A Place in the Sun

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

“Not everything that is faced can be changed, but nothing can be changed until it is faced.” –  James  Baldwin

“Differences don’t just threaten and divide us. They also inform, enrich, and enliven us.”  – Harriet Lerner   

“Love is not love that alters when it alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove.” – William Shakespeare                                                               

Now, in the early 1980’s, I got chatting to a young man slumped on a park bench who, with more than a little encouragement, told me he’d finally got around to telling his Catholic family he was gay; it hadn’t gone down well and he’d been thrown out. 
“I sort of died, you know…I mean to say…I honestly thought they would still love me,” he sobbed
“So where are you living now?” I asked
“With a friend,” he said, “But it’s not working out…”
“So, why not go home?” I suggested, “Your family may feel differently now.”
“As if...! He glared at me as if it was all my fault
.I shrugged and hoped it did not betray a stab of apprehension. “At least you can’t die twice,” I said with a wry grin.
“Maybe,” was all he said before he jumped up and ran off.
Years later, a guy ran across the road, dodging traffic and shouting “Oi, you with the cap on…!
I stopped, not a little panicky. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yeah,” he paused, “You haven’t a clue who I am, have you?” I shook my head.
“Regent’s Park, a good ten years ago…” I remembered.  “You were right.”
“And you risked life and limb to tell me that?” I chuckled, a little nervously, but reassured by his wide grin. 
“That, and to ask if you fancy a beer, my treat?”

I most certainly did., part of me hoping we would stay in touch afterwards, the greater part of me certain we wouldn’t. I was, after all, part of a freefalling emotional landscape he had risen above and moved on. We found a pub, enjoyed a few beers, even hugged when we said our goodbyes.

I've neither seen nor heard from him again, but wish him well, along with all LGBT+ men and women and such families, too, from all walks of life, following whatever religion, who are yet able to agree to differ, if only for the sake of those they love.  

A PLACE IN THE SUN

There is place where the sun
always shines, sometimes watery
sometimes splendidly,
no matter the season or time of day, 
and I go there whenever a need 
to sift through such mixed feelings
as dragging me down,
find reasons to rediscover Apollo’s splendour,
re-engage with Earth Mother

Wandering dark rooms, scared
and feeling so alone, tears refusing
to fall for no other reason
than no reason at all, a robot having lost 
its data due to a malfunction,
humanity all but given up on one 
of its own, yet a heart
beating there as if to remind me I’m but human,
not a mindless machine

Human spirit, anxious to reunite
with mind and body, separation a burden
grown intolerable, life forces
driven to desperate measures, mining memories 
buried under layers of pain,
eventually bringing bare bones of hope
to the surface, looking to recharge
restore, rework a natural process of regeneration
default, ‘live’ imagination

Found, sunshine come to help mend
mind-body-spirit, insisting heart-and-soul
slowly but surely start building
a new life, within much the same frame as the old,
encouraged by Earth Mother
to let such positives back in as refuse to let us 
surrender to self-pity and despair,
but embraces the world for its kinder consciousness,
default, love-and-peace

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

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

Happy-Ever-After, a Positive Thinking Mindset

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

Everyone, thank goodness, is different or the world would be a very boring place, but as I have said since I began writing up the blogs ten years ago, our differences do not make us different, only human.

When I first came out to the world as a gay man, many people told me I was exchanging one lonely world for another, would end up a lonely, bitter person living alone with no family to help me through the ups and downs of old age. Well, yes, I do live alone, but I am not bitter in spite of continuing hate crimes against LGBT people worldwide; all the more shame on the world for that. Many religious groups, have much to answer for by suggesting that love is selective by nature in so far as we LGBT folks deserve to be excluded.

I do not have any family members to support me, either, having never had much in common with most of those remaining while others - intentionally or unintentionally - have always given the impression they are of a homophobic bent.

No, blood is not always thicker than water, while nothing can be stronger than two people bonding with love and companionship, whether as lovers or close friends; we should never underestimate the power of platonic love nor friendship in the true sense of the word. As I have said many times, love takes many shapes and forms; people, animals, pastimes, hobbies, favourite places (dare I say even poetry?) all have their part to play in getting the better of any bitterness threatening to set in because the mind is (too often) inclined to dwell on regrets for things left undone in this life than taking any pleasure from all we have done.

