H, Everyone, from London UK

Hi, Everyone, from London UK,

Sorry, no poem today as I am trying to load as many of my poems to a memory stick as I can, just in case the blog ever disappears.

In the past, UK poetry publishers have shown no interest in me because I make it clear that any published collection must include a gay section. My self-published collections proved popular, but the last one appeared in 2021' since then, I have been diagnosed with prostate cancer, had a bad fall that has left me with  mobility problems and have been having to cope while living on my own. I cope OK(ish), so no worries, but nothing gets easier as we grow older and I'm in my late 70's now.

As I have said on the blog before, in latter years, writing poetry has been as much by way of creative therapy than for pleasure; it helps me  manage thought processes and memory problems as a direct result of years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer. So, I feel a need to write what I can, while I can and keep my poems in a safe place in case any publishers eventually show any real interest once I have passed away.

No one has ever appreciated just how much my poetry means to me and, yet again, a BIG thank you to you all, dear readers, for encouraging me by viewing my poems and sending emails from time to time.

Reader H H asks how many views this blog has had in total since I started writing it up about ten years ago. Currently, blogger statistics show 213,149 views; for a poetry blog, this is VERY encouraging, so you can understand why continuing it is so important to an oldie like me, from both a psychological and health point of view. The gay poetry blog statistics show a total of 160, 987 views, again, very encouraging.

Feedback suggests that more LGBT viewers dip into both blogs these days and I like to think it is because they are coming round to the point of view that poetry is for everyone, has something to say to everyone, intent on voicing a perspective on which the reader is invited to consider his or her own take. Whatever, food for thought is important; sadly, the pace of life these days means fewer people can make time enough for even that. 

When I stared blogging, I had been warned that a gay poetry blog would be unlikely to attract many readers and I was unable to find anything similar online, so...G-AY in the Subject Field took to pc screens worldwide. My having been sexually inactive for some years now, it may have  lost its initial momentum, but feedback suggests LGBT readers appreciate the encouragement my poems try to offer. (I spent too many years in a lonely closet to want the same for anyone who is led to believe there is something shameful, even sinful about sexual/ gender identity; neither is a choice, but who we are. 

It is a tragedy of our times that some family members, friends and religious communities continue to be guided by many misleading stereotypes propagated by the less enlightened. 

Nor is the sense of spirituality I have always felt any the less for my being gay. Encouragingly, most young people are more prepared to take others as they find them, without prejudging them for what they may have heard on this or that grapevine. (I suspect political correctness means well, but has proven far less effective than intended;. You cannot effectively legislate for a person's perspectives on life and people; it simply creates closets for any that need to be aired, challenged and modified. 

As for poetry, whether people like a poem or not is less important than they should consider how and why they feel about what it it has to say to the voice in which the poem speaks. (As regular readers well know, I have always championed the right to agree to differ...] RT 😉 

We are barely into 2023, yet violent criminal acts on the streets and behind closed doors are hitting the headlines already .Let us hope that Peace, Love and Understanding will eventually prevail worldwide, the darker side of human nature notwithstanding....!

Oh, and on the subject if headlines, I have been asked what I think of Prince Harry's revelations in his book, Spare. Well, I have no interest in reading it, not least because it is unlikely that other members of the Royal Family will respond and there are always two sides to every story. So, to coin a popular phrase, "No comment." 😉

I am working on a new poem, but slowly as I am not too well and old age is catching up with me. No point in crying over spilt milk, though so, yes, I continue to do my best to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life... even though a fog sometimes.😉

Take care, folks, keep safe and stay positive,

Hopefully, back soon with a new poem,

Hugs,

Roger

[Note: This post also appears in my general poetry blog today.] RT

A Place in the Sun

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

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” –  James  Baldwin

“Differences don’t just threaten and divide us. They also inform, enrich, and enliven us.”  – Harriet Lerner   

“Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.” – William Shakespeare                                                               

Now, in the early 1980’s, I got chatting to a young man slumped on a park bench who, with more than a little encouragement, told me he’d finally got around to telling his Catholic family he was gay; it hadn’t gone down well and he’d been thrown out. 
“I sort of died, you know…I mean to say…I honestly thought they would still love me,” he sobbed
“So where are you living now?” I asked
“With a friend,” he said, “But it’s not working out…”
“So, why not go home?” I suggested, “Your family may feel differently now.”
“As if...! He glared at me as if it was all my fault
.I shrugged and hoped it did not betray a stab of apprehension. “At least you can’t die twice,” I said with a wry grin.
“Maybe,” was all he said before he jumped up and ran off.
Years later, a guy ran across the road, dodging traffic and shouting “Oi, you with the cap on…!
I stopped, not a little panicky. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah,” he paused, “You haven’t a clue who I am, have you?” I shook my head.
“Regent’s Park, a good ten years ago…” I remembered.  “You were right.”
“And you risked life and limb to tell me that?” I chuckled, a little nervously, but reassured by his wide grin. 
“That, and to ask if you fancy a beer, my treat?”

I most certainly did., part of me hoping we would stay in touch afterwards, the greater part of me certain we wouldn’t. I was, after all, part of a freefalling emotional landscape he had risen above and moved on. We found a pub, enjoyed a few beers, even hugged when we said our goodbyes.

I've neither seen nor heard from him again, but wish him well, along with all LGBT+ men and women and such families, too, from all walks of life, following whatever religion, who are yet able to agree to differ, if only for the sake of those they love.  

A PLACE IN THE SUN

There is place where the sun
always shines, sometimes watery
sometimes splendidly,
no matter the season or time of day, 
and I go there whenever a need 
to sift through such mixed feelings
as dragging me down,
find reasons to rediscover Apollo’s splendour,
re-engage with Earth Mother

Wandering dark rooms, scared
and feeling so alone, tears refusing
to fall for no other reason
than no reason at all, a robot having lost 
its data due to a malfunction,
humanity all but given up on one 
of its own, yet a heart
beating there as if to remind me I’m but human,
not a mindless machine

Human spirit, anxious to reunite
with mind and body, separation a burden
grown intolerable, life forces
driven to desperate measures, mining memories 
buried under layers of pain,
eventually bringing bare bones of hope
to the surface, looking to recharge
restore, rework a natural process of regeneration
default, ‘live’ imagination

Found, sunshine come to help mend
mind-body-spirit, insisting heart-and-soul
slowly but surely start building
a new life, within much the same frame as the old,
encouraged by Earth Mother
to let such positives back in as refuse to let us 
surrender to self-pity and despair,
but embraces the world for its kinder consciousness,
default, love-and-peace

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

Anthem Played on a Grass Harp

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

Some years ago, the children of friends of mine married without the blessing of their parents because both sets of parents disapproved of the match because is a lot older than her. Neither could accept their grown-up children’s choice of life partner. As it is, they have missed out on all the pleasures of being grandparents and seeing their grandchildren grow up.

Among all prejudices, ageism is often seen as the ‘poor relation’ but it can devastate lives as much and as needlessly as any other form of prejudice, whether it be based on the colour of a person’s skin, the nature of their sexuality or... whatever.

The couple in question had celebrated their silver wedding anniversary and were very happy until the younger partner died in a car accident. Only then did the families rally round and try to make peace “for the sake of the grandchildren...” Better late than never, I suppose, but so much time wasted, so many golden opportunities missed.

Prejudice in any shape or form doesn’t only eat away at a person’s mind-body-spirit, however much he or she may resist and rise above it, but can destroy families, even communities that are the chief losers in a human equation that will never quite add up until certain people see sense and recognise that all good people have a right to live their lives as they see fit, whether or not it quite adds up to what others might prefer.

I have seen prejudice drive people to crime, even suicide; such a waste of human potential. Whatever happened to respecting and making the best of our loved one’s choices for the good of everyone concerned? Driving home a point from a which misplaced pride refuses to let us budge can so easily make losers of us all.

