Kiss and Tell (and the Spirit of Pride)

 

From Graham, close friend to Roger.

Perusing some of Roger’s older printed collections reveals recurring themes among his gay-interest poems. Those of alienation, loneliness and early attempts (however futile) to serve convention. Angst-ridden cries entreating with that stony-eared-gargoyle of society for acceptance. Allusions, perhaps, to Roger’s own experiences during his formative years. A dystopian era for LGBT+ people in the UK, when same-gender love was still regarded by many as an illness or a crime.*

The Sexual Offences Act 1967 decriminalised intimacy between consenting adults in private.** Although a climate of fear remained. Roger would occasionally refer to past traumas where he suffered discrimination, bigotry and even violence which I’m reluctant to elaborate on.

There’s also references to reconciling sexuality with religious belief. Roger wasn’t particularly religious so I find this rather perplexing. I wish I’d asked him about it. Maybe the intention was to encourage readers with the idea that sexuality and faith needn’t be mutually exclusive?***.

This next poem, however, breaks completely free of the mould. An emboldened protagonist bursts forth like a rainbow-emblazoned butterfly from its cocoon. Liberated by love and brimming with bravado; seemingly embodying the spirit of Pride…

 

*  *  *

 

KISS AND TELL

Your first kiss stripped my conscience bare
and reconstructed it, layer by finer layer

Your next kiss peeled away guilt of a Youth
that never quite came to terms with truth

More kisses instilled in me a peace of mind
my heart often warned I might never find

Other kisses showed me a brave new world
then took me there, its humanity revealed

Your mouth, it lit in me a bonfire of passion
reducing life’s agony to a smouldering ruin

Your kisses flood me with beautiful dreams
where nightmares once tore at life’s seams

Each kiss leaves my heart soaring like a dove;
where it sang the Blues, now it sings of love

Your kisses taste like rose-hip on my tongue,
our bodies, like petals, in spring’s arms flung

No kiss leaves me but yearning for another;
no matter the bigotry, we have each other

Your mouth teaches me even more each day
how to live and love, unashamed to be gay

 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2014, from Tracking The Torchbearer.

 

*  *  *

 

Notes

* An opinion poll commissioned by the Daily Mail (UK newspaper) in 1965 found that 36% of respondents believed homosexuality should remain classified as a crime. However, 93% agreed that homosexual men were ‘in need of medical or psychiatric treatment’. [How drastically attitudes have changed since then - although there’s no room for complacency.]

** Even following decriminalisation, police entrapment of gay men was still considered a worthwhile expenditure of public funds. [Effectively, state-sponsored morality police more befitting of a theocracy like Iran.] According to the Guardian newspaper, between 1967 and 2003, 30,000 gay and bisexual men were convicted for behaviour that would not have been a crime had their partner been a woman.

*** Disclaimer: the inherent ambiguity of Roger’s poems is that they’re not necessarily autobiographical. His use of narrative pronouns, i.e., ‘I’, ‘he’ ‘we’, ‘they’ and ‘us’, etc., can’t always be read as his own personal experiences. He leaves that open to the reader’s interpretation. In his kennings, for instance, abstract concepts like ‘forgiveness’ use the first person pronoun.

Lost and Found

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

‘The only sure way ahead is straight.’ they said, ‘No detours, no turning corners, just be straight…or suffer the consequences.’

Ah, but I made a detour, turned a corner many years ago, and have no regrets. No regrets about acknowledging my sexuality, that is, after years of teenage angst.  [Show me someone who says they have no regrets and I will show you someone who is being a shade economical with the truth...]

This poem is a villanelle.

LOST AND FOUND

Told a mad world I'm gay,
rose above native fear;
lost, now found my way

Weary of running away,
voice loud and clear,
told a mad world I’m gay

Finally, at home to stay,
seeing my way clear;
lost, now found my way

Even bland faces of clay
seen cocking an ear;
told a mad world I’m gay

No matter what some say,
it’s good to be here;
lost, now found my way

Neighbours had a field day,
(Hey, was that a cheer?)
Told a mad world I'm gay;
lost, now found my way

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Turning Corners' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Heart to Heart

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

People often tell me I should concentrate on my general poetry and ‘forget the gay stuff.’ But the ‘gay stuff’ is as much a part of me as the rest so I will press on. If some readers and critics don’t like it…well, they don’t have to read it. Besides, I can’t win; the same critics tell me that my poetry is too conventional, that rhyme and ‘form’ poetry is old hat and I’m an anachronism etc.

