You-Me-US, Peopling a kinder Eternity

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

People often tell me how close they feel to family and close friends that have died or drifted out of their lives for having moved away or whatever… and lost touch. I know the feeling only too well. During coronavirus lockdowns and feeling lonely and/or increasingly ill and no one with whom to exchange mutual whinges (thereby all but restoring a sense of proportion once again) I have been visited my many a ghost from the past, even from as long ago as schooldays… and I’m 75 now!

On the whole, they are a comfort, my ghosts although there are always one or two who feel the need to have a go at me for this or that reason; I guess many of us regret, in hindsight, how we may have treated people in our past, whether intentionally or otherwise.

A friend once told me he wished he had fewer regrets, but mostly only had himself to blame for them and playing the blame game never did anyone any favours, so he focuses on happy memories in the company of family and friends instead. Another friend, present at the time, commented to the effect that it was a very selfish attitude. Me, I am all for a healthy mind-body-spirit; any happy memories always need to be at the top of anyone's agenda for mind-body-spirit.  Bad memories may well hover, but the kinder ones will always see to it that they don't get much of a look-in so long as we continue to nurture a positive mindset.  Not always easy, that's true, but always worth the effort.

As my mother used to say, life is too short to keep looking back when there is so much to look forward to if we but pause a moment or two to think about it, even if it does take the form of wishful thinking as often as not…

YOU-ME-US, PEOPLING A KINDER ETERNITY

Inner eye, clouding over,
mixed feeling tearfully washing away
favourite memories,
mind-body-spirit left to make what it will
of free fall, feeding on
such details as it can still make out
and taking heart…
even as Time plays its cat and mouse games
with us

Here-and-Now, a window
on a you-me-us still letting in sunshine
as it has always done,
even if the view now misting over, curtains
all but closed;
yet, weary though Apollo may be
of giving way…
there’s still (potentially) time yet for keeping
promises

Promises, no more or less kept
or broken as those we make to ourselves
and each other, meaning well,
but misled by finger messages on the heart’s
window, left ajar…
to keep the air (and us) flowing as freely
as possible while mulling
a shared past-present’s failings in living up 
to its future 

Given a misting over windows
on the heart all but making us prisoners,
any finger messages
haunt us like ghosts played out in all shades
of light ‘n’ dark
if only for a peace and love their promises
challenged us to make or break
as the case may be, with the happy-sad poetry
of humanity

Night falls, Apollo’s turn to haunt us,
try to lighten our heavier loads, taking us
through the motions,
encouraging us to attend to the world’s evils,
demanding we rise above them,
(win some, lose some) even as a Darkness
called Death sheds light enough
on all living history to form the kinder landscape
of our eternity

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today, given that feedback suggests many LGBT readers do not visit both blogs.] RNT

Flight of the Bluebird

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

When I first started posting the poetry blogs ten years ago, it soon  became clear that I needed to keep them separate as most readers  were not inclined o visit both, It is encouraging, therefore, that since I began posting poems retrospectively from one blog to the other, feedback has been very positive.This poem was posted on my general poetry blog in April 2015 and was inspired by a growing interest in memorial woodlands since attending a funeral service at one some time ago. Hopefully, it will be read as it was written, in inspirational not morbid mode.[To read the original post, go to the April 2015 archives on the right hand side of any blog page.]

Someone once told me that love is the dare only a fool will refuse. Well, not everyone will accept a dare, and that doesn’t make him or her a fool, but when it is love - whatever our ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality - the chances are we risk a lifetime of regret by walking away.

The same person told me the Bluebird of Happiness is just a dream, but how like all the best dreams, we would do well to spot it if we can, and be thus inspired to keep the memory alive evermore by going for it. Yes, giving a dream a go can be a win-or-lose affair, but better to have fun losing then regret not having tried, surely? (In that sense, every loser, too, is a winner.) We can't all win jackpots, but it is open to any of us - whatever our gender, ethnicity or socio-cultural background - to turn a deaf ear to the naysayers, and see where chasing that special dream might lead...

Good luck, folks!

