Flights of Tension to Fanciful Places

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

This poem remains in my general poetry blog archives for June 2015; it may not be one of my better poems, but it has a certain therapeutic value, for me at any rate. Many years ago, someone told me that the best cure for tension and stress is imagination. I had never thought of imagination as a form of creative therapy, but of course it is, and one of the best.

Oh, but haven’t we all been there at some time or another, past caring and simply wanting to shut the world out, slump in a comfortable armchair and forget about everything and everyone for a while …?

The trouble with slumping is that it has a nasty habit of temporarily removing life’s more attractive distractions from the inner eye and insisting it takes us down the darker side of Memory Lane, thereby making us feel even worse … which is where imagination comes in, and will  play its part
part to perfection ... if we but let it. We have but to close our eyes, think nice thoughts and let mind-body-spirit whisk us off to wherever it is we would rather be, and with whom ...

At the time I wrote this poem, I was in the early stages of recovering from and reflecting on a very bad cold when a good ‘slump’ is just about all I’d felt like doing. My cold all but forgotten, I was soon putting pen to paper ...

For many years, writing a poem has been my way of not letting a ‘slump’ get the better of me. The same can be said, if to a lesser degree, when writing fiction; while my novels have not been bestsellers, they have given me much pleasure, and feedback from my fiction blog/has been very encouraging. (Feel free to browse any time - for both my general and gay-interest fiction - at:  

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/

FLIGHTS OF TENSION TO FANCIFUL PLACES

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and all the people I’ve known,

wondering where have they gone?

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and all the things I have done,

wondering where I went wrong?

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and choices made from the heart,

wondering where fear played a part?

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and lovers who promised to stay

but left within hours of a night or day

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and all the years wasted on regret

where I should have stood up to fate

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and every epiphany I’ve known,

wondering where did I go so wrong?

Slump in a chair, thinking about life

and growing older, weaker,

for knowing I could have done better

Slump in a chair, thinking about death,

and all the people I’ve known,

wondering if there’s a hell or heaven?

  

Slump in a chair, watching television,

soaking up soap opera friends ,

lost the plot, left wondering how it ends

Slump in a chair, fret about being alone?

Not this time (slam on the brakes);

will get my life back, whatever it takes

Copyright R N. Taber 2008

Leap of Faith OR Peace in Our Time

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

Apologies for the length of this post, but it seemed a good idea to publish the poem here at the same time as answering a number of queries regarding my fiction. (Some of my novels will be of special interest to gay readers.)

Since I first learned to read at 4 years-old, I have been an avid reader, especially of fiction; it offered an escape from certain realities of home life, not least an appalling relationship with my father.  At the same time, I have always enjoyed poetry; my mother would often recite dramatic poems like The Highwayman (Alfred Noyes) and The Ancient Mariner (Samuel Taylor Coleridge) at bed-times as well as or instead of reading a story.

My first poem appeared in my secondary school magazine in the summer of 1955 when I was 11 years-old; ever since, I have always thought of myself as something of a poet. At the same time, my passion for reading fiction remained my chief raison d’être throughout my childhood, teenage years and young manhood; as I became aware of being gay in a society where gay sex was a criminal offence, so the greater my need for escapism. [My partial deafness was also a factor in my hunger for fiction, given that I was constantly mishearing and consequently being misunderstood; at times, my reality was kind of hell.]

The more I read, albeit more fiction that non-fiction, the more I felt an affinity with the darker as well as lighter experiences of its various protagonists; I would often identify with the former and take heart from their (eventually) overcoming the worst of times while the latter encouraged me to develop a wry sense of humour which would carry me through many a humiliation down to both my hearing loss and being verbally abused for being gay. 

A teacher at my old secondary school was something of a mentor. I had confided in him about my sexuality as he was one of the few people in my life that I felt I could trust. I also told him about the conflict within me between distancing myself from a Christian upbringing and my feeling closer to nature than I ever did to religion. "Whatever," he said with a wry smile, have faith in yourself, Taber. Learn to trust your better instincts and feelings, and the rest will follow. What doesn't seem right to some people, doesn't make it wrong, just so long as it feels right to you." On the whole, I hated my schooldays, but I had some of the best teachers a very confused teenager could wish to have.

I wrote the poem below while thinking about my first Gay Pride march and writing my first gay novel, Dog Roses. The book was never published except on the blog. No publishers were interested, but that did not matter because by the time I had finished writing the poem, I realised why I needed to write it in the first place; it was as if the poet in me was telling me to stop thinking about exploring human nature through fiction, but get on with it, give it a go. I have no regrets about leaving a permanent job for what would now be called a zero-hours contract so I would have time to do just that. (In those days, there was plenty of work available.) I have enjoyed every minute.

