Art forms, Life-forms

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

Again, not a gay-specific post-poem today, but I make no apologies for that. 

In my first job (in a public library) after leaving school at 18 years-old, I discovered gay fiction as a positive life-form.  At the time, early 1960's, I was still in the closet, not least because I was still living at home and male members of my family had 0ften expressed homophobic comments. Cowardly of me, I know, but I could not have coped with the inevitable angst and stress; indeed, as regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, it would be a good fifteen years yet before I'd feel anywhere near confident enough in my sexuality to look the world in the eye. 

To this day, my remaining family have never broached the subject with me, nor I with them, not least because I would expect them to play the 'politically correct' card while doubting whether any talk of support would be any more genuine now as it would have been forthcoming years ago. In many cases now, families are supportive of gay members, and that is GOOD to see, but many socio-cultural-religious bigots remain, resulting in far too many gay boys and girls, men and women and other LGBT folks being stuck in a lonely closet for many years, even a lifetime. 

Coming out of that damn closet is the best and hardest move I have ever made in life, and I would not wish it on anyone.  Sadly, I was not destined to settle down with a permanent partner and a lonely old age is no fun, but NOTHING compares with those lonely closet years, and my only regret is that it took me far too long to start believing in myself (and others) in so far as our sexuality makes us no less human, contrary to what I had been told.

Indeed, I feel encouraged by emails from readers of my general poetry blog the suggests fewer readers take offence when I mention or discuss certain influences of  my earlier years, including being gay, on my poetry.

Meanwhile...

People have often asked me why I write poetry. Another friend, a painter, is often asked why he paints. Why does anyone get involved in any for of creativity whether it be writing, music, acting, dance or floristry, gardening... whatever, the answer is essentially the same. 

Any creative art form invariably makes the artist feel good, not only about participating by way of communicating, expressing something of the inner self that needs to make itself seen and heard, but also, in turn, being explored by inner eyes and inner ears, among any who care to look and listen. 

We may well disagree with what we see and hear in an art form, but it will invariably give us food for thought. 

Now, I know I have said as much in previous posts and the reader who emailed yesterday to tell me off for repeating myself too often makes a good point. At the same time - and the same applies to the creator and/or participant in any art form - if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. 

As for agreeing or disagreeing with whatever point/s are being put across within it, that is part of the art process, drawing us in. Even artists often find themselves at odds with themselves as they pursue whatever it is they are trying to say, struggling perhaps to give it form and meaning; to this end, they may well play devil’s advocate, not to confuse, but lead us to consider our own position and just where we stand in relation to... whatever. 

It may be a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music or a floral display... take any art form lightly, and we risk losing a sense of enlightenment as likely as not to influencer our lives for the better, whether minimally or substantially. 

ART FORMS, LIFE-FORMS 

During formative years,
I’d shed tears for feeling unsafe
in a world teaching me words
to help me guard against the threat
of mutual misunderstandings,
arts of communication as divided
by as many reasons swung
like axes of the proverbial kind
as human remains left behind

 Grown older and wiser
to ways of a world as excited
by the intimacy of playing
word games in any public arena
as lovers testing out dreams
in such open (or closet) scenarios
as may or not work out
for better or worse, blessing or curse.
in a private-cum-public space 

Grown old, the more so
for having had to agree terms
with strangers in my mirror,
shadows haunting dining tables,
or cosy corners for family,
friends, lovers indulging in rites,
acting parts in good faith,
so kinder worlds may yet save a heart
whose faith in one, fallen apart

Find me in all art forms, asking we consider
the good and bad of all we may yet deliver

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: Much of this poet-poem appears on my general blog today.] RNT