Shades of Grey

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

“Modern man talks of a battle with nature, forgetting that, if he won the battle, he would find himself on the losing side.” - E. F. Schumacher

“One of the first conditions of happiness is that the link between Man and Nature shall not be broken.” - Leo Tolstoy 

“The best friend on earth of man is the tree: When we use the tree respectfully and economically, we have one of the greatest resources of the earth.”- Frank Lloyd Wright

“Nature's music is never over; her silences are pauses, not conclusions.” - Mary Webb

Now, tomorrow will see us mark the end of 2022, each in our own way.  Across the world, people will be coming together to celebrate New Year’s Eve; a veritable feast of music, dance, relief at having survived another year and hope that the next will, indeed, be a happy one.  

We can, each and every one of us, only do our best to see our hopes fulfilled, subject though all of us are to circumstances beyond our control. All the more reason though, surely, to enjoy the Here-and Now, let it fill our lives with bright colours and inspiring sounds which, though they fade, even die, they, and the person they encouraged us to be, live on in every mind-body-spirit, heart-and-soul, they ever touched.

Oh, and again, many thanks for dropping by, much appreciated, and I hope you will join me again soon for my first post-poem of 2023… assuming that I can continue to rise above - if not quite get the better of - the mess in which ten years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer have left my thought processes.😉

SHADES OF GREY

The world around me,
various shades of grey, a sad, 
often lonely place…
Apollo having all but taken
his leave of us, trusting
we’ll manage gloomy days
as best we can,
let mind-body-spirit aid and abet us
in making wiser choices 

Weary, a natural world
sick of human nature abusing it
in the name of ‘progress’
without taking bold steps enough
to ensure its past-present
may yet anticipate a kinder future
than marks its pages,
colours its history, common humanity
but a chancer’s reality

Shades of green and gold
courtesy of Apollo’s rays of hope,
a brave one-upmanship
taking its cue from any You-Me-Us 
that haunts the history
of a humankind trying to find its way
through multiple shades
of blue-green-gold urging we'll get wise
to its potential demise

Though we suffer its every shade of grey,
trust heart-and-soul to save the day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poet-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today. I am also working on a new gay-specific poem  which I hope to publish here soon.] RT

Lines on the Politics of Personal Space

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

“Friendship improves happiness and abates misery by the doubling of our joy and the dividing of out grief.” Marcus Tullius Cicero

 “We are all different. There is no such thing as a standard or run-of-the-mill human being, but we share the same human spirit.” – Stephen Hawking

“As an anthropologist, I believe strongly in our common humanity. We can rise above the tribal divisions that have caused so much anguish and real damage in the past.” - Alice Roberts

“Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact”.  -William James

Again, not a gay-specific post-poem today, but no apologies for that; it also appears on my general blog. Many people, especially LGBT + folks, including yours truly, have been very disturbed and upset by the banning of rainbow armbands on the pitch during the World Cup in Qatar in support of diversity  and Human Rights; even fans wearing similarly supportive headgear have been told to remove it before entering the ground. Even so,  this action by the authorities - including and backed by FIFA - has possibly brought the subject  even more to the fore of people's minds across the world than was intended; an own goal, so to speak, by Qatar.

Oh, and one cannot help but admire and applaud the Iranian football  team's bravery for refusing to sing their national anthem by way of making a similar protest.. Hopefully, they will not be subjected to abuse by the Iranian regime on their return home...

Now, In many ways, today’s poem-post continues yesterday’s theme/s. As regular readers will know, and some share the sentiment, growing old(er) can be heavy going at any age; either the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak or circumstances cause us to lose heart altogether and depression sets in. Somehow, we have to find our own way to rise above certain everyday ups and downs that challenge us all. (No, never easy, but… we have a choice?)

I recently had a bath lift installed after being unable to get out of the bath for a good thirty minutes some weeks ago, due to mobility problems. 😀 A walk-in shower might have been suitable for some, but not someone like myself who needs to be extra careful not to get water in my ears due to perforated eardrums. After being trapped that first time, I did devise a strategy for getting in and out of the bath, but involved a degree of acrobatics that was an accident waiting to happen. Now I feel safer. 

