Keyword, Pride

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

 “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.” - Tennessee Williams

“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.” — Jeanette Winterson

 “Personally, coming out was one of the most important things I’ve ever done, lifting from my shoulders the millstone of lies that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.” – Sir Ian McKellan

“I’m living by example by continuing on with my career and having a full, rich life, and I am incidentally gay.” - Portia de Rossi

Now, today celebrates fifty years of Pride, LGBT+ folks defying the prejudices of certain world societies and religions to demonstrate a sense of pride and spirituality in being human, nor any less so for their sexuality.

As as regular readers know, I am in my mid-seventies and, like many others around the world, having to deal with various health issues as well as those that too often accompany the process of growing old(er).  I cope ok(ish), but suspect that I could not have done so had I not eventually seen my way to turning my back on the multiple, offensive faux stereotypes that attempted to define us when I was growing up in the 1950’s. I regret waiting too long to look, the world in the eye as a gay ma, but... better late than never.

Tragically, for various socio-cultural reasons, many LGBT+ folks around the world still feel obliged to endure the appalling loneliness and pain of a closet existence.

Coming out of that closet, made me a better person, but not before it had wrought such psychological damage on me that, even now, continues to inflict such nightmares from time to time as I would not wish on anyone, anywhere.

KEYWORD, PRIDE

Drawn to a bar 
neither gay nor straight,
all-comers welcome,
a pint of beer calling me
I could not ignore,
a growing need for company
at the heart of me

Soon, engaging 
with a stranger, no strangers
for long, but chatting
like old friends, laughing
over trite anecdotes,
welcome respite after a long day,
let slip, I was gay

Misreading his look
of surprise, a sense of déjà vu,
hackles set to rise
but for friendly lips breaking
into a wry, sensual grin,
makings of a non-judgemental,
heart-and soul

“How long?” he asked
quietly, but with as casual an air
as if he'd been asking
if I’d had a good day at the office;
I felt my face turning red,
yet urged to answer the truth of it
by mind-body-spirit

“None of my business,"
it was his turn to admit, “but more
than curious if you get
my drift…?  " I merely shrugged,
ventured a shy grin;
we chatted on, twin passions inviting
mutual understanding

Lovers, exploring a braver new world, 
keyword, Pride…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

Applause, a Majority Verdict

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

Another (new) tree-related poem today. I was in my late 30’s before I finally came out to the world as a gay man; it was no easier then than it is now for many gay men and women around the world. To many families and friends, it makes no difference, they love us no less for being “different”. 

As I have said many times on the blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human. Most people get that; sadly, though, many never will. Bigotry seems to be a way of life with some people, whether it is homophobia, racism or whatever; they cannot see that one of the wonders of the human as well as natural world is its diversity, without which its common mind-body-spirit would have seen nowhere near the progress it has made over centuries of narrow mindedness and narrow vision. 

We can blame a socio-cultural-religious-political upbringing and we might well not be far wrong, but it is no excuse for narrow mindedness; it is up to us all, each and every one of us, l to assert ourselves as bigger and better than that, accept that every person is unique and respect him or her for that instead of homing in on what we choose to see as their flaws and weaknesses. (Let’s face it, we all have our share of those.) 

Many people will not admit to bigotry, of course, if only because it is not ‘politically correct’; it is not what we say that counts, though, but how we feel and what we do about it. 

APPLAUSE, A MAJORITY VERDICT 

I could hear a voice screaming
begging for aid, to be let out, go free
from whatever trap it was in,
and I would have turned a deaf ear
to its pleas, far too close
for comfort, demanding I attempt
to answer its calls, no mind-body-spirit
deserving any prison walls, my heart aching,
for it just as dawn breaking 

From my window, I could just se
a pattern of light among the branches
of a splendid old tree
that had been so good a companion
for more years than now
than I care to recall, a pattern shaped
much like a skylark singing
a cheerful greeting, the anonymous prisoner
still in pain, and screaming 

