Ghosts, Touching Base

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

A Mormon missionary once told me I should never feel ashamed of being gay because it is a mental illness. “You’re no freak,” he insisted.  (How kind of him!)  “Think of it like this. The mentally ill cannot help themselves so they need to accept help to get better. There is no shame in that, and we can help you.” (The colleague accompanying him smiling and nodding encouragingly). When I asked him if he was qualified to help mentally ill people, he insisted that was not the point. “The point is…” he started to say.

“The point is,” I interrupted, “that people like you have to believe people like me are mentally ill because you can’t bear the thought that being gay is every bit as human as being straight. As a human being yourself that would put us on an equal footing, something no bigoted ego dares contemplate for fear of being exposed as a freak.”

Both men looked hurt and very uncomfortable. I left them to their thoughts.

Sadly, I have had many such conversations with people from all walks of life who always insist they are not homophobic and are perfectly willing to tolerate gay people.

Well, I have news for them. We LGBT folks deserve better than to be ‘tolerated’.

How I hate that word, tolerate… don’t you?

GHOSTS, TOUCHING BASE

Ghosts, in time and space,

mingling with crowds as blind

to their living presence

as parents to a gay son’s pain

in being made feel

a blot on the family landscape

for failing to live up

to the quintessential macho image

toeing the family line

Ghosts, in time and space,

whispering in cloth ears as deaf

to every word

as parents to a gay son’s pleas

to live and let live

without cocking an ear instead

to gossips and bigots

dead set on prescribing moral highs

to kill off home truths

Ghosts, in time and space,

straight out of the pages of history,

rummaging sound minds

for intelligent reasons why bigotry

has infiltrated religions

where peace and love have become

bywords for hypocrisy,

cherry picking life force principles

to accommodate dogma

Ghosts, in time and space,

whispering encouragement in my ear,

urging me not to care

what some people might have to say

about being gay, and less

of a person for that, given centuries

passing on inspiring tales

of LGBT folks around the world rising

above its prejudices

Ghosts, in time and space,

defying parameters of human nature,

the better to support

those whose natural instinctiveness

for love and peace remains

barracked by a world refusing to be honest

about any of this, convinced

by socio- cultural-religious dogma

that ‘real’ men never kiss

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018, 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem has appeared on the blog before under a different title; regular readers will be familiar with my revising earlier poems from time to time.]

Love.My Comfort Still

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

It is a well-worn adage and some would say a corny one. Yet, it is so true. Love lasts forever. Whether it is for a partner, family member or close friend…where tragedy strikes, our love for them and theirs for us will mount a rescue operation in due course and replace the burden of grief with the lighter, even humorous touch of happy memories

Now, I refer to Earth Mother the poem and regular readers may well wonder why as I am not a religious person. Yet, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality and God is many things to many people. (I'm an agnostic, not an atheist, while verging on pantheism.) Nor is there any reason that I can see why God should not be female.

I rejected religion for nature even as a child. Yet, who is to say that Nature and God are not the same? I respect religious beliefs even if I do not share them. As I was give to understand as a child, religion is meant to be about peace and love, yet a good many religions prefer to take their cue from hierarchical (mostly stereotypical) interpretations of what it means to be of an LGBT persuasion; they can neither respect the fact we are not only capable of love but of a more spiritual than religious nature.

As I have said elsewhere on the blogs, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the mind-body-spirit common to us all, must find its own way.

Okay, so I am a romantic. But, yes, in my experience, love is one of the few truly blessed aspects of life upon which we can rely to stay with us always…provided we don’t shut it out, for whatever reason.

LOVE, MY COMFORT SILL

Whenever tears falling like winter rain
for thinking of our hurt and suffering,
I think of springtime, find you once again
beside me - hopeful, happy, laughing

As my heart cries out in darkest despair,
in pain for the tragedy of our plight,
I think of summertime and see you there,
jumping for joy in the sun’s gentle light

We can but trust in Earth Mother's care
wherever bigotry found doing its best
to break us simply for being who we are,
gay lovers asking but to be left in peace

Beyond any Here-and-Now, love never dies
though its lovers parted by secrets and lies

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

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

Listening in, Anyone?