Two close friends were a huge help and supervised my first attempts. They helped boost my patience and self-confidence to the extent that today I managed my first unsupervised bath, using the lift with no one around to help even if I needed it. Sounds simple enough, I know, but nothing is simple once years of hormone therapy for prostate cancer have messed with your thought processes. Yes, I experienced a few teething problems today, but at least I will find the next time I take a bath, a less scary and more relaxing experience.

We all need help sometimes, just as we all need to find our own pace for doing whatever, despite the pace of modern life threatening to leave us behind for one reason or another. 

Well, let it threaten; the human spirit is not easily put down… not for long, anyway, despite any temporary put-downs…

LINES ON THE POLITICS OF PERSONAL SPACE

Life is making the most of its seasons,
growing older, hopefully wiser to the tricks
time so loves to play on us all,
mind-body-spirit continuing to engage 
with an enduring heart-and-soul, 
endeavouring to keep us on the right track,
no matter such ways of a world
that would have us playing deaf, blind and dumb 
to the Politics of Outcome

It’s a tried and tested mind-body-spirit
needs to keep drawing on the native patience
at its command, constantly encouraging us
all to stay true to an evergreen heart-and-soul
urging we engage with patience, 
such patience as will see us through tough times,
head held high, resolutely refusing 
to be cowed by such ways of the world as see many
feeling defeated and empty

The world may well have its reasons,
temptations, and calls to You-Me-Us to comply,
though heart-and-soul cries out
to defy, ignore, turn a deaf ear, no matter
any alternative desires;
wiser by far to steer through troubles and strife,
follow the road map our senses
assure us will lead to far kinder, better times in store,
well worth waiting, working for...

Such is the gift of heart-and-soul, to a shared humanity,
if but the patience to devise a winning strategy

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2022

Seeing is Believing, True or False?

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

Years ago, after school, two friends (we’ll call them A and B) were caught kissing behind the bicycle sheds at the back of our school playground by a teacher working late. On being asked for an explanation, one friend said, “We love each other, sir.” 

After a long, ominous silence, the teacher asked “Do your parents know?” The culprits shook their heads. 

“Are you going to rat on us, sir?” Boy A asked, swallowing hard. 

“Somethings need to come from the horse’s mouth,” was all the teacher said, albeit sternly, before dismissing them. 

The two friends thought they had got off lightly, but no such luck it, not least because society was such that it would be years before either felt able to come out of the closet and tell the world they are gay, by which time they hadn’t even kept in touch. 

The following weekend, A spotted B in the local park with another boy. A’s emotions, at fever pitch since the incident in the bike shed, erupted and he let rip with a torrent of abuse; it was only later that he realised it has been aimed at himself. 

Gay or straight, we all do and say things we regret. Boy A was jealous, of course, but the incident in the bicycle sheds only days earlier had scared him more than he cared to admit. It was not a good time then to be gay, and issues on the home front made it impossible to follow the teacher’s good advice and tell the family that, at 14 years-old, he had already discovered his true sexuality.

It was a gay friend who told this story about himself, to me and several straight friends some time ago. All of us admitted we recognised ourselves in it, having suffered mixed emotions in similar situations, not least that love-hate peculiar to jealousy.

 Gay or straight, whoever and wherever, what are any of us but human when all’s said and done?

‘Love sees sharply, hatred sees even more sharp, but Jealousy sees the sharpest for it is love and hate at the same time.’  -  Arab Proverb

SEEING IS BELIEVING, TRUE OR FALSE? 

I am, to any life force,
its own worst enemy, that light mist
descending on a wintry
season of the heart mistaken for spring,
taken in its stride by mine host,
a vision of summer haunting the heart
that’s sure to thrive on its heat
if only for letting the power of illusion
fire passions of self-deceit

Like a rose, its thorns
forgiven for the beauty of its having
been nurtured by the love
of Earth Mother, with no small input
from yours truly, anticipating
showcase summers, a rose garden
of our own making,
pledging our love, oblivious to any threat
by storm clouds gathering

One evening, gone jogging,
I chose to take a longer route than usual
for no reason but a whim
to chase pigeons into a sunset, no matter
it put me to such shame
as would be my undoing in showing me
someone picking a rose
and giving it to you with a kiss that drove me
where no sane person goes 

No lovers but old friends had I chanced upon;
jealousy, my hurt-rage-loss-prison

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

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

 

 

Engaging with Epic Poetry

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

In July 2009 I was privileged to participate in "One and Other", sculptor Sir Antony Gormley's 'live sculpture' project on the 4th plinth in London's Trafalgar Square; I gave a poetry reading. At the time, I thought reference to its being a 'live' sculpture simply referred to those participants invited to do whatever for an hour, July- October. I became aware that I was part of an epic poem of sorts, which subsequently inspired the poem.