Let them rant. As long as people continue to read the blog and continue to email me from time to time to say they have enjoyed a poem, I'll press on. 

Now, this may not be one of my better poems but sometime after it first appeared on the blog in 2008, I received a lovely email from someone who had read it aloud to his family in the course of telling them he is gay. He didn’t say what he or they thought of the poem but it doesn’t matter; what matters is that ‘afterwards…it was hugs all round.’ It appears they are a religious family, too, plainly inspired by a spirituality that lends itself to love no less than to religion. Oh, but how wonderfully reassuring!

I should add that for every LGBT person who has emailed to say they feel rejected by family members and /or friends, others have said they have been reconciled, even if it has taken awhile for those same family members  and/ or friends to understand that our sexuality makes not a scrap of difference in the sense that we are the same person whom they have come to love, regardless. 

HEART TO HEART

I told family and friends

how, come what may,

I’ll tread a straighter path

for being gay

I remain the same person,

sharing with you still,

a universal understanding;

love conquers all

If love imposes conditions,

what does that imply,

other than the human heart

has told its spirit a lie?

Let those without a dream

to call their own

rally all life’s lonely losers

to cast the first stone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

Going with the Music OR Play On...

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

Don’t we all have our eye on the main chance where falling in love is concerned? Gay or straight, we can’t afford to be caught out wearing blinkers …

At the same time, of course, we need to learn the best steps likely to find ourselves a partner in life if not for life; it's no fun engaging with shadows in a closet.

As classic playwright William Shakespeare frequently comments, one way or another, in many of his his plays: - 'If music be the food of love, play on... 'Twelfth Night (1602) 

GOING WITH THE MUSIC

Shirt open,

muscles rippling,

slim fit jeans

defying mutual desires

to pussyfoot

around each other

like politicians

with an eye on the

main chance

while not wanting

to queer

their pitch with any

second

(or third) choices

likely game

for second (or third)

chances

Body going

with the music,

in time

with, oh, so playful toes

winking

back at mine,

suggesting

we leave the floor,

head for

the bar, see where

it leads...

(your place or mine?)

anxious to play

the cool customer

while making the case

for sex

Mind getting

lost in the music,

reaching out

to you for a helping hand,

sensing

your piano fingers

playing mine

(a familiar enough tune)

its subtleties

stirring memories

of times

when spirit and flesh

both equal

to the greater task,

making more

of one-night stands

than sex

Shirts off,

muscles rippling,

hairy legs

taking mutual desires

full on,

no pussy footing

around

each other

like politicians,

but an eye on the

main chance

with no intention

of queering

our pitch with any

second

(or third) choices,

only game

(this time) for staying

the course

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Shaping up for Life

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Many years ago, I confided in someone that I was gay but was scared of the consequences if I came out to family and friends. He simply commented, “Yes, well, just remember that body, mind and spirit only ever need to justify themselves to each other, no one else.’ I suspect that’s as good a benchmark for contentment if not happiness as I will find anywhere.

At the time, I thought it was a rather selfish approach to life. Looking back, however, (I will be 70 on the winter solstice) I can see only too clearly that it’s only during the relatively few times in my life when I have been really happy that mind, body and spirit have achieved the greater harmony.  While I am not unhappy now, I live alone and don’t have a partner, without whom any life-harmony is only ever likely to be a halfhearted affair. Life, though, is all about making the best rather then the worst of things and I think I do a pretty good job of that.

Now, anyone can (and will) judge us as and when they like, but no one but the self knows how far (or not) it achieves harmony between body, mind and spirit. We are the best judges of that, no one else, just as where there is discord…we need to at least try and do something about it.  For example, while I am not a religious person, the suggestion that ‘Blessed are the peace makers’ has a lot going for it.

Above all, life is about developing and building on a native, all-embracing capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms - as far as we are able  and others will let us) -  and that goes for each and every one of us, whatever our sex, sexuality, race, religion and, yes, age too.

