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

Suburban Hero OR The Good Neighbour

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

This entry is from my general poetry blog for October 2012.

Today's poem has not appeared on this blog before. I have nothing to add, but will let it speak for itself.

However, I would say to the reader who kindly says he enjoys many of my poems but thinks my collections would sell better and that I'd probably acquire a higher media profile within the arts media if I 'scrapped the gay poetry altogether...' Well, yes, you may well have a point. [Do I care?]

The reason I insist on publishing both general and gay-interest poems is because there is far more to anyone than how their gender or sexuality meets the eye, especially the judgemental eye. Yours truly,  for one, get fed up with the level of such short sightedness in societies worldwide.

SUBURBAN HERO or THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR

He was just an ordinary man, living
an ordinary life on an ordinary street,
and whenever we chanced to meet
he would always make time for a chat,
ask me (for example) did I know that
Mrs T at number ten had been ill again
with lumbago, old J at number five
caught a bug in hospital and was damn
lucky to be alive?

He was such an ordinary man, living
such an ordinary life on such a street
as you might expect to find anywhere
if you care to look beyond dull fronts
of ordinary houses, could be forgiven
for thinking no worse fate (surely?)
than this spending one’s days in such
predictable ways, the stuff of suburban
myth for centuries

He was such an ordinary man, died
only a few years ago in a road accident;
no complicated will, only a pre-paid
funeral insurance, a few items to friends
and the house to an HIV-AIDS charity
that found everyone confiding how they
had suspected he was ‘one of those’
but …immaterial, and the whole street
turned out for the funeral

Such an ordinary man, nothing special,
simply a nice, neighbourly homosexual

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Bks., 2012]

Ballad Of The Boy Next Door

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

Many of the old adages that have fallen into everyday use are so corny. My goodness, but aren’t some of them just so true? I have in mind especially, ‘Fact is stranger than fiction’ & ‘Never judge a book by its cover.’

Among life’s many ironies, love (whatever the gender, age, class, culture, creed, religion or sexuality of its active participants) has never needed too much persuasion to go centre-stage, and rightly so ... especially in a world that needs more love in it.

BALLAD OF THE BOY NEXT DOOR

I used to play at cowboys

with the boy next door;

We‘d walk to school together,

share the homework chore;

Later we went to discos

and danced all night…

got drunk, tried drugs, began

to drift apart

I missed him more than words

can ever say,

having grown to love him

in such a way…

a smile that beat a roll of drums

on my heart,

playful touches like matches

to my shirt

Eventually, I knew, I must

make a decision;

I packed us in a box - marked

Do Not Open…

along with cowboy hats

and school reports;

Mad, musical days long gone

as life goes on

We met up again in a bar

one day;

I had one too many, told him

I’m gay;

His eyes filled with tears,

and I sensed distain…

as my tongue ran away

with years of pain

Afterwards, I dashed out

in the rain…

spent hours, wishing we were

cowboys again;

He found me in a dingy

back street café,

his hair a mess, face lined

and grey

I didn’t want to hear what

he had to say…

but the look in his eyes

made me to stay;

Could it be, I wondered,

that he understood?

Then I knew for sure

he did

Fingertips touching, like

lovers kissing...

[From: First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

Note: Several readers have asked why the covers for my Love and Human Remains quartet - of which First Person Plural is volume two - are not in colour. Quite simply, I felt at the time that it was more appropriate as I tend to think of myself as a black-and-white poet. 

The Ballad Of Neighbour Joe or G-A-Y meets H-E-T

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

I have to say thank you to US reader ‘Jackson D’ who has bought a copy of my new poetry collection and emailed with some very positive comments about it. Encouragement is always well received! He asked why several poems, including this one, have never appeared on the blog. Well, actually they have, Jackson, back in 2008, but here is one again that I hope everyone will enjoy. [The other poem t Jackson liked is Whatever Happened To Love?  from an earlier collection, Accomplices to Illusion (2007) and I have posted it on my general blog today.]

Jackson, you see, reads both blogs. I shouldn’t have to write a blog especially for gay readers but there are still a lot of straight poetry lovers out there who would have no interest in reading a gay blog. The irony is that many Gay Awareness poems that I post here appear on the general blog at some time or another anyway…and only one reader has ever complained.

I have to say, too, that there are a lot of gay readers out there who only read my gay blog because it addresses gay people, not for just the poetry. Even so, it is very encouraging that most gay readers seem to enjoy the poems too!

Here we are in the 21st century, for crying out loud, and it really shouldn’t matter whether people are gay or straight. We are all part of a common humanity, after all.

Well, aren’t we?

THE BALLAD OF NEIGHBOUR JOE or G-A-Y MEETS H-E-T

I hate queers, neighbour Joe
once said to me, they’re perverts,
don’t you agree?
Not really, I had to say, especially
as I’m gay

He stared, glared, eyes wide
as saucers, lost for words although
his expression said it all;
at last, he managed to get a grip
and curled his lip

Queers deserve to be shot,
he snarled at me, and decent folks
would agree;
I took you for decent, I have to say
but you’re…gay?

I nodded, said conversationally,
so you’ll be getting a gun to shoot me?
He shook his head.
You’re a nice enough person, he said,
I don’t wish you dead

Tell me, he wanted to know,
what it’s all about, this being gay?
Sounds sick to me…
I was taught to loath and despise
(he whispered) ‘sodomy’ 

You have a bad attitude,
I felt inclined to tell him straight,
I’m a top man, me…
but it’s my job pays the mortgage,
not my sexuality

Why should what my partner
and I choose to get up to in bed
matter to you so?
He shook his head, rubbed his jaw,
finally admitted…

I’ll be damned if I know.
You’re right, said neighbour Joe,
it’s none of my business;
blame it on that old song and dance
called ignorance

We shook hands, went on our way,
good neighbours to this day

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