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.)