Hi Folks, from London UK

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

Hi folks, from London UK

A reader writes that he cannot get into the blog: "When I click on to a title, I just get HTML. 

I had the same problem when I first logged on to the blog this morning. It appears that Google have made changes. To access the blog on a pc or laptop, clicking on 'view blog' in the left hand corner, should bring up the post-poem in the usual way. Hopefully, this will solve the reader's problem. (At the bottom of the page, you will see ways of accessing the blog on a tablet or smartphone.)

Whatever, readers have to remember that I am in my mid-70's now and have difficulty using Internet technology these days. not least after years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer; it plays merry hell with thought processes and memory to such an extent that I often feel as if my whole identity is gradually being eroded. 

Other readers with prostate cancer - and other health issues that they find increasingly difficult to rise above and get on with their lives - get in touch from time to time, mostly asking how I manage. Well, with difficulty, I have to say, especially as I also have to cope with several other health issues at the same time, as many of us do. I try to take it all in my stride, make the most of each day as it comes along, and hope for a good day. 

How do I cope with bad days? Again with difficulty, but finding ways of distracting myself from whatever part of me is playing up the worst... always helps. In the absence of a garden, writing up the blog, dusting off and watching a favourite DVD or tuning into a the next episode of  favourite TV series... all these things help, but only temporarily.  Seeing friends is the best therapy for lifting flagging spirits, which is, of course, one reason why the pandemic has been so hard to bear; being unable to see family and friends as often as we'd like, sometimes not at all.. 

Tragically, some of those closest to us have died during the  pandemic, so how do we cope? Yes, with great difficulty. It is hard enough on families who have lost loved-ones without being able to say goodbye, but no less tough, either, on those who live alone as I do. Fortunately, I remain in touch with my best friend and 'bubble partner' by phone and email, and we get to meet up from time to time. Some people, though, feel very isolated and lonely, especially some old people who are not Internet savvy and perhaps cannot hear well on the phone. Sadly, not all neighbours are good neighbours and some people find it increasingly hard to cope.

So let's all try and be good neighbours, yeah? And keep an eye on - better still befriend - any neighbours we suspect of struggling to get by on a daily basis, at any age, for whatever reason, especially in the big cities and certain suburbs, well-known to be less friendly or neighbourly than more rural areas.  (So we risk getting  the brush-off, so what?  That's their problem. At least we tried...)

My stomach is now telling me it's high time I got myself something to eat, and I never give my stomach the brush-off... 😉

Take care everyone and be sure to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Back with a poem soon,

(Digital) Hugs,

Roger

[Note: this post also appears on my general blog today.} RNT

Ode to a Fly

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

Several readers have asked me to post some early poems that have disappeared from the blog, although many can still be found in the archives.

The poem below has been significantly revised since it first appeared in my second collection, First Person Plural in 2002.

Regular readers will know that I realised I am gay at about the age of 14 years, but did not start looking the world in the eye as a gay man until my thirties. Looking back, I regret those awful closet years, but it was hard to shrug off the homophobic attitudes prevalent in UK society while I was growing up; society may well have changed, even progressed, but many LGBT folks are still given a hard time by some societies and communities worldwide, including here.

ODE TO A FLY

One beautiful day,
I chanced where he lay
and my heart filled
with music, but my heart
refused to dance
for fear the vision go away
and leave me feeling as hollow
as every other day

Three shirt buttons
were undone, a hairy chest
tickling my spine,
one hand stroking a mane
of hair, spread
like sand on the grass,
the other trying to catch a fly
as it happened to pass

Zap! Fly is caught,
but what’s this? Now set free
by a caring hand
that’s blowing me a kiss,
where I hide
behind a tree like a spy,
heart beating faster for envying
the passage of a fly

I emerged, strolled past
with a leisurely air, not daring
to glance your way
till you called out, laughingly
and asked my heart
to dance, and a lark’s lay
played us into our very first waltz
one beautiful day

Unlike the fly, caught and freed
I stayed...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; rev. 2021

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hello again from London UK

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

Reader A J asks if he or she can put the URL for my blog/son social media “since you seem to disapprove of social media and avoid it yourself...”

I don’t entirely disapprove of social media; it has its merits, but having tried it once, I have no wish to return to it. However, should any readers feel they want to share the blog URL, they are welcome to do so; all three blogs - general poetry/ gay-interest poetry and fiction + archives can be accessed from:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com

Anyone recommending the link may well wish to add that I do not publish comments, complimentary or otherwise. Neither do I reply to emails now - except from friends and regular blog readers - as various  health issues include poor eyesight, so I have to limit the time I spend looking at a screen.

Any LGBT poetry lovers may well be especially interested in that blog’s archives as I rarely add gay-specific poems these days, mostly due to lack of inspiration; years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left me sexually inactive and less able to relate to and enter into the spirit of the poem.

In spite of health issues, I am hoping to self-publish limited (print) editions of new collections which, as previously, will include a gay section as well as some poems of interest to LGBT readers in other sections; with any luck, these will also be available on-line at a later date. However, prostate cancer has a mind of its own so there will come a time - hopefully sooner rather than later - when there will be no more tomorrows for yours truly. Whatever, c’est la vie, so better to make the most of what we have while we have it, each in our own way...?

Years of hormone therapy may have played merry hell with my thought processes, but writing poetry helps keep them in some sort of order, so I will continue to add to the poetry blogs as long as I can.

Another reader asks if I intend to add to my fiction blog. Sadly, it is very unlikely as I couldn’t even interest any in my fantasy novel, Mamelon and don’t have the energy these days, let alone inspiration. Even so, I enjoyed my foray into fiction, so no regrets.

Meanwhile, I take each day as it comes, treat it as a bonus and do my best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset. 