SHAPING UP FOR LIFE

Scared of who I am,
trapped in conventions that birthed me,
locked in the mind of a child
competing with siblings and peers for love
I would keep, oh, so close…
(so much a part of me, no desire to lose)
yet, compelled to choose

Scared of who I am,
fretting over wet dreams and fantasies
born of a growing sexuality
suggesting (confirming) much I’d been told
regarding human relationships
since knee high…a lie…created to taunt me
about me sexual identity

Scared of who I was
until we met in a bar one wintry night,
and as we talked, grew closer,
till in the thick of everyday conversation
I felt the throbbing pulse
of mutual attraction coursing my body,
mind-talk consuming me

Scared of who I was,
until he touched my hand reassuringly
as if to calm my frantic spirit
with piano fingers taking me through
a haunting symphony,
flooding emptiness left by unspoken fears,
and drying unshed tears

Unashamed of being gay,
those other parts comprising my whole,
ganging up on me for centuries,
hating me, despising me, rejecting me,
leaving me confused, scared…
finally accepting of this only-human need
to share his bed 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Homing in on Priorities

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Even in countries like the UK that now permit gay marriage, coming out is not necessarily easy, especially to people close to us who think they know us through and through but to whom it has never occurred we might be gay.  Now, coming out may or may not be tough on us, but we should always remember it can be tough on family, friends and colleagues. too, so we may well need to give them time to get used to the idea, not automatically feel rejected and misunderstood simply because they don’t always react positively at first. Religious-minded people, especially, often find it hard to accept the existence of a ' gay gene' that is passed on from generation to generation, sometimes missing a few but invariably resurfacing eventually. 

Now, I never give advice, but will always give an opinion if asked. Only (very) recently, a reader e-mailed to say he cannot live without his (closet) boyfriend but neither can he face being openly gay. What should he do?  Well, no one can make that decision for him, but hopefully, today’s poem might help him to make up his mind and acknowledge where his heart lies.

[Photo taken from the Internet]

HOMING IN ON PRIORITIES

He said we must part
because I would not come out
of my safe (if scary) closet and say
this is me, I am gay

I was afraid of exposing
my all  to the world’s stark light,
laying myself open to sentiments
parading its ignorance

I should ignore the bigots
he would say and I had to agree,
but even our passion fuelled my fears
fed on unshed tears

At the parting of our ways,
I cried and begged him to reconsider
the only demand you ever made of me,
no more closet sexuality

He kissed me goodbye
and walked away, leaving me alone
to endure a dark, so-cold pit of misery, 
all my senses numbing

I tried to hate you for that,
but rage never (really) stood a chance
against needing to love, be loved in turn,
reconcile with being born

So I told the world I’m gay,
not (quite) as hard as I had imagined
at the moment I contrived that we’d meet,
and kissed you in the street

Now, we share words of love
anyone might overhear, and respond
for good, bad, or not at all... so who cares?
Not our problem, but theirs


Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

O-U-T, Notes on the Psychology of Perception

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

This poem takes me back to my (much) younger days and helps me forget I will be 70 later this year..

As a teenager and younger man, I used to prefer sex with older men. Now, I am the older man. Oh, dear, is that not so scary? It often strikes me that time doesn’t just fly, but zooms past me as I grow old(er). [Not old, not quite, not yet...well, maybe…]

Since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011 and began hormone therapy, I confess I have lost all interest in sex. Mind you, I don’t miss it (blame the hormones) and take great pleasure in my memories, often drawing on them for my poems. Yet, who knows ...? Maybe if I met the right person even at this late stage in my life…and there’s always Viagra. <>

This poem is a villanelle.

O-U-T, NOTES ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PERCEPTION

Eyes of gentle grey

telling lies that are true

(seeing that I’m gay)

Lovers at play,

dark skies turning blue;

eyes of gentle grey

Some might say

I was vulnerable to you

seeing that I’m gay

Truth on its way

in a loving word or two,

eyes of gentle grey

No pressure to stay.

