Self-Belief OR Destination, Otherworld

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

“The worst loneliness is to not be comfortable with yourself.” -  Mark Twain

“The greatest thing in the world is to know how to belong to oneself.” - ― Michel de Montaigne

“Wanting to be someone else is a waste of the person you are.”- Marilyn Monroe

“One of the greatest regrets in life is being what others would want you to be, rather than being yourself.” - Shannon L. Alder

“Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it.” - M. Scott Peck 

“Be faithful to that which exists within yourself.” - Andre Gide

“People may flatter themselves just as much by thinking that their faults are always present to other people's minds, as if they believe that the world is always contemplating their individual charms and virtues.” - Elizabeth Gaskell

Foe a variety of reasons, many of us suffer with low self-esteem, sometimes all our lives. I have to admit to being one of the, although I have made real progress over the years in rising above such feelings. Born and raised during the bigoted 1950’s, I was made to feel an inferior person from the time I realised I am gay, at the age of 14. Regular readers will know that I spent years in a lonely closet, rarely confiding in anyone that I was gay until ‘coming out’ to the world in my late 30’s.

Noe was my lack of self-esteem due solely to a rampant homophobia. I am not a very practical person, but found myself in a Technical High School which specialised in practical subjects like woodwork, metalwork, and technical drawing, at all of which I was next to useless and would make the kind of errors that inevitably caught a teacher’s eye; they would, in turn, bring it to the attention of the whole class. Oh, I would laugh it off, but inwardly feel positively sick.

As regular readers will also know, I had a poo relationship with my father, constantly having a go at me for “having my head in a book’ and making me feel a lesser person for that, especially as compared with my older brother who was practical, sporty and all the things my father expected of a son. Rightly or wrongly, I felt psychologically bullied and hadn’t yet learned to effectively stand up for myself without provoking an almighty row.

We are who we are and should not feel a need to justify how we identify ourselves to anyone. Being made - intentionally or otherwise - to feel less of a person by anyone, especially during our formative years or in the workplace, wherever … it can take years, if ever, to shake off a sense of inferiority.

I feel a greater sense of freedom these days, having learned mu lessons the hard way but cannot help wishing I had especially come across the Elizabeth Gaskell quote (above) during my younger years as a bookworm. 

SELF-BELIEF or DESTINATION, OTHERWORLD

Being told this, told that,
and failing to achieve a good result,
gave mind-body-spirit
a sense of falling apart, being unequal
to perspectives on me
I couldn’t work through or begin to share
however hard I’d try,
until I started listening to that voice within
reminding me I'm my own person

All but persuaded to find
my own way in a world confusing me
every step I’d take,
urging I do this or maybe rather do that
to get anywhere,
be the Someone those expecting far more
of me may rest assured
that, if only I’d listened to all they had to say,
I’d have chosen to go a ‘better’ way 

Time and again I’d feel lost,
unsuited and confused by worldly ways
others fell into with ease,
until I stumbled on home truths no-one
had led me to believe,
till mind-body-spirit made time and space
to replace the 'me'
I'd see through other eyes with my very own,
no less from without as from within

I saw a world judging me neither sinner nor fool,
made my peace with heart-and-soul 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2023

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

You-Me-Us, Reason not the Need

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

“The mystery of human existence lies not in just staying alive, but in finding something to live for.” – Fyodor Dostoevsky

“Man is the only animal for whom his own existence is a problem which he has to solve.” -Erich Fromm  

"The greatest tragedy of human existence is the illusion of separateness." – Albert Einstein

"As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being." – Carl Jung  

"We must not wish for the disappearance of our troubles but for the grace to transform them." – Simone Weil

Now, as regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, I will be 77 years old later this year. As old age continues to takes its toll on various health issues, I often find myself wondering what it has all been for and…why, me?  There are no easy answers, of course. 

The main question has to be, have all the extreme ups and downs been worth it in so far as they have, at least, taught me much and brought be to this Here-and-Now, albeit one with whose pace I am finding it increasingly harder to maintain an appearance of even trying to keep up… wry bardic grin

Well, on reflection, happy memories will always get the better of bad ones; I cannot ‘see’ many of those memories now, but I can still feel them and the joy they generated.

So, yes, on balance, I am glad to be here to tell the tale. Do I deserve to be? Well, let’s face it, I’m biased… wry bardic chuckle. 

Oh, and for the reader who emailed to ask if, by You-Me-Us, I mean human relationships, the short answer is ‘yes’, bearing in mind that we can enjoy a lasting relationship with anything and anyone, at any level, if it feels right; an affinity with people, pets, nature, works of art…

YOU-ME-US, REASON NOT THE NEED

We live to love
and find ways to be happy,
but human nature
does not always concur,
mind-body-spirit
not always able to keep pace
with a heart-and-soul
subject and vulnerable to override 
by its darker side 

Ah, bur humankind
also exists to do its very best
to nurture potential
for seeing mind-body-spirit
shine a light through
any darkness, compensate 
for its mistakes
wherever, whenever and however,
(better late than never)

Yet, Time will seek
to always have its wicked way, 
with You-Me-Us,
regardless of circumstances,
answerable only
to itself, leaving humankind
at the whim
of what some would argue as its fate, 
‘late’ always too late

Time, though rarely
reckons with the positive 
nature of humanity,
its inclination to encourage
better, kinder ways
to rise above negative thoughts
inspiring the worst
in us all, leaving us prey to biased hype
and cruel stereotype

Yes, Time’s no match
for either the sheer resilience
of a common humanity
or the power of human memory
to retain, nurture 
and learn from any misfortune,
no matter the burden,
urging heart-and soul to do its very best
to alleviate the worst

To some, the meaning
of life is a blur, any reasoning
unclear as we pursue
such dreams as everyone enjoys
(win some, lose some);
only heart-and-soul has the true 
measure of us, 
whether we find ourselves united or alone
for … being but human

In whatever keeps heart-and-soul together
lies a joy forever

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

[NB: Not a gay-specific poem-post (and also appears on my general poetry blog today) especially for those readers whose email feedback suggests they remain unconvinced that poetry is all-inclusive.] RT

Keyword, Pride

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

 “What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.” - Tennessee Williams

“Love demands expression. It will not stay still, stay silent, be good, be modest, be seen and not heard, no. It will break out in tongues of praise, the high note that smashes the glass and spills the liquid.” — Jeanette Winterson

 “Personally, coming out was one of the most important things I’ve ever done, lifting from my shoulders the millstone of lies that I hadn’t even realized I was carrying.” – Sir Ian McKellan

“I’m living by example by continuing on with my career and having a full, rich life, and I am incidentally gay.” - Portia de Rossi

Now, today celebrates fifty years of Pride, LGBT+ folks defying the prejudices of certain world societies and religions to demonstrate a sense of pride and spirituality in being human, nor any less so for their sexuality.

