Stormy weather

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

I am repeating this post just as it appears on my general blog. (See also that blog's archives for January 2013 as listed on the right hand side of any blog page.) I will be 74 in December, and it is a tragedy of any Here-and-Now that there will always be bullies if only because it is among the worst aspects of human nature. It is worth remembering, though, that all bullies have a weak spot - fear of exposure to a less than sympathetic authority and having to face consequences for which no bully has the stomach, not least of which is further exposure to their more discerning peers.

[Update: 26.9.2019: Only six years have passed since I published this post/poem on the blog, but during that time bullying has raised its ugly head time and again on social media. Boys, especially, are inclined to suffer in silence, probably having been raised to think it isn't macho to tell tales out of school, but no small number of girls as well. Bullies are sick; reporting them is actually helping them to focus on what and who really matters in this life. So never suffer in silence. Tell a parent, teacher, best friend...someone you can trust to help you find the moral courage to do whatever needs to be done to expose the bully for the cowardly scum he or she is, and put a stop to it if only to prevent them putting someone else through the hell they are putting you through.] RNT

The main reason I am on the blog today is to recommend tyDi's great song/ video on You Tube  about some of the worst aspects of modern life that continue to plague many of us, especially young people, homophobic bullying among them. In case you haven’t found it yet, I urge you to go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CseffFUSAkg

I am 67 years old, and yet it wasn’t so different when I was young. What does that say about the world we live in, eh?  Even so, change is happening and people are becoming more aware of bullying and how it can drive people over the Edge of Reason into the Abyss. More importantly, come what may, love and the better, kinder, side of human nature continue to assert themselves over bigotry and ignorance.

Now, while I’m here…

I find writing increasingly stressful at the moment as my cataracts are getting worse. This poem is an early piece that appeared in several poetry magazines, 1996-1998, before I included it in my first major collection. Regular readers may be surprised to see that I made more (conventional) use of upper case letters at the start of lines in those days. I wrote it one stormy day while sheltering from the rain in a bus shelter.

I suspect the ‘rush of images had as much to do with seeing Derek Jarman’s amazing film 'The Garden' (1990) a few days earlier as a sense of nature ‘rushing’ me into…what? Writing a poem, maybe…

STORMY WEATHER

Cloud faces grimace;
lifelines leafing
through pouring rain;
fantastic canvas
leaping at the eye;
rooftops dripping
(sweat of heavens);
rhythm of children
braving a temporary
freedom

A rush of images
as ever seen;
Van Gogh, Jarman
each to their own
spirited inspiration;
distant thunder
rumbling our fears
while (reprieved)
we try to pass it off
as living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2017

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised from the original version as it appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]

Extracts from a (gay) Sailor's Log

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

I have known a few sailors in my time and have always had a strong affinity with the sea, in all its moods.

A gay sailor once told me, ‘If the sea is my mistress, my sexuality is my master. The two get on well together so who am I or anyone else to argue with that?’

Who, indeed?

EXTRACTS FROM A (GAY) SAILOR’S LOG 

Like a ship in stormy weather,

engaging with festy waves, 

we’d steer safely into harbour

We’d ride life’s roller coaster,

trusting in its kinder ways,

like a ship in stormy weather

Fighting dark threats together

(would God hear our prayers?)

we’d steer safely into harbour

Lies tossing us about in anger,

we answered but to the stars

like a ship in stormy weather

In time’s tides finding favour,

(two men, daring to be lovers)

we’d steer safely into harbour

Our love tested us like no other

on a sea of laughter and tears,

like a ship in stormy weather,

we’d steer safely into harbour 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

The War Widow

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

I am posting this poem after ‘Edith’ (a lady in her 90s) kindly contacted me to say that she and another war widow friend were moved by it. It appears that the friend's great-grandson has taught them to use a computer and access the Internet. I have to say it is wonderful to be contacted by someone from an age group that often has reservations about using the Internet if only because they feel intimidated by new technology. I will be a mere 65 next month but it just goes to show that we are never too old to learn new tricks.

