Potential for a Love Story OR The Eyes Have It

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

“Love has no gender - compassion has no religion - character has no race.” - Abhijit Naskar, Either Civilised or Phobic: A Treatise on Homosexuality 

“Love him and let him love you. Do you think anything else under heaven really matters?” – James Baldwin

“Equality means more than passing laws. The struggle is really won in the hearts and minds of the community, where it really counts.” – Barbara Gittings

“Sexuality is one of the ways in which we become enlightened, actually, because it leads to self-knowledge – Alice Walker”

Now, it was a lay preacher who first defined ‘gay’ for me as “A person who not only sees no sin in being physically attracted to their own gender, but dares to justify any such relationship by suggesting it is a mutually consensual experiment in love. Love, of course, plays no part in it. It’s but an excuse for casual sex which, even between opposite genders is only ever at best, a selfish act, at worst, a sin.”

“But what if the couple concerned really do fall in love?” I wanted to know.

“Are you deaf, or something,” he snapped testily, there is no such thing as falling in love with someone of your own sex. Love them, yes, by all means, but platonically, not in a physical sense.” Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do…”

Even at the age of 11, ‘pompous ass’ was the first phrase that sprung to mind as I watched him go.

It was the 1950’s. My mind continued to dwell on that conversation even before I realised I was gay myself. So prevalent and widely accepted was such prejudice towards gay folks in those days, that I felt unable to confide in anyone.

As regular readers will know, it would be another twenty years before I felt strong enough to share my secret with the world, but not before falling in love with a potential partner for life who was killed in a car accident that sent me scurrying back into a lonely closet.

Fewer people these days are intimidated by religious objections to a person’s sexuality and are more inclined to take others as they find them and play any potential friendship by ear.

Now, some readers may well be interested in the revised edition of Odd Men Out by John-Pierre Joyce, Manchester University Press, 2022. It charts the history of gay men in 1950’s and 1960’s Britain, but I suspect gay men everywhere, from all walks of life, will be able to relate to it, not least because homophobia remains rampant across the world, not least due to the narrowmindedness and sheer hypocrisy of various religions.

POTENTIAL FOR A LOVE STORY or THE EYES HAVE IT

As he turned from his window
on the world below,
his gaze rested briefly on me,
and in that moment,
we strangers acknowledged
the prison from which
we so longed to go free to enjoy
such venial pleasures, for better or worse
as would see us embrace

He left the room without a word,
intuitively, I followed;
sooner, rather than later, we knew
we would be acting out
a beautiful dream acknowledged
under cover of silence,
bringing us together to revel
in such carnal delights as we would share,
for laying our souls bare

Better bare than clothed in hypocrisies
constantly insisting
we are committing various sins
of the flesh, sure to see us
in a hell of our own construction 
for denying the edicts
of religions dating back centuries,
ostensibly expressions of love and peace,
except for You-Me-Us

I am that desire-of-the-flesh-become-reality,
transcending a potential love story

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022 

[Note: Several straight friends insisted I publish this post-poem on both poetry blogs today. Who am I to argue...?]

 

An Empathy with Nature (1)

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

“Love has no gender - compassion has no religion - character has no race.” - Abhijit Naskar, [Either Civilized or Phobic: A Treatise on Homosexuality]

“Human nature is not a machine to be built after a model, and set to do exactly he work prescribed for it, but a tree, which requires to grow and develop itself on all sides, according to the tendency of the inward forces that make it a living thing.” John Stuart Mill

“In terms of sex between same-sex partners, the objection that "the parts don't fit" doesn’t make sense on even the most logical level. If the parts didn't work together, frankly, people wouldn't be putting them together.” -  Kathy Baldock [Walking the Bridgeless Canyon: Repairing the Breach Between the Church and the LGBT Community]

“Our common humanity is more important than all the things that divide us.” – Mairead Corrigan

Now, as regular readers will know, some years ago, I began writing a trilogy, the title of each volume to be Blasphemy, Sacrilege and Redemption; it was never finished. I had been given to understand that an American publisher would publish it, but it transpired that he was only interested in breaking into the UK market. When Blasphemy failed to comply, he lost interest in any companion volumes. 