As as regular readers know, I am in my mid-seventies and, like many others around the world, having to deal with various health issues as well as those that too often accompany the process of growing old(er).  I cope ok(ish), but suspect that I could not have done so had I not eventually seen my way to turning my back on the multiple, offensive faux stereotypes that attempted to define us when I was growing up in the 1950’s. I regret waiting too long to look, the world in the eye as a gay ma, but... better late than never.

Tragically, for various socio-cultural reasons, many LGBT+ folks around the world still feel obliged to endure the appalling loneliness and pain of a closet existence.

Coming out of that closet, made me a better person, but not before it had wrought such psychological damage on me that, even now, continues to inflict such nightmares from time to time as I would not wish on anyone, anywhere.

KEYWORD, PRIDE

Drawn to a bar 
neither gay nor straight,
all-comers welcome,
a pint of beer calling me
I could not ignore,
a growing need for company
at the heart of me

Soon, engaging 
with a stranger, no strangers
for long, but chatting
like old friends, laughing
over trite anecdotes,
welcome respite after a long day,
let slip, I was gay

Misreading his look
of surprise, a sense of déjà vu,
hackles set to rise
but for friendly lips breaking
into a wry, sensual grin,
makings of a non-judgemental,
heart-and soul

“How long?” he asked
quietly, but with as casual an air
as if he'd been asking
if I’d had a good day at the office;
I felt my face turning red,
yet urged to answer the truth of it
by mind-body-spirit

“None of my business,"
it was his turn to admit, “but more
than curious if you get
my drift…?  " I merely shrugged,
ventured a shy grin;
we chatted on, twin passions inviting
mutual understanding

Lovers, exploring a braver new world, 
keyword, Pride…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

No Bedtime Story

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

“If I could have done it myself, I would have already done it: pried open my ribs and etched the Word onto my heart’s beating chambers. But it seemed my ex-gay counsellors were the only ones with enough skill and experience to wield the scalpel.” – Garrard Conley (Boy Erased.)

"Terror doesn't change people from gay to straight. It just hurts innocent people." - DaShanne Stokes

“Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary.” - Khalil Gibran

Now, like most LGBT folks here in the UK and around the world, I am appalled that the British Government has done a U-turn with regards to the banning of conversion therapy, except for transgender people; the implication is that it is more natural to deal with gender identity problems since they are a mistake that deserves to be rectified, whereas being lesbian, gay or bisexual is a matter of lifestyle choice... which, of course, it isn't.

It is incredible that such naivety and subsequent abuse of Human Rights should persist in any so-called 'civilised' society even into the 21st century, although as a measure of political expediency it should come as no surprise. Well, God forbid, certain powers that be among the electorate, especially those whose religious agendas see the LGBT ethos as an enemy life force, should be so offended as to put their voting rights on permanent hold...

The poem below also appears on my general poetry blog today; while feedback suggests that more LGBT readers browse both blogs now, a significant number don’t, especially those who use a shared computer and feel obliged to remain ‘closet’ for whatever reason.

NO BEDTIME STORY

I lost out on many pleasures of youth,
mind-body-spirit afraid in those dark days
to raise its head above a thick fog
of such misinformation and homophobia
as likely to appeal to those bigots
around the world to whom prejudice comes
as naturally as breathing, sad souls
whose personal space so damaged by the cut
and thrust of life, they must lash out

Better late than never, I saw the light,
emerged from my lonely closet into a new day,
thinking I needs must tell the bigots
that I’m gay, or else how to even attempt
any getting them to see the awful hurt
they inflict on the likes of me, no less a person
in my own right or in any godly sight
for being honest with myself, family and friends,
no matter how strange my story sounds...?

Though I regret the coward in me that hid
myself away from the dazzling light of home truth
during those early years of self-discovery,
revealing, ticking off a checklist of scary things
I had neither confidence nor vocabulary
then to express, unable to confide in anyone,
fearing verbal or physical abuse or, worse,
conversion therapy’s crude attempts to reshape me
in an image tailored to its host ‘society’

By the time I felt able to tell the world I’m gay,
I was less afraid to look it n the eye, could argue
the case for mind-body-spirit, heart-and soul,
confident enough to resist being thrust into freefall
yet again, closet days scratched into my brain,
a hurt I’d vowed nothing and no one would make me
endure again, nor any need, since now all-human,
for all its flaws, none of which include such desires
as lighting love-and-freedom’s home fires

Surely, a twenty-first century deserves far better
than shades of a bigotry hell bent on undermining
the more positive-thinking mind-body-spirit
aspiring to a global consensus on peace and love,
no matter its bias in politics and religions, 
arguing against a personal space always seeking
a kinder place, one less inclined to dismiss
its take on life as but a measure of such behaviour
as well-deserving contempt and censure..?

Humanity is no favourite novel, but comprising
real people battling real odds, for better or worse...
and well-deserving due respect for our efforts
no matter who we are, whatever sexual orientation
best defines us as we grow into our lives,
learning as much about our true selves and each other
as the world we share, one deserving no less care
than flowers sown in field or garden by human hands
or blown there by some heavenly wind...

Let others in the world make of us what they will,
but never forget we are a common humanity,
like it or not, and should it nurse any such reservation
as it needs must pass on for any good reason
other than society’s general well-being and salvation,
then let it keep its big mouth well and truly shut,
further research its grievances before endorsing wrongs
that have made outsiders of selective insiders for centuries
for no other reason than because, because ...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

Sealed with a Kiss

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

Love does not discriminate, can be found in all walks of life and means different things to different people.  

Just as people may well change as time passes, so too may the love that binds them; it will either accept and adapt to any changes, or not. In the latter case, it does not entirely deaden the spirit of that love which first brought lovers together, but lets it pass into a dreamless sleep from which there is no waking, leaving both parties free to find love again if they can and so choose. I once knew a woman who married for a second time late in life; it was his second marriage too. Each loved both partners dearly. “They were both very different,” she once told me, “...but so was I, that second time, and love fitted us like a glove, just as it had for each of us the first time around...”

A loneliness of the heart can be filled in many ways, not least by finding that special someone who can help fulfil our needs, share our passions and generally be looking for much the same in a life companion as we are ourselves. That’s as near as I can get to defining ‘true’ love’ while not to say its various imitations are any the less meaningful or honest at any given moment in time.

Two people can enjoy sex with each other, for example, without wanting the kind of commitment that being ‘in love’ involves sooner or later. ‘Casual’ sex is a misnomer; there is nothing casual about two adults agreeing to sex simply because a mutual attraction also satisfies a deep-seated need, whether or not those needs are quite the same.