ANTHEM PLAYED ON A GRASS HARP

Watery sun dripping through trees,
leaves sparkling like jewels in a crown
where we’d wander, my love and I,
ears pricking up at a chick’s first cry,
looking out for others flapping their way
on first flights through dawn rainbows
till gliding with ease as nature meant
for us all, although less so among humans,
a species well known for thinking they
know better than Earth Mother, wishing
them ill (and Hell) who resist straitjackets
and persist in walking tall

On a magic carpet of many colours,
among daisies passing for fairies
in a palace of dreams, we’d go free,
where all prejudices and bigotry
mean less than a fair breeze in the face,
Earth Mother’s caress in the hair,
reminding us how we are, one and all,
as nature intended, no one creature
any more or less precious than another,
each, in their own way, a ‘live’
testament to mind-body-spirit and a history
lending meaning to eternity

We arrived where the carpet
tuned into stone, where no sun shining,
only Shadows, a gathering of forces
preparing to take humanity on and win
any fight it may choose to pick,
no matter rights and wrongs (or alternative
points of view); for them, a certainty
that the world has no place for men, women
and young people whose sexuality
offends a majority choosing to make stand
on a Ship of Fools in a gale force wind, set on
making sense of humankind

Oh, but spring in our hair like jewels in a crown
Love takes for its own!

Copyright R.N. Taber 2010; rev.2021

Note: This poem appears on both poetry blogs today and has recently been significantly revised since first appearing in my collection On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2010.] 

Coming, Ready or Not OR Now & Then

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

Reader A. H. writes that his family disapprove of his choice of life-partner and says, “My family are everything to me, but so is the woman I love. What can I do?” 

The reader must make a choice, and I would not presume to advise. I would only say that if his family are as close as they would appear to be, the chances are they will come, sooner or later, to his choice of bride.  Sadly, it is a choice many LGBT men and women around the world also have to face. 

As I have often said on the blogs, in preambles and poems alike, love comes in many shapes and forms, but there is a common denominator – survival. Where strong and true, love can endure even the worst life throws at it, in life or death; where unacceptable to some, that is their loss. 

I have seen families split by life choices made by this or that member. Sometimes our choices prove to be at worst misguided, at best flawed, but all of us need to learn by our mistakes, and that works for everyone concerned. Closed doors can be re-opened, but there needs to be a clear will on both sides, not always there...so they remain closed, everyone left asking why, and expecting someone else to make the first move.  

Love never dies, but it is as capable of inflicting hurt and being hurt by human nature as any of us or nature itself. 

COMING, READY OR NOT or NOW & THEN

Once, I’d hide in an old tree
for an ages-old game of hide-and-seek
among peers grown young
with me, Apollo taking a peek
through leaves of spring
taking my side, a brisk south wind
up for playing its part,
while letting rip with a warning shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Once, I’d lie by that same tree,
feeling blessed for having you at my side
the two of us so happy
just to be together, no words needed
to express expectations
of a future to build, share and enjoy
in such ways as love brings
for letting rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Now, returned to that old tree
to share treasured memories of you-me- us,
revisit the dreams we shared,
ask why we were able to fulfil so few,
parted as we were too soon,
yet thankful, indeed, we’d found
in each other such life-forces
as inclined to let rip to the world with a shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!” 

Among leaves of an old tree, hear Apollo shout,
“Coming, ready or not...!" 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Braveheart OR Mind-Body-Spirit, a Heart of its Own

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

Some parents are bullies, even those who genuinely think they have their child’s best interests at heart. Young people should be allowed to follow their own paths in life, not those mapped out for them by parents who see a chance of their own frustrated aspirations being realised in their children. ‘Bullies’ is no exaggeration. Until children reach an age when they are credited with a mind of their own by certain adults, they are pawns in what is sometimes a very nasty game, unable to establish their own rules of play. (It is not only LGBT boys and girls, men and women who need to break free of certain stereotypes nurtured during formative years.)