For anyone interested, my gay-crime novel ‘Blasphemy’ has been published on Google Play: 

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ&hl=en_GB

- although I have also reinstated it (in two parts) on my fiction blog after many requests to do so, and will not be uploading its sequel, Sacrilege, (see my fiction blog in serial form) to Google Play. For more information about my fiction, see below and:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Someone once described the act of Coming Out as a leap of faith. How true that is. I took that leap  om my first Gay Pride march years ago, and never looked back.  It was was truly a leap of faith; faith in myself and that I was committing to a good life, one of which I had been in denial (to most people) for far too long. On that march I experienced a new sense of completeness and personal freedom that dispelled any lingering doubts as to whether or not being openly gay was right for me. For me, yes, but I can see only too well where others are coming from who may feel it's not the right move for them, especially any gay people living in a gay-unfriendly environment. Even so, there is no feeling quite like shedding the shackles of misinformed formative years...

This poem is a villanelle.

LEAP OF FAITH or PEACE IN OUR TIME

Find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

against the language of bigotry

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Wherever so-called ‘betters’ presume to decide

(and judge) on matters of sexuality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Challenging holier-than-thou types sure to side

against love perceived as immorality

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Among voices debating Convention as guide

and role model in a token reality,

find G-A-Y coming out for peace with pride

Questioning laws passed to incriminate, deride

and silence any significant minority

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Defining all humanity wherever cultures collide

in the course of world history,

find G-A-Y speaking up for peace with pride

till the language of hate has no place to hide

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

MY NOVELS

DOG ROSES; a gay man’s rites of passage

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/dog-roses-chapter-one.html

(Gay-interest)

BLASPHEMY: a novel

[Crime/Gay-interest] - Also available as an e-book on Google Play..

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/blasphemy-synopsis.html (Synopsis)

https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Roger_N_Taber_Blasphemy?id=mNlsDAAAQBAJ

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber.html (Pt 1, blog)

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2018/02/blasphemy-novel-by-roger-n-taber-part-2.html (Pt 2, blog

SACRILEGE

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/10/sacrilege-chapter-1.html

(Crime/Gay-interest; sequel to Blasphemy, continues the adventures and misadventures of Laurence Fisher; only serialised on the fiction blog.)

LIKE THERE'S NO TOMORROW

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/like-theres-no-tomorrow-synopsis_3445.html

(Crime/Mystery)

CATCHING UP WITH MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/01/catching-up-with-murder-novel-synopsis.html

(1st Fred Winter [crime/gay-interest] novel)

PREDISPOSED TO MURDER

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2012/03/predisposed-to-murder-synopsis.html

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2012/04/predisposed-to-murder-chapter-one.html
(2nd Fred Winter  novel)

MAMELON (Book One):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-fantasy-novel-synopsis.html

(Fantasy)

MAMELON (Book Two):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/12/mamelon-2-chapter-one.html

MAMELON (Glossary of Names and Terms used):

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/01/mamelon-glossary-of-names-and-terms.html

:

More than Words can Say

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

In my early years, I had a problem with words and language, and still do sometimes; it is one of many reasons that my chosen form of creative therapy is writing, both poetry and fiction. Should any readers be interested in my fiction, just go to:

https://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.com/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Now, I have been partially deaf all my life and need to wear hearing aids. Even today, some people see my aids and assume I am retarded or, at best, as thick as two planks. (Fortunately, I have a sense of humour.)  Today’s poem is posted especially for a profoundly deaf gay couple, one of whom celebrates his 50th birthday today; they have been together for 21 years this week.

Yes, life is an emotional rollercoaster and no, you cannot fully do justice to emotion in words. Believe me, though, when I say from personal experience that it helps one helluva lot to try ... !

Gay or straight, when words fail you, you can invariably count on your eyes to say it all ... for better or worse.

“Kindness is a language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see.”  - Mark Twain

MORE THAN WORDS CAN SAY

I cannot hear
nor shall I wish my life away
but sign to you
how we mean more each day
than spoken words
can say

You cannot speak
nor do you wish your life away
but sign to me
how we live more each day
than spoken words
can say

In eyes of desire,
our love rising from the heart
like a fire
in winter till death us part
and for its second spring
we'll wait

Copyright R. N. Taber 1997

[Note: The poem was written to coincide with the US publication of Eyes of Desire 2: A Deaf GLBT Reader ed. Raymond Luczak, Alyson Books, 1997 to which I contributed an article.]

Green Fingers

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2010. Only recently, someone got in touch to say he identified with it so much that he showed his house-sharer...and they are now partners in every sense of the word.

Now, sometimes close friends need to get closer, and getting close to nature might just be a push in the right direction...

Oh, but I so love a happy ending, don’t you?

GREEN FINGERS

Each time I’d look up and see you

smiling from some herbaceous border,

sparrows on the washing line,

daisies on the lawn, sunshine spread

like a burst balloon; I longed
to know for sure what’s in your head?
Do I take it as read I’m only here
to cut the grass, prune the rose trees,
weed the beds, rid the greenfly,
get the garden looking as it should?

