Mother, Mine (Alice Maud Taber 1916-1976)

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

Hello again, folks, from London UK

Many thanks to the gay reader who says he has been exploring and very much enjoying the blo archives. 

Now, I hope you all managed to enjoy the Christmas spirit in spite of the pandemic and its new Omicron variant raging all around us.

For many families who have lost a loved one to Covid-19 or for any other reason, Christmas, like birthdays and other family gatherings make us all the more aware that someone is missing; it can be a painful experience, but as time goes by, we learn to live with happy memories of that person, always with us in spirit if small compensation for their absence.

For example, I still miss my mother who died in 1976, but her indomitable spirit remains a part of me and has helped me through many a personal crisis. The poem below is the Dedication poem that precedes my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time; it has been significantly revised since publication in 2005.

As regular readers will know, many of the poems in my collections have been revised in the course of appearing on my blogs and I am hoping to publish revised editions before the Grim Reaper comes calling; if not, a close friend has said he will see to, it if we can find a publisher. All my collections include a gay section and no UK publishers have showed any interest, so I self-published limited editions under my own imprint; many copies went to public libraries where I am pleased to say they issued well. As a poet, I am no household word nor ever likely to be, but this general poetry blog has passed 202,012 views and the gay-interest poetry blog has had nearly 170,000 views, so many thanks again, dear readers, for being regular visitors.

Sadly, we LGBT folks - from all walks of life - continue to be much maligned worldwide, but there is less hatred and prejudice than when I was growing up, except within certain religious groups who fail to see that sexuality is not a lifestyle choice, but simply who we are in mind-body-spirit. Their leaders speak of a God of Love and preach Goodwill to All...so, to exempt LGBT folks has always struck me as the height of hypocrisy. (Why can't we all simply agree to differ and respect each other for that, regardless?)As a gay pantheist, I refuse to believe that any God would deny me a sense of His ethereal presence any more than Earth Mother would deny me a sense of Hers; rightly or wrongly, I don’t believe any religious agenda has the right to exclude anyone on the grounds of sexuality alone. (Yes, I know I have said this many times, but, as my dear mother would often say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating.)

We all owe much of what and who we are to one or both our parents or to whoever took responsibility for raising us. I count myself very fortunate, indeed, to have the likes of my late mother as a positive role model.  Although my father and I did not get along, I owe him, too, a debt of gratitude for providing a home for the family. Gratitude, though, is not the same as love.; if he loved me in his own way, he certainly never showed it, and no child can expected to be a mind-reader. As far as I am (still) concerned, he was a psychological bully towards me and , for this reason, could not bring myself to attend his funeral in the early 1980's..

I am working on a poem for New Year's Day, so hope you will join me again then. Meanwhile...

MOTHER MINE (ALICE MAUD TABER, 1916-1976)

Mother, you were always there for me,
always believing in me more than I believed
in myself, knowing me
better than I knew myself, always loving me
more than I loved myself,
although I could not give all you all you' had hoped
for me, live and love how you wanted for me
subscribe to your dream, sadly only ever a fantasy
of family unity...

We did our best by each other, endeavouring
to support one another through life’s cruel maze
of emotional twists, turns and dead-ends;
me, unable to grasp for years
how conflicting family loyalties were daily
tearing at your heart, divided so
by the very loved-ones to whom you gave your all,
never quite finding peace of mind for our making you
Love’s own dear thrall

Yet, years on since a cruel tumour took its toll,
you continue to comfort my very soul, feed into it
all that good about mind-body-spirit,
lamenting its mistakes while making sure it follows
a learning curve, finds inspiration
in the Poetry of Love, resists
rather than too easily caves in to darker life forces
likely to confound and confuse us until we lose any sight
of potential consequences

Mother dear, you will always be the first to whom
I turn, to help and guide me along kinder paths than some
I’ve inadvertently taken, for turning
deaf ears and blind eyes to that still, small voice within
that would urge me not err or sin
on the side of an inflated ego that cannot see woods
for trees nor will admit
any flaws in a mind-body-spirit, much to live for and learn
about what makes the world turn

A part of me now, as always, oh, wise and wonderful mother,
no distant memory, but a part of me forever 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2005; rev. 2021

[Note: A This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; an earlier version first appears as a Dedication in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

 

 

 

  

The Way Ahead

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

I will try and compose a new poem for this blog soon. Sadly I am feeling low on inspiration these days, but continue to root for gay man and woman worldwide, especially those who feel trapped in a closet from which there seems no obvious escape without inflicting incalculable hurt to family and friends who sill cannot accept us LGBT folks as...only human.

Meanwhile... these are troubled times for us all as Covid-29 pursues its relentless course around the world, its variants hopefully indicating that its powers are diminishing, but as yet no hard evidence that such is the shape of things to come. We can but call on mind-body-spirit to lend us both hope and wherewithal to see us through our pain and see the hopeful heart emerge the stronger if not unscathed.

We face a difficult New Year ahead, but let us face it with a sense of collective responsibility, cautious optimism and that all-embracing hopeful heart with which this blog and its author-poet has been much concerned from its start, nearly ten years ago.

Here’s wishing you all as Happy a New Year as we can make it for family friends and those we have yet to get to know as well as ourselves.

Many thanks for dropping by, hope to engage with you again soon. (Yes, I am working on a poem to greet 2022.)

Hugs,

Roger

THE WAY AHEAD

A new year approaching,
as we can’t help but wonder
in fear and dread
whether or not it will be another
that’s Covid-19 led?

Everyday life, a struggle
with every safety precaution
taken by a majority,
wearing face masks still rejected
by a scared minority

Vaccinations, to protect us,
young, old and more vulnerable
in societies worldwide;
a race against Covid’s angry tide,
no one spared

Deaths soaring, hospitals
overflowing, staff left struggling
as more become infected,
so many businesses having to close,
no one unaffected 

Delta, a vicious Covid variant
overtaken by the Omicron mutation;
world scientists passing on
relevant data as it becomes available,
inevitable confusion

Meanwhile, world still turning,
all its peoples left weeping such crises
of nature and human nature;
inevitable stress, invariable fall-out,
past-present-future

Yet, there is a resilience among
humanity seeing us rise above the worst,
forces for good working
to lend us strength enough to alleviate
our suffering

Among the ruins of a life, engaging
with Love and Kindness, always
ready and willing to help us
bring the hopeful heart into play against
even a coronavirus

Mind-body-spirit, up for whatever task;
we have but to ask...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

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

Comfort and Joy OR A pandemic called Loneliness

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

"If you're lonely when you're alone, you're bad company." - Jean-Paul Sartre

They say you can be lonely even in a crowd. For me, that was never so true as during my closet years. Sadly even in this 21st Century of ours, here are still many LGBT folks who feel unable to leave that same, lonely closet for on reason or another. I respect those reason, of course, but urge anyone who feels they are caged-in, as I did for many years, to find the strength of will to escape it and trust that family, friends and peers will accept that we LGBT folk are only as human as they themselves.