Although I had already written Sacrilege, no UK publishers expressed any interest in a gay-interest trilogy. Moreover, a very rude letter from the American publisher, making fun of my self-publishing logo, “Assembly Books” left me loath to complete the trilogy. He clearly had no sense of irony which, regrettably, I took to heart at the time.

Later, I published Sacrilege along with Blasphemy and my other novels on my fiction blog, but was already having to deal with health issues that, dissuaded me from writing Redemption.

Why Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption? The enduring hope was to get across the idea that any form of prejudice is a blasphemy, just as physically and/ or emotionally abusing LGBT+ folks is a sacrilege and our ability to rise above it and come together in peace and love with the blessing of friends and family (gay or straight, kith and kin alike) is nothing short of a redemption. 

For my own part, those early closet years were a living death, nor ever have I felt so alive as when I felt the full force of mind-body-spirit prompting me to to get real and come out. . 

Subscribers to conventional religions may well take offence; none intended, though, as my only intention has ever been to endorse the Human Right to differ. Besides, any religious argument that  God is Love loses credence in the face of any form of prejudice within the framework of a common humanity. Me, I consider myself a Pantheist, a feeling for God as nature rather than its creator, having always felt a closer affinity and sense of spirituality with nature. 

As in all matters across the human landscape, we cannot expect to always accept or even understand some of the choices people make, simply respect them as we respect theirs, not cause dispute and irreparable division, especially in matters of the heart. No one should be made to feel a sinner, whatever their religion, for staying true to their native sexuality; nor, I imagine, would any God of Love judge us so.

Regular readers of any or all of my blogs will know that agreeing to differ, rather than fighting over whatever, it is a matter close to my heart.

So…such is the background to a proposed trilogy of poems,  An Empathy with Nature (1), (2) and (3) of which the first appears below.

Now, I hope to complete (2) and (3) within a few weeks, but have to confess that health issues are proving a hindrance to just about everything I attempt at the moment, so there may be some delay.

Each poem will also appear on my general blog. Doubtless, some readers there will complain that my  Gay/ LGBT+- interest poems should be restricted to this blog, but a poem has something to say to everyone, just as prejudice is inclined to raise its ugly head anywhere and everywhere.

 AN EMPATHY WITH NATURE (1)

Some abuse me, say I sin
whose faith would condemn me 
to serve a life sentence,
prisoner of heart-and-soul,
unable to break free,
give the real me an opportunity
to be as faces in the moon
haunt my days, assure me night after night
that no wrong could feel so right

No conventional religion
would concede me the spirituality
my imagination feeds on,
taking my cue from earth, sea and sky,
all things bright ad beautiful,
creatures great and small, like candles
to love-hope-peace, lessons
for the learning in nature and human nature,
to embrace, pas on, nurture

No true love can be a sin,
regardless of whatever any religion
might have to say,
nor yearning flesh to yearning flesh,
whatever gender, but set on
giving the poetry of mind-body-spirit
a voice; no ego calling,
only a spirituality made fearful of rejection
by strictures on kith and kin

It well may be that home
is where heart-and-soul comes alive,
leaving doubts and fears
for the love of one above all others;
yet, love is ever plural,
has room aplenty for family and friends,
whose love and understanding
may yet be still relied upon as freely given;
such is the art of being human

Call me Blasphemy in a heaven-and-hell world
where Bigotry so loves to have the last word...?

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

S

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.] 

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

  

 

 

 

 

 

True Love Ways

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

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

On Waking Up (or not) To Fact and Fiction

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I will be 76 later this year and was very saddened, only recently, to hear that the grandson of an old school friend had died of a drugs overdose; he was just 23 years-old and had been an addict since his mid-teens. His younger brother had also experimented with drugs, but not to the same extent and a period in rehab saved him from becoming permanently addicted; he even went on to achieve a university degree, and is now happily settled with his partner and  a job he loves. 

