‘On the Face of whom I Love’ in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; alternative title added later.]

 

Passing Through

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

A new poem today, written for lovely lady, mother of a friend from my student days some 50 years ago; she will be 97 today. In the meantime, I am hoping to find a publisher for a new collection of poems; if not, I will self-publish again. Whatever, I will post details on the blogs 

Now, growing old is rarely if ever easy for anyone, but especially for men and women living alone without much of a support network. For many, too, there is a sense of time running out, an end to all we have known and loved. 

Ah, but love never dies and the human spirit, unique in its own way to each and every one of us, is immortal. 

Life as we know it allows us to pass through time (as we know it) but - as history and family history teach us - there is far more to time than any Here-and-Now; a kind act here, a kind word there, whether to a loved one or total stranger, may well reverberate across centuries, engaging with a living mind-body-spirit here, there, everywhere … 

Where world religions would have it that any after-life takes us to a Heaven or Hell of sorts, I believe we make our own Heaven, our own Hell, in the course of our own lifetime; not least, courtesy of Love and Conscience. 

I put it to you that, just as followers of any religion are entitled to our respect for their points of view, those of us who subscribe to no religious dogma are no less entitled to the same. As I often ask in the blogs, instead of putting someone in the wrong, even despising them for engaging with points of view other than our own … what’s wrong with agreeing to differ?

PASSING THROUGH 

The years, they pass,
and childhood becomes a dream
to treasure as we grow old
among such memories as inspired us
to enjoy such seasons
of our life as mind-body-spirit
chooses to see us through
each winter of the heart to that spring
where bluebirds sing

The hears, they pass,
and the Garden of Life sees changes,
for better, for worse,
while the human spirit sees us through
happy times and sad,
a positive thinking mindset
taking pride of place,
sure to inspire the human heart to sing,
come into its own

The years, they pass,
but nothing and no one left behind,
for first among equals 
remains the Spirit of Love, inspiring us
to see past-present-future
as a continuum, no end in sight,
and love, it never dies,
passing through generation to generation
in 'live' imagination

The years, they pass, but treat us as they may,
the kinder human spirit ne'er calls it a day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

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

Stereotypes, Daggers in the Heart

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2016.

I am not happy with the new blogger and wasn't when I was invited to try it some time ago. I had hoped we bloggers might  be given a choice  to continue in the old format, but it appears not, so I may not be blogging here for much longer. It is typical - in my personal experience - that so many people and organizations, even some shops, give little thought to how many older people like myself  - who do not have i-phones or android and struggle with internet technology, are easily confused, especially those of us living alone and have been struggling with other health issues long before the Covid-19 pandemic. However, I will see how I get on with the new format, but am not optimistic.

I am often asked to repeat the link to my informal poetry reading on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square as my contribution to Sir Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live' sculpture' project in 2009. The entire web stream of 2400 hours is archived in the British Library:

.

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

To suggest all gay men are paedophiles is every bit as absurd as it is to suggest everyone from any one socio-cultural-religious group is a terrorist. Tragically, stereotypes have a nasty habit of spreading and some people start mistaking them for truths which they duly pass on ...

I was only 14 years-old when I realised I am gay. Men I encountered at local gay cruising grounds were no paedophiles; on the contrary, they taught me how to think better of myself after being raised to think homosexuality is shameful. I did not feel able to come out to the world as a gay man for some years, not least because same sex relationships were illegal here in the UK until 1969; neither was I able to quite shake off the hostility I had met towards those like myself until much later, but thanks to those early encounters I was eventually encouraged to do so.  

The less enlightened among the heterosexual majority tend to forget that gay boys and girls, too, need to learn about sexual relationships; it is vital that sexual/ gender identity issues are discussed openly and intelligently in schools everywhere - including Faith Schools - so that children do not grow up with false, if not warped impressions, of what it means to be gay, bisexual, transgender or simply confused, even frightened by the way they start to identify with their sexuality as their teenage years kick in.. 

Sadly, various socio-cultural-religious agendas do no one who is not a diehard heterosexual any favours; consequently, even in a supposedly 'enlightened' twenty-first century, there are LGBT folks around the world, from all walks of life, forced to live their lives in the shadows or - worse - some dark lonely closet, such as I once did for years.

STEREOTYPES, DAGGERS IN THE HEART 

I’ll be your friend a child told an old man,

but he shook his grey head, sighing;

the child took careworn hands in his own,

sad to see already rheumy eyes crying

I’d love to be your friend said the old man

but some people will get the wrong idea;

they’ll be looking at you and looking at me,

and feeding old lies to imagination, I fear

It’s time I was on my way said the old man,

I’ve been warming this bench too long.