Now, several people have expressed concern that I will be on my own over Christmas, but I welcome the solitude and an opportunity to engage with both a positive-thinking mindset and you, too, dear readers, especially any of you who might also on your own; a mixed blessing at the best of times, even more so  as Covid-19 and its variants continue to rage all around us. 7

As I have said many times on the blog, love comes in many shapes and sizes. I defy anyone to say they have never loved, and/ or  been loved; it may feel like it sometimes, but we only have to look within ourselves to realise we may well be suffering from blurred vision, invariably due to hard times...

I have only  just written this poem, off the cuff, to help reassure all of you, me too, that the world may well be a mad one, but it has a kind heart and a mind-body-spirit more than capable of overcoming any pain and fear if we but engage with and give it its head... Not always easy, true, but what in life is ever easy...?

Perhaps, after all, there is a lot to be said - in many if not most circumstances - for the old adage, 'No Pain, no Gain.'

COMFORT AND JOY or A PANDEMIC CALLED LONELINESS

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
surrounded by cards from family and friends,
marking where love begins
and any wallowing in self-pity ends
just for knowing they are there
and thinking of me, each part of a memory
that’s fresh and evergreen,
written and signed with such love on the heart,
as to comfort global mind-body-spirit

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
fond thoughts traversing past-present-future
with thanks and hope
for things yet to come, feed inspiration,
even a salvation of sorts
in the eyes of whatever God and Earth Mother
engages with the souls
of all creatures great and small if only for trying
to give and make the best out of living 

Alone at Christmas, yet not so,
a sense of peace and joy flowing through bones
that have taken knocks enough
over years of struggling to get by in a world
that would pass us by
if we let it, but for such enduring spirits as Love
and Kindness, invariably there
for us at times of need, not always on time (if ever)
but, true to say, “Better late than never...) 

Loneliness is a pandemic for which no vaccination,
yet, to love and have been loved its sure salvation 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

 

 

 

  

Hello again, Everyone, from London UK

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

"Times of terror and the deepest misery may arrive, but if there is to be any happiness in this misery, it can only be a spiritual happiness related to the past in the rescue of the culture of early ages and to the future of a serene and indefatigable  championship of the spirit in a time which would otherwise completely swallow up the material." - Herman Hess (The Glass Bead Game)

Hello again Everyone, from London UK

Hi folks,

Sorry, no poem yet as my health issues are ganging up on me, but they on't include Covid-19 or any of its variants, so am trying to look on the bright(er) side of life... albeit through a misty window.😉

Again, most of this post appears on both poetry blogs today, given that feedback suggests some LGBT readers  are only interested in LGBT-specific poems. I can but urge them to explore the blog archives as most of my early entries are precisely that...

Yesterdays, my 76th birthday, I had lunch with my best friend who was later mugged, his debit card stolen and phone smashed. I.am hoping to see him later today if the trains are running ok as I don't have a car; travel is not advised, but needs must... Fortunately, he is not hurt, but may well be in shock for awhile yet. It was a birthday we won't forget, and much the same will apply to Christmas this year, already in tatters for many people due to the meteoric spread of Omicron. 

I am working on a positive-thinking poem to post here on Christmas Day, so do drop by over Christmas if you can. Meanwhile, we can only do our best to enjoy as Happy a Christmas as we can make it each in our own way. 

As regular readers know, I am not a Christian but a Pantheist. Whatever, we all deserve a good slice of Peace and Goodwill at any time of year, especially in the middle of a pandemic that is creating personal crises for so many people, not least in terms of their mental well-being. Stress is a cunning beast; it can creep up on us unawares and/or insinuate itself among other worries and concerns we may be having to deal with and see that we get everything out of proportion to such an extent that depression sinks its teeth into us and we feel we just cannot cope.

If you know someone who tells you they cannot cope any more, do lend a helping hand as well as a shoulder to cry on Some people, especially men, seem to think that giving way to stress is a weakness to be kept hidden. Ah, but we are only human, men and women, younger and older; there is no shame in asking for help. Yes, I know I have said this before on the blog, only recently too, but - as my mother used to say - if something is worth saying, it is worth repeating... time and again if necessary.

That's all for today, I'm afraid, as I need to get on with some physical exercises if only to  find relief for my mounting anxieties before I visit my friend who has been mugged. Oh, and I expect to be back by early evening, in time to tap Inspiration for yet another Covid Christmas poem.

If you have time and are in the mood, do feel free to explore the blog archives.

Take care everyone, stay safe and do your best to keep nurturing a positive-thinking mindset,

Hugs,

Roger

Tattered Remains OR The Fall and Rise of Mind-Body-Spirit

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

“Sometimes, even to live is an act of courage.” – Lucius Annaeus Seneca (c.4BCE – 65 CE)

A reader asks why I continue to publish post-poems that are not LGBT-specific to his blog. Well, although feedback suggests that more readers access both poetry blogs these days some had emailed to request that I continue to poet any that I might think relevant. Thinking back to my closet years, I am haunted by the image of someone to whom the title of today's poem once fitted lie a glove. 😉

In trying to encourage readers around this mad, Mad, MAD world of ours to take heart in whatever life crisis they may be struggling to overcome, Covid-19 and variants notwithstanding, I have to confess that, at the same time, I am addressing my inner self and, yes, urging it to help me practice what I preach. This is why – and has always been why – poetry as creative therapy has invariably worked for me, even as a schoolboy in a school to which I was not best suited, made to move away from friends I had known since early years and struggling with being gay in an essentially homophobic society, as the UK was (predominantly) then.

Hopefully, some of my poems on this often-repeated theme encourage at least some readers to go into survival mode and (eventually) find an inner peace and happiness that is not only priceless, but meaningful to the individual in such a way that no one – even with the best of intentions - should feel entitled to advise on or judge according to their own standards; sadly, of course, the latter is only too common and too many of us fall for it every time.

So, thanks again. dear readers, for not only dropping by, but also being my inspiration, especially at the moment when I really need to lean on its friendly arm.

Take care, try to stay safe and well, and be sure to continue nurturing a positive-thinking mindset, especially in a crisis.

Hugs,

Roger

TATTERED REMAINS or THE FALL AND RISE OF MIND-BODY-SPIRIT

Worry, worry, worry,
all but getting the better of me,
confusion giving way
to apprehension just for trying
to make sense
of a society struggling to deal
with a global pandemic,
world leaders sending out mixed messages,
having to rely on their scientists

Scientists, in their turn
having to interpret emerging data
as it comes through,
though what it suggests we do
may well conflict
with political aims and policies
declared by this or that
Party in this or that race to convince society
to let it take overall responsibility

Responsibility, a sword
that’s double-edged, spur to ambition,
may well promote
peace and goodwill, at least until
Crisis rears its ugly head
opinions divided as to what to do,
put Party before Society
and bluff it out, or be seen to give priority
to a weary, stressed humanity?