To my surprise, Edith also told me that she enjoys dipping into my gay-interest blog as well my general blog. It appears she has always felt and thought of herself as a war widow since the death of a female partner who joined the Wrens (WRNS) during World War 2. No one knew of their relationship at the time of course. As far as anyone else was concerned they were simply two friends sharing a home. Apparently, they met at school and were secret lovers for some years. She never married or found anyone else to share her life that way but says she feels blessed for having loved and been loved.

Edith, it seems, has led an active life and continues to ‘feel blessed by wonderful friends and neighbours.'

A sad story, yet, beautiful too. Many thanks for sharing it with us Edith.

THE WAR WIDOW

A soldier’s widow knelt at his grave,
their children by her side;
comrades-in-arms gathered nearby
wondering (never aloud)
whose turn next to shed tears
at whose grave

A soldier’s widow swore on his grave
to love him till the end of time,
raise their children to take great pride
in a father whose presence
felt with lasting passion nor less
for his absence

The soldier’s widow took the left hand
of a thirty something veteran
who had lost his right hand in Iraq
the first time around
before the Mandarins of Power
had second thoughts

The soldier’s widow rose, took comfort
from the young man’s smile
that shone like a beacon of hope
from his wheelchair
among the wreckage of a life
once thought inviolate

A war widow wipes her children’s tears,
the Last Post ringing hollow in the ears


Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Pioneers Of (Gay) Pride

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

Over the years many gay people have led by shining example and the result is a better deal in society for gay men and women in some parts of the world. In parts of the UK they may be labelled ‘activists’ (Kent and Cornwall, for example) and yes, they were, but not in the way the term is used these days. Gay activists had more integrity then and were prepared to put themselves in the firing line for their beliefs and for the sake of others; they didn’t court the media by way of pandering to huge egos. [I could name names but won’t. I’m sure you know the type.]

Here in the West, we should never forget those who publicly sowed the seeds of Gay Rights (Stonewall) and acceptance of gay people by society for ourselves, not some token tolerance of homosexuality. We owe them much. In the days, for example, when a Pride march really meant something instead of being hijacked by Trade Unions keen to be seen jumping on the Equal Opportunities bandwagon and certain publicity-seeking people who care more about their own self image than much else, not to mention all those straight people who see it as a fun if not trendy day out. Nor should we pay too much attention to some of those whom the media has chosen and crowned as its gay heroes.

For some people, participating in Pride is still a brave first step in acknowledging their sexuality and demonstrating how sexuality in no way undermines our integrity as human beings. Sadly, it strikes me that they are in a minority these days. In this sense, it seems to me that Pride has lost its way here in the West. That is why I don’t participate in Pride Day here in London. [The last time I did, it was so awful I left early.] I know a lot of gay people who feel the same away although I dare say many reading this will find their hackles going through the roof.

Could it be that too many gay people in the West have become complacent about the gay ethic and are inclined to overlook that, even in the West, many people continue to feel that coming out will stigmatise them?

Time and time again, I have spoken to gay people who despise those who remain in the closet (even more than bigots despise us). Closets have their reasons and we should respect those reasons. Yes, we can encourage them to come out and offer support but it is wrong if not immoral, especially for other gay people, to make a closet gay person feel less of a human being for that.

In some parts of the world, as in Serbia only recently, a Pride march still sends out a very serious message to the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority; those who take part are to be applauded for having have the courage of their convictions.

Yes, Pride it is a way of celebrating our sexuality, whatever our race, culture or religion and wherever in the world we live; some Pride events here in the UK do this very well. At the same time, should we not take care that we don't score an own goal by promoting the very stereotypes we are there to protest against ...?

PIONEERS OF (GAY) PRIDE

Ghost faces in a cloud,
footprints in the clay;
voices shouting aloud,
‘I am gay!’

No keeping out of sight
as some might prefer
or (ever) keeping quiet
anywhere

Peoples of the world
and their cultures
descend on the gay word
like vultures...

Pick our bones, they may,
but cannot deny
footprints in the same clay,
faces in the same sky

If progress means maturity,
time meant to heal,
let this twenty-first century
get real

Where ignorance prevails,
still much to do,
dispelling Old Wives’ tales,
stereotypes too

Lose heart though we may,
take strength and pride
from footprints in the clay,
faces in a cloud


[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010]