A reader asks if I have anyone in mind when I write love poems. Yes, I do, but only for having felt the power in all its shapes and forms, though having been ‘in love’ for only a short time. My potential partner was killed in a car accident long ago, before we’d had time to come out of our respective closets and tell friends and family we were in a relationship. I never met anyone again who saw me as a potential life partner.  Even so, as I deal with living alone on a physical level, I am never alone on an emotional one.

Loved-ones, living or passed away, whether family, friends or lovers... they never die, but pass into our consciousness and will continue loving and supporting us if we let them. Yes, it is a sentiment at which some may well scoff, but it works for me and can work for them too if they will only give it a go...

SEALED WITH A KISS

We met at a dance,
soon got into romancing
under a moon as misty
as a priest’s glass eye,
voices in the wind making us
laugh, making us cry

We wished on stars,
felt the world cease to turn,
pause, as if eager
to share our first kiss,
voices in the wind sighing
“Yes, yes, yes...”

So began, a fairy tale
that would see us hitching
rides across landscapes
of such joy and tears
as any lifetime sure to bring
true lovers

That first kiss, a blessing
as of Earth Mother
to Her children, lending us
a spirituality
to rise above the many failings
of Society

Through thick and thin,
up against walls
or dancing other nights away
wherever we may be,
we bonded with that very first kiss
into eternity

Come other nights, dawns,
wherever life chanced
to take us, be we awake or asleep
together or apart
a life force would always sustain us,
,our shared heart

If all good things must end,
memory grow dim
and time wing its way to eternity,
be sure of this;
true love lives on forever, once sealed
with a kiss

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: This poem is loosely based on an earlier poem that appears under the title ‘Hold the Dream’ in my collection First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002.; this post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today.] RT

The House of Many Rooms

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

“On the whole, human beings want to be good, but not too good, and not quite all the time.” – George Orwell in All Art is Propaganda: Critical Essays

As the pandemic pursues its relentless course around the world, many of us are taking refuge in kinder, happier times, albeit often tailored to kinder, happier needs; there is a lot to be said for and against the selective power of Memory.

On the whole, though, I would suggest that, for many if not most of us, Memory draws on the finer points of mind-body-spirit, sweeping any darker aspects aside; some specks, though, will inevitably remain, like flaws of human nature best forgotten, but which have a nasty habit of resurfacing now and then, invariably in some unseemly manner as likely as not to cause offence, even where none intended.

Arguably, there are elements of that consciousness we call ‘Memory’ which are genetic, a part of us that has its roots in a family history that can be so persuasive as to plant itself in our subconscious, visit us in dreams so ‘real’ that we may well carry them as ‘memories’ which, in turn, may well have behavioural consequences, for better or worse.

A gay poet, I am, of course very much aware that many people believe sexuality is a lifestyle choice; it is, of course, in the genes if selective in whom it manifests itself.

THE HOUSE OF MANY ROOMS

I go there often, to an old house
of many rooms,
each one different, yet oddly familiar,
but nothing ever quite
the same, it seems, from one visit
to another

I love to explore the old house
of many rooms,
now playing games of hide-and-seek
with childhood friends,
now discovering home truths
and heartbreak

I often shelter in the old house
of many rooms,
seek comfort from cold, mist and rain,
or so I tell myself
despite an inner voice insisting
I’m on the run

Ghosts, too, in the old house
of many rooms
and only so many games we can play,
its doors opening
and closing on shadowy masks
of “live” clay

Dusty corners, in the old house
of many rooms,
I do my best to sweep clear and clean,
but always a residue
left behind that I’ll pretend
I’ve never seen

A guardian of sorts, the old house
of many rooms,
a store of life forces, good, bad and ugly,
reminders of a life
lived for love and its pitfalls;
such is humanity

Everyone knows an old house
of many rooms,
best approached with mixed expectations,
much of a muchness
the world over, despite universal
mutations

Many and varied are such houses
of many rooms,
nor bricks and mortar can we expect to see,
but a consciousness
of personal-posthumous-collective
family history

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

 

 

 

 

 

De Profundis OR Mind-Body-Spirit, On the Mend

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

“Everybody’s journey is individual. If you fall in love with a boy, you fall in love with a boy. The fact that many Americans consider it a disease says more about them than it does about homosexuality.” – James Baldwin

May 2010 saw the resignation of David Laws from the coalition government; it was very sad, for him personally and the country. The latter was told that he broke the rules regarding MP’s expenses in order to protect his privacy. Apparently, he had claimed rent for an apartment owned by a man with whom he had been in a relationship since 2001. He had not declared the relationship.

Now, I have suffered from depression all my life and poetry has been literally, a life-saver, as was the case when I came to write a first draft of today’s poem in 1983; I was feeling suicidal at the time.

The title -meaning ‘Out of the Depths’ is taken from a love letter written by Oscar Wilde while serving time in Reading Gaol.

I wasn’t in despair about being gay, having come to terms with that some years earlier, but I was feeling acutely disappointed in myself and my inability to get my life on an even keel. Eventually, I would do just that, and writing this poem helped considerably, but it would take a few more years yet and a troubled ocean to cross... in more ways than one...to Australia. Regular readers will know the tale so I won’t repeat it here. Suffice to say, I managed to rise above the worst and get my life in better shape.

While shopping yesterday, I overheard a group of people discussing how ‘scary’ the pandemic, and how they feel close to despair of life ever returning to the way it used to be before Covid-19 and its variants struck. I suspect thee are many such folks out there, among blog readers too, who feel much the same way. I (know I do, at times.)

My hope is that the poem may yet help you, as it did me, to rise above our fears and rediscover the Poetry of Love, Friendship and Motivation...

Yes, Oscar Wilde was gay, and anyone can find themselves in despair, for whatever reason, any time, any place, anywhere... so, can deny it or dare judge anyone else for being so driven, whatever his or her sexuality?

DE PROFUNDIS or MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ON THE MEND

I lay floating an ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown,
while dolphins kept me company
and Apollo lingered on

Sharks, they kept a hungry distance,
an albatross winged by,
while waves lent a gentle cadence
to twilight’s lullaby

Went into freefall to the ocean floor,
and would have stayed,
but Apollo demanded of me more,
while the dolphins cried...

