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.] 

Waking Up to Love

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

As I have pointed out many times on the blog, love comes in all shapes and sizes in both natural and human worlds, nor less natural in the latter for its being of an LGBT persuasion; sexuality is not a choice, but one of many elements of life and love that comprise the mind-body-spirit that makes us who we are.

In the past, many LGBT folks have been despised and become victims of prejudice and hate, not unlike many from ethnic minorities, albeit for reasons of race rather than sexuality, but no less horrible for that.

Even within similar arenas, prejudice has been (and still is) known to spread like a pandemic with which millions of people have been infected over centuries, relatively few given so much as a mention by name in any history book... even as history continues to write us up as its authors see (or don't see) its bigger picture.

As regular readers well know, I also have a gay-interest poetry blog which, like my fiction blog, can be accessed from this one. Tragically, such is the level of prejudice against LGBT folks in various societies,  communities and families worldwide that some dare nor risk accessing any such material that might 'incriminate' them; a tragedy, yes, because no one should have to live in fear or who (yes who, not what they are) as they struggle to make a life for themselves.  

The good news is that more LGBT folks across the world are having to struggle less to make their voices heard; the bad news is that far too many are still left struggling, not least due to the sheer hypocrisy of world religions that preach love, but only as recognised by their own criteria; anything else is seen as something to be condemned, as if any religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

If one person can learn to respect another person for who they are (whatever their faith,  or colour of their skin) why can't everyone?  Whatever happened to agreeing to differ?

Oh, and yes, this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today so daresay I will be receiving the usual troll emails...which I will, of course, ignore. 😉

"I imagine one of the reasons people cling to hate so stubbornly is  because they sense, once it is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain." - James Baldwin

WAKING UP TO LOVE

There's a tree in a field
that sings me a love song
every time I'm sitting
when, where it rises from the ground;
listen, and you'll hear...
the words of a love song hanging
on a dream lost and found

By a tree in a field,
we wrote our first love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, hanging
on a dream lost and found

There's a tree in a field
that watched us kiss and part,
not daring to believe
as we lay there on the ground
how gay love might yet
survive a world left but hanging
on dreams lost and found

To a tree in a field,
we returned to live a love song,
bodies entwining
as we lay there on the ground,
sharing with the birds
such joy, such passion, a waking
dream lost and found

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; slightly rev. 2021

[Note: This poem appears in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Hello again, Everyone

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

Hello again, Everyone, 

I am still working on a poem here, but hope to finish it soon. In the meantime, we can but all do our best to be safe, keep well and nurture a positive mindset.

Another “new reader” writes that it is ‘…unfair to talk about religious bigotry.’ He or she is entitled to their point of view, of course, but - not least as a gay man - I have been on the receiving end may times. Most religions are homophobic and always ready to quote from one religious text or another to justify the unjustifiable. Religion is far more than dogma, though, and that is often interpreted to best suit the accuser. 

Many Christians, for example, are quick to quote from the Old Testament, especially Leviticus 18, that suggests gay sex is an 'abomination. rather than the New Testament’s assertion in Mark 12 that we should  treat each other as we would expect to be treated ourselves. 

The same “new reader” claims to enjoy some of my poems and is 'genuinely sorry' that I will go to Hell when I die. Since I believe that any hell lies in what we make of life in the Here-and-Now we must agree to differ, but…  who knows, until we are beyond reach of all human consciousness or conscience?

Take care, folks and I hope to complete a new poem today, disorderly thought processes (more than a little out of sync with bardic aspirations) notwithstanding.

Many thanks for dropping by, much appreciated,

Do try browsing the archives in my absence as, when and if the whim takes you… for better or worse.

Hugs,

Roger 

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

 

Leaves from a journal

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

This poem first appeared on my general blog in March 2010.

[Update (March 2016): A German reader has been in touch to ask if my poetry collections are available in German.  Sadly, no. Eventually, revised editions of my books (published and unpublished in print form) will be available in e-format.]

