The Gambler OR 'IF' Revisited

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

The poem below first appeared on the blog in 2016; along with other recent posts, it has been removed from the archives and (significantly) revised in order to re-publish here today. For anyone interested, though, there are many poems in the archives that will remain there so feel free to browse any time; I am only removing any that I feel, years on, need some revision (either the poem itself, its title ... or both.)

I am no gambler in the sense that I rarely bet for financial reward, but line most people I have nursed ambitions, followed my heart, fought my share of battles as a direct consequence, and ... yes, won some, lost some. Years ago, I had three driving ambitions; to look the world in the eye as a gay person, be a librarian and a poet. I have managed all three, but it took time for mind-body-spirit to take each proverbial bull by its horns and reconcile myself to as well as accept responsibility for any consequences. While nothing in my life has worked out quite as I had hoped, I remain, at 74, content enough to have,on balance, won more wars with mind-body-spirit than battles lost; it is how I deal with the threat of Covid-19 ... as just another battle in just another war ... and what will be, will be. 

Now, I get angry when people comment along the lines of someone’s having no ambition, just as I get angry when, as often as not, it is the same people who criticise another person's lifestyle and/ or sexual persuasion; it is none of their damn business.

Ambition means different things to different people and cannot be measured in terms of ‘success’ or ‘failure’; far too often these things are measured in terms of fame and/or fortune without taking into account someone’s success as a well-meaning, decent person; in the latter category, you will often find some of the poorest people in the world. 

Gambling on our potential to make a success if an idea or even a relationship is a win-win; even if circumstances conspire against us, we will have done our best; others might not see it that way, but if we are honest with ourselves, we know the truth of the matter. Yes, we may wish we had done certain things differently, made different choices … but, that’s life … and hindsight is not something we should beat ourselves up over. Hopefully, we will not only learn from our mistakes, but also pass them on to help others avoid them too; if there is a silver lining, the latter has to be it.

At the same time, we are all but human, fallible, and not infrequently vulnerable. Few things goad a person into taking a misguided path in life (if - initially, at least - for all the right reasons) than self-criticism for failing to live up to someone else's expectations, especially if that person is a loved one.  We think we need to 'prove ourselves'.  Sadly - as in the case of many a gambler for purely financial gain -we not only risk losing ourselves, but also much of if not all we hold dear along the way.

My late mother, to whose words of wisdom I often wish I had listened to more while she was alive - she died 40+ years ago just months before my 30th birthday - would often say when I confided this or that life plan running circles in my mind - "Always have a plan B, dear, just in case if things don't quite work out as you hoped." Fortunately, I did listen some of the time, and many a Plan B has been a lifesaver.

This poem is a kenning.

THE GAMBLER or 'IF' REVISITED

I can be a friend or foe, take me as you will

to a corner of your heart and let me stay

to whisper sweet words of love and desire

in your ear, bring precious respite

from life’s trials, wars and sleepless nights

for worry, fear, dread of what the day

may yet devour. I can light your darkness.

Only, dare dance with me on the shadow line,

win some, lose some? 

I can be a friend or foe, take me as you will

into a corner of your mind and let me stay

to whisper unkind words of lust and desire

in your ear, rarely offering any respite

from life’s trials, wars and sleepless nights

for worry, fear, dread of what day may bring,

rain or shine. Enough. Time to go along 

with whatever inner forces insisting we have

something to prove? 

Yes, the human whole comprises such parts

as may be taken for partner, friend or foe;

whatever, it insinuates the self, feeds on it, 

driving mind-body-spirit for good or ill,

has no respect for any self-awareness of 'easy'

money as fool's gold, while neither taking 

every dreamer for a fool who feels the need

to live for such tomorrows as may never come

but just might, if ...

Call me Aspiration, neither saint nor sinner,

but self-styled winner (or loser)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2020

[Note: This  poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; an earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Dirty Dancing' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Between Friends OR Shades of Light and Dark

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

I once had a friend who became a heroin addict in his late teens and died from an overdose in 1967. 

My friend was 22 and happened to be gay, but drug abuse is a tragedy for too many young people – gay, straight, male, female, from all kinds of backgrounds - and there is still too little help available. To be honest, I was more than a little in love with him although he only ever saw me as a friend.  I still dream about him sometimes, and felt compelled to write this poem if only in remembrance of a great guy who took a wrong turning and was found lying in a gutter one day ...

I have known (and still do) people to whom taking hard drugs is socially acceptable, a trait encouraged by a drugs-friendly celebrity culture frequently in the media spotlight and setting an appalling example.