I let them have their way, if reluctantly,
screaming out for motivation,
searching the finest Poetry of Mortality
for the Threshold of Reason

No inner voice answered me, although
I strained to hear,
then twilight let a cloud pass through
and I found a poem there

Body of straw in that ocean of misery,
willing myself to drown,
I read an ode to life, love and a history
of peace, after wars hard won

It told, how few things in life come easy,
including death...
Such is the fickle nature of humanity
and ways of Godmother, Earth

I felt a poet’s passion take hold of me,
heard its voice in a seagull’s cry,
swimming me across an ocean of misery
to walk kinder shores, head high

I woke in tears still drenching my pillow,
began (slowly) to recover;
at chinks in the blinds, winks from Apollo,
reassuring me the worst was over

Copyright R.N. Taber, 2010; rev.2022

[Note: The poem’s title means Out of the Depths. An earlier version of the poem itself appears as the Dedication poem (to Oscar Wilde) in my collection, Tracking the Torchbearer, Assembly Books, 2012; it has been only slightly but significantly, revised. This post-poem also appears on my other poetry blog today. I only post poems of  particular interest to gay/ LGBT readers here as the the blog archives will confirm.] RT

Looking to the Future

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

Here’s wishing everyone as Happy (and Healthy) a New Year as mind-body-spirit can magic up for us... in the spirit of Togetherness...with more than a little help from loved ones and friends.

Hugs,

Roger

LOOKING TO THE FUTURE

So, we begin another year
as well as another day, looking ahead
with mixed feelings
of happiness and hope, yet dread too
for wondering whether or not
the coming months well see the end
of Covid-19, who may get
to re-enter the Arts and Politics of Life
and who will not...?

New Year celebrations muted
for many of us, both Delta and Omicron
variants of coronavirus
raging all around the world, striking fear
here, there, everywhere, in all
walks of life, opinions varying as to just
when and how science-led data
will help restore return us a greater security,
now... or never?

There is a sickness in the world
other than Covid-19, not least a beast
that is jealousy-prejudice-hate;
if we cannot ever be rid of the species
for all time, we can at least
try to educate and inform, let them know
who should know better
that, as a common humanity, we all need to get
our acts together

We can but trust mind--body-spirit
to make sense of the world, encourage us
in playing our part
to make the worst (far) better, to darkness
bring the lights of hope and love,
not play ourselves false or wish others ill,
nor let our differences divide us,
but listen to Reason and Conscience, let them
help us find Peace

 Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022 

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

Mother, Mine (Alice Maud Taber 1916-1976)

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

Hello again, folks, from London UK

Many thanks to the gay reader who says he has been exploring and very much enjoying the blo archives. 

Now, I hope you all managed to enjoy the Christmas spirit in spite of the pandemic and its new Omicron variant raging all around us.

For many families who have lost a loved one to Covid-19 or for any other reason, Christmas, like birthdays and other family gatherings make us all the more aware that someone is missing; it can be a painful experience, but as time goes by, we learn to live with happy memories of that person, always with us in spirit if small compensation for their absence.

For example, I still miss my mother who died in 1976, but her indomitable spirit remains a part of me and has helped me through many a personal crisis. The poem below is the Dedication poem that precedes my collection, A Feeling for the Quickness of Time; it has been significantly revised since publication in 2005.

As regular readers will know, many of the poems in my collections have been revised in the course of appearing on my blogs and I am hoping to publish revised editions before the Grim Reaper comes calling; if not, a close friend has said he will see to, it if we can find a publisher. All my collections include a gay section and no UK publishers have showed any interest, so I self-published limited editions under my own imprint; many copies went to public libraries where I am pleased to say they issued well. As a poet, I am no household word nor ever likely to be, but this general poetry blog has passed 202,012 views and the gay-interest poetry blog has had nearly 170,000 views, so many thanks again, dear readers, for being regular visitors.

Sadly, we LGBT folks - from all walks of life - continue to be much maligned worldwide, but there is less hatred and prejudice than when I was growing up, except within certain religious groups who fail to see that sexuality is not a lifestyle choice, but simply who we are in mind-body-spirit. Their leaders speak of a God of Love and preach Goodwill to All...so, to exempt LGBT folks has always struck me as the height of hypocrisy. (Why can't we all simply agree to differ and respect each other for that, regardless?)As a gay pantheist, I refuse to believe that any God would deny me a sense of His ethereal presence any more than Earth Mother would deny me a sense of Hers; rightly or wrongly, I don’t believe any religious agenda has the right to exclude anyone on the grounds of sexuality alone. (Yes, I know I have said this many times, but, as my dear mother would often say, if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating.)

We all owe much of what and who we are to one or both our parents or to whoever took responsibility for raising us. I count myself very fortunate, indeed, to have the likes of my late mother as a positive role model.  Although my father and I did not get along, I owe him, too, a debt of gratitude for providing a home for the family. Gratitude, though, is not the same as love.; if he loved me in his own way, he certainly never showed it, and no child can expected to be a mind-reader. As far as I am (still) concerned, he was a psychological bully towards me and , for this reason, could not bring myself to attend his funeral in the early 1980's..

I am working on a poem for New Year's Day, so hope you will join me again then. Meanwhile...

MOTHER MINE (ALICE MAUD TABER, 1916-1976)

Mother, you were always there for me,
always believing in me more than I believed
in myself, knowing me
better than I knew myself, always loving me
more than I loved myself,
although I could not give all you all you' had hoped
for me, live and love how you wanted for me
subscribe to your dream, sadly only ever a fantasy
of family unity...

We did our best by each other, endeavouring
to support one another through life’s cruel maze
of emotional twists, turns and dead-ends;
me, unable to grasp for years
how conflicting family loyalties were daily
tearing at your heart, divided so
by the very loved-ones to whom you gave your all,
never quite finding peace of mind for our making you
Love’s own dear thrall

Yet, years on since a cruel tumour took its toll,
you continue to comfort my very soul, feed into it
all that good about mind-body-spirit,
lamenting its mistakes while making sure it follows
a learning curve, finds inspiration
in the Poetry of Love, resists
rather than too easily caves in to darker life forces
likely to confound and confuse us until we lose any sight
of potential consequences

Mother dear, you will always be the first to whom
I turn, to help and guide me along kinder paths than some
I’ve inadvertently taken, for turning
deaf ears and blind eyes to that still, small voice within
that would urge me not err or sin
on the side of an inflated ego that cannot see woods
for trees nor will admit
any flaws in a mind-body-spirit, much to live for and learn
about what makes the world turn

A part of me now, as always, oh, wise and wonderful mother,
no distant memory, but a part of me forever 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2005; rev. 2021

[Note: A This poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; an earlier version first appears as a Dedication in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

 

 

 

  

Hello again, folks, from London UK

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

"You can please some of the people some of the time, all of the people some of the time, but you can never please all of the people all of the time." - Abraham Lincoln

Hello again, folks, from London UK

Sorry, no poem again today, but soon...