I guess wanting to be free of any addiction is not enough, it has to be fuelled by a sense of purpose. 

Years ago, I asked a former drug addict what, for him, had been the attraction of drugs. I expected him to say for the thrill of it. Instead, he answered with one word, “Escapism.” I understood the principle only too well, having been an avid reader of fiction since early childhood by way of escaping from certain realities with which, for the life of me, I couldn’t get to grips, including aspects of myself that I didn’t have the experience to understand and made me feel uncomfortable; during my formative years, these included an undiagnosed hearing loss and untreated speech defect. Later, I would have to deal with being gay, a fact from which family and society attitudes in those days compelled me to run away for nearly twenty years. 

A brief stay in Australia in the late 1960’s was a form of escapism. I felt guilty and cowardly until I met an old aboriginal man with whom I shared confidences I had bottled up for years. “There is no shame in running away,” he told me, “Sometimes we need to run away to find out just what it is we’re running away from. Only then can we decide to tackle it head-on or keep running. Waste of a life, running away. It can only ever end in tears... or worse, much worse...” he added thoughtfully. 

Indeed, it can, and I owe that man my life because I was offered drugs only a few days later, by which time I was able to refuse, having made up my mind to clear up the mess I’d made of my life so far, and stop running. A week earlier, I may well have been desperate enough to choose one of the worst forms of escapism, not uncommon among those of us made to feel but ‘losers’ by personal circumstances that, as likely as not, would see us fail to rise above its growing pains. 

ON WAKING UP (OR NOT) TO FACT AND FICTION 

Bright and sunny my days
in the park where once I loved to play
among peers of yesteryear,
relieved just to put any worries on hold,
leave reality behind awhile,
relaxed and happy in the company
of friends, left to explore
brave new worlds of such inspired imagination
as lent us a temporary freedom 

Dark clouds threatening rain
would send us running hell for leather
to find any shelter on hand,
still concerned with keeping reality at bay
a growing anxiety taking hold
of a mind-body-spirit, too easily tempted
by mixed growing pains
to explore the potential of other makeshift worlds
by way of latch-key passwords 

The passage of time grown dark
and scary, the only sure relief on hand
at the prick of a needle,
lending me all the thrills of such yesteryears
as would have had me access
a kinder world than ill-met by sunny days
offering a temporary freedom
from stormy weather, mind-body-spirit left to fight
that incorrigible demon, hindsight 

Alone in the park where once I so loved playing,
just another druggie, no happy ending 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

WHY? or Placing the 'I' in Perception

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Congratulations to all those participating in The Olympics. Only a fool would deny that it isn’t about winning and losing, just as only a fool would dare suggest it’s all about winning and losing; it’s the taking part that really counts, just being there. 

Much the same might well be said of life; it’s the being here that counts and giving it our best shot in whatever ways we can. So, some of us may fall short of the proverbial mark, so what mark might that be and who’s to say who put it there? Everyone will have an opinion, of course, and a world turning on opinions is healthy enough... until those opinions proceed to sow seeds of discontent, even aggression, doing more harm than good. 

As I have asked on the blogs time and again, whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

............................................

PARENT to CHILD: Why does it always have to be why this and why that with you? Why can't you just do as you're told?

CHILD (shrugs) Because...

WHY? or ON PLACING THE ‘I’ IN PERCEPTION 

I have winged the world
by day and night, let its beating heart
move us, now to such tears
of pain as embracing life forces can bring,
now for such years of joy
as teach the heart to sing in finest hours
of a personal space left free
to follow mind-body-spirit whenever inspired
by soulful prose and poetry 

I have sailed angry seas,
skimming waves incited to wreak havoc
among such creatures
great and small as dwell below, swim above,
or simply seek to cool
the heat of such everyday anxiety as likely
to attack humanity
at its every twist and turn as it seeks to do or die
in its quest to answer – why? 