As the lark sang, the leafy pattern
of light began to assume other features,
skylark still a felt presence
if conveying less joy than pain, and then
I saw that lark and prisoner
were one and the same, nature playing
a cruel game with me;
in no time, I could put a name to the leafy face
and the prisoner’s voice 

Sure enough, image once complete,
I saw myself, trapped in an alien persona,
no idea what to do or where
to turn for aid, only able to scream over
and over again, of a lark no sign,
only this pathetic specimen of humanity,
its very mind-body-spirit
refusing to rally, raise the alarm, give me a break;
Apollo, yawning, but half awake 

I reached within myself, daring to go
further than ever before, needing to know
what's happening to me,
my image at the heart of a tree screaming
to be set free, could it be
I was unhappy with my lot, refusing to see it
for what it was, but a pretence
of being happy, and suddenly, it’s as clear as day;
I need to tell the world I’m gay 

True, the world may not want to know,
and there will always be some who choose
a bigoted agenda for reasons
best known to themselves, although excuse
enough provided by this religion
or that cultural tradition’s setting itself
apart from a common humanity,
for being a shade better, such is the folly, vanity,
and diversity of human nature

Years on, it’s but a lark’s sweet voice I hear singing,
Apollo applauding, humanity (still) debating

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pride in Love

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

No matter who or where in the world, there will always be those who find the love of their life and those that will never quite make it.  Some, like your truly, are teased by fate; we find it, only to lose it again. Yet, true love found is never lost, even in death; it lives in the heart forever and remains an essential part of who we are. 

Now, sometimes gay readers email me to say I am a “fossil” or a “dinosaur” given that no one cares about whether a person is gay, bisexual, transgender or whatever; they urge to get real and join the 21^st century. Sadly, we must agree to differ. In many societies and homes around the world, LGBT folks are still being rejected and/ or made to feel they are less of a human being than anyone else. 

Nothing is more awful than feeling rejected by family and friends or made to feel it is so likely a possibility that LGBT folks are still forced into a closet existence for fear of rejection. It appears to be happening less, I agree, but that it should happen to anyone, anywhere at any age, continues to put the 21^st century to shame. 

A gay reader has asked for a poem for his closet boyfriend who “… loves me, I am sure, but wishes he wasn’t gay and is too scared to come out to family and friends in case they call him a perv.” 

In my experience, where family and friends really care about a person, they won’t stop caring, and they will say so; those hung up on stereotypes may take a little longer to understand how they have been misled and should be forgiven for that. I only wish I had come out to family and friends when I was a young man instead of staying in a lonely closet for years; few people knew I was gay until ai came out at the ripe old age of 40 some 35 years ago. My only excuse is that attitudes towards LGBT folks were different then, invariably hostile. 

Things are different now, yes, and all the better for it, but many of any LGBT persuasion will continue to risk rejection wherever stereotyping, fake news and plain old-fashioned bigotry are alive and kicking. We just have to show we are better than that. 

This poem is a villanelle. 

PRIDE IN LOVE 

Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
of love, a gay heart would never learn to sing;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day 

Gay love, though (and true) chanced my way,
as we ran for shelter when it started raining
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.) 

We‘re exchanging grins, nothing much to say,
raindrops making merry on the shop awning;
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.) 

Soon we were chatting in a light hearted way;
ice-broken, we embraced a feisty thawing …
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.)

We were mutually attracted, come what may,
each seizing on the chance of a happy ending;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day … 

Love and sexuality, they would have their say,
much peace and joy to us would they bring;
Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.)

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

 

To Apollo, Over

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

The coronavirus, COVID 19, is spreading worldwide and various Governments feel obliged to take various emergency measures; it all smacks of Big Brother to me although needs must we act responsibly and conform to a whole new socio-cultural-political mind-set. 

Whatever, let's stay calm folks, use our common sense, trust our basic survival instincts and we will get though what appears to be the worst global crisis since the second world war. Remember that thousands of people still die of flu every year, and there has only been a vaccine available for about ten years; while this corona virus is clearly far more serious than an outbreak of influenza, we all need to stay positive and help each other as best we can. 