While I have no Covid symptoms, I suspect the stress f the past 18 months or so is beginning taking its toll on ole Roger, just as it is on everyone else, worldwide. Yes, I feel a lot safer for having had my booster jab, but I am feeling very worn down by it all, as I suspect all of you are too. Writing poetry helps distract me and keep a sense of proportion, but inspiration is in short supply right now. Even so, I have high hopes for a poem that is edging its way into my mind and will hopefully find its way to expressing itself before too long...

As if climate change was all we had to contend with...!

So, how do we come through Covid and its variants and manage to maintain a positive-thinking mindset in the face of illness and death all around us?  Good question, no easy answers. I guess we can but do our best to support each other and try not to blow the short fuse many if not most of us have felt burning a gaping hole in our lives for far too long, if it hasn't already.

As regular readers know, I had a bad nervous breakdown in my mid-30's. partly for being gay and closet-bound, chiefly because I had no real sense of direction and was physically and mentally tired of drifting and feeling sorry for myself. Eventually, I saw sense and realised that whatever future I might have was down to me, no one else. At the same time, I needed help,  to be pointed in the right direction. I had to go to Australia to benefit from the wisdom of an old Aborigine and suffer the indignity of being repatriated (because I couldn't find a job) before I found my way in life, although it would be uphill for a few more years yet. Eventually, I found the self-confidence to leave the awful closet that certain  peers and family had made me feel I 'deserved 'while growing up in the 1950' and aim for the life that I wanted, not what other people might have or want. Selfish of me, perhaps, but we all have individual needs and have to recognise them, not be intimidated into being copycats.

With the support of some wonderful people, some hard work on my part and accepting that being gay is who I am and not only doesn't make me less of a human being, but also strengthened my resolve to help give the lie to the fake news and faux stereotypes that continue to haunt many corners of various societies and communities worldwide. Yes, I have said all this before, so why say it again? I guess the keyword is self-awareness; admitting to ourselves that we are a psychological mess is a battle half won already, victory in sigh; it is up to each and every one of us not to lose sight of just what 'victory' means - for us and for any family and friends closest to us, given that so much of what we do and say invariably affects them also.

So why am I raking up my pathetic past? Because our past-present-future is the sum of who we are; interdependent aspects of growing up, whoever and wherever we are in the world, and doing our best to learn from our mistakes as well as invariably having to pay for them, one way or another. Learning is strength, and strength is what will see us through the pandemic; not least, strength of will, purpose and character. We can, after all, only ever do our best; it will never be enough for some people, possibly even ourselves, but it is what keeps us on that learning curve, adapting to change as only mind-body-spirit can. 

We are all different, so our 'best' will invariably highlight our differences, differences that can  no more be measured in academic terms than the human spirit itself. Education and learning applies no less to the inner self than what appears visible to others in terms of what we may say and do; both words and actions are always vulnerable to misinterpretation, especially if we try to 'measure' them according to what we see as 'acceptable' rather then making an effort to understand what drives those whose 'best' bears little or no resemblance to our own.

The best advice my mother ever gave me was not only to try and take each day as it comes, but people too, no rushing to judgement as humankind is so often inclined. We can but try, do our best to give people the benefit of whatever reservations we might have in the course of any casual,  closer, even more intimate acquaintance. Alas, what drives the inner self will always remain something of a mystery, to ourselves as well as each other; the least we can do as we climb the various hills and mountains of this life is... yes, do our beat.

Well, that's all my ramblings for today and many thanks, as always for joining me here on the blog. I only hope it helps prevent some of you losing the proverbial plot as it helps me, if only for doing my best to keep from falling into a cesspit of Doubt, Fear and various indescribable Unknowns that so like to tease Mind-Body-Spirit at such times as a pandemic or any crisis when many if not most of us are at our most vulnerable.  

Religions and philosophies will drive and comfort their own follower; for the rest of us, we can only do our best to rise above the worst of things, even if it means having to go with the flow until we get to swim freestyle again...

Take care, everyone and remember that we can only do our best, whatever circumstances in which we find ourselves. or may yet find ourselves; it may not always seem enough, but it has to beat doing less or nothing, surely?

Bye for now, take care and let's all do our best to nurture a positive-thinking mindset...yes?

Hugs,

Roger

[Note; this post also appears on my general blog today.]

Hello from London, UK (Yes, it's the old codger-poet again!)

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

Hello again from London UK

No poem to day, but soon... if my messed-up thought processes can rise to the occasion.  My prostate cancer isn't painful, but...oh, I have such fond (if distant!) memories of getting a decent night's sleep!

Straight people, all ages, sometimes ask what it's like to be gay and "not in the swim of everyday life." A silly question, if only for assuming that LGBT folks are not in the swim of everyday life. We are, after all, human beings and, as such, as much a part of a common humanity as anyone else.

Sometimes people, all ages, also ask me how I cope, not just with the prostate cancer but with growing old in general. To be honest, I'm not sure, but on the whole I just do... I suspect it's down to Mind-Body-Spirit pulling together as good friends will during hard times. 😉 Body is likely o prove the weaker link at any moment in time, but especially after it has been around long enough for a good many years to leave their mark, but - more often than not - Mind and Spirit act as pacemakers, and Body feels encouraged to press on...

Ah, but what if Mind falls foul of the darker of human temptations and  gets too close to The Edge of it all, cannot find the will to draw back, prevent freefalling into that same darkness? It is at such times that the human Spirit comes into its own, encouraging native willpower to see the trees in the wood for the beautiful species they are, find a way through to a place of such potential reassurance as to offer a good chance of our being able to enjoy the flowers and birdsong that the inner ear is pleading with us to  hear and take heart...

That's all very well, but what if the Human Spirit, too, has lost its way, become confused, unable to see any wood for its damn trees that seem to be closing in on it, their motives unclear although an encroaching darkness s a sure threat, no comfort there, no sleep to rescue us from despair with sweet dreams and memories of how things were before... whatever. Mind may well  struggle to restore Spirit to its senses, Body too, but what chance of success, Spirit being by far the stronger of the trinity?

Ah, but let's not forget the power of  life forces from which Mind-Body-Spirit engages all the time, whether we are aware of it or not; the sheer Poetry of Love; family, friendship, images of  the natural world that have made such an impression on our sensibilities that we hear them calling to us through time and space . True, we may yet play deaf to the call and teeter over The Edge, but Mind-Body-Spirit, will inevitably pull together and do its best to persuade us otherwise... if we will but pause just a moment from  feeling sorry for ourselves, engaging with the politics of blame long enough to listen . Yes, finding our way through the woods may well be  a hard slog, maybe even impossible...BUT...worth a try, surely?