Thankfully, many of these young people rebel and assert themselves for the better in later years although it can be tough , and not all parents 'get it'. I’ve heard many a parent complaining about an ‘ungrateful’ child. (Perhaps they should have asked us what we want from life?)

My father was a psychological bully. I was less embarrassed about coming out as gay in my teens as  scared the atmosphere at home whenever he was around would get a lot worse. Consequently, I hdt in the proverbial closet, lonely and scared for much of the time.

I don't believe you should have children so they can be ‘grateful’ to you, but for the pleasure of nurturing them and seeing them grow into their own person, not a carbon copy of a disillusioned or misguided parent.

We don’t ask to be born on the back of our parents' sexual satisfaction and shared ego trip. So why should we be grateful and feel guilty when we resist the kind of emotional blackmail from parents who cry crocodile tears if we don’t fall in with their plans for us?

Good parents don’t have to ask or connive; we willingly give what we can because we love them. Sadly, a significant number only want children because their religion does not take over-population into account and/or  by way of  reserving an ‘insurance’ policy to cushion their old age.

Good parents everywhere deserve a BIG HUG, and more.

BRAVEHEART or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, A HEART OF ITS OWN

I'd cower in corners of the mind

like a child besieged

by gremlins in an encroaching dark;

captive of human nature,

dragging on the chains of well-meant

parental expectations,

sum of their worst felt failures

and haunting imitations

Confronting limitations, I'd call on

the strength of Samson,

if only to risk  locks cut to the quick

by a well-meaning ambition

that’s not mine so (can no one see?)

unfit for purpose, better suited

to someone of a different mindset,

anyone but me ...

Finally, breaking free! May those 

thinking they know,

and only ever meant what's 'best'

for me pause long enough

 to reason why (and how) I fought

to be the person I am now,

for needing to make my own (adult)

choices (no one else's)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, (January) 2001 under the title 'Braveheart'; it also appeared on my general blog in 2011 and  remains in the archives there.]

A Christmas Truce

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog from its archives for December 2010.

Religious festivals should bring people together. Yet, so often they follow the age-old tradition of religions worldwide and, in the end, but cause division among family, friends, neighbours....

Christmas is no exception for many of us.

Even where people are brought together for a day or two, it is often no more than calling a truce. Before we know it, we are divided; fighting, insulting, demanding more than we deserve, failing to enter into each other’s points of view...or simply ignoring each other again.

Even so, calling a truce can be a new beginning ... if we let it, always bearing in mind that it takes two to tango' there has to be the will to get together, albeit often absent for all kinds of reasons it is not for any of us to judge.

A CHRISTMAS TRUCE?

Sought, a safe haven on Christmas Day
from family stuff, presents round a tree,
giving the rein to how things should be,
denying what stares in each tinsel face;
A stranger in red mentioned such a place
where I might escape, find sanctuary,
even peace - away from all pretence
at burying home truths under layers of truce,
letting sweet carols on the ear replace
a harsher cacophony of lies, more lies,
accusation (and retribution?) for crimes
against the ego (never mind humanity)
in the daily round of sheer hypocrisy
and petty discrimination against whatever
points of view that can’t, won’t, shouldn’t
always go with the flow in case we tread
on Someone’s feelings, trigger into motion
a tedious, even violent chain reaction,
that might go on for years, spill more tears
than for Judas or lied about Christmas

So, where to go? I asked a jolly man in red
who started laughing, said to use some
common sense and moved on, leaving me
for dead among piles of pretty wrapping,
more calls for a truce, plates of mince pies
and sausage rolls blind to a soul’s fears,
deaf to its prayers

[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

Pride and Joy, the Zen of Sexuality

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

This villanelle was written for a young reader who says he is in his teens and feels ‘so guilty’ because he finds  ‘...intense spirituality as well as physical enjoyment in gay sex’ while his parents ‘continue to express disgust and want me to see a psychiatrist.’ At least the guy is ‘out’ to his family, and that is half the battle won already. As he becomes  more self-confident in his sexuality, hopefully his parents will learn to have more confidence in him as a gay person and in themselves as the parents of a gay son.