As a gay man, I may be but a small cog in a big wheel, yet coming out of that wretched closet years ago and taking my place in helping the wheel turn my way has been worth every heartbeat; much as I regret the inability of some people to respect my sexuality, well, c'est la vie, and bitterness never got anyone anywhere worth going to in the first place.

I am not well these days; while my spirit remains as feisty as ever, mind and body are slowly but surely succumbing to the stresses of old age. I will be 74 in December and, no, that is not old BUT hormone therapy for my prostate cancer since 2011 is taking its toll and I struggle sometimes to keep mind, body and spirit in sync with each other.One day, the cancer will catch up with me, and I decided long ago that I would not tolerate a mind-body-spirit in free fall; rather, I will take a one-way trip to Dignitas in Switzerland. Some readers may be horrified while others will know how much I value quality of life above life itself; my only regret would be leaving friends behind (readers too) and I can but ask them to remember that -  for me, at least - it would be a fairy tale ending in so far as I would be embracing death as I have embraced life... for better, for worse, while enough is enough.

Meanwhile, so long as the COVID-19 coronavirus continues to leave any poems left in me, you, dear readers (of both poetry blogs) will be the first to know.

HAPPY-EVER-AFTER. A POSITIVE THINKING MINDSET

Once upon a time,

home was a lonely closet,

Freedom banging

on the door to be let out,

yet Fear

always getting the better

of a mind-body spirit

keeping faith with humanity's

common capacity

for peace, love, and kindness

above all else

I sought it here, there,

everywhere, a life force

to close divisions

if not heal them, by agreeing

to differ instead

of choosing to throw stones

at glass houses

while expounding a belief

in extending peace

and goodwill (if not love)

wherever

Once upon a time,

I took the proverbial bull

by its horns,

and fled my lonely closet,

still scared

of a world as likely to shun

as embrace me,

but resolved to take a chance

on human nature

being far better and bigger

than bigotry

World (still) running low

on happy-ever-after endings

for LGBT voices

crying "Enough is enough!"

in a world (still)

preferring to play deaf

whenever it suits

to any God-given reassurance

that (all) humanity

deserves Happy-ever-After

endings

Whatever, I am as I am,

and all that I am is as free to be

what I am as any other

in a world feeding its children

Happy-ever-afters,

that can, indeed, suffer

its harsher realities

for touching base now and then 

with such life-forces

as have love's best interests

at heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Christmas Lights

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

December, and a new poem. Over the next few weeks I will be publishing archival posts (on and from both blogs) leading up to Christmas. No, I do not celebrate Christmas, but like many if not most religions and religious festivals, it brings out both the best and the worst in people, challenge enough for anyone, not least a pantheist poet.

I was walking home with a work colleague one year, close to Christmas, and remarked on his generosity to a rough sleeper. He told me a story from his past that today's new poem can only partly relate but which hopefully captures something of the spirit of Christmas, indeed of any religious festival, often found sadly lacking, all but buried under layers of dogma that so often blinds people, especially families, to the fact that the roots of any religion lie in peace and love to all humankind, not just to those who happen to fit in with its beliefs and traditions. As my mother - a Christian woman - used to say, "God loves us, no matter who, what, or where we are."  Now, we may or may not enter fully into  the Christian spirit of that message, but any human spirit is free to embraces it just as wholeheartedly, surely?

No religion has a monopoly on spirituality; it is in that evergreen aspect of a common humanity that hope truly spring eternal.

True, we cannot love everyone, might even let hate get a look in from time to time, but love and hate are strong emotion if not sides of the same proverbial coins, inclined to blur at the edges into feelings which, for whatever reason, we may not care to dwell on... as much in so far as they reflect on ourselves us as on the other person...?