As always, the sick and elderly are the most vulnerable among us so we especially need to rally on their behalf, even if it means getting to know neighbours who are all but strangers; we are a common humanity, after all ... are we not?. 

Me? I will be 75 later this year and have been living with prostate cancer since 2011. I live alone, and mostly stay in touch with friends by phone as many have had the good sense to move away from London. It gets lonely sometimes, yes, but let’s face it, not seeing many people has its advantages during a pandemic. Meanwhile, I continue to take each day as it comes, and hope for the best ...

Oh, yes, the poem … It has already appeared on both poetry blogs and repeated on my general blog; a reader has asked me to repeat it here also “… especially as legend has it that Apollo swings both ways.” 

Old gods, new ways, first dawn, last sunset…world ending with a bang or a whimper, I wonder? 

Bearing in mind Apollo’s sexuality, I like to think he shares with us the same true grit that has seen LGBT communities worldwide survive against any bigoted heterosexual odds for centuries. Long may he shine upon us. 

Nature may well hold most if not all the answers, but wears them close to its heart, and who can blame it given humankind’s predilection for demanding (and getting) its own way, no matter who gets hurt or what damage done in the process…? The natural world is likely to endure long after humanity has failed to learn anywhere near enough from a catalogue of mistakes, not least underestimating climate change; each and every of us need to take our share of responsibility more seriously; less of dropping our rubbish in the streets and on our beaches as good a start as any…?

As for humankind, we can but trust those faceless mandarins stalking the corridors of power across the world may yet be named and shamed, replaced by those whose feeling for humanity is not above demonstrating some old-fashioned common sense as well as proving just how actions speak louder than rhetoric when it comes to Green Issues.

TO APOLLO, OVER 

Broken statues in the dust,
marking many a historic dawn,
shooting long shadows 

Far, far, these shadows fly
across our much-damaged land
like many arrows 

Into a poor scholar’s dugout
an arrow makes its presence felt
at Apollo’s early rising 

Red sun shining on our dust,
revealing broken statues weeping
and bleeding for us

 Copyright R. N. Taber 1999; 2013

 [Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that first appeared in the poetry magazine Meridian (1999) and subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001]

 

Love in our Time

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

Several readers have emailed to ask if my new collection will be a combination of gay-interest and general poems, as my others have been. The answer is yes, it will, although I am still unsure whether either of two publishers who have expressed an interest will take it on or whether I will need to self-publish again. In the past, publishers have made it clear that they don’t like the idea of general and gay-interest poetry under one cover; presumably, they don’t see it as commercially viable.  However, I will always insist on including both, partly because I think there is a demand out there among those who enjoy reading poetry, but also because we are living in a more enlightened age now, coronavirus notwithstanding.

Hopefully, the world is finally waking up to the fact that there is more to a person than his or her gender or sexuality, and see stereotyping for the fake news it is.

Meanwhile …

These are hard times for all of us, not least as it would appear that Covid-19 cases are on the rise again worldwide. A welcome distraction today, though, by way of a new poem, inspired by my hearing about two old friends, once lovers, reunited after years apart. Oh, but I so love a happy ending, and wish them all that's bright and beautiful in what, for many of us, can be a dark, ugly world. Me? I just take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life ... 'try' being the operative word as often as not these days. <<wry bardic grin>>

LOVE IN OUR TIME

No kissing, no hugs,
even between we old flames
at a chance encounter
long after any letters returned,
love all but spurned

Covid-19, however,
demanded we at least pause, chat,
no more than that, maybe
a brief, innocent wander down 
old Memory Lane...?

Recalling happier days,
brought us close again, let us
escape the loneliness
we'd both been attacked by lately,
gay bars left empty

At a tree trunk we shared
a take-away meal, a few beers,
fighting back any tears
for all we'd meant to each other,
(nothing left to recover?)