Sometimes we need to give ourselves time to adapt to and/or work at improving certain situations and/or relationships; we should not begrudge others the same.

Many of my poems are variations on the same theme, but as my late mother used to say, if something is worth saying it is always worth repeating.

I can only hope my positive take on sexuality encourages anyone made to feel guilty and ashamed by the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority, including some parents and siblings, to shrug off that particular yoke.

Sexuality is part of who we are, and we should never feel ashamed of that, but accept it for what it is, a way to access the wholeness of our being including, for many if not most of us,  a spiritual dimension that doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with religion.

Enjoy!

PRIDE AND JOY, THE ZEN OF SEXUALITY

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality,

(gay, lesbian, straight or transgender)

confirming a unique spirituality

Religion never had a monopoly

on the spiritual side of human nature.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality

Acknowledging our sexual identity

Inspires selfhood’s greater endeavour,

confirming a unique spirituality

Where truth declares itself openly,

bigotry’s acolytes vainly run for cover.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality

No finer anatomy of individuality

than its inner eye on integrity’s mirror,

confirming a unique spirituality

If love inspires a common humanity,

peace but asks we respect one another.

Oh, joy! In touch with sexuality,

confirming a unique spirituality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

The Zen Of Counting Beans

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

Several readers have asked why I usually include the link to my Wikipedia entry on each blog post.  Well, apart from providing more info about myself and my work for anyone interested, feedback suggests that it also encourages readers to take me more seriously as a person as well as a poet given that poetry on a gay theme is rarely given either a good press or high profile.

I post most of my Gay Awareness poems on my general blog as well. One reader contacted me a few years ago to say I am ‘compromising the very integrity of poetry by using it to suggest that being gay is remotely respectable or can ever be acceptable in civilised society.’ Someone else has called me ‘a nobody with literary pretensions.’ On the other hand, most feedback appears to confirm that because the Wikipedia editorial team take me seriously, readers - especially gay readers who live in a gay-unfriendly environment - are more likely to take heart for knowing that the more serious sentiments expressed in my poems are not taken lightly by blog readers worldwide.  Now, anyone may disagree with them, of course, but at least they get a public airing. Oh, and if I manage to ruffle a few feathers along the way so much the better...

Having said all that, I just hope readers enjoy my poems and try to leave space in them enough for the reader to find his or her own way.

Meanwhile...

I am often asked to repeat this poem; it last appeared on the blog in 2010.  ‘Miles’ got in touch to say he had searched the blog archives but could not remember the title and the tags he tried came up with too many poems! Oh, dear. Well, here you are Miles, and I hope it cheers you up as it did me when originally inspired by a reader whose happy-ending tale is  related in the poem.

  

THE ZEN OF COUNTING BEANS

"I’m gay,"I told a mirror on the wall;

the mirror said nothing, nothing at all,

eyes staring at me filled with tears;

I felt older, much older than my years

and went downstairs

"I'm gay," I told the family at dinner;

No one said a word and only a clatter

of stainless steel on best crockery

broke a silence I thought must surely

last forever

"How can you be sure?" Mother said;

Dad sniffed and snorted, shook his head;

Bro swore aloud and Sis ate her greens;

I fought emotions way beyond my means,

and counted my beans

"You're sure?" Mother wanted to know;

I could only nod, put on as brave a show

of self-confidence as any ham,

suggest it’s no big deal, just how I am,

and why give a damn?

"Well," said dad, "what will be, will be."