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

While many of my poems are concerned with LGBT issues, others could easily have been posted on my general poetry blog. Oh, and why not? As I make the point time and again, there is more to all of us - LGBT or straight - than our sexuality. Just as a person is a person is a person so, too, a poem is a poem is a poem, to take as we find, no rush to judgement or totally misleading stereotypes affecting how we receive either person or poem. (Yes, well, hope springs eternal...)

Given the title of the poem, I should perhaps emphasise - as a significantly if only partially deaf person - that everyone has an 'inner' ear responding to our sensibilities and imagination rather than sounds.

I have been so pleased by the number of readers dipping into both blogs since I have been posting from the archives of one to the other recently.

Expect the occasional new poem/s in 2020, while some of you may like to explore the archives for either or both poetry blogs; these are listed and can be accessed on the right of any blog entry. Oh, and if you ever feel like sending the link to anyone you know who enjoys poetry, be my guest, and many thanks.

Compiling revised editions of my poetry collections will take time, but I will let you know as I complete each one and publish it online.

Happy New Year everyone, and many thanks for your support over the last 10 years.

LISTENING IN , ANYONE?

Another day, another year
as hope springs eternal, catching every tear
that falls, echoing every cry
from the heart for us to treat each other
better than either history
or contemporaneity attempts to remind anyone
who’s listening in

Another day, another year
of an everyday striving to at least appear
at one with a world
tearing us apart with its relentless aggression
against those unable to fit
into our preferred window on life, love, equality
in this or that society

Another day, another year,
pulling mind-body-spirit together, the better
to take each rise and fall
as it comes, keep looking on the bright side
of life, no matter how
we read graffiti on our walls, the good-bad-ugly
sides of human history

Another day, another year,
resolutions made in good faith upon the strokes
of midnight, ear bashing
those with the best of intentions among us
on our way to the bar,
a licence to kill time before it gets to exposing us
for wishful thinkers

Another day, another year,
and more of life's epic poetry writing up humanity,
(warts ‘n’ all, no one spared)
spelling out expectations for future generations,
assuming it’s not too late
to wipe Graffiti Earth clean, rework personal space,
let us breathe again


Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

[Note: This poem appears on both poetry blogs.]

Longtime Companions

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

They are fortunate indeed, those who get to share the best part of a lifetime together. [Oh, yes, it happens, be sure of it.] Love, though in all its shapes and forms lasts a lifetime. The true love of my life was killed in a road accident after we had been together only a relatively short time.; worse, it had been a closet relationship due to a prevailing  animosity and suspicion towards gay people in those days,so I was left to grieve alone. Our love, though, along with other loves of my life -  my mother, close friends, nature, favourite places... - have inspires and sustained me always, and will continue to do so.

The poem below is a villanelle.  Now, villanelles can say a lot in relatively few words; so too, of course, can love. 

The poem was inspired by meeting up during New Year’s Eve celebrations a few years ago with a gay couple I first met in the early 1960s. Both died within months of each other in 2008 after 46 years together.

So to any young sceptics, I say, don’t ever let anyone tell you gay relationships never last.

Mind you, gay or straight, it takes two to make a relationship work just as it takes two to break it up unless some awful tragedy strikes as happened to me many years ago. The keyword here, of course is ‘work’; all the best relationships find both partners working at making it succeed.  Discovering the art of give and take rarely comes easy.

This poem is a villanelle:

LONG-TIME COMPANIONS 

One evening in May

at dinner for two,

I told you I am gay

Any doubts fell away

in eyes are blue

one evening in May

So much more to say,

(trusting in you)

I told you I am gay

It had been a long day

leading up to …

one evening in May

Hoping you would say

you love me too,

I told you I am gay

Years on, and grey

(breakfast for two);

I told you I am gay 

one evening in May

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; rev.2016

I am Stonewall, Making the Case for a Common Humanity

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

Sunday, June 28, marks the anniversary of the Stonewall riots in 1969, the event largely regarded as a catalyst for the LGBT movement for civil rights in the United States.  The riots inspired LGBT people throughout the country to organise in support of gay rights, and within two years after the riots, gay rights groups had been started in nearly every major city in the United States. 

Gay history has made us who we are. We, in turn, continue to make gay history with every positive step we take in its name. It is as much a part of gay people as the history of art, literature, music, sport...whatever it is that matters most to us in so far as we recognise it has helped shape the multiple facets of our identity for the good.