Humanity, left battered
and feeling as if in tatters by pandemic
or governments or both,
yet as loath as ever to concede defeat,
reassembling its life forces
to rise above any growing despair,
restore a positive mindset,
let love and friendships rise above our pain
see us all start over again...

Time, not always on our side at times of need,
but kinder life forces, good friends indeed...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: Back with another poem soon, a lighter theme, I promise. 😉]

 

 

 

L-I-F-E; Mist, Mountains and Motivation

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

"Our life is what our thoughts make it." -Marcus Aurelius

Gay or straight, none of us are immune to stress, especially at the moment, as the new Omicron variant finds many of us feeling threatened and vulnerable; some, if not many LGBT folks, it will be a familiar journey. Not the same kind of gay-specific poem you will find in the blog archives, true, but I feel it has its place on both blogs. .

I wrote the poem below during my recovery from a nervous breakdown back in the late 1970's. Until now, reading it has always left me depressed as it recalls a period in my life I would much rather forget. Yesterday evening, though, I found myself in something of a perfect storm; computer crashing, TV failing to respond, a rising panic leaving me unable to quite get my thought processes - already in a mess due to years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer - into any kind of order.

After a kind friend had helped me send foe, Panic, into retreat over the telephone, I found myself needing to read the poem again. I recalled someone telling me it was "a load of hackneyed crap" at the time, which had done nothing for my fragile morale. 😉Reading it again now, after nearly two years of the world having to live with Covid-19 and now, another rapidly spreading variant, Omicron, it did not leave me feeling depressed at all. On the contrary, it reassured me that, like everyone else, I have the potential to try and rise above the stress that Covid-19 has imposed. 

Like all of you, I can but try, succeed or fail, do or die, and may mind-body-spirit see us through this stress, just as it did yours truly 40+ years ago. My choice, and I decided to GO for it; already, I could feel my panic retreating, no victory in sight, but the potential for it was there and my depleted energy levels all but restored. I feel much the same now, a positive-thinking mindset well and truly in place.

I rarely sleep well, but last night I slept better than I had for a long time...

L-I-F-E: MIST, MOUNTANS AND MOTIVATION

I creep up on you unawares
over periods of time as the going
shifts from gentle slope
to steep hill, until it starts to feel
like there’s a mountain
to climb, its peak shrouded in mist
as if acknowledging
a nagging fear that an enemy is near
if not already here...

At the peak, the scary mist
emanating half-forgotten faces
I can barely place,
whose names long since forgotten
in mists of time, no less
scary for reminding me who I am,
even yet could be,
left wondering why mind-body-spirit
gone eerily quiet...

Tempted, to leap into space
rather than risk descending, ending
all pretence at living,
better to die now – and prove what?
That it has counted for nothing,
this endless searching for something
and getting nowhere fast?
Suddenly, mind-body-spirit finds its voice,
“Do or die, your choice...”

A global challenge, Choice. Do we, nurture
or give up on our past-present-future...?

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

.

Hello again, folks, from London UK

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

"You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time." - Abraham Lincoln

Hello again, folks, from London UK

Sorry, no poem again today, but soon...

While I have no Covid symptoms, I suspect the stress f the past 18 months or so is beginning taking its toll on ole Roger, just as it is on everyone else, worldwide. Yes, I feel a lot safer for having had my booster jab, but I am feeling very worn down by it all, as I suspect all of you are too. Writing poetry helps distract me and keep a sense of proportion, but inspiration is in short supply right now. Even so, I have high hopes for a poem that is edging its way into my mind and will hopefully find its way to expressing itself before too long...

As if climate change was all we had to contend with...!

So, how do we come through Covid and its variants and manage to maintain a positive-thinking mindset in the face of illness and death all around us?  Good question, no easy answers. I guess we can but do our best to support each other and try not to blow the short fuse many if not most of us have felt burning a gaping hole in our lives for far too long, if it hasn't already.

As regular readers know, I had a bad nervous breakdown in my mid-30's. partly for being gay and closet-bound, chiefly because I had no real sense of direction and was physically and mentally tired of drifting and feeling sorry for myself. Eventually, I saw sense and realised that whatever future I might have was down to me, no one else. At the same time, I needed help,  to be pointed in the right direction. I had to go to Australia to benefit from the wisdom of an old Aborigine and suffer the indignity of being repatriated (because I couldn't find a job) before I found my way in life, although it would be uphill for a few more years yet. Eventually, I found the self-confidence to leave the awful closet that certain  peers and family had made me feel I 'deserved 'while growing up in the 1950' and aim for the life that I wanted, not what other people might have or want. Selfish of me, perhaps, but we all have individual needs and have to recognise them, not be intimidated into being copycats.

With the support of some wonderful people, some hard work on my part and accepting that being gay is who I am and not only doesn't make me less of a human being, but also strengthened my resolve to help give the lie to the fake news and faux stereotypes that continue to haunt many corners of various societies and communities worldwide. Yes, I have said all this before, so why say it again? I guess the keyword is self-awareness; admitting to ourselves that we are a psychological mess is a battle half won already, victory in sigh; it is up to each and every one of us not to lose sight of just what 'victory' means - for us and for any family and friends closest to us, given that so much of what we do and say invariably affects them also.

So why am I raking up my pathetic past? Because our past-present-future is the sum of who we are; interdependent aspects of growing up, whoever and wherever we are in the world, and doing our best to learn from our mistakes as well as invariably having to pay for them, one way or another. Learning is strength, and strength is what will see us through the pandemic; not least, strength of will, purpose and character. We can, after all, only ever do our best; it will never be enough for some people, possibly even ourselves, but it is what keeps us on that learning curve, adapting to change as only mind-body-spirit can. 

We are all different, so our 'best' will invariably highlight our differences, differences that can  no more be measured in academic terms than the human spirit itself. Education and learning applies no less to the inner self than what appears visible to others in terms of what we may say and do; both words and actions are always vulnerable to misinterpretation, especially if we try to 'measure' them according to what we see as 'acceptable' rather then making an effort to understand what drives those whose 'best' bears little or no resemblance to our own.

The best advice my mother ever gave me was not only to try and take each day as it comes, but people too, no rushing to judgement as humankind is so often inclined. We can but try, do our best to give people the benefit of whatever reservations we might have in the course of any casual,  closer, even more intimate acquaintance. Alas, what drives the inner self will always remain something of a mystery, to ourselves as well as each other; the least we can do as we climb the various hills and mountains of this life is... yes, do our beat.

Well, that's all my ramblings for today and many thanks, as always for joining me here on the blog. I only hope it helps prevent some of you losing the proverbial plot as it helps me, if only for doing my best to keep from falling into a cesspit of Doubt, Fear and various indescribable Unknowns that so like to tease Mind-Body-Spirit at such times as a pandemic or any crisis when many if not most of us are at our most vulnerable.  