Now, text-speak may well be as relatively a new phenomenon as the mobile phone itself, but conversations with the inner self are as old as humankind.

Invariably, we think of mind, body and spirit at separate entities, and I am often criticised for suggesting they are. Yet, each engage with each other in such a way that maybe it is high time we started thinking of the whole rather than the parts? After all, it is they that would see us (as a whole) engage with time and space... for better, for worse; it is they, also, to, whom we invariably turn when we are stressed out for whatever reason.

Exercising mind and body is a form of creative therapy that can encourage the human spirit to wake up to whatever reality we are avoiding and help us reach a constructive decision as to how best to proceed - or not, as the case may be.

Poets make much of Poetry of the Heart, but there is a  sense in which we are all, each and every one of us, living poems; the whole of us, as individuals, not just this part or that. 

There are many who profess to hate poetry, find it glib, trite, weak; those same people, simply by engaging with life itself, who are creating the Poetry of History, an epic poem about the human race as beautiful - not least for its very diversity - as any prose.

ENGAGING WITH EPIC POETRY

Life,

spiralling me downwards

from cradle to grave…

often when I least expect it,

leaves me clinging

for dear life at straws in an ill wind

raised by a helter-skelter

of events conspiring to drag me

beyond imagination,

test ego (and salvation) to limits

rarely conceived

even by those daily enduring

a world of nightmares

Love,

spelling out such promises

as sweet dreams

are made of, offering (for free)

a magical-mystery-tour

of mind-body-spirit asking only

that I stay true

to the end of a line drawn

not (whimsically) 

in sand or clay, but in good faith

that 1 + 1 is equal,

to the sum of all its frictions,

and I can add up

Hope,

bringing me the best of things

at the worst of time

reshaping even the obstinate clay

of human nature

as a potter’s wheel might

its tasks in hand,

demanding the poetry of art

speak up for Beauty,

fair chameleon exposing masks

of the Beast

for human waste washed up

by the tides of life

Centuries of anticipating eternity 

for engaging with its epic poetry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

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

Human Spirit, very much Alive and Kicking

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

A winter of the heart such as the Covid-19 coronavirus is bringing to so many people worldwide can be an especially desolate time of year for singles of any age, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. Ah, but if we promise ourselves another spring and do our best to keep that promise, well, who knows…? 

Luck is a fine thing, can strike anyone anywhere at any time BUT we have to be in the right frame of mind to recognise it or it will more than likely pass us by.

The world will not come to us, we have to go out and find it. Yes, there are a lot of mean, nasty people out there BUT there are also a LOT of good, kind people too.

From time to time, we all experience a winter of the heart. Yes, even in midsummer. Yet, we can make the journey back to its spring, especially with encouragement, if not active help, from family and friends. 

Alone, lonely? No help, no encouragement, no one seeming to give a damn? Time, indeed, to tap into the human spirit and set it to work for us as I attempted, with no small degree of success, one bleak December some years ago...

HUMAN SPIRIT, VERY MUCH ALIVE AND KICKING 

Long ago, one bleak winter
a frosty spirit did moan,
heart barely even beating,
no life to call its own,
no one it could confide in,
regarding having (finally) come
to make sense of me 

A lonely Christmas over
New Year out of sight,
asking the point of living
when there is no light,
where no angels dare tread
for fear their ‘never-ending’ story
may well end there 

I heard a voice in my ear
trying to reassure me,
so dropped by a gay bar
and grabbed a chair,
found myself confiding
to a man in grey how I’d only just
faced up to being gay 

Chat became confession,
and once I had begun,
a heavy load grew lighter,
my tunnel all but run;
then my turn to listen how
he’d come out to the world to stay,
no longer afraid to be gay 

We drank beers till closing,
and agreed to meet again,
once strangers, now friends,
and though a snowfall heavy,
I happily made my way,
mind-body-spirit alive and kicking,
on this, its first rebirth day 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; rev. 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in On the Battlefields of Love; by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010 under the title, 'A Feeling for Midwinter.']