Oh, but how I wanted to,

seeing that I’m gay

Came out one day,

perceiving myself in you;

eyes of gentle grey

seeing that I’m gay …

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Found Out' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Making Peace with Nature

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

[Update 27/9/2019: Aware that I do not use social media myself, readers often ask if they can post a link to any of my poems on social media or simply recommend any of my blogs by title. No, I don’t mind at all.  If you want to recommend, go ahead, and many thanks; the more readers, the more feedback. The only reason I do not use social media myself is because I am in my 70’s now and not well these days. I simply do not have the time as everything takes so much longer; working on a poem can take days anyway, and there is always shopping and housework to be done besides regular visits to my GP surgery or the Macmillan Cancer Centre (for my prostate cancer) and replying to any feedback that gives an email address. (I ignore spam emails.) While I have always enjoyed meeting up with readers who are visiting London, whether for a few drinks, a meal or just chatting over a coffee, I have mobility problems now and cannot get out and about as often as I would like, but feel free to get in touch any time even if it's just an email to say hello. I don't post comments because they take up too much space, but I will always reply to emails with 'Poetry' in the subject field; feedback is always welcome.] RNT

Meanwhile...

We spend a lifetime listening to nature, but how much do we really hear, and to how much of that do we relate and act upon…?

MAKING PEACE WITH NATURE

One evening,
I imagined birdsong asking
what I was doing,
dying of wishful thinking
of you

Come morning,
I heard grasshoppers telling
tales on my dreaming
of embracing, being kissed
by you

At mid-day,
I heard a honey bee buzzing
to just about anyone
willing to listen, I’m in love
with you

Come twilight,
catching me out still thinking
of telling you one day
that I am gay, but scared
of losing you

Darkness falling,
and I can hardly see for all
you’re telling me
through tears, in denial
for years

Midnight chiming
and declaring loud and clear
(for anyone to hear)
how you and I rediscovered
each other

Life, flying as high
as our love means to take us;
gay lovers cocking an ear
to nature’s song, and singing
along…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

Heart to Heart, a Plea for Common Sense

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

Several emails from readers worried sick about the reaction of family and friends to their coming out prompted me to write today’s poem.

If acknowledging to ourselves we are gay is traumatic experience, coming out to friends and family can prove even more so. especially if we live in a gay-unfriendly socio-cultural-religious environment. 

here we are in the 21st century and still homophobia is alive and kicking. In my experience, this is often because so many straight people have no understanding about what it means to be gay, trenagender of simply 'different'. - not least because they have neither really thought about it nor had a chance to discuss it, calmly, objectively and intelligently either at home, school or wherever. Consequently, they remain hung up on misleading, invariably offensive stereotypes that continue to attach themselves to gay and transgender men and women in the minds of the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority.

As I have said any times on my blogs, our differences do not make us different, simply human.

The problem with so-called political correctness is that too many people are afraid to say what they really think. How can we put people right unless we know what they are thinking? There is nothing worse than being tolerated. Sexuality deserves better. For a start, it deserves respect.

A heart to heart can work wonders. (Did I say it would be easy?)

HEART TO HEART, A PLEA FOR COMMON SENSE

Dear family and friends,

see how, come what may,

it really makes no difference

I’m gay

I’m the same person,

that’s sharing with you

the same heartfelt conviction

love is all

If love but conditional,

where does that leave us

as supposedly more spiritual

than beasts?

I crave love and peace,

and if you loved me once,

why should you love me less

for my sexuality?

Infant, now grown3 rev. 

no less a Child of the Earth

or free to run with nature’s own

for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004, rev. 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was written in 2003 and first published in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

Better Late Than Never

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

Hate crime has always been with us, including physical as well as verbal abuse targeting gay people - especially gay men; whatever the motivation, it is never excusable. 

Everyone deserves to love and be loved - and I don't just mean romantic love either - whatever their colour, creed, sex or sexuality. As I get older, and living alone, I guess I should add age as well because it is love - past and present, in all its shapes and forms - that gets me up each morning and sees me carry on until it tucks me up in bed at night and sends a genial sandman to see me through to the next round...

Meanwhile...

Not romantically linked to anyone? Never mind, I can only repeat (remind you) that love comes in all shapes and forms. Most of us have family, friends, pets... If you have none of these, all the more reason to stop feeling sorry for yourself and let love touch your heart today and always. Better late than never...