By what human right do we
outlaw and deplore what we cannot share,
for wont of persuasion
or inclination of mind-body-spirit to enter into
for reasons sound and true,
while bringing the full force of judgement
on any who refuse to comply
with aspects of human behaviour most favoured by
this community, that society? 

Why do religions persist
with agendas that deny human beings a right
to embrace as free a spirit
as gave us birth, let us bond with Earth’s
seas and skies, trees and flowers,
birds and beasts, encouraging such inner sight
as can penetrate surfaces
considered plain, even ugly, for left running scared
of all its formative years foretold? 

Life is life, death is death,
such is the way of all creatures great and small,
though human perceptions vary;
similarly, love is love in whatever shape or form,
nor ours to condemn
for its appealing neither to religious dogma
nor personal agenda,
but deserving thanks for sharing such fine showpieces
as wing eternal in its You-Me-Us 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

Hello again, folks, from London UK

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

Hello again folks, from London UK

No poem today, but I am working on one, not only for you all but for me too. As with most people, the pandemic continues to taken its toll on yours truly. As if growing old and living alone was not enough to contend with, I find myself struggling to rise above the kind of depression that comes with battling various health issues - not least, my prostate cancer - on a daily basis.

At least I understand the nature of what I what I am up against and do so with a hopeful heart. Some battles are beyond understanding, prejudice being one of them. Prejudice against another human being is a sickness I find very hard to understand, and I am not speaking simply as a gay man.

Those who nurture feelings of racism, sexism, any kind of hate form against another human being simply because they don't like colour of their skin, their gender or the  nature of their sexuality... or whatever... is beyond all understanding.

Not for the first time, I received complaints about my last post along the lines that "... a gay-interest poem has no place on a 'supposedly' general poetry blog." That may well be true, but the motivation behind a poem is every bit important as the poem itself.

There are many men and women out there to whom the faith in which they were raided remains important to them even if they discover during puberty that they are of an LGBT+ persuasion, which most religious dogma condemns. Homosexuality and gender identity are no less a part of the human condition than any  mind-body-spirit that identifies with and feels a compelling empathy with the religion in which they have been raised.

Another reader has emailed to complain that "As you say you are not religious yourself, how can you, a godless person, justify a poem that is a religious allegory - of sorts..."

Hopefully I have explained if not justified the reason for the poem in the previous paragraph and other blog posts. As for my being a "godless" person, I have never claimed to be one, except in the way most world religions would have it. Pantheists believe that God is nature, not its creator. 

Anyone who has experienced as intimate an affinity with nature as with a God that not only doesn't discriminate along such prejudicial lines as some human beings, but neither sees any form of  bigotry as a "natural" element of any mind-body-spirit. Over the years, I have meat many people who share much the same experience, albeit I dare say they my well prefer not to see themselves as pantheists... or poets, for that matter.

 How a person feels, how he or she fills their personal space, that is where human choice lies, and it is only human to make  bad choices sometimes; these can never (quite) rectified, but the capacity to recognise  and change is also innate to mind-body-spirit and it should not require religion to state the terms of  a sinner's repentance or forgiveness. If we can repent and forgive ourselves, it is my belief that the greater, natural part of mind-body-spirit will rest easier for that and form the better part likely to engage with an empathic consciousness in life or death. 

      I'm not asking anyone to agree with me, simply trying to answer (to myself as much as anyone) why poetry helps me get through bad times and lets me feel a sense of spirituality as well as sheer pleasure in better, kinder times. Not an answer that will satisfy some if not many readers, I'm sure, but like everyone else, I can but try to get to the root of such thought processes that many philosophers and many a finer poet than I has attempted to reach for centuries.

