Showing posts with label persona. Show all posts
Showing posts with label persona. Show all posts

Wednesday, 29 May 2019

Making Good Time

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

Update June 11th 2019]: A reader, Max, who regularly emails me and appears to enjoy all three blogs, has kindly said  he misses my Google + site since Google recently deleted personal G+ sites, but goes on to say “Whenever I find a poem I really like, I make a note of any search words or phrases in the labels column and use them to find more poems …” Well, thank you Max, and I'm sure some readers will find the tip useful and time-saving. For the record, search words and phrases include: communication, culture, death, dreams, guilt, innocence, history, human nature, human spirit, imagination, love, mind-body-spirit, memory, mortality, nature, past-present-future, personal space, posthumous consciousness, prejudice, religion, relationships, sexuality, society, and time... among others. [Another reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one; it's because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better or worse...]

Meanwhile...

As regular readers will know, I stayed in the proverbial closet for years; well, it was real enough, and I was in and out of it for years although few people were in the know; the stress was excruciating. A nervous breakdown in the late 1970’s, awful experience though it was, came as no surprise to the few, least of all to me. Mental illness can be a messy affair and mine was no exception. I even attempted suicide, remained unconscious for a good thirty-five hours and escaped death by a whisker, thanks to the efforts of hospital staff and staff at my nearby local surgery where I managed to stagger before passing out. It was a wake-up call and the next few years found me re-appraising mind-body-spirit, warts ‘n’ all.

I was forty-one years old before I finally Came Out to stay; incredible, and not a little sad given that I’d known I was gay from the age of fourteen. My only excuse is cowardice; homosexuality was not well received just about anywhere in the UK throughout the 1950’s - 1990’s, and even now among some families, peers and communities. Old stigma die hard where human nature is concerned.

The evening prior to my finally Coming Out to the world, at work as it so happened, I confided in an old friend who had known about my sexuality for years, being one of my earliest encounters with that species of heterosexual who was confident enough in his own sexuality not to give a damn about anyone else’s. I explained that I felt a pressing need to  come out of that awful closet, but continued to doubt the wisdom of it; it was the early days of Equal Opportunities, but the fickle public was still divided on the issue and various socio-cultural-religious influences prevailed for the most part, as I suspect they still do albeit less obviously so than in certain other countries.

 “Let me put it this way,” said my friend,” Fools may well rush in where angels fear to tread, but do you really want to side with angels or are you saying to yourself, to hell with all that, I just want to be ME, and if that’s a fool’s game I’ll make damn sure I have the time of my life playing it …”

Needless to say, I had already made my choice, just needed someone to spell it out for me. Moreover, I suspect that moment in time is also when I finally, and consciously turned my back on religion to embrace not only nature, but the kinder, more discerning side of human nature as well.

This poem is a villanelle.

MAKING GOOD TIME

We’ll make time for us, just you and I,
where some (still) refuse us the time of day,
but two among millions under the sky

But two among millions under the sky,
wannabe free spirits with a mortgage to pay,
loving life by living for love till we die

We’ll make time for us, just you and I
to live, let live, letting love light up every day,
no matter any dogma raising hue and cry

But two among millions under the sky,
an ordinary couple, contrary to what bigots say
(that same sex relationships prove the lie)

We’ll make time for us, just you and I,
despite needs must discreetly since we’re gay,
and it may (still) matter to passers-by

Hear race, creed, culture having their say,
only, trust the human spirit to find its own way;
we’ll make time for us, just you and I,
but two among millions under the sky


Copyright R N Taber 2019

Monday, 15 January 2018

The India No One Sees OR Gay in Delhi


As in certain other countries around the world, LGBT relationships remain a criminal offence in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh, punishable by imprisonment at the very least. Every now and again, I hear from gay readers in these parts of the world and am asked to write a poem. Only recently, I found myself chatting to Viraj, a visitor from a city in India where he and his male partner are forced to give the appearance of living separate lives.

At  72+, I suspect my Muse (like me)  is less able these days, but have produced the following villanelle for the likes of people like Arijit and his secret love, wherever they may be, living in fear of reprisals by the less enlightened who remain immovably entrenched in one form or another of socio-cultural-religious dogma.