So much for life forces concerned only with our well-being, whether we choose to engage with them or not, but what of Death's lack of concern for our survival, able to  take us away from the Poetry of Life and Love at the blink of an eye? Well, there is a Poetry of Faith that may or may not be related to any religion that assures us of a place in an all-embracing Mind-Body-Spirit that defies even life itself, sure to carry us into the hearts of any with whom we have shared the Poetry of Love in whatever form it may have taken; it is called Remembrance or Personal Space (Memory) in it more intimate form; sense of spirituality denied no one. I suspect that Personal Space archives memories of it own that even dementia patients are able to take heart and comfort from. even though they may not be consciously aware of their evergreen presence within the deeper, inner self, able to select happy times and leave any bad times to fade like autumn leaves.; such, too is the Poetry pf Spirituality...

"Stuff and nonsense," do I hear some readers say? Possibly so, but there is a life-force within even  of  certain 'Stuff and 'Nonsense' wherein even the most troubled heart can find a degree of peace... if it chooses to look for it; easily enough done if we choose to freely and frankly engage with Mind-Body-Spirit whenever we find ourselves at the end of our tether... for whatever reason.

Take care, folks, stay safe and many thanks for dropping by,

Hugs,

Roger 

[Note: This post also appears on my general blog today, given that feedback suggests t significant number of LGBT readers are inclined to ignore it, for whatever reason. I can only emphasise, yet again, that poetry is open to everyone to explore, hopefully enjoy and reach whatever conclusion/s may apply within a mind-body-spirit whose individuality is unique to us all.] RT 

Mind-Body-Spirit, Subject to Time and Consequence(s)

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

A wise woman, my mother. She died 25+ years ago, but I probably listen n to her more now than I ever did. I could be a naughty child (who isn’t?) at which times she would teach as well as scold. She once pointed out that almost everything we say has consequences, for better or worse, for ourselves and/or others; the latter, especially, we may never be made aware of... 

All the more reason, I eventually understood, to think before we do something, or don’t do it as the case may be... 

Easier said than done, of course, yours truly no less guilty than anyone else of forgetting to look before we leap and risk feeding this or that cliché its potential for truism. 

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, SUBJECT TO TIME AND CONSEQUENCE(S) 

Surely, the tide,
as surely life’s sweet dreams saving us
from ourselves and each other for offering
alternatives? 

I see your face
in a brave moon, straining to shine on,
but in vain as needs must it, too, take its cue
from Apollo

 Surely, the tide,
as surely as high hopes of fame, fortune
superseded by life-images of lovers kept busy
building bridge 

They laughed us
off the planet, yet we’d take it on the chin,
find a white horse to help us find our way back,
time and again 

We rode to hell
and back, you and I, joining Earth Mother
in races against the clock, win some, lose some,
no going back 

Yes, we fell prey
to a collective giving, taking, having to settle
for less than we bargained for, our personal space
a saving grace 

Now, a sure tide’s
surfing me still (always will), moving me on
to that one-and-only shore proving longer than life
for being loved

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

 

[NB: This poem also appears on my general blog today; it has its origins in an earlier poem, Surfing, that appears in my first collection, Love and Human Remains, Assembly Books, 2000 (see also Gay blog, March, 2011). The original poem had already appeared in several poetry journals and worked well enough at the time, but 20+ years on, subsequent changes in form and content defy my referring to it as simply a revision.] RNT

Hi Folks, from London UK

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

Hi folks, from London UK

A reader writes that he cannot get into the blog: "When I click on to a title, I just get HTML. 

I had the same problem when I first logged on to the blog this morning. It appears that Google have made changes. To access the blog on a pc or laptop, clicking on 'view blog' in the left hand corner, should bring up the post-poem in the usual way. Hopefully, this will solve the reader's problem. (At the bottom of the page, you will see ways of accessing the blog on a tablet or smartphone.)

Whatever, readers have to remember that I am in my mid-70's now and have difficulty using Internet technology these days. not least after years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer; it plays merry hell with thought processes and memory to such an extent that I often feel as if my whole identity is gradually being eroded. 

Other readers with prostate cancer - and other health issues that they find increasingly difficult to rise above and get on with their lives - get in touch from time to time, mostly asking how I manage. Well, with difficulty, I have to say, especially as I also have to cope with several other health issues at the same time, as many of us do. I try to take it all in my stride, make the most of each day as it comes along, and hope for a good day. 

How do I cope with bad days? Again with difficulty, but finding ways of distracting myself from whatever part of me is playing up the worst... always helps. In the absence of a garden, writing up the blog, dusting off and watching a favourite DVD or tuning into a the next episode of  favourite TV series... all these things help, but only temporarily.  Seeing friends is the best therapy for lifting flagging spirits, which is, of course, one reason why the pandemic has been so hard to bear; being unable to see family and friends as often as we'd like, sometimes not at all.. 

Tragically, some of those closest to us have died during the  pandemic, so how do we cope? Yes, with great difficulty. It is hard enough on families who have lost loved-ones without being able to say goodbye, but no less tough, either, on those who live alone as I do. Fortunately, I remain in touch with my best friend and 'bubble partner' by phone and email, and we get to meet up from time to time. Some people, though, feel very isolated and lonely, especially some old people who are not Internet savvy and perhaps cannot hear well on the phone. Sadly, not all neighbours are good neighbours and some people find it increasingly hard to cope.

So let's all try and be good neighbours, yeah? And keep an eye on - better still befriend - any neighbours we suspect of struggling to get by on a daily basis, at any age, for whatever reason, especially in the big cities and certain suburbs, well-known to be less friendly or neighbourly than more rural areas.  (So we risk getting  the brush-off, so what?  That's their problem. At least we tried...)

My stomach is now telling me it's high time I got myself something to eat, and I never give my stomach the brush-off... 😉

Take care everyone and be sure to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life.

Back with a poem soon,

(Digital) Hugs,

Roger

[Note: this post also appears on my general blog today.} RNT

Points of View

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

Rising above a deteriorating quality of life these days, mostly due to various health issues, I am rarely in the mood to reply to emails unless they are from friends and/or about poetry or such passions as also provide mind-body spirit with creative therapy as well as a healthy emotional diet.  However, someone who signs themselves ’an elderly male reader’ has expressed despair at being “...unable, for various reasons, to make love to my partner of nearly thirty years.” and worries that the partner “... is already  looking elsewhere, and I will be left alone...”

I am in no position to advise as I have been without a partner for the best part of a lifetime, but I have been in love and I strongly suspect that this reader has nothing to fear. It is important, though, that he and his partner talk about this. Too many of us fail to discuss our more intimate concerns with loved ones; either we are embarrassed and/ or fear the possible outcome. Whatever, it is always better to know than just suspect; the latter can only loose all manner of demons upon us, not the least being jealousy.