Oh, and I would, if only you’d see
to that damn border instead of grinning

at me as if to say other things
need sorting too (Oh, and how!)
like...NOW

Come on, what are we waiting for?

Let’s get going right away, the daisies

will still be here another day

and Earth Mother told the sparrows

we’re gay; a lonely Eden,
this shared pain left unspoken,
the sparrows' cheery chorus
covering up for its ties, unbroken
even by our silences...

Oh, labours of love! Busy hands
in the earth, green fingers

learning all about life, death, rebirth,

how you and I will find our way,
looking world and sparrows in the eye

every day...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2016

[Note: Slightly but significantly revised from the original poem that appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Cops, Queers, and Caravaggio

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

I have been asked to repeat this poem (it last appeared on the blog in 2010) for ‘Seb and Karl’ who ...’met in similar circumstances some years ago.’

They have also asked if I would repeat the link to my poetry reading on the 4^th plinth in Trafalgar Square in July 2009; my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley’s One  & Other ‘living sculpture’ project during which I read some of my gay-interest poems among others:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] RNT ]

Karl and Seb add that (unlike me and the cop in the poem) they have been partners for twenty years to this very day. Congratulations to you both and a BIG HUG from yours truly.

The degree of homo-eroticism in much of Caravaggio's work and the fact that never married has led critics to speculate for years that he was probably gay, but ... who cares? At the end of the day, what has a person's sexuality to do with his or her character, skill or talent?

COPS, QUEERS, AND CARAVAGGIO 

We met in an art gallery,

enjoyed each other’s company

all day;

at his flat, we chatted over

coffee and, finally, he asked me

to stay;

although both nervous,

we made love, the two of us

in heaven...

nor just having fun;

good to be close to someone

again;

his mouth, warm and sensual;

an embrace far more than sexual

wanting me…

as more than a friend

but no mere means to an end

physically

He brought me breakfast

in bed and I turned a shade red

at his uniform;

I hadn’t asked about

his career, content just to be there

with him…

so it came as a shock

to see him dressed as a P.C.

for the beat;

tried to tell myself

it didn’t matter, heart all a-flutter

and cold feet;

at the door, a shy goodbye,

copper’s shirt and tie a brick

wall…

that crumbled with an embrace

as we saw, face to face, nothing

mattered at all

Lovers till he moved away;

friends to this day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: This poem has been (very) slightly revised since it appeared in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

Paperback Lives

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

Readers ask when Book Three of my intended gay-crime trilogy Blasphemy-Sacrilege-Redemption will be available. The answer is I am not sure. I have not been well and have had to put Redemption on a (very) slow burner. Hopefully, it will be finished one day.

The American publisher of Blasphemy  was  hoping it would give him better access to the UK market; when it didn't, he changed his mind about publishing the trilogy, making some very rude comments in the process. Thanks for asking, though, and it gives me an excuse to post this poem.

While it’s true to say my foray into fiction hasn’t been a roaring success, I have received some lovely letters and emails from readers so that makes it well worth all the hard work. Nor have I lost out financially even if it hasn’t made me rich. Moreover, readership of my fiction blog continues to rise so that is also very encouraging, especially as I am primarily a poet.

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk

Some people ask why I bother writing poetry or fiction at all unless it’s going to make me rich and famous. Well, I write both because I enjoy it,not least because all fiction has its roots in real life,and I get to have great fun engaging with my characters. Besides, for me, writing is a necessary therapy in my daily fight against depression; readers are always a nice bonus. In any case, I always knew that finding a publisher when I am writing gay-interest as well as general fiction (and poetry) would not be easy.

Find more info about my fiction at:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2016/05/news-updates-fiction.html

Any creative activity - including sport - can be a more effective weapon against depression or a troubled mind than antidepressants alone; the arts, gardening, cooking, whatever gives a person pleasure and a sense of achievement. For me, it just happens to be writing, with a special interest in poetry that I inherited from my mother.

Oh, and never measure success by some else's measure of failure.

PAPERBACK LIVES

Walking in the park…
saw you lying on the grass
eyes closed, face turned
to the sun. I had never seen
such beauty. No, not
in anyone. I sat down nearby,
trying hard not to look,
pretending to read a book
upside down, peering
over its worn, torn cover
at my dream lover

Later, we chatted…
my heart skipping beats
like a lamb for the joys
of spring in glorious sunshine
reflected in your smile…
grateful just for living;
too soon, we parted,
your hand in mine so firm
and strong, carrying me
halfway to heaven on wings
of a favourite pop song

I tumbled to earth
as blue as my novel’s
paperback cover,
dreaming a happy ending
for each other, unable
to resist one backward glance,
(an, oh, so wistful look);
Ah, but neither could you
who ran back too,
making real the best chapters
in my paperback novel

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, rev. 2010

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