BETTER LATE THAN NEVER 

A bitter winter sweeping

our city streets, country lanes

merging into nightmare;

me, having no idea where t
o go or what to do for thinking 
about you-me-us

Suddenly, I saw you there

smiling and grey,

like the winter sun, bursting

to re-appear, spread

some happiness for those

quick on the uptake,

seeking to refill our hearts 
with love than stand by

and watch them break 
for the sake of a bruised ego 
or haunting the brain

I didn’t know what to say,

lips frozen and blue...

Besides, how to tell how sorry

for our bitter quarrel 
over your being out to family 
and friends in the closet

neither of us willing to enter

into each other's points
of view, no surprise then 

that we exchanged a summer
of the heart for its winter

As I watched you cross 
towards me, I could 

but cave in, let love win,

proud to face the world
at your side, gay lovers taking
its prejudices in our stride

Copyright R N Taber 2005, 2019

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

G-A-Y, Raised Voices

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

Update, Dec 14, 2018: As regular readers will know, a slim volume of my general and gay-interest poems will be widely available next spring, and I am hoping it will sell well enough to give the publishers (Austin Macauley) positive food for thought regarding a follow-up volume. While many of my poems have appeared in various poetry magazines and anthologies, most gay-interest submissions were rejected. I resorted to self-publishing collections of mixed general/ gay-interest poems; while these sold well, I had limited funds and they were only available in the UK.

When I have a publishing date, I will let everyone know. Meanwhile (as I struggle with online proofing) I am asking any blog readers who enjoy my poems to not only spread the word but also at least consider buying a copy and/or reserving one at their local public library where appropriate. I do not ask out of any financial consideration (there is no money in poetry!) but it can only help bring gay-interest poetry to the attention of poetry lovers worldwide, and thereby help give the whole LGBT ethos  more credibility, and lead to a greater understanding among those dinosaurs across the world who remain hostile to the concept.

Although most of my poems appear on my blogs, I am in my 70s now and not in the best of health. The Grim Reaper could come calling any time; sooner or later, my blogs may well fade into some distant digital sunset.

I appreciate that poetry is not to everyone’s liking and feedback from the gay readers worldwide suggests that there are those gay readers who see gay-interest poetry as a separate genre. We must agree to differ as I see general and gay-interest poetry a alternative voices of the same genre. A poem is a pom is a poem regardless of content just as person is a person is a person regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality.

While our sexuality is an important part of anyone’s whole, it is still only a part. We are the sum of all our parts, and I, for one, get fed-up with the less enlightened among us homing in on my sexuality and all but ignoring the other parts.

I have written well over 1,000 poems; of these, a significant number are gay-interest poems meant to be enjoyed but also encourage gay people around the world to feel good about themselves especially any who may find themselves living in a socio-cultural-religious environment that is anything but gay-friendly. Feedback suggests there are many, even in the more gay-friendly western hemisphere; we may have pro-gay legislation here, but you cannot legislate for bad attitude.

I am hoping to be well enough to give at least a few readings from the book to help promote it albeit  various health problems mean these are likely to be only in the London area. In the past, my readings have been advertised locally and well received by gay-friendly audiences across the UK; in libraries, regular gay group meet-ups and other venues. Even so, some people missed the posters, were only aware of a poetry reading taking place and told me afterwards how they hadn't expected to hear, let alone enjoy any poems on a gay theme; now, that really made my day.

Wishing all of you, my blog readers, love and peace always,

Roger

Meanwhile...

There comes a time for most gay boys and girls, men and women, when we feel a need to let the whole world know just who we are.

Today’s poem first appears in an anthology, Never Hold Time, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2003 and subsequently in my collection.

Some time ago, two sixteen-year olds got in touch with me. ‘Ben’ and his boyfriend ‘Matt’ had been in a closet relationship for several months. Apparently, the only person who knew their secret was Ben’s sister; she then discovered the gay section in The Third Eye after borrowing it from her local public library and gave it to him to read. Subsequently, Ben and Matt started following the blog and they have been in touch again since to say they are now out to family and friends and ‘everything’s okay.’

Ben wrote:  ‘I like this poem because it’s easy to understand and isn’t complicated like lots of poems. That’s how we want people to think about us. Why should being gay be so hard for some people to understand, and what’s so complicated about accepting people for who they are?’

Well may you ask, Ben!

This poem is a villanelle.

G-A-Y, RAISED VOICES

Come, let’s shout;

high time the world knew

we’re out

Dark clouds about,

but skies are turning blue;

Come, let’s shout!