Religions and philosophies will drive and comfort their own follower; for the rest of us, we can only do our best to rise above the worst of things, even if it means having to go with the flow until we get to swim freestyle again...

Take care, everyone and remember that we can only do our best, whatever circumstances in which we find ourselves. or may yet find ourselves; it may not always seem enough, but it has to beat doing less or nothing, surely?

Bye for now, take care and let's all do our best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset...yes?

Hugs,

Roger

[Note; this post also appears on my general blog today.]

Hello from London, UK (Yes, it's the old codger-poet again!)

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

Hello again from London UK

No poem to day, but soon... if my messed-up thought processes can rise to the occasion.  My prostate cancer isn't painful, but...oh, I have such fond (if distant!) memories of getting a decent night's sleep!

Straight people, all ages, sometimes ask what it's like to be gay and "not in the swim of everyday life." A silly question, if only for assuming that LGBT folks are not in the swim of everyday life. We are, after all, human beings and, as such, as much a part of a common humanity as anyone else.

Sometimes people, all ages, also ask me how I cope, not just with the prostate cancer but with growing old in general. To be honest, I'm not sure, but on the whole I just do... I suspect it's down to Mind-Body-Spirit pulling together as good friends will during hard times. 😉 Body is likely o prove the weaker link at any moment in time, but especially after it has been around long enough for a good many years to leave their mark, but - more often than not - Mind and Spirit act as pacemakers, and Body feels encouraged to press on...

Ah, but what if Mind falls foul of the darker of human temptations and  gets too close to The Edge of it all, cannot find the will to draw back, prevent freefalling into that same darkness? It is at such times that the human Spirit comes into its own, encouraging native willpower to see the trees in the wood for the beautiful species they are, find a way through to a place of such potential reassurance as to offer a good chance of our being able to enjoy the flowers and birdsong that the inner ear is pleading with us to  hear and take heart...

That's all very well, but what if the Human Spirit, too, has lost its way, become confused, unable to see any wood for its damn trees that seem to be closing in on it, their motives unclear although an encroaching darkness s a sure threat, no comfort there, no sleep to rescue us from despair with sweet dreams and memories of how things were before... whatever. Mind may well  struggle to restore Spirit to its senses, Body too, but what chance of success, Spirit being by far the stronger of the trinity?

Ah, but let's not forget the power of  life forces from which Mind-Body-Spirit engages all the time, whether we are aware of it or not; the sheer Poetry of Love; family, friendship, images of  the natural world that have made such an impression on our sensibilities that we hear them calling to us through time and space . True, we may yet play deaf to the call and teeter over The Edge, but Mind-Body-Spirit, will inevitably pull together and do its best to persuade us otherwise... if we will but pause just a moment from  feeling sorry for ourselves, engaging with the politics of blame long enough to listen . Yes, finding our way through the woods may well be  a hard slog, maybe even impossible...BUT...worth a try, surely?

So much for life forces concerned only with our well-being, whether we choose to engage with them or not, but what of Death's lack of concern for our survival, able to  take us away from the Poetry of Life and Love at the blink of an eye? Well, there is a Poetry of Faith that may or may not be related to any religion that assures us of a place in an all-embracing Mind-Body-Spirit that defies even life itself, sure to carry us into the hearts of any with whom we have shared the Poetry of Love in whatever form it may have taken; it is called Remembrance or Personal Space (Memory) in it more intimate form; sense of spirituality denied no one. I suspect that Personal Space archives memories of it own that even dementia patients are able to take heart and comfort from. even though they may not be consciously aware of their evergreen presence within the deeper, inner self, able to select happy times and leave any bad times to fade like autumn leaves.; such, too is the Poetry pf Spirituality...

"Stuff and nonsense," do I hear some readers say? Possibly so, but there is a life-force within even  of  certain 'Stuff and 'Nonsense' wherein even the most troubled heart can find a degree of peace... if it chooses to look for it; easily enough done if we choose to freely and frankly engage with Mind-Body-Spirit whenever we find ourselves at the end of our tether... for whatever reason.

Take care, folks, stay safe and many thanks for dropping by,

Hugs,

Roger 

[Note: This post also appears on my general blog today, given that feedback suggests t significant number of LGBT readers are inclined to ignore it, for whatever reason. I can only emphasise, yet again, that poetry is open to everyone to explore, hopefully enjoy and reach whatever conclusion/s may apply within a mind-body-spirit whose individuality is unique to us all.] RT 

Two (poems) for the Price of One

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

After two years of learning to live with the Covid-19 pandemic, tempers are beginning to fray for whom some, who were living on The Edge even before the pandemic, pent-up feelings of frustration have sought release in a variety of ways, some violent. While there can be no excuse for violence against another, mental health issues should never be underestimated, especially in such times as we are living in now.

A healthy diet and regular exercise can help to alleviate stress,, of course, but self-help isn't always enough. There is help available for anyone less able to cope with stress, especially when it seems to be coming at them from all sides; we have to recognise the signs, though, and actively seek help; There is no shame whatever in feeling less and less able to cope with stress, whatever its source, but we need to recognise the signs and get help before it manifests itself in such a way or ways that we are likely to live to regret.

My failing to recognise the extent of the stress that living in a closet was making itself felt over a period of some 20 years, resulted in a nervous breakdown in my 30's. I had been too scared to ask for help,  had convinced myself I could cope... and could not have been more wrong. The help and support I received on a road to recovery that took me 4 to years of hard, mental slog to cover and start applying for jobs again... was a lifesaver.

Whether heterosexual or of an LGBT persuasion, we are, each and every one of us, only human and human nature, being as complex a life force as it is, needs a helping hand from time to time and mind-body-spirit needs must reach out and take it. Never easy... but what in life comes easy to any of us? We may think some people have an easy life,  but few of us are ever privy to what goes on behind closed doors...

THE ENEMY WITHIN

Love turned its back on me,
yet would not run away,
but left me nailed to a tree,
(couldn't even pray.)

Pain alone left me free
to fight another day;
Love, my sworn enemy,
nails in a god of clay

Better stay angry than grieve,
avid ties sure to rot,
scars worm on a sleeve,
to prove - what...?

Love, like war and peace,
down to each of us

Copyright R. N. Taber. 2004, 2021

FLOTSAM AND JETSAM

Love hadn't touched me
for many years;
I'd let myself drift freely
on a Sea of Tears

Chanced to find peace
(or did it find me?)
and sought to anchor us
in that same blue sea

Sea of Sadness, no more;
blue, only the sky;
soul once bruised and sore,
bright as a swallow's eye

Ashore at last, for homing in
on your heart's outline

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2021

[Note: This post also appears on my other poetry blog today; both poems first appeared in my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Anthem Played on a Grass Harp

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Some years ago, the children of friends of mine married without the blessing of their parents because both sets of parents disapproved of the match because is a lot older than her. Neither could accept their grown-up children’s choice of life partner. As it is, they have missed out on all the pleasures of being grandparents and seeing their grandchildren grow up.

