Sometimes, it takes a Stranger

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

Today’s poem first appeared on the blog in 2013.

When I was a boy in the early-mid 1950’s, my mother would always warn me not to speak to any strange men whenever I went out to play. As a gay youth, I was destined not to follow that particular piece of advice.

On the whole, I have been very fortunate in the gay men I have met while cruising around hoping for sex since my mid-teenage years; it would be few more years yet (1967) before sex between consenting gay adults would be legalised here in the UK and I would not be 21 until 1966. (I will be 75 in December so it was all a long time ago, yet I recall that time as if it were but yesterday.)

As a teenager, I took care never to let anyone take me to their home. As a young adult, I probably never appreciated the risks of going home (or anywhere else) with a total stranger or taking him back to my place. Even so, I trusted my instincts, and rarely did they let me down ... or not for long anyway. (No adrenaline rush could ever quite obliterate them.)

Few straight men understand about ‘cruising’ and find it sordid, even disgusting; what they fail to grasp is that there is a gay person inside us, desperate to come out, look the world in the eye, hopefully meet the boy or girl man  or woman or our dreams - or at least, kindred spirits. What few understand is that the world, as represented by the environment in which we live, is often unlikely to welcome us with open arms; in short, we are scared … of stereotypical attitudes prevalent among family, friends and workmates (or schoolmates) alike; not least, we may well have good cause to be scared of being beaten up simply for our sexuality.  

Until we put closet days behind us, though, we are prisoners of our twin selves. (I am often asked why, as gay man, I also write general poetry and fiction; not least, it is to emphasise the point that a person’s sexuality is an integral part of who they are, yes, but there is far more to anyone than their sexuality.

As I have said on the blogs more than once, and will say yet again, our differences do not make us different, only human. 

LGBT folks have come a long way since Stonewall, but in many countries, communities and family life around the world, we are not equal yet in the eyes of  many, even where there is legislation in our favour, Black lives, LGBT lives, disabled people's lives... every life matters and deserves to be treated as such, and not in a patronising way, but as ordinary people, part of a common humanity.

Have fun, but be careful out there.

SOMETIMES, IT TAKES A STRANGER

A stranger one fine day

asked if he could walk with me,

told me he was gay,

asked if he could talk with me

about being gay

What else could I do or say

but let the stranger walk with me,

tell me he was gay,

let him walk and talk with me

about being gay?

A stranger one fine day

told me he had seen me before,

suspected I am gay,

told me how he fancied me

(so am I gay?)

A stranger, many years ago

talked to me like no one else had

about being gay,

knew just what I so needed

to hear and say ... 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Lockdown, Loosening Up

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

A new poem today inspired by a true-life story as sent in by Jay and Shakil.

If little else of a positive nature, Covid-19 had made many if not most of us realise that we may not have as much time left as we think so … all the more reason to get real about ourselves and stop playing mind games.Time, too, to think about what we really want and need from life, regardless of any socio-cultural-religious agenda-dogma imposed on us since birth; let the human spirit have its say, and trust it to help us make our own decisions without being made to feel threatened by some existential hell for going against established 'norms'.

If sharing our life with someone or living our lives in a way that does not correspond with how family and friends think we should, for whatever reason, offends them to the extent they shun us, that’s their loss; often, rejection is more of an impulsive, shock reaction, but where there is love, and it is strong, it will invariably make us see sense in so far as what our loved ones do is who they are, and it is who they are - family or friend – that remains whom we love, no matter what.

Rarely easy, but only a heartbeat away, and the heart heeds must have its say ... whether we choose to listen or not.

Sadly, love is not always as strong a life force as we would have it, and the human heart may well encounter  human opposition; we can but give the latter time to get used to the idea that the former has human rights too.

Meanwhile, I’m sure we all wish Jay and Shakil every happiness, Covid-19 notwithstanding.

LOCKDOWN, LOOSENING UP

Workmates on furlough,

we could but say “Hello” knocking elbows

in a bar, coronavirus demanding

no more or less of us, while something

about his smile

sending tremors down my spine

the way it never had before,

both of us experiencing the same,

afraid to say more

We talked about work,

wondering how things would work out

for us, once our furlough done,

trying to stay positive about returning

to how things once were

before the pandemic took the world

by the scruff of its neck,

demanding we reinvent ourselves,

make or break

Empathy bringing us closer

than we had ever been as office colleagues,

it slowly metamorphosed

into emotions we had fought off for years,

now close to surrendering,

weary of sad, lonely years threatening

an even worse fate

than Covid-19 killing us off, so… time

to Come Out?