Take care, keep well and nurture as positive thinking a mindset as you can,

Back soon,

Hugs, 

Roger

[Note: This post also appears on my general blog today since feedback suggests that some LGBT readers only dip into this blog

A Force to be Reckoned With

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

Today’s poem was written in much the same spirit as the one before for which I make no apologies.

As we grow older, our thoughts inevitable turn to mortality and what it means to us in an intensely personal way; sorrow for having to leave family and friends – at least in a physical sense – is only half the battle some of us wage within ourselves as we recall images arisen from threats and promises made during long-ago formative years that are rarely as easy to shrug off as we might wish.

Over the years, I have met gay men from all walks of life and religion; the latter imposing far more guilt and despair on them than they deserve for their rejecting certain aspects of dogma by which a defensive worldly agenda would exclude them from both faith and any sense of spirituality altogether.

While I mean what I say about respecting a person’s religious beliefs, I also mean what I say when I blame religion for so many of humanity’s divisions and flaws, including my own.

Recently, I got chatting with a  gay Catholic man, in his mid-70’s like myself, besieged with doubts and fears regarding a Heaven he never ceased to believe in, but spent the best part of a lifetime in a weepy closet, made to feel by family and peers that he had no right to believe in anything much, including himself.

At the risk of being reprimanded for repeating myself yet again, no religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

The human spirit will be guided as much by the body’s innate feeling for all things positive as the mind’s inclination to trust its own judgement. Together, all three are a force to be reckoned with as world religions are beginning to realise; the more LGBT+ folks who learn to have faith in themselves and each other, the less likely they can be made to feel denied or undeserving of either those aspects of religion with which they most identify or the sense of growing reassurance it brings that no one’s spiritual well-being is threatened by their sexuality alone.

Regular readers will know that, as a pantheist, I reject the kind of dogma perpetuated by most world religions. Many who, likewise, cannot relate to a personified God any more than I do, or the teachings found in Holy Books, may well think of themselves (openly or not) as atheist or agnostic. Whatever, the human spirit clearly does have a will of its own, is capable of generating a sense of spirituality among even the most irreligious of human beings, not least in our capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms; lose that and, yes, we may well be on the road to a living Hell of our own making...

A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH 

A young man stood weeping
at the Gates of Hell where he’d been told
told to wait by certain “betters”
among humankind until let in to join others
whom the Devil has taken
for his own, down to words said, deeds done,
no malice intended, but seen as sinning,
deserving the worst all God-fearing folks can imagine 
within the parameters of their religion 

An angel came out of nowhere,
asked the young man why he shed such tears,
and the young man replied
how it was the sum of all earthly fears to be there
at Death’s door, waiting to see
the flames of hellfire, be made to dive therein,
due punishment for such worldly sin
as being on love with another man, much the same as he 
for engaging with homosexuality 

“Love is love, whatever its nature,”
said the angel, hand to head in sorrow and pain,
“Nor was eternity intended
for such troubles as mortal minds are inclined
to inflict rather than agree to differ,
allow for such reality es as they cannot be a part,
its seeds sown and nurtured in the heart
by assorted mind-body-spirits, rejected by such religiosity
as imposes its own spirituality...” 

“Are you saying I might even qualify
for Heaven? the young man asked, barely daring
to entertain the thought,
yet inspired by the angel’s understanding smile
to hope for more from eternity
than either burning or being as alone as made to feel
for much of his time on Earth
as neither of Earth Mother or Father born,
but an outsider, a freak of humanity, if only in failing to see
religion's monopoly on eternity 

“We who are not of Earth are well aware
of all that goes on there, can see into a human heart,
the sum of all its many parts
as lending the individual any benefit of doubt,
sitting less in judgement
than in compassion, allowing for a sense of spirituality
as comprises a whole that some call ‘soul’
where others see a human spirit engaging purely and simply
with a feeling for what comes naturally 

The young man took the angel’s hand in his,
and flew realms of time and personal space he’d seen
only in dreams of a kinder world,
no one made to suffer for ways of life and thought
that some may well see differently,
but the human spirit deserves a place and say in a world
that, try as it might, cannot dictate
how a person should feel or believe in order to (ever) qualify
to go wherever angels have no fear to fly

Copyright R.N. Taber 2021 

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

Engaging with Conjecture

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

I recently met up with a close friend for lunch in a church garden; it was a lovely, sunny afternoon and we were joined by assorted avian friends (mostly pigeons) hoping for such crumbs as we duly obliged. 

