Hello again from London UK

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As I am not feeling very well at the moment (not Covid, probably just the usual ageing 70’s syndrome as I will be 76 later this year… yike!) it was especially nice to hear from a new reader; he has even started exploring the blog archives and was very complimentary. He enjoys poetry in general, but hadn’t found any gay poetry until a friend told him about me. Feedback, from the start, suggested much the same thing, which is why I started this blog.

Another reader complains that I post few poems of special interest to gay readers now; no apologies for running out of bardic steam, but I’m afraid inspiration is a fickle beast. Even so, I have recently updated some poems I the archives while trying to put together a new collection, so maybe he, too, enjoy a browse…?

Yet another reader took offence at the title of my recent prose post, All Lives Matter. He seems to think I was having a go at the Black Lives Matter protesters. No offence intended, I assure you, and I fully support Black Lives Matter although I confess that I remain slightly uneasy with the name. This clearly came across to A J. who asks “… what else would have the same impact?” While I would not suggest changing the name now that everyone is familiar with it, nor am I one to duck a challenge. As a gay man, I, personally, would have opted for something more all-inclusive like Justice, Not Prejudice. Even so, I acknowledge the need to draw world attention to institutional racism wherever in the world it raises it ugly head, so… I’ll be rooting for Black Lives Matter along with (hopefully) most people from all walks of life.

Now, we all have our own reasons for disliking or not getting along with others, whatever their socio-cultural-religious persuasion; very often it has nothing to do with class, racism, sexism or whatever, but something about their attitude or behaviour that we find unacceptable for one reason or another. 

While I agree in principle with the ethos of ‘political correctness’ I deplore the way a minority try to manipulate any difference of opinion into a discriminatory issue. Sadly, the principle of agreeing to differ appears to have lot its way in a fog of contemporary rhetoric. Oh, but too many centuries have passed, I suspect, for even an all-inclusive human nature to readily embrace that principle now.

Enough of Roger’s Ramblings for now. I am working on a new poem for Monday (in-between such distractions as housework, shopping and struggling with various health issues, to name but three… It’s not a gay-specific poem, but I plan to post it on both poetry blogs since its theme is along lines of a blame game that we all so love to play from time to time.

Take care, everyone, and thanks for dropping by,

Back soon,

Hugs,

Roger

PS Regarding the archives, I have recently come across some poems there that are a mess, possibly due to changes in Internet technology so I am correcting and occasionally revising some poems as I find them. Should any readers come across a poem there that needs my attention, please let me know.

A Common Humanity, the Authorised Biography

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Another new poem today, prompted by mind-body-spirit yesterday.

If any good can be said to come out of this awful COVID-19 it is that more of us have a sense of our all being in he same proverbial boat, regardless of any socio-cultural religious or, yes, sexual persuasion. Hopefully once the pandemic has passed, bigotry will have taken a bad fall if not disappeared altogether. Well, hope springs eternal ...

Across the world, people are struggling to cope various social restrictions, often at the same time as mourning loved ones who have passed away before their time. All due credit to humanity for its remarkable stoicism in the face of tough times.

A neighbour recently lost her mother. When I sympathised, she commented that "She is better off out of all this. I miss her terribly, of course, but her spirit will never leave me so I guess I just have to live with and be thankful for that." True, indeed. As I often try to reassure readers in my poems and blog preambles, love never dies.

Meanwhile, each in his and her own way, we can but continues to do battle with COVID-19 and trust that, when all's said and done, humanity is bigger than it, and will not only endure but survive whatever it throws at us.

A COMMON HUMANITY, THE AUTHORISED BIOGRAPHY 

Yesterday, already past tense,

having left its mark on us some way

or another, more elements

of memory likely to find us engaging

with such varying shades

of light and dark, colour, absences

of colour, and encounters

with such black and white images as preferably

glossed over by way of face-savings

Today, a sense of making the best

of times, enduring the worst, ever urging

mind-body-spirit to reflect 

on kinder, happier climes, lend illusion

all the colours of a rainbow

making promises it may (or may not) keep,

self-appointed Guardian of Hope

in sickness and in health, half-awake and asleep,

feeding mind-body-spirit raison d'être

Tomorrow, left foraging for crumbs

of comfort or even enjoying a hearty meal

where the cap (or metaphor) fits,

feeding human arts, nature, and archives

conclusions that may (or may not)

be grounded in fact, fiction or a predilection

on the part of human nature

to enter into such mind games as engineered by Time,

and passed off as history or philosophy

Call me Past-Present-Future, providing the diversity

that puts the ‘u’ and ‘y’ in a common humanity

Copyright R N Taber, 2020

[Note: this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today as feedback suggests a significant number of its reader "see no reason" to access this one.