Trust me, never doubt

it’s so right for me and you

we’re out

It’s what love is all about,

together we’ll see it through;

Come, let’s shout

Its seasons long or short,

may all love’s paths run true;

we’re out!

Putting stereotypes to rout,

profiling the gay point of view

Come, let’s shout,

'We’re out!'

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

The Comedian

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

I wrote today’s poem especially for a young man who once called me anonymously at 11.00pm. I didn’t finish the poem until nearly 3.00 am by which time I was feeling very tired as well as increasingly anxious on his behalf … so don’t expect a gem. [LOL]

Many of us can probably relate to a secret life, not always having been openly gay.

Maybe some readers still find themselves all but suffocating in some awful closet. Tragically, it remains almost par for the course for gay men and women in some countries where certain socio-cultural-religious bigots continue to have the upper hand. We can but keep them in our thoughts, offering support as and when we can. You never know. Certain world/community leaders may yet see the error of their bigotry sooner rather than later so gay people can get on with their lives openly and in peace.  

This poem, like many others I have written, has its roots in my own life but just how and where is for me to know and you to speculate. I write simply and am often accused of being simplistic although I refute the latter criticism. Whatever, do I care? If just one reader reads and enjoys a poem of mine, it will have been worth the writing; should he or she find food for thought there, so much the better.

THE COMEDIAN

I was never any good at school,

my schooldays were a sham,

I’d mess around and play the fool

because I couldn’t quite get to grips

with who I am

I had a working class education,

didn’t ever dare aim high,

couldn’t see the point of ambition,

so I’d mess around and play the fool,

live a lie

I had a real problem with identity,

couldn’t bear anyone to know

it was an awakening homosexuality

saw me mess around and play the fool,

put on a show

I’d have sex in sly, secret, places,

even fancy guys in the street,

could sense revulsion in their faces

although never one sure, all-seeing eye

would I dare meet

There came a time as I grew older,

I wearied of playing the ham,

resolved to get real and be bolder

about letting on to this sorry old world

exactly who I am

I came out to just about everyone,

and it was scary but, oh, so cool

to be free at last of secrets, have fun,

neither afraid nor ashamed of who I am,

no need to play the fool

I confess it. I once had no life at all,

my early years were a sham,

and if now I sometimes play the fool,

it’s because I’m relaxed, happy, content

to be who I am

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

My Way

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2010. As I have pointed out before, not everyone has time to browse the archives so I hope those readers who recall it will enjoy being reacquainted.

My mother loved poetry and often used to read me poems rather than stories. I loved them and recall them all, but the first gay-interest poem I read (by Thom Gunn) not only felt like an endorsement of that love, but also of my emerging sexuality; in 1959 when same-sex relationships were still a criminal offence in the UK.

I have always loved libraries and been an avid reader although less so these days as my eyes get tired. Mostly, it would be fiction or poetry with which I would engage with a schoolboy’s enthusiasm for discovery. In this way, I’d not only escape from the harsher realities of life, but also learn more about certain deeper, kinder truths that my compulsory ‘education’ (so-called) rarely if ever even hinted at.  

Take being gay, for example. I had been led to believe it was a perversion so, realizing I am gay caused me to feel guilty for being a pervert. Books and poems assured me otherwise.

I learned that sexuality is in the genes and perfectly natural although frowned upon by those with neither the sense nor sensibility to appreciate anything (or anyone) beyond their narrow conception of 'normality' (upon whose back, of course, a society's leaders in and teachers of its conventions so love to ride). Now, there was a time when such books and poems would invariably be found ‘under the counter’ at my local public library. Ah, but where there’s a will, there is usually a way for an enterprising schoolboy, and my first job after leaving school was in a public library…

MY WAY

I read a poem about being gay

that came back to haunt me

but in the nicest possible way,

applauding my sexuality ...

I wrote a poem about being gay

that needs no apology;

whatever I do, whatever I say,

it always speaks up for me ...