 

Human Spirit, Life Forces

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

Today’s poem is, yes, another kenning; it first appeared on the blog in November 2009, again in 2011 and today (for a second time) by 'Hannah and Jonathan’ for no special reason other than "it always lifts our spirits." Well, thank you, folks, happy to oblige.

Several people have commented to me recently that they feel "like death warmed up" and /or "totally drained" by the pandemic and its everyday implications for and limitations on everyday life; and so say all of us, I suspect. We can but stay positive and trust the human spirit to help us run the gamut and survive the stronger, not than weaker for it. Never easy, of course, even at the best of times.

A friend I knew as a student once confided that he 'envied' poets and others engaging in the arts because ' they can experience at first hand the everlasting quality of a vibrant Poetry of Life that passes so many of us by. At best..." he conceded, "...we can enjoy it while it lasts, provided we even recognise it for what it is at the time, of course. But, let's face it who want to be reminded once it moves on? I mean to say, no one wants to be reminded of any what-might-have-been, do they?"

While these were rhetorical questions, of course, I practised my right to agree to differ anyway, pointing out that no human experience either passes us by or even moves on completely, but remains a part of us, and whether we like/acknowledge it or not, it helps shape who we are and how we learn from whatever might-have-been may have affected us as it clearly had my friend. He shrugged, commented that "you arty types are all the same, always looking on the brighter side of life, and expecting the rest of us to take a leaf out of your poetry books." We both laughed. and he changed the subject.

Strange, isn't it, how some conversations stay with you like the lyric of a song you can't forget, as much for the singer as the song, if not more so...? Arts and artists, they help shape our lives along with their own; as for who gets the better deal, active participant or audience, that's anyone's guess, although I suspect it is in some timely inspiration that lies the key to any answers. Nor should it ever be assumed that anyone outside the arts field has ever been excluded from enjoying the Poetry of Life; it is a global consciousness, open to and welcoming anyone whose natural spirit engages with the poetry (and prose) of life in all its human diversity of expression and experience.

As regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know only too well, I subscribe to no religion as such; an empathy with nature since childhood, though, leads me confess an intimate relationship with Pantheism in the sense that I see any 'God' as nature, rather than its creator, having never felt comfortable with the idea of a personified God.

Sadly, while I respect world religion/s, few who enter into them respect my point of view; neither atheist nor agnostic am I, though, so can we not simply agree to differ and get on with our lives without invoking words on historical tablets of stone that would keep us apart ...?

So ...what happens to the human spirit once its host body dies?  Regular readers will know by now that my sense of a posthumous consciousness is another of the life forces my poem suggests drives  a human spirit that ia not only eternal, but also, in its own unique way, continues to not only make a 'live' contribution to history .... be it in a personal and/or wider sense.

HUMAN SPIRIT, LIFE FORCES

I am that life force feeling its way

into dreams, making sure moon and stars

shine love’s light through layers

of darkness if only to reveal what’s real

in a world so easily misled by word

or gesture, generally making a poor show

of communicating such feelings

as all our kinder senses often banging

at the doors of closed minds

I am that life force lending a shoulder

to cry on, an ear to confide in, sees caution

thrown to the wind and returns it

as a kindness, suggesting we reconsider

persistently pitting human nature

against its other selves, risk losing face

in the eyes of old (and new) gods

looking down on our crude obsession

with mortality, and wondering why

I am that life force to whom they turn

whom flames of any passion would devour

for better, for worse, but only ashes

where we'd have left a blaze of memory

to comfort, leave us feeling secure,

whatever some Grim Reaper may yet

demand of us; no life force, he,

intending to override the Poetry of Life,

foiled by the resilience of its humanity

Come day or night, find me, Earth Mother,

archiving centuries of nurture

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2020

[Note: This post/ poem also appears on mygeneral poetry blog today given that the poem (no less than all poetry) is all-inclusive, and feedback suggests many readers only drop in to one or the other blog; an earlier version of the poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

I'm a Poem, Get me Out of Here OR Closet Voices

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

I once managed to extricate myself from a contract with a poetry publisher with which I became more and more unhappy as time passed; a member of its editorial team even asked me to shorten some longer poems to fit the page. I responded that a poem becomes a living organism as soon as a reader engages with it, and what they were asking was tantamount to an amputation.