Several drinks later, we parted in pouring rain,

a dead cert we'd be together again soon ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

(London, UK July 19th)

Single, and Growing Old OR As Good as it Gets

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

Readers sometimes contact me and ask me how I manage to stay positive. So am posting this poem by way of reply. I will be 75 later this year, need a walking stick following a bad fall in 2011 and  have prostate cancer which has been treated with hormone therapy, also since 2011, so am constantly needing use the loo, plus I have some arthritis in my bad leg and in my neck.

I have done battle with depression all my life, even as a child. It may well be a complete stranger to many people having to contend with the physical, emotional and economic consequences of the Covid-19 corinaavirus, but it and I are old adversaries. 

For years, I lost more battles with the BIG D than I won until a GP said he had no problem with patients who suffered from depression staying on an antidepressant; in the past, I had taken them until I felt better and then come off them... until the next time. What works for one person may well not work for another, of course, but I tried this approach and have not had a serious bout of depression since. 

Regular readers will know that, looking back to early January, I can now see that I had all the symptoms of what was almost certainly a milder version of the C-19 virus even if it did not feel 'mild' at the time. But it was winter, the time of colds and flu and there was little if any talk of a pandemic then. I simply put it down to a bad cold and stayed indoors. Yes, I am finding the C-19 pandemic very hard to deal with on a daily basis, but mostly due to the necessity for social distancing, not seeing friends and having to avoid public transport (I don't have car) especially as I live alone. 

Obviously, there are many people a lot worse off than me, but I can empathise with anyone who has difficulty trying to look on the bright side of life.  Growing old, for start, is definitely no picnic, but it’s only fair to point out that the same can be said of life in general. Some people in some parts of the world have a relatively easy life compared with those in other parts; some individuals appear to sail through life where others constantly find themselves swimming against an unremitting tide.

“How do you cope?” I once asked a young disabled friend some years ago. “Mind over matter,” he replied, “Think good, feel good,” he added with wry grin, and this from someone in pain 24/7. It was sound advice, and I make a point of following it. 

On bad days, the love of those closest to me, past and present, helps me through any pain and subsequent, frustration, depression ... whatever. I only wish I had done likewise back in 1979 before I suffered a mental breakdown and attempted suicide. Even so, I am convinced it was love that saved me then, and sustains me now, even though I live alone and have no partner. (I only had a partner for a short time, and that was many years ago although our feelings for each other continue to sustain me just as they did before he was killed in a road accident abroad.) As a result of my suicide attempt, I was unconscious for a good 35 hours, and I seem to recall his and my mother's voice calling me back. Both, long dead. Call it a fantasy if you like, but even the doctors said I am lucky to be alive ...

“The positive thinker sees the invisible, feels the intangible, and achieves the impossible.”
– Winston Churchill, My Early Life, (1874-1904)   

SINGLE, AND GROWING OLD or AS GOOD AS IT GETS

Can’t get out and about

too easily now, a walking stick
needing to take the strain

when the rest of me lets me down,
and that’s as good as it gets

Can’t hear or see as well

as I could not so very long ago

but hearing aids and specs

get me by (now, wherever did I put

the darn things...?

New technology remains

a mystery not designed for old folks

who struggle to master

even the basics, a failing memory

chasing P-I-N or password

Growing old, no easy task,

gets harder by the day, yet a feeling

for life, love. and nature

inspires, and more than gets me by, 

cur for mind-body-spirit 

I draw upon all the love
that has seen me through the years
(in all its shapes and forms)
until it all but mends this poor frame,
and that's as good as it gets

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018; 2020

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

Ticking Over

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

Readers often ask why I publish a poem only to revise it at a later date, more often than not a much later date .Feedback at the time suggested that many readers could relate - in part, at least - to the image the poem projects, but something about the poem itself failed to engage them.

Hopefully, a revised version may help restore a meaningful balance.(Feel free to let me know one way or another.)