Among all prejudices, ageism is often seen as the ‘poor relation’ but it can devastate lives as much and as needlessly as any other form of prejudice, whether it be based on the colour of a person’s skin, the nature of their sexuality or... whatever.

The couple in question had celebrated their silver wedding anniversary and were very happy until the younger partner died in a car accident. Only then did the families rally round and try to make peace “for the sake of the grandchildren...” Better late than never, I suppose, but so much time wasted, so many golden opportunities missed.

Prejudice in any shape or form doesn’t only eat away at a person’s mind-body-spirit, however much he or she may resist and rise above it, but can destroy families, even communities that are the chief losers in a human equation that will never quite add up until certain people see sense and recognise that all good people have a right to live their lives as they see fit, whether or not it quite adds up to what others might prefer.

I have seen prejudice drive people to crime, even suicide; such a waste of human potential. Whatever happened to respecting and making the best of our loved one’s choices for the good of everyone concerned? Driving home a point from a which misplaced pride refuses to let us budge can so easily make losers of us all.

ANTHEM PLAYED ON A GRASS HARP

Watery sun dripping through trees,
leaves sparkling like jewels in a crown
where we’d wander, my love and I,
ears pricking up at a chick’s first cry,
looking out for others flapping their way
on first flights through dawn rainbows
till gliding with ease as nature meant
for us all, although less so among humans,
a species well known for thinking they
know better than Earth Mother, wishing
them ill (and Hell) who resist straitjackets
and persist in walking tall

On a magic carpet of many colours,
among daisies passing for fairies
in a palace of dreams, we’d go free,
where all prejudices and bigotry
mean less than a fair breeze in the face,
Earth Mother’s caress in the hair,
reminding us how we are, one and all,
as nature intended, no one creature
any more or less precious than another,
each, in their own way, a ‘live’
testament to mind-body-spirit and a history
lending meaning to eternity

We arrived where the carpet
tuned into stone, where no sun shining,
only Shadows, a gathering of forces
preparing to take humanity on and win
any fight it may choose to pick,
no matter rights and wrongs (or alternative
points of view); for them, a certainty
that the world has no place for men, women
and young people whose sexuality
offends a majority choosing to make stand
on a Ship of Fools in a gale force wind, set on
making sense of humankind

Oh, but spring in our hair like jewels in a crown
Love takes for its own!

Copyright R.N. Taber 2010; rev.2021

Note: This poem appears on both poetry blogs today and has recently been significantly revised since first appearing in my collection On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2010.] 

Another Open Letter from London UK

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Sorry, no poem today, folks, but soon...

Although I take no notice of troll-type emails, I often read them just to get a perspective on the thinking behind them. Predictably, several readers protested that I published yesterday’s poem on both blogs. A. G. writes, “... it is offensive to publish a gay poem on a general poetry blog, you should be ashamed of yourself.”

No apologies, A. G. and it is not (just) a gay poem, either, but simply a love poem. All poems are all-inclusive, but maybe some poems of mine are more all-inclusive than others.

Prejudice in any shape or form, towards anyone, for whatever reason, remains, tragically, a global pandemic; the victim has to be strong - in mind and spirit if not physically -to resist its slings and arrows, and not all of us as strong in that capacity as we would like to be.

Experience can be a great teacher which is why, perhaps, a growing sense of LGBT awareness can be so tough on young people just setting out in a world where prejudice is very much accepted by many people as part and parcel of human nature and a sin by most world religions.  A friend of mine is a gay Irish Catholic, also a practising physician; not surprisingly, he is not open about his sexuality, not because he is ashamed, but because, like so many LGBT folks, he fears being misunderstood, judged according to faux stereotypes and treated accordingly instead of being admired for his medical skills and basic humanity. He is a lovely persona and deserves better as do all those thrust into a dark, lonely closet by the darker aspects of human nature.

A reader once asked, “How can you describe a closet as lonely when there are so many repressed LGBT people in the world, not forgetting women as well as men...” Only a heterosexual would ask that question, but full marks for asking, if only more people would ask it and many LGBT folks might get to live kinder and safer lives. Oh, and I never forget that there are gay women, not least because many a gay man’s best friend is a woman. Relatively few women are as aggressively judgemental as men anyway, but I have met women who have been cast out by their families for being of an LGBT persuasion and many a woman has felt obliged to remain in the proverbial closet rather than risk being separated from their family, many a man, too, especially in families where religion plays an integral part in their daily lives.

As for being lonely, how can a closet existence not be so? Yes, one can have access to other closets from time to time, but everyday life feels like living a lie, and that’s where the cold, dark, loneliness of keeping up appearances can grip mind-body-spirit and require a superhuman effort to rise above. I say this, having spent the whole of my teenage years, my 20’s and a chunk of my 30’s in that damn closet and, as regular readers will know, it took a nervous breakdown to help me find the confidence to look the world in the eye as a gay man.

Now, few people have an easy life, however much they may prefer to be perceived to the contrary, and closets come in all shapes and forms, nor are they restricted to LGBT folks, but my blogs are written by a gay man so you’ll hopefully forgive the resulting emphasis. For the record, though, I am not obsessed with either my sexuality or the slings and arrows that have come my way as a result, not least because, on balance, in the course of my life so far, I have experienced more kindness in human nature than active hostility, more love than hate. Nor, though, do feel it necessary to tell folks I am gay unless or until it becomes relevant; it is, after all, only a part of who I am and why should I give any part a priority without due cause? How people react when they realize I am gay, well, that is up to them...

Take care, everyone, keep well, safe, and let’s all do our best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset in spite of all the horrors that keep happening in the world...

Thanks for dropping by, always much appreciated,

Hugs,

Roger

[Note; This post appears on both poetry blogs today.] RT

Waking Up to Love

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As I have pointed out many times on the blog, love comes in all shapes and sizes in both natural and human worlds, nor less natural in the latter for its being of an LGBT persuasion; sexuality is not a choice, but one of many elements of life and love that comprise the mind-body-spirit that makes us who we are.

In the past, many LGBT folks have been despised and become victims of prejudice and hate, not unlike many from ethnic minorities, albeit for reasons of race rather than sexuality, but no less horrible for that.

Even within similar arenas, prejudice has been (and still is) known to spread like a pandemic with which millions of people have been infected over centuries, relatively few given so much as a mention by name in any history book... even as history continues to write us up as its authors see (or don't see) its bigger picture.

As regular readers well know, I also have a gay-interest poetry blog which, like my fiction blog, can be accessed from this one. Tragically, such is the level of prejudice against LGBT folks in various societies,  communities and families worldwide that some dare nor risk accessing any such material that might 'incriminate' them; a tragedy, yes, because no one should have to live in fear or who (yes who, not what they are) as they struggle to make a life for themselves.  