I well recall how, many years ago, my English teacher, 'Jock' Rankin asked the whole class (of teenage boys) to write a poem for homework. "It doesn't have to include any  rhyme," he added for the benefit of those of us who were under the impression that rhyme was compulsory for all poems.

Yours truly rose to the challenge, but few others submitted anything, complaining along the lines of "I don't have a poem in me, sir, it's just not me." The same cry could be heard again after some poems were read out in class later in the week, and Jock expressed disappointment in relatively few people having made the effort. "There is a poem in all of us," he insisted, "We just have to tap into that aspect of ourselves which is especially meaningful to us, and the chances are there will be a poem there champing at the bit to get out. Come on, you sporty types, let's have a sporty poem from you or any of you with hobbies you love, let's see what you can do.

The response this time was an eye-opener as everyone managed to write a poem, even the more bullish and macho among us; indeed, they were the proudest and more boastful of their achievement. Gone forever was the notion that writing and enjoying poetry was 'a girly thing'.

"You see," said a well-pleased Jock, "...there are as many subjects for a poem as there are people, each one with something different to say. We may like, dislike agree or disagree with what it has to say, but that's life, each to their own points of view. Whatever, that poem or point of view struggling to get out of us deserves to be free to say its piece, right?" "Yes, sir"  everyone  yelled at once.

Poetry, no more or less than prose, has a million voices; if you haven't yet found yours, why not choose a collection of poems when you next visit your local public library and I bet you'll find at least one that not only stirs the imagination but that suffocating silence within that's desperate to break out  into words and feeling, and find an audience; an audience of one is often more than enough to ignite the flames of much-needed communication.

Sadly, poetry is not considered commercially viable, poetry on a gay theme even less so even in this s0-called Age of Equality and Freedom of Speech; it is also an Age of Capitalism, of course. Yes, dear readers, I will almost certainly be self-publishing my next collection, if only out of interest to see how well (or badly) a few hundred volumes will sell  Later, as I have said before, all my poems will be available online as I suspect my blogs will disappear once yours truly has gone walkies with the Grim Reaper. wry bardic grin 

I'M A POEM, GET ME OUT OF HERE or CLOSET VOICES

Why any heartbeat

demanding mind-body-spirit

free it from its closet,

left to go wherever it will,

no slave to hypotheses,

but deserving better,

not least to find a voice,

and ways to make itself heard

by the poet within

What is this sound,

like the cry of a lost child

negotiating its way

all but blindly along frantic

highways and byways

whose names but posturing

as spelling lessons

in its past-present-future eager

to make itself felt?

What is this presence

calling on inarticulate reason

for expression, as clear

at first as dawn mist reluctant

to let any sunshine

into a persona grown frantic

for a comfort zone,

offering as close a sense of safe

and sound as any?

Why this falling apart,

now closing any yawning gaps

in a consciousness,

weathering mist and murk,

only to find itself

burning bridges across rivers

of rising passion,

anxious to find release in at least

explaining the smoke?

No end in sight - lost;

left to others to find and help me

if they can, or have time

to let a poem give self-awareness

a clear heads-up

for negotiating the complexities

likely to characterise

any literal or existential soundings

taken from a human heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Tracking the 'I' in Humanity, a Universal Consciousness

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog  last year and makes its return, slightly revised, as requested by a reader in South Africa who comments that he and his partner have had to "get used to far more prejudice against same sex couples here than we ever did back home." He adds, "We love London, though, and will enjoy living here, whatever."

A reader asks why on earth I am trying to compile a new volume of poems inthe middle of a pandemic. Well, why not...? Apart from providing a welcome distraction, I have to be pragmatic about the fact that I will be 75 years-old on the winter solstice and have been living with prostate cancer for since 2011. Should I die, it is unlikely that Google will retain my blogs so I want as many of my poems to remain accessible as possible to anyone interested. My best friend, Graham, has already said that if I have not managed to put all my fiction and poetry online by the time the Grim Reaper comes calling on yours truly, he will do his best to see to that for me.

Meanwhile ...

I once found myself chatting to a delightful young Muslim couple on a bus. They recognised me from my photo on the blog and asked if I was 'the gay poet'; this does not happen very often (!) so I have to confess I was flattered. The couple are gay, and were planning to come out to their respective families in the near future. Naturally, they were concerned about what kind of reception they will get, and asked my advice.