FLIGHT OF THE BLUEBIRD

There are woodlands where I go

whenever life finds me feeling low;

I have but pause beneath a tree,

see its branches shape our history

for letting the Bluebird of Happiness

work its magic on me

I feel the pull of Memory Lane

to peace of mind, away from pain;

among the lines in your fair face,

subtle comforts of a warm embrace,

the finest poems of earth and sky

recalling the love we dared, you and I,

young and impatient (even grown)

anxious to be seen wearing its crown

where bluebirds in twilight’s lace

perform evergreen images of grace

Though winter bite, nature rest,

in love and renewal we dare trust,

have but to pause beneath a tree,

see its branches shape our history

for letting the Bluebird of Happiness
work its magic on us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

[Note: Revised (2015) from an earlier version that first appeared in an anthology, Thoughts and Reflections for Throughout the Year, Forward Press, 2009 and subsequently in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010] 

Snowfall

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

Snow is a mixed blessing; fun for kids and skiers, treacherous on untreated roads. Life , too, can be a mixed blessing, fun and treacherous at the same time…

SNOWFALL

It snowed that December Day,

(I remember it well);

precious moments, frozen in time

(wasted on braving it out)

All smiles, jokes and laughter

(camouflage for pain))

among ashes heaped like snowflakes

on a once-upon-a-love-affair

We shook hands, shared a hug

(as old friends might);

snowflakes like kisses on our cheeks

(life’s heat fast turning cold)

We’d agreed needs must we part

(where first we’d met)

a shutting down of blinds on sunshine

as snowfall to any hint of spring

As you turned and walked away

I glimpsed tears falling;

for you, for me, for us, I’d ask myself?

No answers, only more snow…

For years, I’d put on a happy face

(if always hurting inside)

until a day a sparrow called me O-U-T

and I (finally) dropped the act

Yesterday, the first snow of winter

left me vividly recalling

that other snowfall, and two gay lovers

scared to come in from the cold

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

A Spelling Lesson

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

Family, lovers, friends, colleagues...we are all only human, and it is a sad trait of human nature that we don't always see the wood for the damn trees.

Now, I often repeat poems a year or so after their first appearance on the blog for those readers who don’t have time to browse the blog archives due to other commitments or only have access to a public computer. I try to vary the preamble, but in this case I find myself duplicating the original post from 2009 almost word for word. It is as if my feelings on the subject are so strong that I cannot find a different way of expressing them.

Happy is not a word we hear often enough as we get on with our daily lives.

I well recall how, years ago [I'd have been about eight or nine years old] we kids were taught to sing a lively song at Sunday School; the lyric went like this:

I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I know I am,
I’m sure I am,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y

Only, it was a lie. I wasn’t happy at all. I fretted about that song for years. How come, I'd wonder, everyone was happy except me?

I should say that didn't have an unhappy childhood, but problems at school, a hearing problem no one picked up on and an appalling relationship with my father meant that it wasn't a particularly happy one either. As I got older, I then had to tackle the question of my sexual identity in a climate that was very anti-gay. If my childhood was difficult, my youth and young manhood were a total nightmare. None of my family would have understood, even my mother at the time. Thank goodness I discovered the twilight world of gay sex to keep me sane. Well, sane’ish... I siffered from depression for years, and syill do, although childhood depression was rarely if ever recognised for what it was years ago. It should have come as no surprise that I had a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s.

While I am not bitter (well, not any more, just profoundly sad) I often wish someone had taken the trouble to ask me how I felt. It is good that adults listen to children and young people more these days. Perhaps if someone had asked me, it would not have taken so many years before I could relate to the words of that song...

A SPELLING LESSON

In the garden every day.
I’d tell my love I’m gay,
but my love would not hear,
my love was never there,
my love would be humming
pop songs in the car
on the way to or from work,
glancing at the office clock,
pausing at this task or that
to keep the cat, dog or budgie
happy

In the garden, I’d find a way
to tell my love I’m gay
and we’d lie in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to show our feelings,
share them, let passion take
its course, tear off the clothes
a heart but hires to keep a body
happy?

The day came, I found a way
to tell my love I’m gay,
heard the words I longed to hear
whispered in my ear
and we lay in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to let
love alone get us high,
be H-A-P-P-Y

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011