The good news is that more LGBT folks across the world are having to struggle less to make their voices heard; the bad news is that far too many are still left struggling, not least due to the sheer hypocrisy of world religions that preach love, but only as recognised by their own criteria; anything else is seen as something to be condemned, as if any religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

If one person can learn to respect another person for who they are (whatever their faith,  or colour of their skin) why can't everyone?  Whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

Oh, and yes, this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today so daresay I will be receiving the usual troll emails...which I will, of course, ignore. 😉

"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to hate so stubbornly is  because they sense, once it is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." - James Baldwin

WAKING UP TO LOVE

There's a tree in a field
that sings me a love song
every time I'm sitting
when, where it rises from the ground;
listen, and you'll hear...
the words of a love song hanging
on a dream lost and found

By a tree in a field,
we wrote our first love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, hanging
on a dream lost and found

There's a tree in a field
that watched us kiss and part,
not daring to believe
as we lay there on the ground
how gay love might yet
survive a world left but hanging
on dreams lost and found

To a tree in a field,
we returned to live a love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, a waking
dream lost and found

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; slightly rev. 2021

[Note: This poem appears in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Another Open Letter to Readers

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Hi Everyone, from here in London UK,

Sorry, no poem today, but am working on one...

Several readers have kindly emailed to ask how I am, as I am getting on a bit now and having to deal with various health problems, although not Covid-19, so I count my blessings, even more so as feedback suggests more LGBT readers are dipping into both poetry blogs from time to time. Now and then I even get emails about my fiction blog and asked why I stopped adding to it. Well, it did not take me long to realise that I am not cut out to be a novelist, but am delighted that some readers have enjoyed my earlier efforts.

A reader recently emailed to ask why I have two poetry blogs instead of publishing everything on one blog. Well, I do include LGBT-interest poems on my general blog from time to time, but it made more sense when I started the blogs, about 10 years ago, to separate the two. Yes, poetry is all-inclusive whatever its subject. Sadly, though, the same cannot be said for certain societies, communities and religions around the world; nor is everyone as open-minded as they might be...

My general poetry blog has had over 200,000 views now; this one is trailing at nearly 160,00 views, but has hopefully helped some LGBT readers feel better about themselves who have the misfortune to live among those who continue to stereotype and abuse us. Even so, apologies to any readers who think I should have acted differently.

How an I? Well, my inner self is fine most of the time, I am happy to say; the pandemic leaves me very dispirited from time to time, especially when my bad leg &/or prostate cancer are playing up at the same time. By way of creative therapy, writing up the blog and making contact with readers around the world is not only a welcome distraction from my own problems, but hugely comforting too. So, many thanks to you all again, just for being there and taking the trouble read my poems.

Some days, of course, are worse than others, but I decided a long time ago that I would take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er)side of life. Years go, I did not expect to be having to deal with growing old on my own. As it turned out, I live alone, but have some good friends who keep me on my toes; hopefully, the feeling is reciprocal.

None of us can tell the future, though (probably just as well) so we have little or no choice but to deal with the ups and downs of life as they (invariably) happen or let them toss us into a quagmire of self-pity and despair.

Oh, yes, I  am familiar with that quagmire, been stuck in it many times over the years, but not for a long time, so... fingers crossed. I get fed-up, of course, don't we all? After a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, though, I have done my best to give it a wide berth.  Never easy, but well worth the struggle, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you. None of us should ever hesitate to ask for help, either; help is on hand in family friends, professional counsellors... all can help, but none are mind readers and I suspect there will always be times in life when we need to swallow any misplaced pride and learn how to get a life again...

For many people, everyday life becomes harder to contend with once retired, especially if - for whatever reason - they are unable to enjoy retirement as they had hoped and planned. An elderly friend - long since passed away - once warned me about retirement. "When you retire, be sure to replace your job, especially if it is one that has given you much pleasure and satisfaction, with something that gives you much the same level of pleasure and satisfaction," adding wryly, "We all need a purpose in life. When you retire, it's a case of sink or swim." Having been retired for nearly 15 years now, I am often reminded of those words, hearing his voice speak them in my head whenever I feel myself in danger of sinking into the quagmire...

Easier said than done, of course, but what isn't in the struggle to make the best of circumstances we would have preferred to avoid...?

Oh, and my late friend also told me to be sure and practice what I preach, so I do my best. 😉

Take good care of yourselves, dear readers, play safe, keep well as we can but try to nurture a positive thinking mindset, whatever life throws at us,

Lotta digital hugs, many thanks for dropping by and join me again anytime,

Roger

Wake up, World, get Real

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

I haven’t added many gay-specific poems to the blog for some time, so here’s a new one that I am posting on both poetry blogs today. 

It isn't only about climate change that much of the world needs to stop dragging its feet and get real. 

Embracing an LGBT perspective on the world is never easy in so far as the world is full of bigots, some of whom hide behind their religion to justify their attitude towards the global consciousness that is LGBT, in spite of certain life forces that continue to conspire against it, including most world religions. 

The world's collective mindset has come a long way since I was a troubled gay teenager in the 1950's. Even so, we still have a long way to go before we can consider the gap well and truly truly closed between how we see ourselves and how the rest of the (straight) world sees us...but we are getting there, slowly but surely, and that has to count for a LOT.  

Meanwhile we can but continue to defy the homophobes and religious hypocrites... and get a life while encouraging LGBT folks in less enlightened societies and communities to rise above all that, in mind-body-spirit anyway, even where the closet door has to remain shut for safety's sake..

To suggest that LGBT folks cannot continue to be a part of a religious community to which they have given heart and soul has to count among the worst kinds of rejection. It is bad enough that some LGBT folks are (still) rejected by family and peers in all parts of the world, forcing many to live secret lives. Whatever happened to agreeing to differ and respecting each other rather than seeing the other party as an enemy, blasphemer or whatever...?

Now, as regular readers will know, I am in my mid-70’s now and having to contend with various health issues. I have to admit that I struggle to write poems these days, but I hope you will embrace this one in the spirit in which it was written, warts ‘n’ all.