"Go child, and have fun, as much as you can,

it doesn’t last, innocence, being young…"

The child ran off, puzzled by catching Gran

throw daggers at the kindly, lonely old man

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber. 2005.]

Spirit of Autumn

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2014. 

I will be publishing fewer posts/poems on the blogs for some time while I concentrate on updating previous editions of my collections and preparing a new one. Again, I will Having been unable to interest any publishers/ agents in a mix of general and gay -interest poems, I will probably self-publish the latter but only have 200 or so copies printed; new editions of previous collections will only be available online and I will le everyone know when they are available to be uploaded. 

People often tell me they find autumn a sad month because it means winter is closing in, but as I have often pointed out on my blogs… after winter, spring.

Better, surely, to look forward to spring than dread winter? 

In the meantime, let us enjoy autumn for all its glorious colours and the sense of eternal optimism these are surely meant to inspire in us, an optimism that well may fail us from time to time...but, as my late mother once said, there is an eternal springtime of the loving, hopeful heart sure to inspire and help us through all the seasons of life, even the hardest of its winters...if we will but keep faith with it. When I pointed out that I was not a religious person, she simply responded to the effect that no religion has a monopoly on love and hope since we are all born with a potential capacity for both. How far we choose to apply it, she would argue, has more to do with human nature than religion. (My mother was a Christian, but like all the more remarkable religious-minded people, whatever their religion, she closed her heart and mind to no one.)

SPIRIT OF AUTUMN

Autumn leaves ...

Drifting by my window

like dreams I have nurtured

with love and care

in the garden of my life

where some flowered

in their season while others

were battered by wind and rain,

never to be seen again

Autumn leaves ...

Whirling by my window

like dervishes in a frenzied

dance of life and death,

sustained by a rage to seize

the day, come what may,

on the battlefields of my life

where I have risked all to prove

a born capacity for love

Autumn leaves ...

Clinging to my window

as Apollo clings to the last patch

of blue before sunset,

bids nature and human nature

rest easy on hard won laurels,

so-brief enough reprieve before

more rude awakenings to a world

falling on its sword

Autumn leaves ...

Ripped from my window

like pages of memory best left

to whims of wind and rain

while I enjoy each dreamy leaf,

petal and blade of grass

found in the garden of my life

whose choirs heard singing each day

of my pride in being gay

Autumn leaves, tears of Earth Mother

for any that cannot see beyond winter

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014; 2020

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

In the Blood

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

 

Today’s poem-post first appeared on the blog in 2016; it has since been (slightly) revised and given a new title.

 

What do you do if you’re gay and belong to a culture that is intrinsically homophobic?  This poem is based on a heart-warming conversation I once had with a gay Muslim man and his straight boyhood friend.

 

It is good to know that platonic love is still alive and kicking even in the face of the kind of socio-cultural-religious homophobia that has plagued us for centuries, and will continue to do so until LGBT issues are discussed in the classroom, opinions invited, compared and subsequently taken on board so that young people grow up familiar with the ultimate Fact of Life in so far as our differences do not make us different, only human; like it or not, we are all part of a common humanity and there  is no excuse for prejudice. As for those who object to their children having an all-round education on any socio-cultural-religious grounds, children are not fools nor do they deserve to be treated as such; better, surely, that they learn to respect human differences than be spoon fed bigotry and hate?

 

Yes, of course it matters what people think of us, but what matters far more is what we think of ourselves. Whatever our religious or non-religious views, we only have one life as we know it now, and it is our life no one else's.  Is it really so selfish to live it the way we want to live it, especially when love is our guiding light...and loving one person doesn't mean we need to leave anyone else behind... unless their take on love happens to be set in tablets of stone, in which case, so be it, their choice.

 

Many gay people are raised (as I was) to think the worst of the whole LGBT ethos so when they begin to personally relate to that same ethos themselves, they experience a crisis of conscience,never easy to deal with, and some of us never do. I did, but not after some very painful times with family and (some) friends. It took a nervous breakdown in my early 30's before I found the self-confidence to trust my own instincts and hold my head high for being gay. To my shame and regret, I even rejected a good friend for being gay during those early, fearful years. In my 70's now, I have tried to compensate for being such a coward then, but my closet days, they haunt me still.

 

No one chooses an LGBT orientation; we identify with it or we don't. Either way, the choice lies in what (if anything) we do about it.  Those who continue to oppose and demonstrate against LGBT issues amongst others on any school curriculum need to ask themselves if anyone has the right to deny anyone else the right to be themselves... and give due consideration to what Education is all about.