  

BETWEEN FRIENDS or SHADES OF LIGHT AND DARK

Under a halo of sudden light

a familiar figure beckons;

looks, sure to win the Devil over;

designer gear any angel would give

their wings for

Laugher lines in the classic brow,

enigmatic poise teasing me

even now as into the clinging dew,

I run barefoot,

hug anew this pouting saint

to a sobbing breast…

Laughter, through tears for years parted,

brokenhearted…

Catching my breath, no nearer it seems

to this golden haired god

in jeans I’ve borrowed times before,

reaching out a hand,

indulging me a bitter-sweet smile

that means so much I’d give my all

to touch…

Lark into dawn skies, vanished;

a bitter-sweet song,

no listener (ever) left unpunished;

lives as fresh and hopeful as spring rain

till you tried heroin

Copyright R. N. Taber 1974, 2000

[From: Love and Human Remains (under the title, Between Friends) by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]

P-A-S-S-I-O-N, Poems of Love and Peace

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

[Update (April 2016): Today’s poem was written in 2002, before the Civil Partnership Act (2004) was passed here in the UK. On 10 December 2013, Minister Maria Miller of The Department of Culture, Media and Sport announced that same sex marriage ceremonies would begin on 29 March 2014 in England and Wales.] 

I always think of friends who had civil partnerships as married anyway, as do most gay people I know, but of course marriage introduces a religious element that may appeal to some.  At the same time,  legislation regarding gay marriage apparently allows any religious institution to refuse to conduct one if it so wishes, which smacks of tears all round to me.

Whatever, it was very refreshing to hear that two Pakistani women recently became the first Muslim lesbians to have a civil partnership here. Let’s wish them well and hope they will inspire other Muslim gay people, and those from other religions often inclined to take a homophobic point of view. May they enjoy many happy years together.

P-A-S-S-I-O-N, POEMS OF WAR AND PEACE

We’d quarrelled
and I wanted no truck
with you, wouldn’t
make it up with you;
I took the spare bed,
wondering what’s going on
in your head
other side of the wall,
were you even thinking of me
at all...?

At last I slept,
only to be woken roughly,
duvet torn off me,
merging mouths closing
in on eternity;
two pairs of eyes shining,
blood coursing
to the war cries of angels
fighting over our natural rights
to a blessing

If they won't marry us,

let 'em bury us...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Fighting Talk' in  First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2002.]

Pink in the Frame OR L-O-V-E, where Life forces Come in all Colours

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

Some readers may be interested in the latest video (Salisbury Cathedral) that my close friend Graham has beautifully shot for YouTube and for which I have written and read a new poem.  

Although I do not subscribe to any religion, it doesn’t mean I have any less love for the architecture of many religious edifices; for much of religious music, too, even if I cannot relate the words of hymns and other songs of praise. 

An eye and feeling for beauty are unconditional, surely? 

Nature offers a sense of spirituality with no strings attached; the same cannot be said for religion.  As for God, who's to say God and nature are not one and the same? me, I cannot believe in a personified God, yet I see nature as a metaphor for a force for good that has to come close, surely? I count myself as neither atheist nor agnostic, just a poet who also happens to be gay, and others are free to make of that what they will. 

If interested, you can access video and poem at my YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

as well as my general blog today:

http://rogertab.blogspot.com/

Meanwhile...

This poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010, and I am repeating it today especially for ‘Marie’ and her partner ‘Aileen’ who contacted me a while ago to say they ‘really like it’.  I always love to hear from readers so thanks for that. Regular readers will know that the reason I don’t post comments is that it is, after all, a poetry blog, and I feel they can distract from the poem. Even so, anyone is free to contact me about anything at my email address, which is why I included it in the blog’s Introduction.

This the poem is one of many in which I try to convey something of an enduring sense of spirituality that nature has always given me since early childhood and for which I have looked for but never found in religion. 

PINK, IN THE FRAME or L-O-V-E, WHERE LIFE FORCES COME IN ALL COLOURS

Yellow, like bright sunshine on spring flowers;

such is the colour of love

Green, like summer leaves dancing on a breeze;

such is the colour of love

Sometimes turning a reddish gold, growing old;

such is the colour of love

Sometimes gone grey, like our ashes in a hearth;

such is the colour of love

White, like virgin snow on nature’s fine promises;

such is the colour of love

Pink, like dawn’s gay chorus or sunset’s shy blush;

such, too, is the colour of love

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