TICKING OVER

He was leaning against a lamp post, flickering,
almost dead. He demanded a cigarette.
I said I didn’t smoke. I’d have walked on,
but then he asked the time. On impulse,
I confessed I’d left my watch with a pawnbroker,
times were tough

By now the light had all but died as he confided
that he had no money or place to go since
his wife had discovered his appetite for other men.
She had kept their house and kids, taking care
to get all the locks changed and have a good lawyer
plead her case

He was now working all hours to pay the mortgage
keep  the 'ex' happy, their kids through university,
a mother-in-law in clover who had never liked him,
thought daughter could do better; not a bad father
but, so what?  Daughter taken in by his lies, for better,
for worse

Worse, as it happens. Nothing for it but to make
a clean break, no matter how life may turn out
for a cheating a husband and dad so long as society
(finally) seen to do right by a family let down
for being left to live a happy-sad lie - and (nobody?)
any the wiser

Street lamp died. He became no more than a shadow,
a light in the eyes telling me all I needed to know;
A family man he may well have been but now, like me,
he clearly hungered for that intimacy long since
short changed him by a society that needs must preserve
its integrity

I took him back to my place for much more than tea
and sympathy. By dawn, he's gone. Lonely sheets,
reminding me how men cruising invariably wear faces
reminiscent of watches in a pawnbroker’s window
asking to be redeemed, get a life well worth (more than)
its ticking over

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appears under the title 'Living Over the Pawnbroker's Shop' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

A (Gay) Winter's Tale OR Anticipating Summer

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

Lonely? Wintry days seem endless? Well, take heart, you just never know what’s around the next corner or even at the next taxi queue ...

A (GAY) WINTER'S TALE or ANTICIPATING SUMMER

Standing close to me in the queue,

buttocks pressing on my groin;

my sex aroused, I could but surf waves

of desire, riding blond highlights
among waves of his long brown hair;

if I’d stuck out my tongue,

it would have brushed the pale neck

gracing a denim shirt collar

like down of an angel’s wing making

moves on my heart’s reawakening

Moving forward in the queue till just

us pair, a lump in my throat hard

and throbbing like an erection (that, too)

as in craters of a full moon I made

frantic love…to you; a taxi pulled up

alongside us, your turn to vanish

into a darker side of town. You casually

asked if I’d care to share, and I could

but nod, anxious to pursue those highlights

in your hair just about anywhere

In the back seat, leg pressing against mine,

we gladly revealed our names - and

more. It was time, we both knew, to stop

playing games, answer a question

in the wing mirror’s eyes as the taxi

pulled up outside your door;

it was now or never. I yielded to temptation,

said ‘yes’ without further hesitation;

if only a one-night stand, I was well hooked,

my place in your bed long since booked

Wintry days (even in summer) all the warmer

for our being together

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

G-A-Y, Inside-Out OR Life Forces, Poetry in Motion

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

Every now and then, a young person emails me to say they are gay, in their teens, and have no idea what to do or where to turn. Many are convinced parents and peers will turn against them. Believe me you are not alone. When I think back to when I was 14 years old and realised I am gay, the whole closet ethos threatens to overwhelm me all over again.

In many areas, in many countries, there are support groups that did not exist when I was a teenager in the 1960's; search the Internet and try and make contact as this will enable you to meet other young people in the same situation. As for parents and peers, they may well surprise you, they may even  have observed for themselves that you might be gay and have been waiting for you to talk to them about it, not wanting to raise the subject themselves for fear of being mistaken; if not, yes, they may be hostile at first, but this could be an initial shock reaction. Remember how long it took you to come to terms with being gay and allow them,too, time to get used to the idea.

Never underestimate the power of love and friendship.

Sometimes, of course, family and friends refuse to accept gay people, even within their own family circles. This degree of rejection is incredibly hard to bear, but we need to build on the same strength of willpower and character that brought us out of that awful closet in the first place. Believe me, there is a life to be had and enjoyed out there, and there are many good people who gladly take others as they find them whether they be gay, straight, transgender...whatever. We are stereotyped by many, and it is often the stereotype that is vilified, not the person. Whatever, it is we LGBT folks who are so often made to suffer for that ignorance and bigotry.

To LGBT people around the world, I say this. Never, but never let anyone else put you down or make you think any less of yourself for your sexuality. Where staying in the proverbial closet is necessary, for now at least, confide in someone you can trust wherever possible; this may be a close relative, friend or perhaps a teacher less likely to be judgemental than most. Failing that, and failing the availability of any known support groups in your area, be guided by your better instincts and plain common sense until such a time as you can see your way clear to put closet days behind you once and for all, as I did, although, in hindsight, I should have done so years earlier.

No escape from the closet, for whatever reason?  There is an LGBT grapevine in every environment, so keep an ear out for it if only because a closet shared is a crisis halved. I was a psychological mess for years, but listening out for the grapevine and being part of a closet community probably saved my sanity while I wrestled with all the other issues - good,bad and ugly - with which life tests us at any age, but especially when we are young, emotionally inexperienced, and so often made to feel out of our depth.