There will always be those bigots who love the sound of their own voices and will loudly insist that homosexuality is not a force for good. Oh, and bigotry is...?

This poem is a villanelle.

I AM STONEWALL, MAKING THE CASE FOR A COMMON HUMANITY

It’s no small part of me,
aches along with ageing bones
would set my spirit free

Even nature’s poetry
cannot gag its cries and groans;
it’s no small part of me

Alive to my sexuality
that an ages-old bigotry disowns,
would set my spirit free

Haunted by dark misery,
morality’s love for hurling stones;
it’s no small part of me

Yet, there is creativity,
uniting even the world’s religions,
would set my spirit free

An inspired spirituality
configuring a common humanity;
it’s no small part of me
would set my spirit free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

G-A-Y, as Written in the Stars

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

This poem has not appeared on the blog since April 2009 and it saddens me today to post it for ‘Mark’ whose boyfriend was killed in a homophobic attack ‘...in his own country, by members of his own race and blinkered culture only a few years ago.’ I have no details. Tragically, the murder could have been committed by just about any ignorant, intolerant, homophobe anywhere in the world; there are plenty of them still, just as there plenty of gay men and women enduring pain and misery in secret for that very reason.

The poem was written for lovers everywhere whose love, for whatever reason, is frowned upon by family, friends and those in high places who have us in a stranglehold, yet could so easily change things for the better if they had any sense of human decency.

Countries like Uganda, Iran and parts of the Arab World may spring immediately to mind, but our hearts go out to gay men and women worldwide who live in fear of imprisonment and worse should their sexuality become public knowledge.Even in the so-called 'liberal' West, families are still divided by a son or daughter's declaration that they are gay. Oh, we have come a long way since I was a gay schoolboy in an era when same sex relationships were a criminal offence, but there is a long way still to go before our sexuality is universally accepted as something perfectly natural and incidental rather than a major issue.

It is high time certain people put their socio-cultural-religious bigotry aside and accepted the fact that we are all equal in a common humanity and that none of us can help with whom we fall in love. Here in the UK, for example, many immigrants bring their historical prejudices with them; the result is many scared gay boys and girls, men and women having to tread on eggshells between the world from which their families came and the one in which they are growing up.


G-A-Y, AS WRITTEN IN THE STARS

At the farthest edge of twilight,
where the sky a misty blue,
we’d haunt the shores of love
where dreams come true ...
We’d pause at its quiet places,
fall into each other’s arms,
enjoy Earth Mother’s embraces,
employ her feisty charms

Oh, kisses tasting of yesterdays
closing in on us like stars
shaping the world’s tomorrows
set aside for (all) its lovers!
Our bodies joined as day to night,
we’d surf life’s raging sea
at the farthest edge of a twilight
hinting at eternity...
Come splendid night, we’d lie
and wonder at its glories;
each star, a kiss shared by lovers
in other centuries ...
At daybreak, dreamers waking
to proceed as chisels to stone
at a love marked for the taking
once its battles won...

On a cruel sea of local dissent,
among wreaths of flowers,
we were despatched prematurely
to a place among the stars
at the farthest edge of twilight
where a misty blue sky
haunts the shores of such a love
as shared by you and I

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007

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.]

The Red Ribbon, Badge for an Open Heart

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

Having been partially deaf since early childhood, I have never had an ear for languages but so wish I had as then I, too, would have been able to work in countries where English is not the first language spoken. In the UK, schools that do not teach young children several languages are, in my opinion, letting them down badly. The earlier a child starts to learn a language, the quicker he or she will grasp its intricacies and, hopefully, become bilingual. [As an island race, being physically separated from the rest of Europe often works against us Brits.]

Not speaking a language should not deter us from visiting other countries but how much more there is to discover and enjoy if you can communicate with the locals in their own language! I have always done my best and people seem to appreciate it but I suspect my poor efforts have unintentionally given many people the best laugh they have had in ages.

Why this preamble? Well, a French reader ‘Alain’ came across the poem and has asked for it to be posted for his birthday today, especially as he is working in Germany and will be away from his partner Roberto in that part of Italy where they have made a home together. Both are HIV positive.

On December 1 we will mark World AIDS Day. Gay or straight, we should remember those living with HIV+ and those who have died; remember them with love in our hearts.