CHRISTMAS LIGHTS

Christmas lights
casting shadows long, short
and, oh, so tall,
across the sky, my ceiling
where I lie
in a sleeping bag, pretending
I'm as snug
and warm as by a cosy fire fuelling
family myths

Cast out, simply
for loving you, needing so
to run true
with the 'me' no one knew
(as no more did I)
till you penetrated my disguise,
burrowed the lies.
let in the light of day, vowed we'd live
proud and gay

Only, I hated you
for leading me into a reality
as dark as any closet,
ran away from any you-me-us
in the making,
heart near breaking, mind losing
its way, spirit needing
to turn an angry tide of exposed identity,
failing miserably

Christmas lights,
bulbous eyes on me where I lay
worm-like in my pain
and loneliness, not a single passer-by
sparing a glance for me,
swallowed up by a human convenience
less desperate
to be rid of personal anxieties than common
responsibilities

I closed my eyes,
embraced imagination, heard voices
calling my name,
saw the faces clearly, friends and family,
among them yours,
hot tears stinging my cheeks, distant bells
offering comfort
and joy in anticipation of peace and love getting
the better of rejection

Fearful though I was
of opening my eyes, letting cold reality
work its worst on me,
I found myself peering into a mist of light
and making out
the same dream, no dream at all, scarcely able
to take in its charms
till I felt your arms around me, you-me-us invited
to a family Christmas


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Disaffected Youth, Wasted Lives

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

This poem is taken from my general poetry blog archives for September 2014; archives are listed on the right hand side of the appropriate blog's page.

Most young people - whatever their race, culture, religion, gender or sexuality - are decent, honest, and hardworking, but there is also high unemployment among young people and that leaves some disaffected with society so they join gangs or become targets for radicalisation; violence becomes a way of life until something (or someone) happens that helps them back into mainstream life and a more positive, fulfilling sense of personal identity.

Many young people have to deal with various prejudices in their society while still in the process of growing up and having to come to terms with its harsher realities; where the latter affect them personally, they may well also suffer rejection or the fear of rejection by family and/or peers, as a consequence of which they turn to drugs and/or crime by way of concealing a deep-rooted inferiority complex, even shame, where neither are applicable but for the worse aspects of human nature prevalent in societies worldwide for centuries.

We hear much talk of 'progress' in this 21st century of ours, but invariably with reference to science and technology; sadly, human nature has not progressed anywhere near enough despite the efforts of the many good people in the world able to take others as they find them without rushing to artificial judgement as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions or dogma.

While there is no excuse for violence, it is high time politicians, religious and community leaders among others (parents, too) looked more closely at its roots and took responsibility where society is failing so many of its young people. Some do, but rhetoric is not enough; actions really do speak louder than words. 

This poem is a villanelle, written in 2014 so its content is nothing new; what is new are successive cutbacks in spending (here in the UK at least, since the financial crisis of 2008)) on such related national and local Government budgets as make provision for policing, extra curricular activities in schools, youth centres, apprenticeships, grants for professional and vocational training places etc. I rest my case...

DISAFFECTED YOUTH, WASTED LIVES

Got my hands on a knife, a gun,

spread the word,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Shouting at just about everyone,

no one heard;

got my hands on a knife, a gun

Needed to prove I was someone,

earn street cred;

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

At first it gave me a buzz, was fun,

but all that disappeared;

got my hands on a knife, a gun

A gangster movie set let me down,

(mustn't show I'm scared)

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Macho mates weep to see my crown

dripping blood ...

Got my hands on a knife, a gun,

didn’t ask who’ll carry my coffin

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem is a villanelle, written in 2010 so its content is nothing new; what is new are successive cutbacks in spending (here in the UK at least since the financial crisis of 2008) on such related national and local Government budgets as make provision for policing, extra curricular activities in schools, youth centres, apprenticeships, grants for professional and vocational training places etc.]

Mind-Body-Spirit, on Rescue Alert

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

This week saw  World Mental Health Day, but every day is a struggle for some. This poem appeared on my general blog in July 2011. To see the original post, go the the archives - on the right hand side of any blog page - for https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

IYears ago, I became very deoressed about being gay, feeling rejected by family, friends and workmates for my sexuality alone...just a few of the knock life is inclined to throw at us, human nature being what it is.