No Covid to blame either,
but two young fools dead scared
of missing out on what life's
all about, not up for settling down,
no thought to being alone 

Time’s up, we're leaving,
elbows knocking on weepy hearts
crying out in pain, scared,
of being so misunderstood yet again,
just as it's starting to rain

We parted, my ex and I,
even managed to say "Goodbye";
no intention of looking back,
but slump shoulders told tales on me,
a tap on mine, oh, ecstasy! 

Without a word spoken,
we went into a hug-cum-bubble;
burst though it yet may do,
we'll see (whatever) through together 
for (still) loving each other

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

even between old flames

on a chance encounter

after years of letters returned,

email advances spurned

 

Covid-19, however

let us pause for a chat, nothing

more than that, it’s true,

but enough to enable us to dally

on old Memory Lane

 

Recalling happier days,

brought us close again, let us

escape the loneliness

we’d both been attacked by lately,

even Soho less friendly

 

We grabbed a free table,

shared a meal and a few beers,

letting fall a tear or two

for times like no other, lost forever,

nothing left to recover

 

No coronavirus to blame,

but a pair of fools, scared off by

the idea of settling down,

wanting to see the world, no thought

to ever ending up alone

 

Time’s up, early closing,

everyone leaving, we’re the last

elbows knocking, feelings

screaming out in pain, scared of being

abandoned all over again

 

We parted, my ex and I,

even said a shaky “Goodbye, friend.”

before walking on, no intention

of looking back, but a slumped shoulder,

rose to the occasion

 

Without a word spoken,

we rushed into a big hug-cum-bubble

and burst, though it may well do,

we’ll see the coronavirus through together

just for loving each othermany years apart. Here's wishing them a truly Happy Ending.

You-Me-Us, a Love for all Seasons

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

Today’s poem is the revised version of an earlier poem; I had already posted it on my general poetry blog this year and a gay couple who are planning to marry soon have asked me to repeat it here for “... friends who think a general blog is too het for them.” I am happy to oblige and send love and hugs to gay couples worldwide. (While I have separate gay and general blogs for obvious reasons, all my poems address a common humanity, regardless of who or where in the world.) 

 I am often asked, especially at poetry readings, why I revise poems, usually at a (much) later date, even if it has been published in its original form. What is the point of having a poem published only to revise it later? I have no definitive answer to that other than I haven’t a clue. I suspect that sometimes a published poem is as good as it gets at the time, but (and the poet has no way of knowing) it is only a first draft.

 Poems have a life of their own; some persist in growing within mind-body-spirit as time goes by, nurtured by various moods, thoughts, emerging philosophies and responses to this, that, and whatever in a subconscious that is an extension of that same consciousness in which the poem was originally shaped. Time, the ultimate mischief-maker, will latch on to a trigger years later and confront the poet with either acknowledging and/ or for compensating for any shortcomings in the original poem; shortcomings of which neither poet nor reader may have been aware at the time although some authoritative critics may have hinted at them without quite understanding at what, precisely, they were hinting.

Now, life doesn’t always go as smoothly as we would like. Trust love to be on hand to help relieve the stress ... although it has to be said that love can also be the cause of stress., especially when found wanting, for whatever reason and/or life tests it (and us) to the limits of endurance, such as when a loved one or close friend dies ...

 Oh, and lovers have no monopoly on love, either; as I have enthused before, and dare say will again, it comes in all shapes and sizes; places and animals, as well as people. Nor, where any of these are concerned does our relationship with love end in death given that remembrance, too, is always on hand to stir the spirit and lift the heart whenever it gets the call.

 My mother once told me not to be sad when someone we care for dies, but “Only shed tears of joy for joy will always get the better of sorrow. Why people think it’s respectful to wear black at funerals is beyond me. Funerals should be a celebration of happy memories, and we all have our share of those or it’s a poor sod who doesn’t … so don’t you wear black at my funeral,” she added with a typical twinkle (or tear?) in each eye. I had no way of knowing at the time that she had a cancer that would find me recalling those words within months.