As regular readers will know, years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has left me with no appetite for sex in any form; even porn mags don’t turn me on. At first, it left me feeling emotionally inadequate, and I missed the sheer pleasure of lovemaking. Now, though, I take pleasure even more pleasure in such simple delights as meeting up and putting the world to rights (as if!) with friends and/or visiting places I love, whether for real or in my imagination.  

While I don’t miss sex anymore, I can appreciate that it's not the same for everyone, nor do all men of a certain age lose either their appetite for sex or their ability/ inclination to perform. Even so, the expression ‘making love’ is something of a misnomer, to say the least; love is not made, it is created between soulmates who are mutually inspired by letting it grow and mature. 

There is great pleasure to be taken from sex between partners who are physically attracted to one another, and nothing wrong with it at all, but whether or not they fall in love, that is something else altogether.

A heart-to-heart between this reader and his partner will establish the emotional paths both need to take; should the partner need to continue satisfying his or her sexual appetite the reader should try not  see this as a poor reflection on their love for one another. Easier said than done, I agree, but life is rarely easy in every way. Such are the ways of love that they, too, are no less inclined to test mind-body-spirit from time to time, trusting it to pass with flying colours... or not, as the case maybe.

POINTS OF VIEW

At open windows by the sea,
listening to waves telling and retelling
stirring tales of derring-do,
discovery and exploration, lifting
spirits while breaking hearts
of those left counting days and nights
before any returns on dreams
likely to leave pride in tears, love in pain,
time after time, and time again 

At open windows on cornfields,
leafy woodlands and all manner of bird
and beast sure to nurture
its natural surroundings in the time left
before the human race,
cocksure of ways and means to match
any end-of-world scenarios,
continues to confuse its images of progress
with paths of peace and happiness 

At open windows on the world,
expecting even more from its seasons,
in demonstrating our worth,
nature and human nature, each as vulnerable
as the other to kindness
and neglect, pride, disrespect. even violence
as weathered during Earth Mother’s
labour pains for both peopling and colouring
landscapes worth the nurturing 

At dead of night, left to reflect
on such life-forces as have inspired us
to let love light up our lives, thereby creating
a kinder, wiser personal space, addressing
past mistakes, shying away
from a Here-and-Now that’s dependent
on algorithms as may well suffice,
but never replace innate sensibilities, life forces
defining Earth Mother for centuries... 

Reminding nature-and-human-nature how progress
is best judged by its capacity for alleviating distress

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

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

Hello, again, from London UK

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

Sorry, folks, No new poem here today, although you will find one on my general poetry blog:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

Alternatively, you may also be able to access either or both blog archives via the British Library catalogue:

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102835/https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102823/https://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com/

Readers asks why I post relatively few poems on this blog now, and the answer is because I began by posting gay-specific poems here and I am less inspired to do so now; partly this is because I am well into my 70's now and having to grapple with various health and mobility issues, not least hormone therapy for my prostate cancer that has badly affected my memory and thought processes for some years now.

Another reason, I suspect is that the same hormone therapy has left me virtually asexual. I have been unable to enjoy sex with another man for  years, so any images in my head to which I once aspired and would set my imagination into poetry mode... are simply not there  any more.

 Not being able to achieve and erection, does sod all for motivation...

At the same time, I am still a gay man at heart and continue to think of the world as a common humanity in which everyone has a part to play, regardless of their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, politics, religion...whatever. Hopefully, what I have to say in my general poems, makes this point, attempts to draw in all readers, no exceptions.

Obviously, not everyone is into poetry. I can only hope that regular readers will continue to dip into my general blog and even recommend it to others; the more, the merrier and hopefully, the bigots among us may even find food for thought in what I have to say, even feel it's high time to change the habits of a lifetime... (Hope springs eternal.)

I may yet post a gay-specific poem here again while, in the meantime, you may well enjoy some of my earlier poems in the blog archives.

Meanwhile, while email feedback suggests that more gay reader are dipping into my general poetry blog, I can but ask others to at least.. give it a go, if only now and then?

Whatever, here's wishing all of you love, peace and happiness, or if they are denied you in the longer term, only available in snatches of time and personal space... continue to nurture a positive thinking mindset.

Where  any socio-cultural-religious circumstances prevent us from looking the world in the eye as unashamedly part of a natural, LGBT global community let's at least let our inner selves find peace in a safe corner of personal space created so we can be as and who we are, not as others would have us be.

If you can, get out of the damn closet and look the world in the eye, but that is not always possible given the attitude of certain loved-ones we don't want to hurt and/or any misgivings we may yet have about being openly gay.

Bye for now, folks, and I'll be back with  a gay/ LGBT - specific poem as and when I can. Meanwhile, take care, keep well and enjoy all the kinder aspects of life than help compensate for its dark side if we but let it.

Love 'n' Hugs,

Roger x x 

Cornered OR Nil Desperandum

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

Asked how he was feeling at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, a neighbour replied that he felt “Cornered. I never know from day to day how that day will pan out and whether or not I will get through it in one piece, either physically or mentally, but...” he added with a shrug, “I can’t stop the damn virus, can I?  I just have to get press on and make the best of a bad job along with everyone else... I mean to say, let it beat you and, well, you’re done for, aren’t you?”

Did anyone ever speak truer words...? 

“Nil desperandum, - Never Despair. That is a motto for you and me. All are not dead; and where there is a spark of patriotic fire, we will rekindle it.” - Samuel Adams

CORNERED or NIL DESPERANDUM

The road is long, and crowded with faces
in queues at bus stops, fashion stores,
train stations, even for Covid vaccinations,
anything to give mind-body-spirit a lift
to such far-away places as we see in eyes
reflecting daydreams, general hubbub
given the old heave-ho just long enough to let
mind-body-spirit grab some peace 

The road is long, like a tale we’re making up
as we go along, no end in sight to make it
worth the effort, uphill, down dale, on frantic
city streets, lonely suburbs, leafy turnings, 
sneering passers-by enough to panic hearts
left vulnerable by years of fake news rejecting
accusations of intending more harm than good in
as many real as digital communities 

Yes, the road has been long, and I'm left asking
myself, whether I feel motivated enough
to continue my journey from here, where I stand
at the heart of No-Man’s Land or trust my feet
to find a suitable escape route, but what chance
of success where mind-body-spirit has tried
and failed to achieve anything along such lines a
heroic men and women in our fictions?

Time, perhaps, to consider the role models we
choose, we wannabe heroes, as we pursue
the humdrum and hubbub of everyday life all art
forms seek to encourage us to acknowledge
for fantasy and draw us in while it may, if only
during the kinder seconds-minutes-hours
of days that would leave us feeling all but defeated
humiliated, possibly broken-hearted? 