G-A-Y, INSIDE-OUT or LIFE FORCES, POETRY IN MOTION

His finger brushes mine
across the desk we share in class
and I can feel his gaze
on me out of the corner of an eye
but cannot, dare not
meet it, for fear someone might see us
and guess the turmoil in me

Can it be that he's gay
this classmate I'd joke with about
all sorts, and our laughter
would spread right through me
like fizzy lemonade
on a hot day, its bubbles applauding us
as we sail through the air?

Can it be that I'm gay too,
but how do I know, and what to do
if his finger means business
and he wants to take our friendship
beyond such felt horizons
as assailing  bleary, but half closed eyes
come some know-it-all dawn?

Barely attending the lesson,
the farthest corners of our eyes engage,
attempting to read between lines
blurred by mixed feelings for years,
given our having been raised
to believe one step beyond male bonding
a step too far, the Devil's work

I look away, and so does he,
eyes wide shut, if seeming to look ahead
at our teacher, her lips moving
but any sound coming out drowning
in a sea of intimate images,
and such cries as could easily be of ecstasy
as for help from poor swimmers

Final bell, school's out, mates
on the way home, chatting about nothing
in particular if only to steer clear
of all we need to coax out into the open
from a suffocating closet,
too close for comfort, too real for fantasy
feeding on a vulnerable innocence

Taking a shortcut down an alleyway
we've walked every day for years, turning
to me in tears, giving me a hug
and I hug him back, not a word passing
between us, our first kiss
when it comes, winging us across s history
that once dare not speak its name

A companionable silence descending
as we emerge from that alleyway, bonding
in a new sense of togetherness
transcending our Here-and-Now in ways
defying poetry, prose, gesture,
any spoken word or 'live' art to even attempt
lending expression to its intimacy

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Love. an Agenda All its Own

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

We cannot help with whom we fall in love, but our love is not always reciprocated in the same way. Loving someone who sees us as a close friend, no more or less, can be hard sometimes. Even so, - whether we are gay or straight, male or female - friendship is a wonderful thing, and if worth having, always worth saving…whatever it takes.

LOVE, AN AGENDA ALL ITS OWN

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his hair blows in a breeze

and his face almost vanishes from sight

but for a wicked laughter in the eyes

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his voice eases my pain

like a balm to sores, moon to wintry night,

sunshine filtering through a summer rain

There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write

about the way his hugs near break my heart

and how, as his arms are holding me tight,

it aches for knowing we must quickly part

There’s a friend for whom I often begin 

poems I know he’ll wish I’d not written…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appears under the title 'Genesis' in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

A Singular Take on Rush Hour

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

A reader contacted me to ask if I have any more ‘story’ poems. Well, I like to oblige where I can…

Like many of my poems, this one is based on a conversation I once had with a delightful gay couple in a predominantly straight bar, at a time when I was feeling (and probably looking) very fed-up after a BAD day, all of which only goes to show how life is full of surprises; we never know what positive possibilities may await us around the next corner unless we just…turn it.

I do so love a happy ending, don’t you? We may not always find one, but we can have a great time trying, and one unhappy ending doesn't make a lifetime...

It's important, too, to remember that a happy ending may not take the form we would like. For example, I did not expect to be spending the latter years of my life on my own BUT I have some GOOD friends, am in sufficiently reasonable health to get out and about...and, of course, I have you, my readers. SO...no unhappy ending either and I remain a Happy Bunny, always looking on the bright side of life...well, most of the time. 

A SINGULAR TAKE ON RUSH HOUR

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
cruising bars.
misreading faces that seemed
interested in me
only to discover as we moved in
on each other
these were only masks, ghosts
without substance
except in eyes of desire looking
for more, far more
than a one night stand, but living
in a fantasy land

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
catching eyes
in turn-on, quick, turn-away faces  
less interested in me
than in feet, all sizes, pounding
frantic streets
for all manner of everyday meets
about as likely
to measure up to expectation
as wishful thinking
about a sexy lead in a new drama
on television 

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
dressing to kill,
trying to thrill, excite, make out
I’m all that I’m not
because so unhappy with all I am
without someone
to need me, want me for more
than sexuality
demands we must satisfy this way
or another
given mind, body and spirit at odds
with each other