YOU-ME-US, A LOVE FOR ALL SEASONS

In the eyes of whom I love, a feisty light;
memories of flowers come springtime,
birds nesting, badgers mating, a celebration
of mind-body-spirit's timely reawakening
from a winter of the heart ever listening out
to take its cue from Earth Mother

In the eyes of whom I love, a bright light;
memories of sandcastles come summer,
laughter, ice creams, buckets and spades,
shrieking gulls in concert with children
letting rip with lungs applauding joie de vivre
for its magic, ignorant of illusion

In the eyes of whom I love, as pale a light
as of snowfalls come autumn's wake,
cosy fires of remembrance spreading love
and peace across landscapes less lonely
for Earth Mother's harvesting of time and space,
its enduring echoes of You-me-us

On the face of whom I love, a guiding light,
its sun-moon-stars, my every day and night 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005, 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in under the title ‘On the Face of whom I Love’ in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; alternative title added later.]

 

Passing Through

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

A new poem today, written for lovely lady, mother of a friend from my student days some 50 years ago; she will be 97 today. In the meantime, I am hoping to find a publisher for a new collection of poems; if not, I will self-publish again. Whatever, I will post details on the blogs 

Now, growing old is rarely if ever easy for anyone, but especially for men and women living alone without much of a support network. For many, too, there is a sense of time running out, an end to all we have known and loved. 

Ah, but love never dies and the human spirit, unique in its own way to each and every one of us, is immortal. 

Life as we know it allows us to pass through time (as we know it) but - as history and family history teach us - there is far more to time than any Here-and-Now; a kind act here, a kind word there, whether to a loved one or total stranger, may well reverberate across centuries, engaging with a living mind-body-spirit here, there, everywhere … 

Where world religions would have it that any after-life takes us to a Heaven or Hell of sorts, I believe we make our own Heaven, our own Hell, in the course of our own lifetime; not least, courtesy of Love and Conscience. 

I put it to you that, just as followers of any religion are entitled to our respect for their points of view, those of us who subscribe to no religious dogma are no less entitled to the same. As I often ask in the blogs, instead of putting someone in the wrong, even despising them for engaging with points of view other than our own … what’s wrong with agreeing to differ?

PASSING THROUGH 

The years, they pass,
and childhood becomes a dream
to treasure as we grow old
among such memories as inspired us
to enjoy such seasons
of our life as mind-body-spirit
chooses to see us through
each winter of the heart to that spring
where bluebirds sing

The hears, they pass,
and the Garden of Life sees changes,
for better, for worse,
while the human spirit sees us through
happy times and sad,
a positive thinking mindset
taking pride of place,
sure to inspire the human heart to sing,
come into its own

The years, they pass,
but nothing and no one left behind,
for first among equals 
remains the Spirit of Love, inspiring us
to see past-present-future
as a continuum, no end in sight,
and love, it never dies,
passing through generation to generation
in 'live' imagination

The years, they pass, but treat us as they may,
the kinder human spirit ne'er calls it a day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today]

In the Blood

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

 

Today’s poem-post first appeared on the blog in 2016; it has since been (slightly) revised and given a new title.

 

What do you do if you’re gay and belong to a culture that is intrinsically homophobic?  This poem is based on a heart-warming conversation I once had with a gay Muslim man and his straight boyhood friend.

 

It is good to know that platonic love is still alive and kicking even in the face of the kind of socio-cultural-religious homophobia that has plagued us for centuries, and will continue to do so until LGBT issues are discussed in the classroom, opinions invited, compared and subsequently taken on board so that young people grow up familiar with the ultimate Fact of Life in so far as our differences do not make us different, only human; like it or not, we are all part of a common humanity and there  is no excuse for prejudice. As for those who object to their children having an all-round education on any socio-cultural-religious grounds, children are not fools nor do they deserve to be treated as such; better, surely, that they learn to respect human differences than be spoon fed bigotry and hate?