I never 'advise' people, preferring to simply offer an opinion. I pointed out that, unless they suspect the truth about this couple/s relationship anyway (often the case) any family may well need time to get used to the idea. We should never underestimate the power of love, though, to come to our rescue in any crisis. Hopefully, (and more often than not) love will prevail if only later sometimes rather than sooner.

Sadly, some people don't see their religion as embracing all sincerest forms of human love, consider any religious dogma as written on tablets of stone, never to be what might be interpreted as being  'compromised;  while world religions emphasise the power of human as well as God's love, they  have little (if any) time for expressions of the former likely to leave them open to accusations (by fellow Believers) of compromising the fundamentals of whatever dogma that defines their faith; the proof -  invariably in the "small print" - often forbids and despises same sex relationships. Whatever, I for one, put quality of life above life itself, and a life without someone we love, physically as well as otherwise, can be a living hell. 

Christians will always quote Leviticus on the question of same sex relationships, forgetting that Jesus of Nazareth preached a very different kind of God, a God of Love, and what God of love is going to cherry-pick what forms love should take When asked if he was the Son of God, Jesus answered "Thou sayest it" - in other words, if you say so. As a Pantheist The closest I come to any religion) , , I can no more believe in a personified God than a God who wish "Hell" on any LGBT expressions of love in mind-body-spirit. Many readers may be offended where no offence is meant, but it is my personal point of  view in a world where free expression (and a sense of spirituality) is gradually being eroded, not least by irs religions who seem to think they have a monopoly on spirituality where I would argue a (free) human spirit will find its own ways to express itself, whether through religion or not.

As with all decisions, Coming Out demands that we consider all likely outcomes and just how important it is to us to shrug off the shackles of dogma, convention, whatever... Tragically, same sex relationships remain a crime in some countries as well as in the eyes of others where LGBT folks are seen - legally, at least - as fully fledged members of modern society and a common humanity; they may well feel they dare not emerge from their closets, but should not think any less of themselves for that. Sadly, humankind is not unfamiliar with being a victim of circumstance as centuries of abuse in one form or another will bear witness, and almost certainly continue to do so.

I wish people everywhere who - for whatever reason - feel more oppressed than liberated by their sexuality, all the luck and love in the world; the greater part of hope for a better, kinder, world has always fallen on the shoulders of the young in any society, in any century; an unfair burden, of course, but one worth every heartbeat in my humble opinion and experience. Yes, I have no one with whom to share the ups and downs of old age as intimately as I would like, but that's life, and can happen to anyone; as I have said so many times (and will keep saying) love comes in all shapes and forms, and although I live alone, I am fortunate in having plenty of love in my life still, both living and posthumous; who could ask for more?

TRACKING THE ‘I’ IN HUMANITY, A UNIVERSAL CONSCIOUSNESS

Where have they gone,

all the people I used to know

when the world and I

were younger, making hay

while the sun shone

by day, making love by the light

of a gay-friendly moon?

Some have moved on

to that other-world we call death

for want of anything else

in the absence of any dogma

to let us off the hook

(so to speak) and as likely to be

gay-unfriendly as not

Some have moved away,

favourite gay bars closed down,

and nowhere (locally)

to kiss, hug, chat and feel safe

from sick innuendo,

malicious gossip, and hate crimes

no one deserves

I miss them, who saw me

come out, hold my head up high

rise above any whispers

and looks meant to drive a knife

into mind-body-spirit

for its having kept my 'dirty' secret

since schooldays

Where have they gone,

the feisty folks I used to know,

making of the world

a better, kinder, place, equality

given its head, LGBT

rising above stigma, stereotypes

and fake news?

A global consciousness,

the good fight against life forces

that would have equality

lose any battle against riptides

of dogma (still) crashing

against LGBT closets in all walks

of life worldwide

Ghosts, among those I used

to know, urging LGBT make hay

while the sun shines

by day, make love by the light

of a gay-friendly moon,

any riptide of human intolerance

notwithstanding

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020

Mixed Feelings OR Sexuality, Reason Not the Need

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2016 under the title 'Mixed Feelings'. Several readers have since pointed out that the title could be seen as misleading so I have added an alternative title, as I often do, to introduce the poem in the context in which it is mean to be read. I just hate it when people ask me why I am gay. I didn't choose to be gay, I am gay; it answers a need in me that defies any Q & A interrogation from anyone, including myself. Yes, at 70+ now I am no longer sexually active, but that is only due to my prostate cancer and doesn't make me a-sexual; I still have the heart and spirit of a gay man. 