Thinking
of love in the most unlikely places,
even day dreaming 
on the 7:15 carrying me through
the hustle and bustle
that’s an everyday commute to a job
I’ve come to hate,
not least because it’s all repetition,
nine to five
and never (quite) alive at start or end
for being on my own
at waking, playing, even (mostly)
sleeping alone

Not looking 
or even thinking of love, but chatting
to a stranger
while waiting for train running late
one dreary day;
it turned out we had much in common
and it mattered less
about all the pushing and shoving
on the platform,
frantic rushing for a seat once the train
(finally) arrived;
we laughed companionably, thankful
to have survived

In time, friend and lover to each other
without (at first) looking for either …

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

You-Me-Us, a Safekeeping

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

I am retired now and have lived on my own for many years. I have some good friends, but would often go to a pub for a few drinks after work in the hope of finding someone to chat to rather than head directly home to an empty flat.

At such times, I would usually avoid gay bars so guys would not assume I was trying to chat them up, and a predominantly straight but gay-friendly bar I knew was always a favourite option. Sometimes, I might well find myself attracted to someone after chatting for a while. Then of course, I would have to try and work out if he was gay and whether he might even be similarly attracted to me. Invariably, I’d just enjoy the company and leave it at that rather than risk making a fool of myself. Yet, every now and then I’d consider the risk worth taking …and take it.

 ‘Win some, lose some.’ ‘Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’ All the old clichés conspired (with several pints of ale) to persuade me…

YOU-ME-US, A SAFEKEEPING

We had only just met
in a crowded, gay-friendly bar
(I liked him a lot)

He had views, opinions,
a very open-minded sort of guy
(how time did fly!)

Bar closing, time to part,
and he invited me to his place
(to share his space?)

I could not even be sure
He liked me much the same way
(was he even gay?)

He was so dressed to kill,
and I was in old jeans and a tee
(did he really like me?)

Bar closing, time to choose
if going back with a total stranger
would put me in danger

He seemed a genuine person,
and the evening had gone so well
(I so fancied him like hell)

I’d take my chances and agreed,
enjoying the ride in his so-cool car
(still no hint of…whatever)

Later, we chatted over a coffee,
and I managed to turn conversation
Into homo erotic speculation

He laughed.  I thought I should go,
got to my feet, resigned to losing out
(but, oh, so glad we had met

I thanked him for a nice evening,
and expected we’d just shake hands
but found myself in his arms

We kissed and it was all so natural,
just like our getting together had been
(my idea of seventh heaven)

One night stands may come and go;
love, its beautiful dream left sleeping
till waking in our safekeeping

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; 2017

O-U-T, Notes on the Psychology of Perception

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

This poem takes me back to my (much) younger days and helps me forget I will be 70 later this year..

As a teenager and younger man, I used to prefer sex with older men. Now, I am the older man. Oh, dear, is that not so scary? It often strikes me that time doesn’t just fly, but zooms past me as I grow old(er). [Not old, not quite, not yet...well, maybe…]

Since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February 2011 and began hormone therapy, I confess I have lost all interest in sex. Mind you, I don’t miss it (blame the hormones) and take great pleasure in my memories, often drawing on them for my poems. Yet, who knows ...? Maybe if I met the right person even at this late stage in my life…and there’s always Viagra. <>

This poem is a villanelle.

O-U-T, NOTES ON THE PSYCHOLOGY OF PERCEPTION

Eyes of gentle grey

telling lies that are true

(seeing that I’m gay)

Lovers at play,

dark skies turning blue;

eyes of gentle grey

Some might say

I was vulnerable to you

seeing that I’m gay

Truth on its way

in a loving word or two,

eyes of gentle grey

No pressure to stay.

Oh, but how I wanted to,

seeing that I’m gay

Came out one day,

perceiving myself in you;

eyes of gentle grey

seeing that I’m gay …

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Found Out' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Perfect Strangers

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

Sometimes we sense a mutual attraction but can’t be sure, past mistakes gathering like vultures to pounce on the remains of yet another disappointment or worse.

Gay or straight, you know the feeling…that this just might be the One, but self-confidence is shaky after taking so many knocks…  

Well, what’s the worst that can happen? He (or she) is not interested. It's hardly the end of the world...

Whatever, every stranger is a potential friend if not more, so...worth finding out, surely, and letting time and tide take its course? 

Someone may not turn out to be the love of our lives, but the love of a good friend can never be overrated. 