I am fortunate not to be HIV+ yet have often been put down by people just for being gay. At such times,  I look to the better side of human nature for reassurance, help re-assert my self-esteem and pride in who and what I am. As someone who takes a strong sense of spirituality from nature, do I ever feel that it has let me down? Not at all. Mother Nature gives more than she takes away, and without any form of discrimination. It is the discriminatory nature of humankind that is to blame for much if not most of of its persistent in-fighting.

Do I find what I am looking for in nature and human nature? Oh, yes. It may be in short supply, but it is always there.

THE RED RIBBON, BADGE FOR AN OPEN HEART

Twilight, favouring us all

with a misty golden rain, joyful hymn

to peace risen  above our pain,

freely acknowledging we had come

to that last, lonely parting

at time’s guileless whim, bringing us,

less prepared than we should be

though each of us warned enough

of eternity tied like a ribbon

in Earth Mother’s hair though it flow

across near-far horizons 

where rich and poor, beggars,

thieves, saints and murderers come

for a reckoning they’ve probably

spent temporality earning (or avoiding)

on that axis of morality known

for bending rules, taking advantage

of kith and kin ever anxious to salvage

the spoils of Creation

Fading fast, a sombre twilight,

waiting (like us) for moon and stars

to light up the gloom, help us

see a way clear to be sure a ribbon

for Earth Mother’s hair never forgotten

or love (ever) forsaken

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

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

It only Takes a Hug OR Cue for Life

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

[Update - April 24th 2020: With coronavirus COVID-19 likely to demand a significant degree of social distancing from us for some time yet, there will be many of us desperately missing the hug that says "I love you" in as many shapes and forms as love itself.] RNT 

This relates to a time when Pride events in the UK were more friendly than cliquey, more meaningful than trendy. You could go on your own and feel part of what is often referred to as a gay 'community' which, more often than not in my experience, during latter years at least, is more wishful thinking  than fact. Oh, and you could also go on your own and find yourself homing in on the real reason you were there but were too shy or scared (or both) to admit it...

I met my late partner at a Gay Pride march some years ago. He was killed in a road accident.  We did not have long together and I never met anyone else about whom I felt anywhere near the same (or who felt anywhere near the same about me); no subsequent relationship even came close. Whatever, I count myself blessed for taking my cue for life from a love, given, returned and (still) shared in everything I do.

IT ONLY TAKES A HUG or CUE FOR LIFE

Whenever you'd hug me
I'd feel warm, safe, good inside,
and when you let me go
that pleasure was never spent
but continued to ferment
in me as it did that first time
we met at Gay Pride
in pouring rain, sheltering
under a shop awning,
vowing never to go again,
even as we laughed
until the sound soaked us through
and through, neither of us
quite knowing how we'd bonded
so soon, yet we had

Ah, but we saw in each other
a potential rescuer from remains
of the day, confident in a look
that said, I'm so glad you're gay.
won't you come with me,
back into the rain (your place
or mine?) and let's dry out
our clothes, get warm, no need
to be shy about being naked
or where it well might lead even
(we're grown-ups after all);
we could be just what the doctor
ordered, a fix of (real) life,
so how about we give it a go - or
we'll never know?

So we did, and it only took a hug
after that to make me feel as on top
of the world as at that Gay Pride
when we got soaked in pouring rain,
vowed never to go again,
but knew we would if only for seeing
in each other such tell-tale signs
as all lonely people dream of reading
in body language equal
to their own, spelling out a sense
of coming home, light
at the end of a tunnel grown
like Pinocchio's nose
for living a lie, fearing the worst,
denying the best

Though death be unkind in its parting us,
I 'll take my cue for life from your hugs

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008; 2018

[Note An earlier version of this poem has appeared on the blog previously under the title 'It only Takes a Hug'.]

Pioneers Of (Gay) Pride

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

Over the years many gay people have led by shining example and the result is a better deal in society for gay men and women in some parts of the world. In parts of the UK they may be labelled ‘activists’ (Kent and Cornwall, for example) and yes, they were, but not in the way the term is used these days. Gay activists had more integrity then and were prepared to put themselves in the firing line for their beliefs and for the sake of others; they didn’t court the media by way of pandering to huge egos. [I could name names but won’t. I’m sure you know the type.]