WAKE UP, WORLD, GET REAL

We walked in a dream,
my true  love and I, crossed rainbows
into a paradise
where no faux stereotypes could expect
to survive long,
where secrets, lies and home truths
encouraged to escape
cold, dark, lonely closet lives,
look the world in the eye, have it welcome us
into a prejudice-free universe 

We lived in a dream,
my true love and I, feeling more each day
that it didn’t matter
we were gay, only that we should stay true
to a glad heart,
beating as strong as any other,
embracing all humanity, anxious to let
the LGBT ethic take a bow,
despite having been so often put down, abused,
in a universal Here-and-Now 

We woke from a dream,
my gay love and I, had to cross sword
with worldly bigots
and faux stereotypes, assuming a reality
all but surreal
in a mind-body-spirit that’s struck deaf-blind
by the very world it lives in,
one where all good people, wherever
and whoever, well deserve be free to live in peace,
each to their own, no prejudice 

We still share a dream,
my gay love and I, although he’s gone,
but still a part of me,
looking on with even more hope than pain
as history proceeds
to make much the same mistakes time
and time again...
Yet, there is a young generation, wise
beyond its years, accepting people as they are,
not as the bigot invariably sees 

It was and will always be
the way of dreamers to take their cue
from a way of life
that rushes not to judgement, taking care
to look to the inner self,
ask frank questions, draw upon honest answers
let actions speak louder
than words, demand we of human nature
demonstrate greater respect for Earth Mother, 
nor less so towards one another

LGBT, in all walks of life, a global consciousness
swathes of worldly conscience need to address 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; any new LGBT readers may like to explore  the archives (see right hand side of any posts.) To access my other poetry -and fiction - blogs, click on the scroll bar in the top right hand corner next to the blog title.] RT

  

 

 

 

 

 

A Hymn to Pantheism OR Redefining the Spirit of Nature

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I live alone and am in my mid-70’s now so, like many if not most of us, have struggled with various health issues and to nurture a positive thinking mindset during the pandemic. Having had my Covid booster and flu jabs recently, I am starting to feel more confident when out and about in crowded places, shops and on public transport where I continue to wear a face mask; it is glaringly obvious that we are not out of the proverbial woods yet. 

Now, a new poem today rather than  another revision of an earlier one, prompted by reader M J who emailed to say he and his wife enjoyed the poetry reading I gave on the 4^th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square back in 2009; it was my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley’s ‘live’ sculpture project, “One and Other.” M J also asks “Do you still consider yourself a Pantheist?” Well, many thanks M J and the answer to your question is - yes, I do. 

While I respect anyone’s religious beliefs, I had never felt comfortable with religion. Raised as a Christian in the Baptist tradition, I could never truly relate to a personified God, even as a child. I first read about Pantheism in my mid-adult years and instantly engaged with it. 

Pantheists believed that God did not create nature, but is nature. I have always been able to engage with nature and experience a sense of spirituality from doing so. For this reason, I have always rejected criticism of my poetry for talking about spirituality when many readers would argue that ai am an atheist or agnostic because I don’t subscribe to any of the central world religions. 

Incidentally, in the course of my plinth reading, I told the crowd below that I was both gay and a Pantheist. Interestingly, I wasn’t heckled once during the whole hour.  What would social media trolls have to say about that, I wonder...?

A HYMN TO PANTHEISM or REDEFINING THE SPIRIT OF NATURE

Some pray to God, the Father,
who goes by many names,
yet, essentially, is much the same
in so far as He would have us learning
to love one another? 

Others lift up heart and voices
to Earth Mother, alias nature,
yet who’s to say the are not the same
in so far as both would have us at peace 
with one another r.? 

Some say God created nature
upon whom we depend
as we depend on one another to see us
through our time here on Earth, nurturing
mind-body-spirit 

World religions would separate
such inspiring life forces
to which He and She would see us bond
and nurture, yet some say we  are all of us
in ‘it’ together 

So, what is ‘it’, nurturing, inspiring,
all past-present-future,
nature and human nature learning how
to live together (or not, as the case may be)
and making history? 

Some say, God and Earth Mother
are so closely bound in spirit
and nurture that to engage with one
is to engage with the other, all part and parcel
of a common endeavour 

To each our own feeling for eternity,
a sense of spirituality
(independent of religion?) for seeing how
the kinder parts of nature and human nature
are the stuff of its poetry

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: I don't relate to Pantheism simply because I'm gay, but my sexuality has certainly played its part since most world religions consider same sex relationships a sin. and would deny me the sense of  spirituality that, among other things, helps me cope with growing old, Whatever, this poem appears on both poetry blogs today.] RT

 

 

 

 

 

 

Titles from the Archives

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Hello from London, UK

Several readers have emailed me to say they don't have time to browse the archives, so can U list some titles to which they can go directly. I am listing some here, and will provide some more titles in the hear future if readers seem to prefer it. So, you might like to try:

Taking the 'y' Out of Gay

Ordinary People

A Gay Dad's Story

Millions like Us

A Ballad for Gay Pride

Bus Fare

Children of the Willow

Engaging with James Baldwin

Divisions of the Heart

Engaging with Gender Identity

Mission Impossible

Out of Africa

Answering to Nature

Conspiracy of Faith 

Cops, Queers and Caravaggio

A deaf LGBT readers asks if I have written any poems about deafness; he or she might enjoy:

A Good Sign

Eyes of Desire

May I just say, though, that poetry - whatever its content - is all-inclusive and  non-judgemental; not everyone will like a particular poem, of course, but every poet tries to reach out to everyone. So, why a separate gay-interest poetry blog? Well, sadly, in all parts of the world (Yes, even in so-called 'enlightened' countries and communities) LGBT folks continue to face discrimination and worse...  

Take care, keep well and nurture as positive thinking a mindset as you can in the circumstances available to you. Oh, and remember, our sexuality makes us no different from anyone else and, likewise, deserving of  respect, not abuse.

Hugs,

Roger

PS If you find this post of interest and would like to know further titles in the archives that you can type in and access immediately, feel free to email me with POETRY in the subject field.

Please, Listen

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Often in life, the more important and personal it is that we need to tell someone, the harder it is to find the right words; words that will not be misunderstood or fail to communicate our depth of feeling; a lesson for the learning, indeed, not least as as true love starts to flower and engaging in a relationship takes on a whole new meaning,...

Nor does the principle apply only to lovers. Expressing out trues feelings about someone or something we are anxious to communicate is a problem - if not a crisis of self-confidence - for many of us.

PLEASE, LISTEN

You lay your head on my shirt,
listening to my heart
and does it tell you all the things
I so long to say, but can never find
the words?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

Do you hear a love song taught me
by the birds, confessing
how I need you more, far more,
than I can say since love, it came
to stay?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

We were meant for one another,
soulmates forever,
life, love, dreams, looking out
for each other...
especially at times when it feels as if
the world is failing us, hope falling apart
at the seams

Now, listen and let this heart of mine
tell you how...

Come, passion’s heat, no hearth
simply smouldering,
but as lightening may well charge
Earth’s own heart in the course of fierce
summer storms

Ah, no need for words, the moment
taking us over,
our bodies engaging with each other,
in such passion and peace as bodes well
for You-Me-Us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; rev. 2021

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since I wrote it in 2001 and included it in my collection, First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; it appears on both poetry blogs today, not least because poetry is totally without prejudice, unlike some people....] RT

 

True Love Ways

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Someone once asked me how , as a gay man, I can write love poems. Well, I ask you, does a silly question even deserve an answer? 

For a start, LGBT folks are as capable of love as anyone. Possibly, my questioner was confusing love with sex, as many people do. He may well choose to set himself up as judge and jury regarding our approach to that, but by what right does he do so? His religion may well condemn same sex relationships, but what justifies imposing his religious agenda on me?