Whatever Happened to Fair Play?

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In many parts of the world and various home environments, more people are beginning to realise that our differences do not make us different, only human. Anyone advocating otherwise is simply exposing an ignorance we all have a responsibility to challenge; its is good to see more and more  people, especially young people - gay, straight and transgender - doing just that.

Tragically, there is still much prejudice, bigotry and uncompromising dogma written on tablets of stone that would deny gay men and women, boys and girls, every right to take their place in a common humanity; wherever this is the case, it is the latter found wanting, not a person’s sexuality.

This poem is a villanelle.

WHATEVER HAPPENED TO FAIR PLAY?

We’ll make time for us, just you and I,

where some (still) begrudge us the time of day,

but two among millions under the sky

Where old gods laugh, sing or even cry,

for free spirits like us with a mortgage to pay’

we’ll make time for us, just you and I

No matter any dogma raising hue and cry,

fair play demands we live and let live, do or die,

but two among millions under the sky

Where same sex relationships proving the lie

to all that bigots worldwide may well have to say,

we’ll make time for us, just you and I

Ordinary people in love, nor a need to ask why,

it just so happens the nature of our true love is gay,

but two among millions under the sky

Though race, creed, culture always having a say,

the human spirit can be trusted to find its own way;

we’ll make time for us, just you and I,

but two among millions under the sky

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

G-A-Y, Epic Poetry

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In my 70’s now, I sometimes find myself thinking about death, not in a negative or despairing way but curious and generally hopeful. I have never feared death, only pain. Whenever I (frequently) commune with nature, I rediscover a huge sense of reassurance which has to do with growth beauty and renewal although I cannot quite put my finger on just what it is that fills me with a sense of well-being  especially when I am feeling low or intensely reflective for one reason or another.

I have nature to thank for a strong sense of spirituality that has seen me through some BAD times and continues to inspire me as I struggle sometimes with the various ups and downs of growing old.

One day, I will depart for the evergreen foliage of Mount Parnassus. I can but hope people may remember me not only as a poet but also as a gay man who found much inspiration in both his sexual identity and the rest, neither of which contradicting an ever-growing sense of spirituality found in nature. (Religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality.)

While I do not subscribe to any religion, who’s to say that whatever life force some call ‘God’ did not simply create nature but IS nature?

G-A-Y, EPIC POETRY

As a wind across the world
blows cold,
and in the eyes of the world
I grow old,
where is the Word that says
we are free,
but for slaves to its prejudices
like you and me? 

As the sun across the world
sinks lower,
and people across the world
blame each other,
wherever in the world will I be
on my last day
and will all they say of me
is that I was gay? 

As a wind across the world
blows cold,
and in the eyes of the world
I grow old,
wherever in the world shall I lay
my head
if all they ever know of me
is I am dead? 

As the sun across the world
disappears
in ashes and dust, sum total
of our fears,
may I yet rediscover all the love
and humanity
kind folks always lend each other
as you to me? 

As a wind across the world
blows cold,
and in the eyes of the world
we grow old,
Earth Mother waits, ever ready
to acknowledge our part 
in an epic poem most LGBT folks
learn by heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009, rev. 2021

 

Running with Dinosaurs

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Once, I had a boyfriend, Simon, who had only just got around to telling his family he is gay, and took a little longer to break it to them that I was the new boyfriend. Simon’s family was not exactly overjoyed, either with his being gay or my part in it all.  

It was all a long time ago and Simon has been with his partner for many years now. I see them now and then; they are very close. Both families attended their Civil Partnership two years ago.

Now, this may not be a particularly good poem, but I never could resist a happy ending…

RUNNING WITH DINOSAURS 

I so hate it that my son is gay,

a dad confided in me,

nor can I find the words to say

I’m ashamed of his sexuality

It’s just not true I love him less,

the same dad reassured me,

but nature didn’t provide an anus

to be used other than…naturally

I’ll love him whatever his choice,

this dad confided in me,

but you can’t expect me to rejoice

that he has a boyfriend, surely?