 

Yes, of course it matters what people think of us, but what matters far more is what we think of ourselves. Whatever our religious or non-religious views, we only have one life as we know it now, and it is our life no one else's.  Is it really so selfish to live it the way we want to live it, especially when love is our guiding light...and loving one person doesn't mean we need to leave anyone else behind... unless their take on love happens to be set in tablets of stone, in which case, so be it, their choice.

 

Many gay people are raised (as I was) to think the worst of the whole LGBT ethos so when they begin to personally relate to that same ethos themselves, they experience a crisis of conscience,never easy to deal with, and some of us never do. I did, but not after some very painful times with family and (some) friends. It took a nervous breakdown in my early 30's before I found the self-confidence to trust my own instincts and hold my head high for being gay. To my shame and regret, I even rejected a good friend for being gay during those early, fearful years. In my 70's now, I have tried to compensate for being such a coward then, but my closet days, they haunt me still.

 

No one chooses an LGBT orientation; we identify with it or we don't. Either way, the choice lies in what (if anything) we do about it.  Those who continue to oppose and demonstrate against LGBT issues amongst others on any school curriculum need to ask themselves if anyone has the right to deny anyone else the right to be themselves... and give due consideration to what Education is all about.

 

G-A-Y, IN THE BLOOD 

 

Out walking in the park,

saw someone who looked like you

pause to watch clouds drift by

like fluffy bits of snow, nowhere

to go and nothing better to do

than haunt us with memories, good

bad, happy, sad, and needing

to be saved to a desktop or lost

in that system commonly known

as the human condition

 

Out walking in the park,

someone who looked just like me

came right up to a friend,

wanting to know where he stood

on life, love, humanity,

‘taboo stuff’ like sexual identity…

and why shun a best mate

for being true to conscience,

before socio-cultural-religious ideas

that put people in boxes?

 

Out walking in the park,

someone who looked just like me

spoke up for being gay,

could understand concerns

about gossip and guilt

by association (yes, only too well)

but still had no regrets

about telling everyone his secret

about being buried alive in a closet,

body, mind and spirit

 

Out walking in the park,

on a day when a hostile gathering

of clouds were never inclined

to take my side, I failed miserably

in helping you come to terms

with my world, the likes of which

someone just like you

could not see was but an extension

of the friendship we had both known

since we were children

 

What happened, I wondered

to the best friend I'd looked up to

and adored for years,

as my eyes misted over with tears

for times shared, innocence lost,

doubting (then) he'd ever understand,

sharing his visible pain already,

a hard rain falling as if to obliterate

any tears as we went our separate ways

into the same sad world?

 

Out walking in the park,

saw someone who looked like you

pause to watch clouds drift by

like fluffy bits of snow, nowhere

to go and nothing better to do

than haunt us with memories, good

bad, happy, sad, and saved

to the desktop for posterity or deleted

by socio-cultural-religious interpretations

of what passes for humanity

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

 

[Note: The title is taken from an interview given by James Baldwin to mark the 15th anniversary of Stonewall; it is about being gay in America, but sadly still rings true among families/ communities worldwide: https://www.villagevoice.com/2018/06/22/james-baldwin-on-being-gay-in-america/ ]

 

 

Feeling is Believing OR Comfort and Joy

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

This poem first appeared on the blog in 2010. [I do not intend to repeat all earlier poems, but readers are welcome to explore the blog archives as indicated in the far right column of any blog page; poems published again here have been removed, and in some cases, revised.]

Now, I always write love poems with my late partner in mind even though he died years ago and we were able to spend little time together before he was killed in a road accident; sadly, it was a 'closet' relationship society was predominantly hostile towards same sex relationships in those day; they were a criminal offence here in the UK until the Sexual Offences Act, England and Wales (1967) legalised homosexual acts between two men  on the condition they were consensual, in private and had attained the age of 21. Age of Consent equality, though, did not come until 2001 in England, Scotland and Wales, and 2009 in Northern Ireland.