PERFECT STRANGERS 

Shirt front hung wide open, red hairs

on his chest;

tongues of fire, leaping out at me,

licking at my nipples,

rekindling desire, teasing this cold heart

with dreams once cherished,

long forsaken;

liquid eyes spilling over, soaking my tee

like spring rain,

letting a body breathe again after years

of choking on ashes,

living on flashes of memory

I long to take this stranger in my arms,

be close to someone again,

yet dare not even ask his name,

can but look, my life

an open book if he but cares to flick a page

or two, sewn with paper thin threads

of flesh and bone, sure to snap

should he come any closer, neither of us

quite ready to give word or sign

that we’re peeping through the keyhole

of a door to a heaven

that has rarely welcomed us before

Lips parting, tongues shyly peeping,

hearts fairly leaping...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2011

[Note: revised from an earlier version that appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

What Goes Around, Comes Around

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

For as long as I can remember, Brighton on the East Sussex coast has always been a gay-friendly place. Many years ago, I met someone there with whom I had a brief fling that lasted all of one day. It was raining and we spent most of the time in his hotel room. It was my first experience of sleeping in a four-poster bed.

In recent years, I met up with an old friend who introduced me to someone with whom he had been at school some 50 years ago…who turned out to be the same young man (much older now, of course) I’d met that rainy day back in 1966. In those days, of course, same sex relationships were still illegal in the UK.

Incredibly, we recognized each other at once. Confiding some but not (quite) all to our mutual friend, we seized an opportunity later to take a trip down Memory Lane…in more ways than one.

True enough, it is a fact of life that, more often than not (one way or another) what goes around comes around …eventually.

This poem is a villanelle.

WHAT GOES AROUND, COMES AROUND

What goes around, comes around,

no matter, gay or straight

as spring seeds to wintry ground

Let time, our mistakes, compound

(love will always see us right?)

what goes around, comes around

As dogs of war run peace to ground,

see humanity put to rout…

as spring seeds to wintry ground

In all nature, no finer, sweeter sound

than love songs killing hate

what goes around, comes around

Let martyrdom, its myths compound

where light and darkness mate

as spring seeds to wintry ground

Where sexuality dares speak its mind

(or society construct a closet)

what goes around, comes around

as spring seeds to wintry ground

[Brighton, East Sussex, March 17th 2010]

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Win Some, Lose Some

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

I suspect most if not all of us have been there, when sex is (temporarily) enough and a relationship just isn’t on the cards.

Have fun, but be careful out there…

WIN SOME, LOSE SOME 

We got raunchy in a sauna

but didn’t get very far;

others wanted in on the act

and we really weren’t up

for an orgy so we drove

into the country,

had sex among the trees,

songbirds nesting

above, indifferent and snug

as you please

Bodies kindling each other

like rolled newspapers

to a flame, plagiarizing

soap opera storylines

till dawn when we rose,

passion faded

like the moon, got real

and went home;

I didn’t ask for his number

or give mine

We both knew there wouldn’t

be a next time…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem (only slightly revised here) appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]

A Summer Place

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

We do not have to make love to be intimate with its finer feelings although there is no disputing (surely?) that lovers have a head start. 

As for the world’s gay lovers, what’s so different about being gay anyway? We are all but vulnerable human beings born to run the gamut of human nature since the beginning of time, and quite possibly way beyond it…

A SUMMER PLACE 

A wintry wind carries your voice

along nature’s highways and byways,

to bring me to that special place

where we can always be together 

and love each other

A wintry rain brings your kisses

to soak my body in as sweet a passion

as any romantics ever felt

who only ever wanted to be together

and love each other

A wintry sunshine teases me

and makes me laugh, as you always do,

creating smiles (no tears)

where joyful thoughts join us together

for loving each other

A wintry twilight embraces us,

one body, one spirit, a moment in time

created with carnal knowledge

of a life-force summoning worlds apart

to come together

No wintry darkness descending

can deprive us of summery days ahead

who are out, gay, and free

to go where we can always be together

and love each other

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

A Working Relationship

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

As a rule, entering into a relationship with a work colleague is not a good idea.

There are, of course, exceptions to every rule, especially when you have desperately been trying to read someone’s body language for ages, and then...

A WORKING RELATIONSHIP

You brushed past me in a corridor

and I froze;

when I looked, you were looking too,

scratching your nose;

eyes firing questions at each other

found no answers

(none we cared to probe too closely);

we went our own ways

as we meant, although not quite,

for haunting each other’s

every move and thought for days

on end

Did I perhaps want you for a friend,

I kept asking myself?