Ah, but artists, too, have role models into whom 
they breathe life, would give the Kiss of Life to any
relating more closely to near-death scenes than
any celebration of life, for all its pitfalls, resolving
to let peace, love, joy have stronger voices when
having to make choices affecting loved -ones
no less than ourselves, give humanity an opportunity
to get the better of its egocentricity

Come Here-and-Now’s demanding we let it pass us by,
time, perhaps, to be asking “Why...?

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today as feedback suggests many gay readers choose not to access it and Covid-19 + variants has left most if not all mind-body-spirits batteries worldwide in need of recharging.. For gay-specific poems, see the blog archives,] RNT

 

Past-Present-Future, Our Call

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

While I don’t believe we (quite) make our own luck or bad luck, I have come to have a sense of mind-body-spirit’s directing it. 

As regular readers know, I had planned to qualify as a librarian after leaving school in January 1964 (after re-taking and re-failing an A-level.) Unable to take up my place at Library School, I drifted for a good 7 years with no real sense of direction. 

Looking back, though, I may have lost heart, and mind-body-spirit may well aided and abetted my drifting, we never lost sight of what or who I wanted to be. I went into free fall after freefall, made mistake after mistake, but even in the course of these, I never quite lost sight of my original aims in life -to be a librarian and find the confidence to look the world in the eye as a gay man.   

My hearing problem (perceptive deafness) means I often have communication problems in group situations; apart from a love of literature, I am essentially a ‘people’ person so public library work was always the obvious choice of career as it involves a lot of 1-1 information work with which I am (far) more comfortable and can cope (far) more effectively. As for being gay, mind-body-spirit was working on that issue too. 

Yes, I got there in the end and many would say it was more by luck than good judgement. It may sound whimsical, but I suspect mind-body-spirit knew best. Yes, it took me a longer to qualify as a librarian, and I did not leave the proverbial ‘closet’ until my 30’s, but those dark years of drifting like a lost soul in a worldly wilderness gave me a greater understanding of personal crises and (hopefully) has made me a better poet. Although I have always loved writing poetry, I never realised just how much a part of me the poet in me really is until I was much older. 

So, luck, bad luck...up to a point we make our own, but if we never (quite) lose our sense of direction in life... well, yes, I suspect mind-body-spirit will continue to guide us through thick and thin if we but keep faith with it, and let it do just that. 

PAST-PRESENT-FUTURE, OUR CALL 

Like leaves on a feisty breeze,
the baffled consciousness travels
a puzzled world’s wondering
just what’s what about governmental
decisions, as likely as not to leave us
asking more questions, if only for mulling
what-might-have-been but for pecuniary pies
in various (potential) answers 

Like blossom on a feisty breeze,
the hopeful consciousness travels
as freely as any scepticism
regarding electoral cat-and-mouse games
as likely as not to be interrupted
by as an innate a cynicism as parental calls
for us to participate in home rituals reaffirming
their knowing what’s ‘best’ for us 

Like roots in a feisty breeze
an enduring consciousness travels
time and (personal) space...
coming to rest more by nature’s whim
than any pre-ordained design
yet returning to the earth from whence it came,
perchance to rebirth itself, with the good earth onside
to make reparation, earn forgiveness? 

Chance may well be a fine thing, once it can see  
just who-what-where in life we need to be 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: this post-poem appears on both poetry blogs today.] RNT

Not (Quite) Anonymous

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

A  reader who dips into both poetry blogs has asked that I post the poem here as a close friend is having "...mental problems, probably related to all the safety precautions imposed during the pandemic..."

In some ways, this post-poem continue the debate on mental well-being that my poem 'Puzzles, Puzzlers and Halfway Houses' (see general poetry blog) hoped to open, not least because the pandemic will have taken its toll on the mental as well as physical well-being of many of us across the world; a subject which too few of us are willing to consider, let alone discuss. It may not be an LGBT-specific poem, but as I have said so often before, a poem is a poem, attempting to address a common humanity - of which we LGBT folks are a part, whatever anyone else may have to say... 

Now, we are all comprised of many parts, such is the complexity of most if not all human beings as we run a daily gamut of emotions, positives and negatives, often having to struggle to beat off the latter in order to give the former a clear run. Many of us succeed most of the time; sometimes, though, other considerations take their toll. In mind-body-spirit, it is mind that’s likely to start feeling the stress of everyday struggles the most, despite assurances from an innate spirit that all will be well; as for the human body, it so wants to believe all its spirit urges, but our minds may well have other ideas…

It is always worth the struggle, just to let the human spirit win through, get professional counselling if possible. Family and friends may well be supportive, but they are no more likely to understand the psychology behind what is happening to us than we are ourselves; nail the underlying reasons, and we stand a good chance of configuring solutions.

Sadly, for some of us, everyday life is never (quite) enough; we need to find a way to bridge the gap between the personae we present to the world and who we are. Most people make a good job of just that, more than simply tapping into the Happy-Ever-After ethic, but actually living it, despite the usual ups and downs of everyday life. Others pursue the dream, never (quite) make it, but remain content if not (quite) happy enough to settle for what they have. Yet others…well they remain caught between emotional rocks and hard places, but prefer to pretend otherwise, thereby succeeding in (almost) convincing themselves (and others) that all’s well in their personal space, so...no worries...!

Sharing an emotional as well as any other problem with a trusty confidante is always a good idea; it not only halves the burden in helping to bring it into focus, but openly acknowledging its very existence has to be a good start, too, in helping to find a solution if only because we are no longer having to muddle through on our own.

NOT (QUITE) ANONYMOUS

No one ever (quite) gets to know me,
although some may like to think they do,
for whatever it is I've let them see;
no one ever (quite) understands my reality,
though some may yet get to find
and follow clues left in prose and poetry;
no one ever (quite) gets close to me
sufficiently to hear just what the mind-body
takes for a sense of spirituality 

No one ever (quite) understands a self
in me that certain other selves do their best
to put down, even bully into agreeing
motions no joint mind-body-spirit inspires
only certain rogue elements reluctant
to ever accept any such majority decisions 
that exclude them from personal space,
has them force a different pace, leave its host
(that's me) to do its best...or worst 

No one ever (quite) gets to unearth in me
such roots as only ever sought to grow, flower
forever in a loved one’s own eternity;
no one ever (quite) gets a response from me
along lines of any mistakes I've made,
abandoned to shallow graves in living memory;
hopefully, some may come to think of me, 
once I am no more, see that any kinder parts
have as great a say in my history...

I am that life-force driving humanity’s choices
to lend mind-body-spirit its truer voices

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021