THE INDIA NO ONE SEES or GAY IN DELHI

Fine temples casting a long shadow
on centuries of human history,
River of Time running, oh, so slow

In vain may Winds of Change blow
(wake-up call to the 21st century?);
fine temples casting a long shadow

In truth, we came ourselves to know,
(as birds to a tree if never openly)
River of Time running, oh, so slow…

Hunters, a tiger’s tracks surely follow,
(child of Earth Mother, born free);
fine temples casting a long shadow

Where same sex lovers afraid to go
(says the Tarot of social misery)
River of Time running, oh, so slow

Underwriting an ages-old status quo
disrespecting homosexuality,
fine temples casting a long shadow,
River of Time running, oh, so slow

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018











Friday, 12 January 2018

Embrace

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

No longer a young man (in my 70's now)  but still a shameless romantic, I was thrilled to discover a  Doris Day album called My Heart available on cd with songs from 1985/1986 that I had not heard before. Doris was in her 60's then (turned 80 now) her voice as magical as ever.

Ah, but it's GOOD to know  this clinical, sceptical Age of Technology has not killed off love and romance, and hopefully never will....

Now, readers sometimes get in touch to ask why I don’t publish my poems on a gay theme separately rather than include them in broader collections. ‘Mark’ complains that I am ‘letting down the gay minority by pandering to the straight majority.’

Oh, and how...?

As a gay man, I hope gay readers will enjoy many of my poems, and not just the gay-interest ones. I also hope that many straight readers will enjoy some of my  gay-interest poems as well as those on other themes. We are, after all, a common humanity, so why publish a volume of gay-interest poems that will only be read by gay people? There is, surely, a greater need to educate the gay-unfriendly among us then preach to the converted?

As for the poem below, it is a poem about the spiritual as well as physical nature of love for which neither the gay minority nor heterosexual majority worldwide can claim to have a monopoly while those that condemn gay relationships plainly know little or nothing about love anyway. I am posting it here simply because feedback suggests many gay readers (all ages) who visit this blog (still) adore our Doris. Hopefully, though, it will be likewise enjoyed by the mixed gay/straight readership following my Google+ site.

EMBRACE

Your body engages with mine
in a purposeful embrace destined
to last a lifetime

Your tongue paints over graffiti
daubed on my flesh by other lovers
for the hell of it

Your lips promise nothing less
than a fine re-working of passion’s
greater artistry

Your hands re-work my body,
exploring its potential, overlooked
by amateurish brush strokes

Your desires make new inroads
where previously only sex has left
muddy prints

Your love re-writes the bible
of sex passed down to me by lesser
mortals

My body engages with yours
in a spiritual embrace destined
to last a lifetime

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: First published under the title 'Engaging with Love' in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2010; rev. version in e-format in preparation.[












Thursday, 2 January 2014

Mind-Body-Spirit, Making Connections

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

Incidentally, today’s poem was inspired by a very moving gay-interest film (available on DVD) called Eyes Wide Open about the relationship between two orthodox Jewish men, one of whom, when confronted with and acting upon his homosexuality starts to ‘feel alive’ for the first time in his (married) life.

Now, some gay friends take offence at the word ‘homosexual’. As I see it, it’s a perfectly respectable word for a perfectly respectable state of mind, body, and spirit. Yes, some people use it as a form of abuse, but that is their problem and not mine.

Meaning is defined by less by what we say than how we say it. Similarly, the human condition is defined less by how it looks than how it conducts itself. In turn, how we conduct ourselves is defined less by any socio-cultural-religious dogma than by the sense and sensibility of minds and hearts left open to the subtleties of natural human goodness.

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, MAKING CONNECTIONS

A human body
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
drowning its mind
or spirit out

Come, but listen to what
it has to say,
feed its needs or hold back
for all the things
you’ve been warned,
told never to forget,
yet longed for in dusty corners
of a mind inaccessible
to a world (far) better known
throughout history
for its darker shades of bigotry
and hate than any light
of human understanding
shown its own kind

A human mind
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
driving host body
or spirit out

Come, follow or follow not,
ours to choose
freedom or chains imposed
by well-meaning others
who haven’t a clue about half
of what's going on in a man
or woman’s own personal space
in never (quite) sharing
the same perceptions of grace
and harmony as even family,
or friends committed to dogma
stigmatising any differences
for flaws if not sins irreconcilable
with a common humanity

A human spirit
makes itself known
in a thousand ways,
inner voices crowding
but never (quite)
driving host body
or mind out

Come, follow or follow not
ours to let the heart in
on the act and let its beat
lead the world a dance
with our heads held high,
play the wallflower
or (worse) take a partner
for appearances’ sake
nodding politely to family,
friends, peers insisting
our best interests
are of such prime concern
that any bones of contention
form part of no equation

Better (surely?)
to insist on at least one
of a thousand voices,
speaking up for us
as nature intended,
refusing to let the world
drown us out

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

[Note: This poem has been considerably revised; while it does not appear in my collections, regular readers may notice that it was previously posted on the blog in a very different form. Feedback suggested the original poem did not (quite) work, and I always take constructive criticism on board.]