Hopefully, readers will always find time and space enough within themselves  to get in touch with their own deeper feelings. In this sense at least, all religious faiths and festivals have something in common. 

Love has the capacity for rising above the worst life and nature may feel inclined to throw at it, including winter, a winter of the heart as well as of the meteorological kind.

Yes, here I go again. The message of all religious faiths and festivals - is one of peace and love; who hears  and acts upon it, is another matter.

Long, long live love … and let's not discriminate against LGBT folks just because it offends some heterosexual 'norm'; in a common humanity, diversity is part of what should be an all-inclusive norm, not an exception to any rules laid down and spread by any religious dogma as a socio-cultural-religious 'norm'. God is love, after all.

Long, long live peace, too, wherever it is given even half a chance.

As for peace of mind, we can but try for it, and once we find, be sure to share it, if only to take  comfort and joy from watching the ripples spread ...

Gay or straight, there is more to anyone than his or her sexuality; certain individuals, organizations, and communities (parents, too) - worldwide - would serve themselves and others by far better for keeping that in mind.

FEELING IS BELIEVING or COMFORT AND JOY

I could hear bells ringing,
choir voices singing,
snow falling like manna 
from heaven for kids 
and snowmen while I gazed 
from a window,
nose against the pane,
never felt so alone

Suddenly, I saw you there,
sunshine in the hair,
so near, and yet so far …
a dear, familiar grin
daring me rejoin the comfort 
of togetherness
and share in festivity
than bare self-pity

Loneliness ebbing away,
I came out to play 
that wonderful winter's day;
you threw snowballs,
missed, and we kissed…
your lips so sweet 
and warm, grey-blue eyes 
forgiving me for living

Where snow piles your grave,
that winter's night,
we made love while bells 
rejoiced us and angels 
chorused all the pleasures 
of togetherness
that is the joy of festivity,
defying self-pity

Not once a year but every day,
love finds a way 
to bring such comfort and joy
as embraces us all,
nurturing the more positive
side of human nature,
heart and soul of a humanity
celebrating its diversity

If God is Love, and love acts thus,
where does bigotry have a place?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; it was originally written as a Christmas poem, but feedback suggested this made it come across as less all-inclusive]RNT

Trailblazers

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

A new poem today, a tell-tale sign that I am fighting depression; the latest of many battles against an old enemy; thanks to creative therapy of the kind writing poetry provides that I may well lose some, but am winning the war.

Charles Darwin changed the way we think about the origin of our species; Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream that continues to inspire the Black Lives Matter campaign;  closer to home, here in the UK, footballer Marcus Rashford has successfully called for free school meals for children from poorer families while schools are closed; actor Chadwick Boseman who has tragically died of colon cancer at the age of 43 has left an inspiring legacy for black actors worldwide … all these, and many others, are trailblazers and will remain trailblazers, a ‘live’ posthumous consciousness in hearts and minds worldwide.

“Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.” Oscar Wilde  

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced." 

- James Baldwin 

“We may have all come on different ships, but we're in the same boat now.”  

- Martin Luther King Jr.

“No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.” Eleanor Roosevelt

“When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.” -  Helen Keller

  

TRAILBLAZERS

Assume nothing of humankind,

the Here-and-Now, part reality, part dream

fronting backroads of the mind

fuelling human nature, potential for nurture

(for better, for worse, gift or curse)

where formative years dare come into play

in the making, shaping of all we are

subject to question, reason and human nature’s

expectation of our futures

Ignore any negative voices

never backward in coming forward to tear

into human choices failing the test

of whatever is best for the rest of us has to be

right, invariably losing sight

of any aspiration, inspiration, presented

as a Human Right, while prevented

from seeing the light of day if failing to conform

to some ‘acceptable’ norm

Acceptable to whom, we may ask

having reached a point where we feel confident

of whatever task ahead may well be

misinterpreted under such various pretensions

designed to present gender identity,

and sexuality as a perverse intellectuality

failing (altogether)to see diversity

as a plus, not a minus, an acknowledged integrity

across a common humanity

Dare let that inner self go free, and pit itself against

any socio-cultural-sexual angst...?