For many if not most people - in whatever walk of life, and wherever - family is always at the heart of their consciousness and daily lives. Not so for all of us though. Apart from my mother, I have never felt as connected, in terms of mind-body spirit, to my family as to close friends; they are my family. Some of those to whom I relate and identify as soulmates have died, but stay with me still; invariably, I hear them whisper words of wisdom, comfort and moral support in my ear whenever I need any or all of those things the most. Moreover, over the years, I have met many people in the same boat, estranged from their families over differences in religion, sexuality, politics...whatever.

When, oh, when will more people realise and accept that our differences do not make us different, only human?

Meanwhile...

‘Jenny and Alan’ readers from Birmingham asked me to include this poem in a collection after reading it on the blog back in 2007. I was delighted to oblige and hope you and they will find lots to enjoy in whole collection.

Family Group (in bronze) by Henry Moore (1950). [Photo from Internet]

This poem is a kenning.

LEAVES FROM A JOURNAL

I am a mother, keeping things together
even as they are seen to be falling apart
at the seams, nothing as it seems to eyes
homing in from this street, that fence…
failing to see through slats in blinds down
for the duration (a ritual celebration?)
Mother love, putting out feelers for ways
to end wars between brothers and sisters,
in-laws and neighbours

I am a father, home owner, mortgage
repayments having to take priority over
designer gear, latest PlayStation,
school trips, not to mention new cars
smarter, faster, than the one before,
sure to put theirs next door in the shade
and, no, we can’t just pile more credit
on cards unless you feel like explaining
bankruptcy to the neighbours

I am a child, weary of the rows between
Mum and Dad, sibling rivalry that’s not
half as bad as everyone’s making out…
and who cares if the neighbours have cash
to flash for vacations in prime locations,
digitals galore telling tales sure to have us
wagging tongues, scaling rungs...?
Sure, it’s okay to have this ‘n’ that, but not
if it means we keep scaring the cat

As spring to a branch, autumn to its tree,
I make, I take, I am family 

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

A Word to the Wise

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

Some parents, especially mothers, so love their friends' children to be the best of friends. Mine was anxious to know why I had all but ignored a friend's son - a fellow pupil at my primary school - during a recent visit to their house, not far from where we lived. I recall shrugging and putting it to her that the other boy and I had nothing in common, unlike our respective parents. "I don't dislike him," I tried to explain, "... so much as, well, he's so different from me.We like different things and have little if anything in common so...what's the point?" "It's up to you, of course," my mother conceded, "...but there's a lot we can learn from each other's differences. Unfortunately, it's our differences that make the world the way it is rather than any willingness to learn from them." I shrugged off those words at the time, but they came back to haunt me at bedtime and have haunted me ever since.

Needless to say, we became good mates, that boy and me and, yes, we did learn a lot from each other even if it did take us awhile to agree to differ about (many) things without getting personal. We were never best friends, but always enjoyed each other's company. Indeed, when I finally came out to family and friends as a gay man, he was one of the first to say it made no difference, even quoting yours truly in so far as our differences do not make us different, only human.

A WORD TO THE WISE

Where did they all go,

days of childhood, where freedom

kept its word, any concerns

easily distracted by an enthusiasm

for new thing, new people

new avenues of thought less littered

with a narrow-mindedness

all too often found characterising

adulthood found wanting?

Where did they all go,

those days of emerging maturity

less fettered by the cares

and concerns of everyday survival.

still in the welcome grip

of curiosity, a sense of adventure,

an idealism tested

and found increasingly vulnerable

in as so-changing world?

Whatever happened

to halcyon days of early adulthood,

few leftover laurels

seen floating floods of opposition,

rejection and humiliation

touching base with needy conscience

and self-awareness, inciting

a rebel consciousness to explore ways

to make itself felt and heard?

Whatever happened

to that rebel in me, thinking to change

a world whose imperfections

are glossed over by a well-meaning

global consciousness, yet out

of touch with a common humanity

increasingly sensitive

to its much-divided politics and religions

all claiming to have answers?

No prescribed wisdom ever made less sense

than in any Here-and-Now

Copyright R. N. Taber 20194

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

(Another) Crime Against Humanity OR G-A-Y, No Strangers to Hate Crime

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

The full horror of events in Orlando, Florida, in the early hours of one Sunday morning (June 12th, 2016) when a lone gunman opened fire in a gay nightclub, killing 49 people and injuring many others, some seriously, is only now starting to hit home among gay communities worldwide. 