Sunday, 22 April 2012

Pink in the Frame OR L-O-V-E, where Life forces Come in all Colours

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

Some readers may be interested in the latest video (Salisbury Cathedral) that my close friend Graham has beautifully shot for YouTube and for which I have written and read a new poem.  

Although I do not subscribe to any religion, it doesn’t mean I have any less love for the architecture of many religious edifices; for much of religious music, too, even if I cannot relate the words of hymns and other songs of praise. 

An eye and feeling for beauty are unconditional, surely? 

Nature offers a sense of spirituality with no strings attached; the same cannot be said for religion.  As for God, who's to say God and nature are not one and the same? me, I cannot believe in a personified God, yet I see nature as a metaphor for a force for good that has to come close, surely? I count myself as neither atheist nor agnostic, just a poet who also happens to be gay, and others are free to make of that what they will. 

If interested, you can access video and poem at my YouTube channel:


as well as my general blog today:


Meanwhile...

This poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010, and I am repeating it today especially for ‘Marie’ and her partner ‘Aileen’ who contacted me a while ago to say they ‘really like it’.  I always love to hear from readers so thanks for that. Regular readers will know that the reason I don’t post comments is that it is, after all, a poetry blog, and I feel they can distract from the poem. Even so, anyone is free to contact me about anything at my email address, which is why I included it in the blog’s Introduction.

This the poem is one of many in which I try to convey something of an enduring sense of spirituality that nature has always given me since early childhood and for which I have looked for but never found in religion. 

PINK, IN THE FRAME or L-O-V-E, WHERE LIFE FORCES COME IN ALL COLOURS

Yellow, like bright sunshine on spring flowers;
such is the colour of love

Green, like summer leaves dancing on a breeze;
such is the colour of love

Sometimes turning a reddish gold, growing old;
such is the colour of love

Sometimes gone grey, like our ashes in a hearth;
such is the colour of love

White, like virgin snow on nature’s fine promises;
such is the colour of love

Pink, like dawn’s gay chorus or sunset’s shy blush;
such, too, is the colour of love

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

Wednesday, 23 March 2011

Surfing

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

This poem was written in 1970 while I was reflecting on a brief, necessarily closet affair with a youth only a few years older than me at a time when gay relationships were still a criminal offence here in the UK. I had adored him from afar for ages. (I thought he was way out of my league.)

One rainy night in a backstreet café, we had our first in-depth conversation and a very close relationship blossomed until he was killed in a motorcycle accident. a few weeks before his 21st birthday. I happen to believe in a posthumous consciousness (or ghosts if you prefer) and I often hear him whispering in my ear, especially when I have important decisions to mak, but words of love as well.

The poem last appeared on the blog in 2008 and is repeated today especially for 'Simon' who contacted me to say his boyfriend was killed in similar circumstances; theirs, too, had been a closet relationship. 

Simon wrote, '...[we] used to go surfing a lot. Reading what you said on the blog made me cry. I hadn't been able to do that. It has helped me to carry on.'

I am so sorry for your loss, Simon, but glad my words have helped you, if only just a little, to get on with your life. Grief is hard enough to bear without having to bear it on your own. I'm sure all my blog readers will join me in wishing you well. Here's sending a BIG HUG.

It was hard for young Roger all those years ago, not being able to confide in anyone how much I loved and missed that rascally, streetwise youth who was my first real love if not my first sexual relationship. Nearly fifty years later, it grieves me that I still find people in much the same position, afraid to be openly gay for all manner of socio-cultural-religious reasons of which few if any pay but lip service to the deeper meaning of humanity.

Photo: taken from the Internet

SURFING

Surely, the tide, as surely as my life
at this place where dreams must end
and all fears come. Oh, how I wished
things different, waters of the womb
taken me to another place than such waves
dragging me down! And I see your face
in a brave moon straining to catch the dawn
as would I, or I die. Surely, the tide,
as surely as dreams of fame and fortune,
someone to care. When they laughed,
you shrugged the score, taking on more
than I bargained for and I wouldn’t chance
your blushes but hung back, to let you
ride white horses with the pack – to hell
and back! Surely, our lives, as surely
as pride picking at my bones. I love you!
Yet,I only had time for this tide’s amen,
none for its daily giving and taking. You shy
like a wild thing at the world’s taunts,
refuse to be dragged into line, braving heaven
head-on. Now! A sure tide’s surfing me
where I want to be, with you...
who wore a sandman’s mask but tore it off
to show how some dreams last

Soulmates, drowning in the world’s nightmares,
Saved! On this, our first BIG wave

Copyright R. N. Taber 1970; 2011

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.]