True love is unconditional, I said,

as good parents, siblings,

partners and friends take as read

above all things…

It’s easy enough for you to say,

the dad confided in me,

you don’t have a son who’s gay,

letting down the whole family

Of course I’m proud of the lad,

his dad reassured me,

and since he’s not turned out bad,

I know it’s thankful I should be

If families can’t see eye to eye,

this dad, a cleric, told me,

let’s hope and pray we’ll get by,

let live, love, and…sexuality

I took comfort from our discourse

that my boyfriend will be okay;

some dads may run with dinosaurs,

but love would win the day

Copyright R. N. Taber c1983

P-A-S-S-I-O-N, Poems of Love and Peace

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[Update (April 2016): Today’s poem was written in 2002, before the Civil Partnership Act (2004) was passed here in the UK. On 10 December 2013, Minister Maria Miller of The Department of Culture, Media and Sport announced that same sex marriage ceremonies would begin on 29 March 2014 in England and Wales.] 

I always think of friends who had civil partnerships as married anyway, as do most gay people I know, but of course marriage introduces a religious element that may appeal to some.  At the same time,  legislation regarding gay marriage apparently allows any religious institution to refuse to conduct one if it so wishes, which smacks of tears all round to me.

Whatever, it was very refreshing to hear that two Pakistani women recently became the first Muslim lesbians to have a civil partnership here. Let’s wish them well and hope they will inspire other Muslim gay people, and those from other religions often inclined to take a homophobic point of view. May they enjoy many happy years together.

P-A-S-S-I-O-N, POEMS OF WAR AND PEACE

We’d quarrelled
and I wanted no truck
with you, wouldn’t
make it up with you;
I took the spare bed,
wondering what’s going on
in your head
other side of the wall,
were you even thinking of me
at all...?

At last I slept,
only to be woken roughly,
duvet torn off me,
merging mouths closing
in on eternity;
two pairs of eyes shining,
blood coursing
to the war cries of angels
fighting over our natural rights
to a blessing

If they won't marry us,

let 'em bury us...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002

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

Divisions Of The Heart

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If any of you have clicked on the link to my poetry reading in Trafalgar Square in 2009, you will have heard me read this poem:

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the aerhives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 2018

I felt I had to read it because it is so hard for gay men and women from various socio-cultural-religious backgrounds that remain intrinsically homophobic.

On the whole, feedback was very positive, but I did receive some hate mail too, which only goes to show that homophobia is alive and kicking even in the ‘liberal’ West.

I live in London and would say it’s a great city in which to be gay although it has to be said I have the distinct impression that multiculturalism is slowly but surely contradicting me; there has been a significant rise in attacks on gay men here in recent years. At the same time, I have no hesitation in condemning potentially racist and homophobic organisations like the British National Party that are even more to blame for fanning the flames of prejudice and hate crime across Britain and the rest of Europe.

When will they ever learn?  Oh, when will they ever learn...?

DIVISIONS OF THE HEART

I once met a man with ebony skin

who opened up his heart to let me in

and took me to his bed one night

where we made love until first light

My heart cries out to such as he

whose soulful words said differently;

even as we kissed with passion

he shed tears for his own crucifixion

He explained why we must part,

keep safe this one secret of the heart

he longed to shout out to a world

that would see him fall on its sword

Where the humanity in any culture

in denial of aspects of human nature

finding with God no less favour

for daring to take a same sex lover?

He left, the man with ebony skin

who opened up his heart to let me in;

in dreams, we’ll go there again,

set free, we victims of cruel division

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

The Black Swan

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This poem first appeared on the blog in June 2009 and several readers wrote in to say they have never seen a black swan. Well, I can assure you they exist. There is a pair of black swans in the Regent’s Park here in London UK and quite near to where I live.

The poem, of course, has precious little to do with black swans …

THE BLACK SWAN

Once, a tree as if lit by candles
in the middle of the day,
sunshine lighting its every leaf
above where we lay;
his skin like black swansdown,
full lips demanding of mine,
a heady sexuality toasting Apollo
in summer wine

Passion spent, we dared dream
of a lifetime together
till he woke to the bitter-sweet
reality of ties and culture;
he’d married a woman for whom
he felt a love very different
than he swore to me, transcended,
as if heaven sent

Like candles snuffed out by clouds
across the sun,
we dared linger but as gods of myth
come and gone,
a dream never really ours to share
(staying together, growing old)
passing us like the hands on a clock
of white gold

A summer rain soaking us through
to love’s eternal glimmer,
we rose, kissed and walked away…
but not together;
years on, I pointed out the same tree
to a friend, its candles lit
by a lake where we saw a black swan
gliding, in peace, with its mate

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