By the way, many thanks to those of you emailing to ask how I am getting on with compiling a new collection of poems. Progress remains slow but sure. Years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer having messed with my thought processes and want of a good night's sleep combined with the stresses we are all under due to the coronavirus pandemic ... well, they don't help. wry bardic grin But I plod on, not least because I have no choice but I genuinely enjoy writing up the blogs and compiling poetry collections, not only for the welcome distraction they provide, but because they encourage me to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Now, some people are naturally bisexual while others can relate to the opposite sex but prefer their own, yet feel - for whatever reason - unable to be open and upfront about it. Such men and women are frequently criticised by gay and straight people alike, but … who are we to judge?

The Japanese have a saying ‘I no naka no kawazu taikai wo shirazu.’ (Literally: A frog in a well does not know the great sea.)  In other words, people are satisfied to judge things by their own narrow experience for not knowing any different.

Regular readers will know I do not subscribe to any religion, but I had a Christian upbringing and I reckon Jesus of Nazareth was spot on when he told those anxious to sentence a woman to be stoned to death for adultery as according to the law, ‘Let him among you who is without sin cast the first stone at her.’ (John 8:7)

Enjoying same sex relationships is no sin, of course, simply a part of the complex whole that makes us human, and no better or worse for that than anyone else.

"O, reason not the need ..." (Shakespeare, King Lear)

This poem is a villanelle.

MIXED FEELINGS or SEXUALITY, REASON NOT THE NEED 

A day-tripper I met on vacation one day
said he much prefers sex with a man,

confided a part of him will always be gay

Married, two kids, no regrets for a way

of getting on with life as best he can,

a day-tripper I met in Brighton one day

He said he liked me (what could I say?)

Saw no betrayal of wife and children,

confided a part of him will always be gay

He needed to let his heart have its way,

(mine, playing catch-me-if-you-can)

a day-tripper I met in Brighton one day

At my hotel, he kissed my doubts away,
shed no tears for his loving a woman,

confided a part of him will always be gay

"I reason not the need, I heard him say,
"because I know I'm a good person." 

A day-tripper I met on vacation one day

confided a part of him will always be gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016; 2020

Mind-Body-Spirit, Inner Eye-Ear-Voice

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

A new poem today, hot off the keyboard and inspired by several offensive emails I received from readers of my general poetry blog who objected to yesterday's poem that I also published here and was, by sharp contrast, well received. I have no problem with criticism of a poem for its structure or even its theme/s but offensive comments directed at whatever point/s of view it expresses, those make me angry. Whatever happened to agreeing to differ ...?

It is interesting that whenever I post a poem on both blogs that concerns spirituality, at least some readers of my general poetry blog express disappointment, to say the least; others send troll-type emails protesting that LGBT people cannot experience a sense of spirituality if only because, as one reader such put it, "no religion accepts active homosexuality or other sexual deviations." So ... whatever happened to the kind of love-thy-neighbour ethos on which most if not all religions pride themselves and subsequently preach?  

I am neither an atheist nor agnostic, but closer to being a pantheist in so far as I see any 'God' and nature as one. Pantheism has been defined as "a view that the world is either identical to God, or an expression of God's nature; it comes from 'pan' meaning all, and 'theism,' which means belief in God. So according to pantheism, “God is everything and everything is God.” This is the closest I have come to accounting for a depth of feeling in me that no conventional religion comes even close to defining to my personal satisfaction. Pantheists do not believe in an after-life; neither do I although regular readers will know that I believe in the power of a posthumous conscious that is both personal and universal. 

What I love most about pantheism is its all-inclusiveness, something  I find sorely if not shamefully lacking in other religions. 

So much for my thoughts on spirituality, expressed further in today's poem which I will not be posting on my general blog, not because trolls worry or disturb me, but I have better things to do than exercise any Right of Reply; suffice to say, I attempt that in many of my poems. 