Now, as a great fan of actor Jonathan Rhys Meyers (I loved The Tudors series on TV) I was very saddened to read that he had apparently attempted suicide. I attempted the same during a severe nervous breakdown some 30+ years ago. I swallowed a LOT of paracetamol tablets, washed down with a bottle of sherry. [Needless to say, I haven’t touched sherry since.] It was a terrible time, and I well recall the despair when I woke up after being unconscious for about 35 hours. Even so, I couldn’t stand the pain so managed to stagger half-dressed to my local surgery that was close to where I was living at the time.

Recovery took years, and I was unable to work for nearly four. Regular readers will be familiar with my poems like the one below that take depression and rising above it as a theme. I still suffer bouts of depression as I have since childhood, but I know the warning signs now and usually manage to rise above things through my writing, thereby avoiding going into free fall.

My passion for nature plays no small part in a self-taught capacity for positive thinking that, again, has its roots in a troubled childhood. I didn’t grow up in a broken home or anything as awful, but an appalling relationship with my father and a significant hearing loss that no one picked up on made life (and me) difficult, to say the least. It didn’t help when, as a teenager, I had to learn to cope alone with an awakening sexuality; same sex relationships remained a criminal offence here in the UK until 1967 by which time I was in my early 20’s.

Failure to commit suicide gave me a whole new outlook on life. So, yes, I am glad I failed although life has been an uphill struggle ever since, both emotionally and psychologically. Yet, isn’t life a challenge for most of us? I suspect the key is to take up the challenge instead of letting notions of failure mess with the mind; with the heart, too, perhaps. It isn’t easy, and there are times when the depressed person wants to run away from it all. Even so, as I have already said, learn to recognise the signs and it becomes marginally easier to prevent freefall.

For an actor, writer or any creative person, being something of a perfectionist is a mixed blessing. The perfectionist is never satisfied with his or her performance and this alone can lead us to the cliff edge of despair. One of the hardest lessons a creative person has to learn is to enjoy the creative process for its own sake, and while trying our best, not cave in to a mistaken sense of failure should our achievements fall short of expectation. Someone once said to me that she could not do anything creative until she recovered her self-esteem. In my experience, that is putting the cart before the horse. Until we try something, we will never know whether or not we can succeed at it; if we don’t succeed, we should give ourselves a pat on the back for trying and try something else until we discover our forte, something that gives us satisfaction and a boost to self-esteem that can only grow if duly nurtured.

Never feel a failure. Invariably, we do so in relation to someone else. There are times in life when other people don’t matter in the sense that we will only continue to feel close to freefall all the while we insist on comparing ourselves with those whom we most admire for whatever reason. At such times, we need to put ourselves first and refuse to let others put us down for who and what we are.

We can only make the best of what talents we have, and if these are insufficient to give us a sense of fulfilment then we should look elsewhere for the tools we need to help us feel a more complete person. Love and friendship offer fulfilment if we are prepared to work at them and not take either for granted. A talent for love and friendship is as creative an inspiration as we are ever likely to find in life; they come in all shapes and sizes and, again, we should not compare what we seek with others who have different needs and expectations.

I have said before on the blogs, we are all different and should not be in any hurry to measure ourselves by other people’s achievements.

I doubt whether Jonathan Rhys Myers reads my blog, but to him and all people driven to that degree of psychological and emotional free fall for whatever reason, I say, take heart, think well of yourself, and time may not heal all our hurts, but it will do a damn good job on most of them if only we are prepared work at it. There are no quick fixes and time can seem (very) frustratingly slow, but trying out new steps each day will produce positive results in the end if not always at a time we need them most.

A depressed person deserves a medal just for going through the motions of getting on with daily life. Believe me, I have been there, and my heart goes out to all those who suffer the worst depression can throw at us. Even once it has taken what seems like an eternity to lift, it will hover, and then go to wait in the wings until the next time it will try to take centre-stage; it is up to us to try and make sure it doesn’t. Oh, it will probably always insist on being a bit player in our lives, but that becomes just about bearable. People who suffer from depression are very fortunate indeed if it doesn’t make at least the occasional appearance. [The trick is to see it coming, and keep it from doing too much damage.]