Here in the West, we should never forget those who publicly sowed the seeds of Gay Rights (Stonewall) and acceptance of gay people by society for ourselves, not some token tolerance of homosexuality. We owe them much. In the days, for example, when a Pride march really meant something instead of being hijacked by Trade Unions keen to be seen jumping on the Equal Opportunities bandwagon and certain publicity-seeking people who care more about their own self image than much else, not to mention all those straight people who see it as a fun if not trendy day out. Nor should we pay too much attention to some of those whom the media has chosen and crowned as its gay heroes.

For some people, participating in Pride is still a brave first step in acknowledging their sexuality and demonstrating how sexuality in no way undermines our integrity as human beings. Sadly, it strikes me that they are in a minority these days. In this sense, it seems to me that Pride has lost its way here in the West. That is why I don’t participate in Pride Day here in London. [The last time I did, it was so awful I left early.] I know a lot of gay people who feel the same away although I dare say many reading this will find their hackles going through the roof.

Could it be that too many gay people in the West have become complacent about the gay ethic and are inclined to overlook that, even in the West, many people continue to feel that coming out will stigmatise them?

Time and time again, I have spoken to gay people who despise those who remain in the closet (even more than bigots despise us). Closets have their reasons and we should respect those reasons. Yes, we can encourage them to come out and offer support but it is wrong if not immoral, especially for other gay people, to make a closet gay person feel less of a human being for that.

In some parts of the world, as in Serbia only recently, a Pride march still sends out a very serious message to the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority; those who take part are to be applauded for having have the courage of their convictions.

Yes, Pride it is a way of celebrating our sexuality, whatever our race, culture or religion and wherever in the world we live; some Pride events here in the UK do this very well. At the same time, should we not take care that we don't score an own goal by promoting the very stereotypes we are there to protest against ...?

PIONEERS OF (GAY) PRIDE

Ghost faces in a cloud,
footprints in the clay;
voices shouting aloud,
‘I am gay!’

No keeping out of sight
as some might prefer
or (ever) keeping quiet
anywhere

Peoples of the world
and their cultures
descend on the gay word
like vultures...

Pick our bones, they may,
but cannot deny
footprints in the same clay,
faces in the same sky

If progress means maturity,
time meant to heal,
let this twenty-first century
get real

Where ignorance prevails,
still much to do,
dispelling Old Wives’ tales,
stereotypes too

Lose heart though we may,
take strength and pride
from footprints in the clay,
faces in a cloud


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

Love, a Joy Forever

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

A reader, ‘Ron’, has contacted me to say he enjoys my general blog and took up my invitation in yesterday’s post to take a look at my gay-interest blog. ‘…and what do I find,’ he complains, ‘but 'Icon' which has to be about as gay rubbish a poem as you can get.’ Well, maybe Ron… but haven’t you ever eyed up a pretty woman in much the same way? The principle is the same, and where’s the harm? It is, after all, true what they say. A thing of beauty is a joy forever, and a beautiful man or woman is likely to leave a lasting impression on mind, body, and spirit....whether Memory chooses to acknowledge it or not.

Meanwhile…

This poem has been slightly revised from the original as it appears in my collection and on the blog (July 2009). It has been requested by ‘Caroline for my partner Megan’ and also by ‘Cliff for my partner Des.’ Another request comes from ‘Granny K’ for her granddaughter, Louise who will be celebrating a civil partnership with Simone on Simone’s birthday coming up soon. [How wonderful to hear from someone of the older heterosexual generation who can be genuinely happy for a gay couple!]  Here's a BIG hug for you and all my readers.

(Photos taken from the Internet)

Now, for sure, true love (gay or straight) truly is a thing if beauty to be cherished, and where duly nurtured, a joy forever ...

LOVE, A JOY FOREVER

When I am with you,
the world seems a better place
by far as I frame your face
in tender hands (no need now
to catch a falling star)
and all my wishes come true;
my life with you is blessed;
I knew it that time we kissed
after a mad dash
in pouring rain, and missed
the last bus home, shared a cab,
found each other

My dream is yours, the future.
ours to savour, like
a subtle flavouring of herbs
in the plainest fare;
no greater thrill than our arms
homing in on each other
upon each other, a warmth
like dove’s down
filling us, twin lips like petals
waking to a glorious
dawn, whispering us love stories
hearts beating as one

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

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