(grabbed a handkerchief, sneezed noisily);

"Could be worse," Mother supposed;

Bro tossed a wink, now more composed,

and Sis praised the potatoes

Dinner proceeded much as it always had

and beans never tasted so good

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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

A Gay Dad's Story

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

Over the years, I have met a number of men, with female partners and children, who are essentially gay, but choose not to go there; not publicly anyway. Many haunt late-night/early morning cruising areas while their partners think they are working late at the office, or they may have a secret gay lover who is willing to settle for always being second-best just as a straight man’s mistress has dome for centuries. They give me lots of reasons, these gay dads; some cannot envisage a life without children while others (still) fear being stigmatised for their natural sexuality. Some make happy enough marriages, if you can ever be happy living such a BIG lie; others  live out their lives as best they can, carried along by a genuine love for wife and children.

Today’s poem has only ever appeared on my general blog (in 2007)  prompted two wives getting in touch with me  to ask how any man can be so selfish as to marry for  convenience only to announce at a later date that he has decided to make a new life with a boyfriend?  Do they have no conception of pain and humiliation?

Of course gay married men have a conception of pain and humiliation; many if not most experience it every day at some time or another.

I could not tell these women why their husbands chose to marry them, only that I am sure they were and are loved. I can understand and deeply sympathise their feeling of being ‘used’ ...but it isn’t as simple as that is it?  Acknowledging sexuality is nearly always a formidable first step, not least due to prevailing misguided attitudes in various homes, work places and societies world-wide. Arguably, moreover, a person cannot be accused of living a lie if they have never got around to acknowledging the truth. The next step is moving forward, and can be even more complex; so much so that some gay people either refuse to take it or feel prevented by circumstances from doing so.

Now, I know from personal experience that it is possible to be in love with two people at the same time. In my case, it was two men, but why shouldn’t it be a man and a woman?

Yes, a gay man should be honest with a female partner about his sexuality, but he risks losing her and someone in love is not always up to taking that risk. No, it isn’t fair - on either party - and yes, honesty is the best policy, but some gay men  stay in denial all their lives and genuinely don’t see themselves as living a lie; any casual sex with someone else on the side is seen as ‘a male thing’ to which they are entitled and they see nothing wrong in it.  Is it any wonder that a partner who is left to discover this for herself feels betrayed? The heterosexual majority does not have a monopoly on sexism.

Right and wrong are two sides of the same coin; it is rarely difficult to make a case for either, no matter which way the coin falls. I am focusing on men here, but the same applies to women of course. [Suffice to say, this is a gay man’s blog, but much if not most of what I have to say applies to lesbians as well.]

So all you gay and bisexual dads whose wives/partners may have no idea that you fancy men and/or enjoy sex with them, take heart as there are many, many of you out there. [I am not encouraging this particular element of deceit in a male-female partnership, but simply acknowledging a fact.] However, bear in mind that love deserves honesty; nor is love as fragile as some like to make out, and I know lots of people who have  been amazed at how much love can bear in the longer if not always the shorter term.

I remain on the fence with this one, neither condoning nor condemning, but sympathising with all those people playing happy families out there while never quite as happy as they could be were men and women world-wide given less cause  by the environment/society in which they live to be fearful of the ultimate challenge facing each and every one of us...to be ourselves.

A GAY DAD’S STORY

Married, with kids, and not unhappy,
lives all but running true;
trying to be a good husband, dad,
seems the right thing to do;
of daily life, real love no less a part
for phantoms tugging at the heart
like children longing to come out to play
but made to stay indoors, lest angels
with dirty faces lower the tone, heaven
but looking on

Married, with kids, and not unhappy,
lives all but running true;
trying to be a good husband, dad,
seems the right thing to do;
few greater joys of Mother Earth than love,
togetherness and birth,
nor do these fade as others burst through
like spring flowers,
a long, hard winter done, heaven
but looking on

Parted, kids grown, and not as happy
as we ought to be,
but a sense of integrity, worthy
of our sexuality;
time enough for friends and family
to understand, lessons learned;
love, once freely given and shared,
never quite overturned;
same sun rising and setting, heaven
cheering, weeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2012

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised from an earlier version that appears in   First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]