To their loved ones, friends and work colleagues, I urge patience and understanding. Depression is NOT the same as feeling low or fed-up; it is light years beyond. At the same time, there is no need to let a depressed person’s mood swings take you to the edge as well. Speak up. Don’t let anyone walk all over you, whether they are depressed or not. But do so with kindness rather than in anger. Keep faith with love and friendship; it is at such times when depression or other hardships strike and test all of us that both truly come into their own.

Oh, but life can be so complicated, and rarely gives us a clear run all the way. Yet, for all its ups and downs, it is the only life we have so let’s make the best, not the worst of it, yeah? [Did I say it was easy?]

MIND-BODY-SPIRIT, ON RESCUE ALERT

A shadow came to squat by my side,
its features obscured,
took my hand, claimed to be a guide,
said I should not be afraid;
a voice as silky as a child’s brow
persuaded me to my feet,
vaguely familiar voices calling, ‘No!’
distant echoes in my heart

If reassuring, the voice kept insisting
this was no time to be fanciful,
its silk at my ears faintly brushing
like lips behind a veil;
I let myself be led into my own garden
where I’d plant flowers,
prune its fruit trees and mow the lawn
during golden hours

Yet, even as the trellis gate swung open
to let us enter there,
I was gripped by an awful premonition
and sickening fear;
the silky voice took on a mocking tone
as the veil fell away
to a pecking at my flesh to the very bone
like a bird of prey

In a panic, I called the garden to my aid
only to see…
its trees were dying, its flowers dead,
the lawn but a spread of algae;
desperate to escape being eaten alive,
I tore myself free,
begging of that cold, dark, watery grave
a last sanctuary

I dropped as sure as a stone into the slime
and lay on its bed,
watching the algae, like veils of time,
expose half-truths over my head;
hands reached down to pull me to a surface
I instantly recognised,
where fruit trees, flowers and green grass
have endured

Between the lines of Earth Mother’s smile
I read how survival is but half the battle...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

An Affinity with the Spiritual Nature of Ancient Woodlands

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

I first published this poem on my general blog in 2015; while feedback suggests it proved popular with many readers, others clearly took issue with a gay man writing about spirituality, especially one who does not subscribe to any religion.Well, I am also a poet, and no less susceptible to the haunting atmosphere of ancient woodlands than anyone else. More than one reader said I should delete it, but it remains  there to this day. 

As for spirituality, why should we suppose that any religion has a monopoly on that? We are all, each and every one of us human, and a living spirit goes with the whole package; indeed, it shapes our lives , depending on how we envisage it which, in turn, affects how we use (or abuse) it. 

Regular readers will know that if I have any religion at all, it is nature, and I am inclined to think of myself as something of a pantheist. Nature has always stirred a spirituality in me as timeless as itself, invoking a sense of poetry I struggle to express if only because there are no words in any language that come close to explaining it. In general, we all appreciate explanations, if only because they help us to better understand; any lack of understanding leaves us feeling inept, uncertain, even fearful, and human nature does not tolerate any of these lightly. For many people, their religion and its dogma gives them an understanding of life to which they can relate, helps them to understand life, for all its complex web of truth and lies; it gives them self-confidence, and will see them through good times and bad.

Don't get me wrong. I am not having a go at religion, simply making the point that not subscribing to one (and/or being of an LGBT persuasion) does not make anyone a 'freak of nature' as I have been by called by as many a 'devout' person as the least devout.

AN AFFINITY WITH THE SPIRITUAL NATURE OF ANCIENT WOODLANDS

Leafy dome, a spread of crystal prisms;

like a familiar cheek deflecting its tears

Stained glassiness, images of a sunset;

pink flesh betraying shades of ageing

Moon, shining through, beacon of hope;

human spirit anxious for inspiration

Stars, drawing on mythology and religion

to engage the human mind’s potential

Clouds, siding with the world’s sceptics

shaping like endings to like beginnings

Dome, engaging with our metamorphoses,

inciting we creative dreamers to waken

Glassiness, flushed with dawn’s promises;

pink flesh, responding to nature’s kisses

Birdsong, like distant bells ringing changes;

humanity, left trailing old gods and new

Between earth and sky, our time and space;

to each of us, a prism (some call it Heaven)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Tuning into Nature

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

A reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one; for example,  mind-body-spirit, past-present-future. It is because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better, for worse ...