Now, as you know, I am working on a new collection of poems which, too, will be as all-inclusive as I can make it, although it will probably mean having to self-publish again; in the past, only one (U.S.) publisher has ever expressed an interest in including gay/lgbt poems as well as general poetry, but they messed me about so much that I abandoned the project altogether; this time I will have at least a few hundred copies printed of 'Addressing the Art of Being Human' and see what happens. (I usually even manage to make a small profit, a welcome bonus.)  

Hopefully, the new collection will be ready by September/ October; any readers are welcome to reserve a copy by emailing me at rogertab:aol.com with 'Poetry Collection' in the subject field. Eventually, all my poetry collections will be available as e-books so readers from poorer countries can access them for free, but that is some way off yet. 

Having lived with prostate cancer since 2011, I often get the feeling I'm living on borrowed time, and there is yet another collection I have in mind which will, among other things, again reflect something of the global struggle we have all endured - and many may well continue to endure, Human Rights notwithstanding.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, INNER EAR-EYE-VOICE

Who or what is God?

gender neutral, monopoly of no one culture

or religion, to each

its own interpretation of source, meaning,

and ways of expression

as in prayer, meditation, any creative therapy

invoking a poetry of faith

Where, then, is God?

God is where the heart is, beating to the music

of mind-body-spirit,

in anyone, any place, anywhere, as common

to human nature

as the humanity to which it owes nothing, offers

a realisation of raison d'etre

Why, then, a God?

to nurture that native sense of love and peace

inspiring humanity

on the one hand, killing it off with the other

for want of sensibility,

inciting a one-upmanship and division as defining

the politics of its religions

Humanity is a diversity

of natural design, but a part of a natural world

comprising bird and beast,

creatures of its seas, sunny days and cloudy, come

sun, rain or snow;

no Empire of Humankind, nor is Progress but a show

demanding universal applause

Reason not the need

who feels a sense of spirituality found wanting

by such conventions

as proposed by certain ‘betters’ convinced they

are in the right,

would put in the wrong alternative choices aspiring

to much the same life forces

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

Sexuality, No Backseat Driver OR Diversity, the Human Condition

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

Last week, I said I would post a new or revised poem as and when I can while I do battle with preparing a new collection of poems while also having to contend with various health issues. A reader suggests that I revise a poem I published here in early May "... because it just doesn't feel right." I have to agree so here is the revised version that will appear in the collection as and when I can get it together, not to mention find a UK publisher. 

Now, while I do not post readers’ comments, I will always reply if they give an email address.  Time and again, readers ask how to break free from a gay closet without losing family and friends who may well have no idea of their true sexuality.

There are, of course, no easy answers. My poems, though, try to reflect the power of love, not only in the sense of forming sexual relationships, but also in the wider sense of being a friend or part of a family.

More often than not, love will endure even where it may not triumph in quite the way/s we would wish. That said, the odds on its overcoming certain socio-cultural-religious objections are barely 50:50, often far less. So much depends on the family environment and how far people are willing to put love first even when it means (as they see it) compromising beliefs and principles they have probably been spoon fed since childhood. Some will compromise while, at the same time, such a compromise may well not be seen as proof enough of love for the man or woman who has just come out as a gay or transgender person. Both sides need to give some ground, especially in the early days, or any hope of reconciliation will only fade as time goes by.

Yes, Coming Out is a risk, but one worth taking (surely?) even in this so-called ‘modern’ age where, certain communities continue to live in the past. No one else can make the decision for us nor do they have the right. (As I see it, anyone who thinks they have a ‘right’ or ‘duty’ to ‘out’ another person is beneath contempt,)

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” James Baldwin (Giovanni’s Room)

This poem is a kenning.

SEXUALITY, NO BACKSEAT DRIVER or DIVERSITY, THE HUMAN CONDITION

Family,

they know me for all they

would have me be

no matter how hard I try

to make them see

I am no piece of clay

to be shaped

in any image but my own, for all

its faults and flaws

Friends,

they see other sides of me

for running with peers

all but bursting at the seams,

(it’s called growing up)

sharing certain thoughts, ideas,

hopes for a future

becoming clearer to me each day,

for breaking down walls

Lovers,

they know me for all they

would have me be

whether between clean sheets

or in your parked car

after closing time at some bar

on the other side

of town, giving all mind-body-spirit

its head

I am Sexuality, last seen on life's highway,

and no backseat driver for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019