While chatting away, we’d sometimes address the birds directly; some would even seem to understand, if only in our imagination. Maybe they did understand, if not the words we spoke, the tone in which we spoken them? Who really knows what goes on in the head of any live creature, including human beings? It can only be pure conjecture, surely? 

I put this to a psychiatrist once. To my surprise, he agreed, adding that it was not his job to know what goes on in patient’s heads, but to help them to know and thereby help themselves. “I’m trained to read signs, not to be a mind-reader,” he pointed out, “Before anyone can begin to deal with problems affecting their behaviour, they have to get to the root cause, rather like having to lift an invisible curtain they don’t even realise is there.  It’s my job to point patients towards it and help them find the wherewithal to lift the damn thing. Even then, it’s only a first step...” 

A naturalist acquaintance once commented along similar lines about conjecture. We were observing a tortoise in his garden. “How does it decide which way to go?” I wanted to know. 

“Natural instinct,” he said with quiet conviction. 

“So how does that work?” I persisted. 

“No one really knows for sure,” he chuckled, “... but we can learn a lot by observation of live creatures and their remains. Even so, all species are different and within any species there will always be individual differences. At the end of the day, even what a specialist learns is only conjecture, but as close to knowing as anyone can get.”  

It was s too complex a conversation for me, though, and I changed the subject... 

ENGAGING WITH CONJECTURE 

In a church garden,
two gay men engaging with nature
and human nature  
in such ways as its hosts would
deny us for our being
beyond both their ken or remit,
according to such dogma
as they would share as a ‘God-given’
insight to Heaven 

Beneath leafy art forms
portraying dream-like cameos
of cloud shapes
and sun nymphs peering down
with watery eyes,
we ate our lunches, two old friends,
tossing breadcrumbs
now and then to birdlife come to share
precious moments there 

Pigeons, various markings
and colouring, engaging with us;
avian and human,
birds of a feather come together,
truce understood,
a spirit of such caring and sharing
as even divided species agree
on nurturing, if the going’s looking good
for credit and reward 

Nearby, a crow has business
of its own with discarded food waste
in open litter bins,
deftly removing sandwich wrappings
and other crumb-potential,
scattering them across public gardens
for passers-by to deplore
such ‘litter-louts’ as never spare a thought
for the environment 

Observing, though, how much
nature and human nature have in common,
for worse as well as better,
who’s to judge any species of creature
great or small for being
as they are, or any within the human race
made to feel outsiders
by any form socio-cultural-religious dogma
now and forever? 

Such are ways to which life forms
are born, better (surely) to trust than see them
forsworn under duress,
reason the need any heart may protest
at being put to a test
it doesn’t even recognise as fit for purpose,
any more than do two gay men
in a church garden, engaging with local nature
and human conjecture? 

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

I

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Hello, again, from London UK

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

Sorry, folks, No new poem here today, although you will find one on my general poetry blog:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

Alternatively, you may also be able to access either or both blog archives via the British Library catalogue:

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102835/https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102823/https://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com/

Readers asks why I post relatively few poems on this blog now, and the answer is because I began by posting gay-specific poems here and I am less inspired to do so now; partly this is because I am well into my 70's now and having to grapple with various health and mobility issues, not least hormone therapy for my prostate cancer that has badly affected my memory and thought processes for some years now.

Another reason, I suspect is that the same hormone therapy has left me virtually asexual. I have been unable to enjoy sex with another man for  years, so any images in my head to which I once aspired and would set my imagination into poetry mode... are simply not there  any more.