(trying to put you out of my mind)

or was there more,

desire of another kind coursing me,

heating my blood,

pumping heart and pulse faster

than ever before?

I’d tell myself I had a fever that

would pass…

but it dogged my every footstep,

grew worse

You brushed past me in the corridor

on another occasion;

we paused, unsure how to establish

a reason;

you licked your lips and I licked mine,

tongues frozen,

alter egos debating our sexuality

head-on;

We shook hands. Your palm plied mine

with passion,

rhythm of your name exploding in me

like an orgasm

Colleagues, we still haunt the corridor;

lovers, afraid of ghosts no more

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Talking to a Stranger OR Engaging with Self-awareness

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

I wrote the original draft of this poem while recovering from a nervous breakdown in the early 1980s. I (slightly) revised and published it on the blog in 2009 after rediscovering it among some old papers while clearing out my flat. I have since (slightly) revised it again and changed the title. 

The poem  continues to remind me how choosing to turning a blind eye and deaf ear to certain home truths can only end in tears (or worse); it also server as a timely reminder to me (at 68) that we should never let old age get the better of a positive take on life.

We can but trust our instincts when we go for the proverbial coffee with a compete stranger we fancy like mad; another good reason for staying at least relatively sober and alert...

Like many if not most gay men, I've had some great one-night stands with strangers that (more often then not) I've met in gay bars  Only on rare occasions have my instincts let me down, but it only takes once to get into a tricky situation with someone who has more on his mind than sex.The only time my instincts have let me down is when I've had too much to drink. So...YES... have fun, but be (very) CAREFUL out there, and trust your (more sober) instincts ...

TALKING TO A STRANGER or ENGAGING WITH SELF-AWARENESS

He smiled at me. I looked away

(companion warning me he’s gay)

resisting an invitation in eyes

I couldn’t help but read, yearning

to respond (freely) with delight,

but family and friends all thought

I was straight so I tried to make out

everything was all right

He edged closer. I tried to follow

my companion’s sharp conversation,

nod and smile in the right places

while keeping an appreciative eye

on body contours running true

for someone working out regularly

and gets a kick out of blowing kisses

at people like me

My companion glared at him,

suggested we leave, find another bar

where private space less likely

to be compromised by a gay man

making a play for anyone

he fancies, but especially those

who choose to pretend it’s not okay

to respond in kind

He leaned across me at the bar,

an erotic cocktail of breath on my lips

inviting me to rub a tingling calf

oh, so, subtly against patched jeans

nor did I pull away the hand

he brushed with his, friend hastily

finishing his beer, insisting we both

get out of there 

At last, I met his searching look,

let him read me through and through,

closed book though I had been

for years, product of a prejudice fed me

by the less enlightened among us,

preferring to gloss over home truths

with stereotypes, deny reality its head,

create fictions instead

He took his drink, moved away,

and (suggestively) turned his back

on me, but not before mouthing

an invitation blue eyes had passed on

from the start while (in vain)

I struggled to give my companion

due attention, resisting a mad tugging

on the heart

Suddenly, I did what I’d wanted

to do for years and threw all caution

to the wind, saw peace of mind

was a dream unless I seize the day,

accept there's no earthly shame

in being gay, refuse to hide away,

let family and friends see the whole

of who I am

My bemused companion left in anger;

I stayed on for the stranger...

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2009; 2014

Time, Trickster

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

Although some 600+ of my poems have appeared in various poetry publications since 1993 (excluding any that have only appeared in my collections) very few of these have been on a gay theme. Today’s poem is one of the few; it first appeared in Poetic Designs, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2004 and in final volume of my Love and Human Remains quartet the following year.

I suspect most if not all of us keep at least a few regrets close to the heart...

 TIME, TRICKSTER

We walked by the sea

my true love and I…

dreaming, longing to be

as free as doves in the sky
above us

It had been a lovely day,

but twilight had fallen,

certain to take you away,

no help for it, odds stacked
against us

Though years fly past

like those doves,

ours remains the dream

I keep closest, and watching
over us

Never a good time then

for two gay men...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Too Soon, Too Late' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

Love, a Mind of its Own

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

Several readers have challenged this poem since it first appeared in my collection in 2004, and then on the blog in 2008. That no one challenges gay love these days seems to be the general view expressed here in the UK. What can I say except…don’t believe it!

Frequently, I wonder if some readers read a word I write. One told me only recently that I ‘should get real about the 21st century and stop living in the past.’ Oh, how I wish!