 

G-A-Y, IN THE BLOOD 

 

Out walking in the park,

saw someone who looked like you

pause to watch clouds drift by

like fluffy bits of snow, nowhere

to go and nothing better to do

than haunt us with memories, good

bad, happy, sad, and needing

to be saved to a desktop or lost

in that system commonly known

as the human condition

 

Out walking in the park,

someone who looked just like me

came right up to a friend,

wanting to know where he stood

on life, love, humanity,

‘taboo stuff’ like sexual identity…

and why shun a best mate

for being true to conscience,

before socio-cultural-religious ideas

that put people in boxes?

 

Out walking in the park,

someone who looked just like me

spoke up for being gay,

could understand concerns

about gossip and guilt

by association (yes, only too well)

but still had no regrets

about telling everyone his secret

about being buried alive in a closet,

body, mind and spirit

 

Out walking in the park,

on a day when a hostile gathering

of clouds were never inclined

to take my side, I failed miserably

in helping you come to terms

with my world, the likes of which

someone just like you

could not see was but an extension

of the friendship we had both known

since we were children

 

What happened, I wondered

to the best friend I'd looked up to

and adored for years,

as my eyes misted over with tears

for times shared, innocence lost,

doubting (then) he'd ever understand,

sharing his visible pain already,

a hard rain falling as if to obliterate

any tears as we went our separate ways

into the same sad world?

 

Out walking in the park,

saw someone who looked like you

pause to watch clouds drift by

like fluffy bits of snow, nowhere

to go and nothing better to do

than haunt us with memories, good

bad, happy, sad, and saved

to the desktop for posterity or deleted

by socio-cultural-religious interpretations

of what passes for humanity

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

 

[Note: The title is taken from an interview given by James Baldwin to mark the 15th anniversary of Stonewall; it is about being gay in America, but sadly still rings true among families/ communities worldwide: https://www.villagevoice.com/2018/06/22/james-baldwin-on-being-gay-in-america/ ]

 

 

Feeling is Believing OR Comfort and Joy

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2010. [I do not intend to repeat all earlier poems, but readers are welcome to explore the blog archives as indicated in the far right column of any blog page; poems published again here have been removed, and in some cases, revised.]

Now, I always write love poems with my late partner in mind even though he died years ago and we were able to spend little time together before he was killed in a road accident; sadly, it was a 'closet' relationship society was predominantly hostile towards same sex relationships in those day; they were a criminal offence here in the UK until the Sexual Offences Act, England and Wales (1967) legalised homosexual acts between two men  on the condition they were consensual, in private and had attained the age of 21. Age of Consent equality, though, did not come until 2001 in England, Scotland and Wales, and 2009 in Northern Ireland.

Hopefully, readers will always find time and space enough within themselves  to get in touch with their own deeper feelings. In this sense at least, all religious faiths and festivals have something in common. 

Love has the capacity for rising above the worst life and nature may feel inclined to throw at it, including winter, a winter of the heart as well as of the meteorological kind.

Yes, here I go again. The message of all religious faiths and festivals - is one of peace and love; who hears  and acts upon it, is another matter.

Long, long live love … and let's not discriminate against LGBT folks just because it offends some heterosexual 'norm'; in a common humanity, diversity is part of what should be an all-inclusive norm, not an exception to any rules laid down and spread by any religious dogma as a socio-cultural-religious 'norm'. God is love, after all.

Long, long live peace, too, wherever it is given even half a chance.

As for peace of mind, we can but try for it, and once we find, be sure to share it, if only to take  comfort and joy from watching the ripples spread ...

Gay or straight, there is more to anyone than his or her sexuality; certain individuals, organizations, and communities (parents, too) - worldwide - would serve themselves and others by far better for keeping that in mind.

FEELING IS BELIEVING or COMFORT AND JOY

I could hear bells ringing,
choir voices singing,
snow falling like manna 
from heaven for kids 
and snowmen while I gazed 
from a window,
nose against the pane,
never felt so alone

Suddenly, I saw you there,
sunshine in the hair,
so near, and yet so far …
a dear, familiar grin
daring me rejoin the comfort 
of togetherness
and share in festivity
than bare self-pity

Loneliness ebbing away,
I came out to play 
that wonderful winter's day;
you threw snowballs,
missed, and we kissed…
your lips so sweet 
and warm, grey-blue eyes 
forgiving me for living

Where snow piles your grave,
that winter's night,
we made love while bells 
rejoiced us and angels 
chorused all the pleasures 
of togetherness
that is the joy of festivity,
defying self-pity

Not once a year but every day,
love finds a way 
to bring such comfort and joy
as embraces us all,
nurturing the more positive
side of human nature,
heart and soul of a humanity
celebrating its diversity

If God is Love, and love acts thus,
where does bigotry have a place?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; it was originally written as a Christmas poem, but feedback suggested this made it come across as less all-inclusive]RNT

An Autumn Kindling

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2011.