 Not being able to achieve and erection, does sod all for motivation...

At the same time, I am still a gay man at heart and continue to think of the world as a common humanity in which everyone has a part to play, regardless of their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, politics, religion...whatever. Hopefully, what I have to say in my general poems, makes this point, attempts to draw in all readers, no exceptions.

Obviously, not everyone is into poetry. I can only hope that regular readers will continue to dip into my general blog and even recommend it to others; the more, the merrier and hopefully, the bigots among us may even find food for thought in what I have to say, even feel it's high time to change the habits of a lifetime... (Hope springs eternal.)

I may yet post a gay-specific poem here again while, in the meantime, you may well enjoy some of my earlier poems in the blog archives.

Meanwhile, while email feedback suggests that more gay reader are dipping into my general poetry blog, I can but ask others to at least.. give it a go, if only now and then?

Whatever, here's wishing all of you love, peace and happiness, or if they are denied you in the longer term, only available in snatches of time and personal space... continue to nurture a positive thinking mindset.

Where  any socio-cultural-religious circumstances prevent us from looking the world in the eye as unashamedly part of a natural, LGBT global community let's at least let our inner selves find peace in a safe corner of personal space created so we can be as and who we are, not as others would have us be.

If you can, get out of the damn closet and look the world in the eye, but that is not always possible given the attitude of certain loved-ones we don't want to hurt and/or any misgivings we may yet have about being openly gay.

Bye for now, folks, and I'll be back with  a gay/ LGBT - specific poem as and when I can. Meanwhile, take care, keep well and enjoy all the kinder aspects of life than help compensate for its dark side if we but let it.

Love 'n' Hugs,

Roger x x 

L-I-F-E, Poems for every Occasion

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

For many years, I tried to think of myself as an agnostic because I could not get my head around the idea of a personified God. At the same time, I found myself developing a very close relationship with the natural world that was of a very spiritual nature. 

In (much) later years, I would discover and identify with Pantheism. In my early 60’s by now, I was finally able to relate to the sheer poetry of a spirituality in me that I never found in either the Christianity in which I was raised of any other of the world’s religions. 

At long last, I feel comfortable with a sense of spirituality, less of an outsider for subscribing to no religion, while continuing to nurture a sense of purpose in life that, for many years, had eluded me except in so far as to put it down to poetic whim. 

As to whether or not I am a good poet is less relevant than how poetry brings me closer and closer to nature even though I rarely even get to its glorious landscapes now due to mobility problems. On my wall, I have a painting of woodlands I used to explore as a child growing up in Kent.  I often take imaginary strolls in that painting, recapture a spirit of halcyon days that has never (quite) left me even during the worst moments in my life. 

Pantheists believe that God is nature rather than its creator, which may well explain a Poetry of Spirituality that has always seen me through good and bad times, taken me to the proverbial Edge and back time and again. 

I reason not the need; that a spiritual need in me is answered in this way is enough to keep me looking on the bright(er) side of life, its pitfalls notwithstanding.. 

The words of a vicar's wife, a work colleague who told me she enjoyed working with me and was sorry I would go to hell (for being gay, I presume?) lost the power to hurt me long ago.

If God is nature, could that be why nature does not discriminate in the way many humans (still) do?

L-I-F-E, POEMS FOR EVERY OCCASION 

There are trees whose leaves
speak with the voices of poets, reciting summers,
autumns, even lonely winters
when only robins likely to linger long enough
to promise such regeneration as may yet get to see
its poets live and let live 

There are birds come to nest
and teach their young such poetry of their home-tree
as will see them through its seasons,
encourage them to explore both heavens above,
and earth below, get to know what it takes for kith, kin
and poetry to survive 

There are poets whose hearts
are given freely to an Earth Mother, anxious to be
put through the very motions 
of each season as it comes, share the joys
we take in life, and such sorrow as sure to follow death
as birdsong on human ears 

There has always been poetry
as close to nature as human nature, anxious to see
them working in such harmony
as gives conservation and preservation of species
due priority, whatever it takes to be sure Earth’s poetry
is more than a rehearsal 

Rehearsal for what, who knows? A good start may well be
to listen and learn more from (all) life-poetry...?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

 

 

Nature and Human Nature Revisited

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

How well I still recall the old childhood cry, “Stick and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me...” It was a lie I actually believed until I stood on the threshold of my youth as a gay person; I was 14 years-old and it was 1959, not a good time to be of an LGBT persuasion.