I shared a poem about being gay

with friends and family

who put their misgivings away,

rose above knee jerk hostility

My life is a poem about being gay,

its words a taste of honey;

whatever I do, whatever I say,

it always speaks up for me ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Give me a Clue

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

Here’s a very early (autobiographical) poem that I discovered a few years ago while clearing out my flat; I have slightly revised rather than rewrite. I was 17 years-old when I wrote the original version at a time when gay relationships were still a criminal offence here in the UK. In those days (as now) poetry was my lifeline, giving rein to pent-up feelings I could share with no one except others like me struggling to make sense of our sexuality. Some of us stayed the course; others, like Joey, caved into Mother Convention and the expectations of unsuspecting parents.

Joey is not his real name, but it is his birthday today.  He married a good 40 years ago and now has great-grandchildren. In the unlikely event he ever reads this post, he may remember me if I say he shared his name with the family cat (black, but for the tips of its ears that were white).

Oh, yes, I remember it well…

(Photo from the Internet)

GIVE ME A CLUE

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about

in books, seen on TV

and movies in the middle row

at popcorn cinemas

Maggie is a lovely girl,

who lived just across the way

and asked me out,

but somehow I couldn’t see it, her
and me on a date 

Love was just a word,

kept drilling holes in my head,

burning my ears,

turning my skin red for tongues

ever wagging at me

Harry is a real nice guy

whom I’d known for years, 

(though not really well)
invariably making the queerest

impression on me 

Love was a just a word

making itself felt all the more

for wondering about Joey

and what he was doing, wishing

we could get together

I really didn’t have a clue

what life was meant to be about

(for me, at any rate)

till Joey sat next to me on a bus,

let his smile say it all

Love was just a word

I’d heard people say, read about,

seen on TV, in cinemas...

till we shared a kiss, Harry and me,

and it (finally) got real

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2012

Jack-in-the-Box

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

Many thanks to those readers who have been in touch to say they are enjoying Dog Roses and Blasphemy, gay storylines serialised on my fiction blog. I hope to upload them as e-books later this year or early next:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com

Meanwhile...

Looking back, I feel ashamed that I was such a Jack-in-the-box for so long before coming out of the damn box once and for all.

My only excuse is that it took a long time to shrug of the shackles of criminality imposed on me throughout my youth and in the early years of adulthood by a society that, in those days, saw gay relationships as not only a criminal offence but also something lower than anything the proverbial cat is ever likely to drag in... It is the 21^st century’s continuing tragedy that some people and some societies still do.

Never condemn a gay person for caving in to socio-cultural-religious pressures and trying to go straight, but hope for their sakes that they see sense and salvation sooner rather than later.

 JACK-IN-THE-BOX

Once, I’d make up life as I went along

with Jack, my invisible friend;

He was always there for me, teasing

but never passing judgement;

Only Jack knew I was gay, a teenager

in love with the boy next door

whose mother thought fate meant me

for her daughter; cue for laughter

from Jack , no matter my shame for

going along with the farce, even

asking the daughter on a date because

her brother is her mate’s boyfriend

and we’d all hang out; I’d grab every

chance to be close to him, feel his

breath on me, a finger brushing mine,

getting higher on the sheer poetry

of his voice than any music, dancing

or wine

At his door, I’d kiss her briefly, ignoring

the pain in her eyes, her best friend

embracing my love nearby, lips meant

(surely?) for mine, a place in his life,

stealing my passion, usurping my dreams

and (worse) making them real while I

dare not reveal how I feel, Jack at my ear

saying less harm in lies than let truth

run its course, better play charades than

drop the mask, show a private face;

(Oh, to feel his heat and taste his kiss!)

She knew, of course, yet kept saying

she loved me and I fear she did, though

Jack knows I never said the words

she longed to hear nor let her passion

get the better of us, he at my ear

saying, no matter…wasn’t as if I didn’t

care for her at all

Youth long past, stumbling into maturity,

I finally told everyone I am gay;

Most people stood by me, gave me a hug,

said it didn’t matter, sexuality less

important than a sound mind, good heart

by far; most people, that is, except the guy

who used to be the boy next door;

But I don’t need him any more and Jack’s

gone too, nor is gay love a make-believe

dent on the pillow next to me, invisible lips

mouthing words of desire…for I am out

in the world, high on a love and friendship

restoring my integrity, replacing regret

for an unrequited youth with a self-respect

and honesty; the man I used to be, scared

of reality and behaving badly, finally ready

for a sexual identity demanding I accept

responsibility for it

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]