Copyright R/ N. Taber, 2020

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

The Babysitter OR Engaging with Self-Awareness

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Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2014.

As often as not, it's just before we succumb to sleep that we engage the closest with mind, body and spirit, seeking a reassurance we cannot always put into words, fearing it may overturn us in life's makeshift cradle at any given moment in time, its all but tipping us out already; we can but trust one or the other to find a way to break our fall.

Though any light attracting us be extinguished, be sure we will find another, the brighter even for  n mind-body-spirit having been prompted  to come together, thereby letting us engage with its entirety, and arrive at a consensus during any intervening darkness; that's life. 

Invariably, it is the human spirit that steers mind and body towards whatever our personal potential may be, regardless of our gender, religion, culture, politics or sexuality.

Few of us have an easy life, and I have known my fair share of trouble 'n' strife, but an affinity with nature has invariably seen me through my worst times and celebrated the better. 

As regular readers know, I subscribe to none of the world's religions; indeed, I find them divisive forces. At the same time, I respect the affinity others may well have with their religion as I have with nature ... for reasons (relating more to the person than any dogma) words can barely come close to explaining.

Here's wishing you all love and peace (especially during these hard times of coronavirus) now and always,

Roger

THE BABYSITTER or ENGAGING WITH SELF-AWARENESS

Half-awake,

child eyes homing in on a world

of home truths

Light shade,

a bored babysitter party to a moth's

need for reassurance

Door slams,

rocks the cradle. Could be, a bully

at large...?

Moth and child

so losing faith in Ceiling’s sureness,

sent into free fall

Babysitter

makes a catch, applies wrappings

of make-believe

Bully, spotted

riding a pale horse into (temporary)

obscurity

Moth, glued

to light, a less imaginative humanity

switching off

Darkness,

mind block copyrighting a penchant

for denial

  

Peace (of sorts)

rocking our insecurities, come cradle

to grave

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2019

[Note: This poem also appears in my general poetry blog today; an earlier version appears under the title 'The Babysitter' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Men Shopping

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Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2012 albeit in a different form.

Now, feedback suggests that some readers like to compare revisions so I have left the original version in the archives; see listed (by year) on the right hand side of any blog entry.

Hopefully, readers - whoever and wherever -will approve of any changes I have made to form and content, but feel free to email me any thoughts any time to rogertab@ol.com [UK] as I do not publish comments; any spam or trolling will be ignored and instantly deleted. 

Although I often write in the first person, relatively few of my poms are autobiographical, but loosely relate to gay couples I have known or third person tales told me in the course of lively conversations at various venues, long before the world became acquainted with Covid-19 or the need for social distancing. (Oh, halcyon days!)

MEN SHOPPING 

He was reaching for coffee

on a supermarket shelf;

the graceful swing of his body

cut me to the quick;

one eye refused to blink, kept

at the task in hand;

trying hard not to think about

a finger nudging mine

His tenuous grasp on the jar,

began to slip;

my hand was left no choice,

obliged to help;

he thanked me with a grin,

I smiled back;

as he made as if to move on,

I finally found my voice

“So, you like decaf?” I blurted

to a shirt button;

a hint of hairy chest heaved,

breath slow and warm;

“I do indeed,” he grinned again,

made my cheeks burn ...

and I came up with something

even more banal

We chatted away the whole

length of the aisle;

finally, at preserves, a parting

of the ways;

I finished off my shopping

having lost my nerve,

no names, numbers exchanged,

guessing not interested

Outside, he was unloading into

an old banger;

a cheeky wave saw me blush

from ear to ear;

the same grin, infuriating me

this time;

lips parted, tip of a pink tongue

teasing my prime

My mouth went dry, and I barely

recall that lift home;

years on, I still thrill to waking

next to him,

listening to a steady breathing

till opening to mine;

morning kisses by way of recalling

a day’s shopping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2020

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