There were so many words, insults, faux stereotypical images behind every one of them; queer, faggot, cock-sucker among the least offensive, likely to be thrown at anyone even suspected of being “not normal” or as morally prescribed by the majority heterosexual point of view.

Yes, I know things have changed, but not for everyone and not everywhere. Whenever I recall barely scraping by as a real person, too scared to come of the damn closet until my early 30’s, I feel ashamed of myself and angry that some 40+ years on, there are men and women continuing to suffer much as I did, courtesy of various socio-cultural-religious agendas for bigotry worldwide.

Homophobia, sexism, racism... these could have been minimalised, if not eradicated altogether, had Education but done its job properly in its various academic settings rather than being made to feel it had to ‘play safe’’ by choosing to confine itself to academic life-forces rather than those at the heart of human nature that have made the world go round for centuries. Some may well argue that it is up to parents, not teachers, and they would be right, only how many parents really talk to their children (at any age) about the wider ‘moral’ spectrum beyond what they have chosen for themselves? If pressed, they will invariably say it’s a teacher’s responsibility, but as soon as a teacher attempts to help a class cross academic lines into real-life issues, its usually parents who are the first to express such outrage as likely as not  to be ‘legitimised’ by a social media that appears to prefer fake news and local gossip to anything approaching the facts of a matter, Consequently, offence is often taken where no offence meant other than to give us what we can expect to find outside the school gates... if we haven’t already experienced much of it for ourselves already...

Thank goodness for a level of maturity among many if not most young people these days, teaching them to recognize and differentiate between such fake news, home truths and stereotypes as academia rarely has an opportunity to home in on; where it does, it needs must walk on ‘eggshells’ - for which, read metaphor and simile least likely to cause offence.

Unfortunately, even the most well-intentioned statutes, such as those embracing Human Rights and Equal Opportunities are fair game for anyone whose power of persuasion (or power alone) is such that we may too easily be led (or misled) by their interpreting words to their own advantage, for negative as well as positive reasons. Whatever, the chances are that various media sources - with their own agendas - will provide them with a global audience...

NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE REVISITED 

Sun, beating down on a Covid-stricken Earth,
humanity encouraged yet again by the glorious rebirth
of nature as seasons come into their own,
seeds sown long ago start to flower, bear fruit, whatever
expected of their species, so human nature, too,
continues to rework stories of love and peace, such joys
of life that help compensate for its darker aspects,
wars and (local) hate crime ever among its chief suspects
besides drugs and people smugglers 

Apollo glaring down on a panic-stricken Earth
as if bringing kinder weather might even yet encourage
its communities to get their acts together,
cease making out that God’s in His heaven and all’s right
with a world so bent on making assumptions
that everyone’s okay with  progress keeping Business
in the loop, while having some folks jumping
through more Hoops of Change, only to find mind-body-spirit
as willing as ever, but less and less able 

Past-present-future starting to fall like fake news
on human ears ever wrestling with such sounds and effects
as now raising hopes, now free-falling us
into a sea of despair, waves crashing, that sinking feeling
almost welcome... but... mind-body-spirit
not finished with us yet, urging us to panic not, but swim
ashore, grab the reins of life once more, steer it
while reasoning the need, paying less heed to certain ‘betters’
whose words but axes grinding us down 

Rain, beating down on a Covid-stricken Earth, lending us time
and (personal) space to rise above its worst 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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