If, as it would appear, the perpetrator was inspired by so-called Islamic State, it begs the question how many others are being similarly radicalised and groomed to commit other outrages just about anywhere in the world?

Gay or straight, we cannot be intimidated by the threat of terrorism even if, as many have discovered to their cost, it is no empty threat. All we can do is remain vigilant, report any suspicions to the appropriate authorities, and get on with our lives.

Yes, I have said much the same thing on other posts and in other poems, but as my mother (and my English teacher) used to say some 50+ years ago, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. Moreover, I do try to vary how I express much the same thing in poems, blog posts, and everyday conversation. (If I fail, I can only agree that I must be one of the most boring people on the planet.)

Tragically, crimes against humanity are nothing new and have been repeated, in one form or another around the world, through the ages; more often than not, they are politically motivated. Rubens’ painting, ‘Massacre of the Innocents’ relates to Herod the Great’s ordering the killing of every male child in Bethlehem in a desperate attempt to kill baby Jesus whom he saw as a potential threat after a visit by the Magi; according to the Gospel of Matthew. [Photo copied from the Internet.]

This poem is a villanelle.

(ANOTHER) CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY or G-A-Y, NO STRANGERS TO HATE CRIME 

A sickness of the human condition,

spread by terrorist propaganda

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Gay folks, out and about, having fun,

ever trolled by social trauma,

a sickness of the human condition

In a Land of the Free, Constitution

promotes a gun-toting agenda,

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Many oppose tighter gun legislation

in the light of the War on Terror,

a sickness of the human condition

Few voice concerns for a generation

where a biased, foxy, media

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Wherever discrimination and division 

fuelling a socio-cultural burner,

a sickness of the human condition

strikes at the heart of civilisation

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2016

(London, June 14, 2016)

Where Culture and Convention Conspire against Sense and Sensibility

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

Reader ‘J J’ has been in touch o say, ‘Your gay poems lack subtlety and style. You are too direct. I suggest you read Thom Gunn… Well, I have read Thom Gun and while I can appreciate his style, his subtleties leave me scratching my head until I have lost whatever feeling I may have had for the poem. So…sorry ‘J J’ but I make no apology for being ‘direct’.

Now, I often post Gay Awareness poems on my general as well as this blog. I posted today’s poem there some time ago; it attracted a lot of emails, mostly critical of its sentiments if not the poem itself. I can’t believe it has not found its way to this blog until now!

The poem was written especially for an LGBT History Month (February) reading and inspired by a conversation a few months earlier, just before Christmas, always an emotional time for many, with a young man who had just split with a Jamaican boyfriend who was too scared/ ashamed of what family and friends might say about going public with their relationship. It is hardly surprising, given that gay men and women in Jamaica have been beaten, cut, burned, raped and shot because of their sexual orientation.

Tragically, especially for young gay people and others who reject socio-cultural-religious prejudices, many if not most families of various ethnic backgrounds choosing to settle here in the UK and across Europe bring their prejudices with them. No surprises then if multiculturalism has realized precious little of its true potential.

So much for a forward looking and thinking 21st century!

WHERE CULTURE AND CONVENTION CONSPIRE AGAINST SENSE AND SENSIBILITY

Today I left a yellow rose

at the place where we first met;

to this day no one knows

(we were consumed by guilt)

I lay in the same grass

that had kept our secret for years

and even Apollo’s kiss

could not dry my wistful tears

I listened out for birds

and a serenade performed for us;

(same song, same words)

once music of love, now its loss

Yet, loss began ebb away

as I lay there, a breeze in my hair

like a lover’s fingers at play

love’s sweet nothings in my ear

I turned and you were there

no less anxious for a lovemaking

than either you or I ever were

for fear the birds cease singing

And cease, they did, so cruelly,

once our secret a secret no more;

you dared not choose me

over loves you had loved before

Parting was no sweet sorrow,

but emptied us of all joy and peace,

no guiding light to follow

come each dawn, only darkness

May time and world bear witness

to its inhumanity all but swept away,

love over bigotry victorious,

nature embracing us who are gay

Come the day, I’ll find you there,

no less anxious for our lovemaking

than either you od I ever were

for hearing spring birds singing

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013