Sex can be an expression of love, of course, but it's by no means the only one. Besides, love comes in all shapes and forms, as I have pointed out on the blog many times. We may well love family, friends, places, pets... in which neither sex nor gender (or sexuality) play any part whatever.

Love is a powerful emotion in both human and natural worlds, nor is it any less natural  in the former for same sex couples. No one chooses their sexuality, it is purely a matter of genetics. Why condemn same sex couples for something many if not most heterosexual couples take for granted? Bigotry - on religious grounds or narrow mindedness - causes considerable hurt to those it attacks, so much so that many LGBT folks are fearful of being open about their sexuality; yes, even in the 21st century! Fear (not shame) may well mean a closet existence, one I endured until my mid-30's  and, believe me that closet  gives a whole new meaning to the phrase 'Hell on Earth'.

Is saddens me so that I've met LGBT folks from all walks of life (yes, all walks of life) who risk losing family, friends, even their lives, not because of their sexual persuasion but as a result of bigoted, stereotypical perceptions of it. While it is encouraging to see less of the latter these days, we still have a long way to go before certain communities worldwide are ready to put them aside, if ever...

Yes, I've said all this before, especially on my other poetry blog, but - as my dear mother used to say -if something is worth saying, it has to be worth repeating.

Take care, keep well and be safe everyone.

            ( NB Image taken from the Internet.)

TRUE LOVE WAYS

Though Fate us part awhile
relax, enjoy a cup of tea
or a walk in the park, but smile
and laugh for thinking of me

Though Life us part awhile,
play a game, see a movie;
no moping, keeping a low profile;
move on, have fun, think of me

Whatever has us part awhile,
our love will keep us close;
so, no tears, just summon a smile,
be as dawn to a river as it flows

For engaging with life forces
and any blows they let fall,
there’s a You-Me-us of happiness,
able to defy, rise above them all

Let Death conspire against us
(with nothing better to do?);
Love, the stronger of all life forces,
will find ways to see us through

Whoever, in life, to a Heaven aspires
has but to nurture true love ways

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

Hello again, folks, from London UK

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Hello again from London UK,

I recently said that was planning new editions of my collections as well as at least two new ones. Well, I have changed my mind, having realised that most of the poems on my blogs were revised from the originals as I published them to the blogs; sometimes revisions only minor, others more substantial, but always significant.

Browsing previous collection, I have realised that no small number of poems belong to the times in which thy were written, both from sociological and personal points of view.

I have therefore decided to prepare new collections, under new title, but including some of the best poems from previous collections that reflect nature and sentiment, but don’t lean on a sociological context from which both poet and society have moved on... to a greater or lesser extent, as the case may be.

Having said that, no few of my poems reflect certain socio-cultural-religious points of view in which I am not entrenched, but which I feel the need to express personal as well as public concerns; the latter applies especially to my gay-interest poems, given that LGBT folks are still given a hard time in some communities and societies worldwide.

I don’t often add to my gay-interest blog these days, but the reason for that is that years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left me asexual.  

At the time I started writing it up, it was very difficult to find poems on an LGBT theme that were non-judgemental, and I decided to try and correct this.

There is nothing unnatural or shameful about same-sex relationships; those of us who engage in them do so, not as a life-style choice, but as a result of our genetic make-up. The many bigots – all ages, from all walks of life and various socio-cultural-religious persuasions – are either acting out of ignorance or simply looking for an excuse to attack us – morally, physically or both.

The arts, of which poetry is more concerned with opening minds to concerns other than those to which they may well have been introduced, even indoctrinated, by well-meaning elders, especially during the all-important formative years. Life, though, is about becoming our own person, not as others might prefer us to be. Growing up is about coming to terms with the inner self and that may well mean having to compromise with or replace certain attitudes with which the chances are we were never quite able to enter into, even as children.

In my own mind, as regular readers will be familiar, a poem is a poem is a poem, regardless of its theme/s. I do not discriminate between gay-interest poetry and general poetry. At the same time, I could see that I stood a better chance of making this point by appearing to contradict myself in writing up separate gay and general blogs. (Even so, I have included the same poem on both blogs from time to time, especially when the theme address bigotry of any kind.)

Consequently, the majority of gay-interest poems that specifically address LGBT readers can be found in the blog archives, accessible on most servers on the righthand side of any blog page at https://rogertab.blogspot.com

When I started writing up the blogs, I did not expect much interest. Today, however, my general poetry blog reached and passed 2000,000+ views. Not a lot compared to what users on social media have come to expect, but I feel very encouraged and can but hope that more readers have enjoyed than been disappointed by the sentiments expressed in many poems, whether they agree with those sentiments or not. A poem is a poem is a poem, but they hope to offer food for thought, and agreeing to differ can provide no less hearty a meal as empathising with the poet.

I will continue to post poems, but now I need to concentrate more on preparing new collections, as I promised myself I would once my general blog passed 200,000 views as it did today. Blog statistics register almost 160,00 views for the gay-interest/LGBT blog, considerably less but well worth the effort as emails from readers of both blogs continue to confirm now and then.

Take care, everyone, many thanks for your company, as always, and be sure to nurture a positive-thinking mindset, whatever...

Hugs,

Roger

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

Mind-Body-Spirit, Subject to Time and Consequence(s)

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

A wise woman, my mother. She died 25+ years ago, but I probably listen n to her more now than I ever did. I could be a naughty child (who isn’t?) at which times she would teach as well as scold. She once pointed out that almost everything we say has consequences, for better or worse, for ourselves and/or others; the latter, especially, we may never be made aware of... 

All the more reason, I eventually understood, to think before we do something, or don’t do it as the case may be... 

Easier said than done, of course, yours truly no less guilty than anyone else of forgetting to look before we leap and risk feeding this or that cliché its potential for truism. 

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, SUBJECT TO TIME AND CONSEQUENCE(S) 

Surely, the tide,
as surely life’s sweet dreams saving us
from ourselves and each other for offering
alternatives? 

I see your face
in a brave moon, straining to shine on,
but in vain as needs must it, too, take its cue
from Apollo

 Surely, the tide,
as surely as high hopes of fame, fortune
superseded by life-images of lovers kept busy
building bridge 

They laughed us
off the planet, yet we’d take it on the chin,
find a white horse to help us find our way back,
time and again 

We rode to hell
and back, you and I, joining Earth Mother
in races against the clock, win some, lose some,
no going back 

Yes, we fell prey
to a collective giving, taking, having to settle
for less than we bargained for, our personal space
a saving grace 

Now, a sure tide’s
surfing me still (always will), moving me on
to that one-and-only shore proving longer than life
for being loved

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

[NB: This poem also appears on my general blog today; it has its origins in an earlier poem, Surfing, that appears in my first collection, Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2000 (see also Gay blog, March, 2011). The original poem had already appeared in several poetry journals and worked well enough at the time, but 20+ years on, subsequent changes in form and content defy my referring to it as simply a revision.] RNT