I am working on a new poem, and hope to publish it on the blog soon. Sadly, poems take me a lot longer to write these days, but I enjoy making the effort; as I have said many times on the blog, it is a form of creative therapy I can throw myself into and temporarily forget health concerns, pandemic implications and other worries. As my mother used to say, “If you worry, you’ll die and if you don’t worry, you’ll still die, so...why worry?” 😉

Take care everyone, and try to stay positive, whatever life throws at you; time may not heal altogether, but - partnered with good sense and sensibility - it can do a pretty good job, if we let it...

Bye for now,

Hugs,

Roger##

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

Coming, Ready or Not OR Now & Then

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

Reader A. H. writes that his family disapprove of his choice of life-partner and says, “My family are everything to me, but so is the woman I love. What can I do?” 

The reader must make a choice, and I would not presume to advise. I would only say that if his family are as close as they would appear to be, the chances are they will come, sooner or later, to his choice of bride.  Sadly, it is a choice many LGBT men and women around the world also have to face. 

As I have often said on the blogs, in preambles and poems alike, love comes in many shapes and forms, but there is a common denominator – survival. Where strong and true, love can endure even the worst life throws at it, in life or death; where unacceptable to some, that is their loss. 

I have seen families split by life choices made by this or that member. Sometimes our choices prove to be at worst misguided, at best flawed, but all of us need to learn by our mistakes, and that works for everyone concerned. Closed doors can be re-opened, but there needs to be a clear will on both sides, not always there...so they remain closed, everyone left asking why, and expecting someone else to make the first move.  

Love never dies, but it is as capable of inflicting hurt and being hurt by human nature as any of us or nature itself. 

COMING, READY OR NOT or NOW & THEN

Once, I’d hide in an old tree
for an ages-old game of hide-and-seek
among peers grown young
with me, Apollo taking a peek
through leaves of spring
taking my side, a brisk south wind
up for playing its part,
while letting rip with a warning shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Once, I’d lie by that same tree,
feeling blessed for having you at my side
the two of us so happy
just to be together, no words needed
to express expectations
of a future to build, share and enjoy
in such ways as love brings
for letting rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Now, returned to that old tree
to share treasured memories of you-me- us,
revisit the dreams we shared,
ask why we were able to fulfil so few,
parted as we were too soon,
yet thankful, indeed, we’d found
in each other such life-forces
as inclined to let rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Among leaves of an old tree, hear Apollo shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!" 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Points of View

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

Rising above a deteriorating quality of life these days, mostly due to various health issues, I am rarely in the mood to reply to emails unless they are from friends and/or about poetry or such passions as also provide mind-body spirit with creative therapy as well as a healthy emotional diet.  However, someone who signs themselves ’an elderly male reader’ has expressed despair at being “...unable, for various reasons, to make love to my partner of nearly thirty years.” and worries that the partner “... is already  looking elsewhere, and I will be left alone...”

I am in no position to advise as I have been without a partner for the best part of a lifetime, but I have been in love and I strongly suspect that this reader has nothing to fear. It is important, though, that he and his partner talk about this. Too many of us fail to discuss our more intimate concerns with loved ones; either we are embarrassed and/ or fear the possible outcome. Whatever, it is always better to know than just suspect; the latter can only loose all manner of demons upon us, not the least being jealousy.

As regular readers will know, years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has left me with no appetite for sex in any form; even porn mags don’t turn me on. At first, it left me feeling emotionally inadequate, and I missed the sheer pleasure of lovemaking. Now, though, I take pleasure even more pleasure in such simple delights as meeting up and putting the world to rights (as if!) with friends and/or visiting places I love, whether for real or in my imagination.  

While I don’t miss sex anymore, I can appreciate that it's not the same for everyone, nor do all men of a certain age lose either their appetite for sex or their ability/ inclination to perform. Even so, the expression ‘making love’ is something of a misnomer, to say the least; love is not made, it is created between soulmates who are mutually inspired by letting it grow and mature. 

There is great pleasure to be taken from sex between partners who are physically attracted to one another, and nothing wrong with it at all, but whether or not they fall in love, that is something else altogether.

A heart-to-heart between this reader and his partner will establish the emotional paths both need to take; should the partner need to continue satisfying his or her sexual appetite the reader should try not  see this as a poor reflection on their love for one another. Easier said than done, I agree, but life is rarely easy in every way. Such are the ways of love that they, too, are no less inclined to test mind-body-spirit from time to time, trusting it to pass with flying colours... or not, as the case maybe.

POINTS OF VIEW

At open windows by the sea,
listening to waves telling and retelling
stirring tales of derring-do,
discovery and exploration, lifting
spirits while breaking hearts
of those left counting days and nights
before any returns on dreams
likely to leave pride in tears, love in pain,
time after time, and time again 

At open windows on cornfields,
leafy woodlands and all manner of bird
and beast sure to nurture
its natural surroundings in the time left
before the human race,
cocksure of ways and means to match
any end-of-world scenarios,
continues to confuse its images of progress
with paths of peace and happiness 

At open windows on the world,
expecting even more from its seasons,
in demonstrating our worth,
nature and human nature, each as vulnerable
as the other to kindness
and neglect, pride, disrespect. even violence
as weathered during Earth Mother’s
labour pains for both peopling and colouring
landscapes worth the nurturing 

At dead of night, left to reflect
on such life-forces as have inspired us
to let love light up our lives, thereby creating
a kinder, wiser personal space, addressing
past mistakes, shying away
from a Here-and-Now that’s dependent
on algorithms as may well suffice,
but never replace innate sensibilities, life forces
defining Earth Mother for centuries... 

Reminding nature-and-human-nature how progress
is best judged by its capacity for alleviating distress

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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