True, life can be better for gay people than it has ever been, here in the West at least, but not every gay man or woman, girl or boy has the good fortune to be living in a gay-friendly home/school/work environment. (Yes, even here in the UK where a Bill proposing gay marriage is being openly debated at Government level.)

If you are gay and from a socio-cultural-religious background that does not accept gay relationships ...well, it’s not easy to break away from all that. Some people choose not to break away at all. Fair enough, given that everyone’s priorities are different and we should all accept that. On the same principle, though, it is high time socio-cultural-religious groups who remain essentially homophobic learned to respect the rights of we gay people to live get on with our lives according to our natural instincts, not any religious dogma as imposed - or interpreted as being imposed - by Holy Books.

Yes, it’s easy enough for me to say, an openly gay man albeit still haunted by closet years that made no small contribution to a severe nervous breakdown in my mid 30’s. Even so, those of us who are comfortable about being openly gay should always remember that it’s not the same for everyone. We still have a long way to go before being gay is socially and culturally acceptable worldwide. Nor should I have to remind people like me that homophobia is very much alive and kicking in the so-called ‘liberal-minded’ West if increasingly less so than in other countries, especially where religion is used as a stick to beat free spirits into toeing its line, invariably by those who enjoy doing so for its own sake rather than out of any respect for human nature.

Love, thank goodness, is up for just about any challenge far too many among the world’s less enlightened minds continue to throw its way. Religion, for its part, does not have a monopoly on spirituality, nor can any dogma claim sole rights over the human spirit; the latter is an Open House. Wherever gay people feel as intimate a connection with any religion (as I do with nature) their conscience is clear; since no one but no one has the right to deny them access; as for any human thought processes that would, on human conscience be it.

LOVE, A MIND OF ITS OWN

Fingertips teasing

the spine, hearts skipping beats

twin balls tickling my own

between velvet thighs, tongues

creeping from mouths

anxious not to appear eager

for a parrying of wills

star-crossed lovers have braved

since the world began

Find free will alive
and kicking among like minds

as to who should love whom,

for Love has a mind of its own,
prone to inspiring the heart
to kinder choices than any forces

brought to bear on the ear,
or raised voices honed on holy books
by self-styled betters

The mind presuming
to know best, ever prioritising  

concerns of its own

in which it (invariably) has shares

reckons without self-taught
skills of lovers choosing to defy
any rules written in the first stones

denying equal rights to the heart,

be it straight or gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'A Challenge to Love' in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

A Tale of Two Halves

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

Among my critics are gay people living here in London who keep telling me that gay people have never had it so good, and where that is true I am, of course, delighted.  However, it is not true for everyone.  The point of this blog is not only to try and entertain gay readers with gay-interest poems but especially encourage those struggling with self-doubt and other powerful forces, internal or external. Gay or straight, it is important that we feel GOOD about ourselves and not let others put us down for whatever reason. 

Acknowledging homosexuality is rarely easy, especially for someone living in a gay-unfriendly home, school, or work environment. Yes, even in London UK, especially among those whose cultural history is intrinsically homophobic. I would remind readers, too, that this blog is read worldwide (according to Google stats) and in some parts of the southern hemisphere, being gay is (still) punishable by imprisonment, even death.

Once we acknowledge our sexuality, we are faced with the question, what (if anything) do we do about it? Some people choose to do nothing, and hope for the best while others prefer to nurture the rose and risk its thorns drawing blood.

This poem may be a tale of two gay halves, but is life really any different whether we are gay or straight?  I mean, who would really settle for half a life when the chances are there is another half somewhere every bit as anxious to hitch up to a kindred spirit?

Like many clichés, it is so true that, ’Nothing ventured, nothing gained.’

A TALE OF TWO HALVES 

He said he dare not love me

had been warned I was the Devil

come to tempt him

He told me he must go away 

or people would say nasty things

about us

He insisted he wasn’t gay

and I had read his body language

all wrong

He put his hands to his ears

as if to shut out my words of love

once and for all

He (finally) turned away,

ran to the door, seized the handle,

and froze

He turned, and walked back 
to me, his tears like the falling stars  

of my dreams

He confessed he'd but settled
for half a life, as better than no life

at all...

He admitted he was surer of me

than himself, had never dared come

this far before

He told me friends and family

would take time (if ever) to accept

we were lovers

He put his lips to mine, bodies

joined in an embrace no less spiritual

than carnal

Gladly, we gave my weepy bed

good cause for celebrating life, love,

sex and sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013