Strange, isn't it, how some snatches of idle conversation stay in your head for all time while we can often barely recall the substance of the most earnest debate?

When I was a kid, some 70 years ago, overheard someone remark to my mother how she loved spring because ‘it’s the month for falling in love, and you’re never too old for that.’ My mother agreed, but added, ‘Love doesn’t have a season, silly. It’s an anytime, anyplace, anywhere, anyone thing.’

She knew a thing or two, my mum. 

AN AUTUMN KINDLING

Autumn is a sad time, some say,

yet it’s a glad time of year for me,

recalling how one cold October

brought us a gloriously sunny day

when we paused, total strangers,

to watch squirrels in a tree at play

The tree, it was a pretty evergreen,

its shiny leaves smelling of summer,

recalling how one gorgeous June

I’d met a stunningly handsome man,

misread a one-night stand as love,

swore how I’d never go there again

The squirrels were a sight to see,

seemed unconcerned by our laughter;

we caught each other’s lively eye

and your smile, it stirred ashes in me

as near dead flames starting to flicker,

autumn wind blowing far less coldly

We chatted for a while, took a photo

of the playful squirrels on our phones

till they scampered way out of sight;

nothing else for it now but part and go

our separate ways, yet we lingered,

and in your eyes, I saw my fire’s glow

Winter days are cheerless, some say,

yet they’re a glad time of year for me,

recalling how one golden October

blessed us with a glorious autumn day

when we paused, we total strangers,

to watch squirrels in tall pine at play

The tree, oh, the prettiest evergreen,

its shiny leaves smelling of summer

and already re-working my life history,

telling the squirrels all about two men

getting very cosy and warm if shyly,

and plainly intending to go there again

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2020

Sometimes, it takes a Stranger

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2013.

When I was a boy in the early-mid 1950’s, my mother would always warn me not to speak to any strange men whenever I went out to play. As a gay youth, I was destined not to follow that particular piece of advice.

On the whole, I have been very fortunate in the gay men I have met while cruising around hoping for sex since my mid-teenage years; it would be few more years yet (1967) before sex between consenting gay adults would be legalised here in the UK and I would not be 21 until 1966. (I will be 75 in December so it was all a long time ago, yet I recall that time as if it were but yesterday.)

As a teenager, I took care never to let anyone take me to their home. As a young adult, I probably never appreciated the risks of going home (or anywhere else) with a total stranger or taking him back to my place. Even so, I trusted my instincts, and rarely did they let me down ... or not for long anyway. (No adrenaline rush could ever quite obliterate them.)

Few straight men understand about ‘cruising’ and find it sordid, even disgusting; what they fail to grasp is that there is a gay person inside us, desperate to come out, look the world in the eye, hopefully meet the boy or girl man  or woman or our dreams - or at least, kindred spirits. What few understand is that the world, as represented by the environment in which we live, is often unlikely to welcome us with open arms; in short, we are scared … of stereotypical attitudes prevalent among family, friends and workmates (or schoolmates) alike; not least, we may well have good cause to be scared of being beaten up simply for our sexuality.  

Until we put closet days behind us, though, we are prisoners of our twin selves. (I am often asked why, as gay man, I also write general poetry and fiction; not least, it is to emphasise the point that a person’s sexuality is an integral part of who they are, yes, but there is far more to anyone than their sexuality.

As I have said on the blogs more than once, and will say yet again, our differences do not make us different, only human. 

LGBT folks have come a long way since Stonewall, but in many countries, communities and family life around the world, we are not equal yet in the eyes of  many, even where there is legislation in our favour, Black lives, LGBT lives, disabled people's lives... every life matters and deserves to be treated as such, and not in a patronising way, but as ordinary people, part of a common humanity.

Have fun, but be careful out there.

SOMETIMES, IT TAKES A STRANGER

A stranger one fine day

asked if he could walk with me,

told me he was gay,

asked if he could talk with me

about being gay

What else could I do or say

but let the stranger walk with me,

tell me he was gay,

let him walk and talk with me

about being gay?

A stranger one fine day

told me he had seen me before,

suspected I am gay,

told me how he fancied me

(so am I gay?)

A stranger, many years ago

talked to me like no one else had

about being gay,

knew just what I so needed

to hear and say ... 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009