Someone else has contacted me with a very uplifting story which he suggests I may like to record as a poem. Well, always up for a challenge, me, and I hope you will enjoy the poem below. It appears this reader belongs to a culture that is not gay-friendly, to say the least. He came out to family and friends a few years ago when he met his first love. Sadly, many of the former rejected him for it. After a few years, the relationship ended, not least due to the reader's being estranged from most family members and friends. In recent years, though, he has found love again with another man. By now, it appears many who previously rejected him have come to terms with and are reconciled to his being gay.

The reader writes, “It is wonderful that my new partner and I can enjoy an almost normal life among those we love, although not everyone. We cannot pray as we would like, my partner and I, but prayer does not need four walls, neither does whatever divinity with whom we identify as God … Your poems are very clear on this, and we are grateful for your support even though you are not a religious person …” He goes on to ask  that “poem or no poem” I bring his story to the attention of readers on both blogs on the grounds that “ … too many people reject gays because they do not understand us and it is human nature to be wary of what we do not understand …” (So, true!)

So, here we go, with a poem I plan to post on my general blog tomorrow. I do post gay-interest poems there from time to time although feedback - and audience figures - suggests they are not well received by the majority of readers. Feedback also suggests that relatively few readers of this blog often dip into my general poetry blog, which I find very sad. After all  - as I have said before on the blogs, and probably will again -  a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person, regardless of gender or socio-cultural-religious persuasion.

“When you reach the end of what you should know, you will be at the beginning of what you should sense.” ― Kahlil Gibrán, Sand and Foam

" Your head is a living forest full of songbirds." - e.e.Cummings

TUNING IN TO NATURE

Trying the door, but it slams

in my face as if to say I’ve no right

to enter here, where you are,

no matter if pulse and heartbeat set

on breaking the record

for breaking the time barrier

in the wink of an eye,

catching yours on a late tube train,

devil take the hindmost

Curtains at the window closed,

shutting me out, a cold wind siding

with you against me,

pulse racing, heart beating faster,

and faster, like competitors

in a race, running for running’s sake,

doesn’t matter where or why

nor that blue skies are poised to fall

at destination Endgame 

Shut out, yelling to be let in,

pulse and heartbeat at fever pitch,

a voice ringing in my ears,

telling me to ease up, enjoy the sun

on my face, wind in my hair,

embrace nature and human nature

just as we’d embrace each other

in a home we made with loving care,

meant to stay open all hours

Turning away, tears falling

like acid rain, somewhere a bird

trying to tell me I’ll love again,

not what I wanted or needed to hear,

after a gay love affair ended

and brought me low, but brought

here today, all the more 

happy-proud for having (eventually)

taken a songbird at its word

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Sexuality, all Caged Up and Demanding O-U-T

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

This is not a new post but one I deleted from my general blog after receiving several troll-type emails. I usually ignore these, but friends advised me to post it on my gay-interest blog instead while continuing to link to it from to it from my Google + site as previously. Then I though, why should I? So I have re-posted it on my general blog. At the same time, friends are probably right in suggesting it will be of more interest to gay readers...

Now, we talk about 'blind' instinct, but there is a native instinct that know us better than we know ourselves, and it is anything but blind; it has a clearer sense of what to do in situations where any brooding, thinking self hasn't a clue.

In February 1969, I sailed for Australia (as a would-be migrant) on the SS Southern Cross from Liverpool. While it was a huge mistake in many ways, it was also one of my better decisions.

In short, I was running away from the UK - and a family that had no idea of how much of a psychological mess I was in or of share their of blame for it - rather than going to Australia. 

Gay relationships ‘between consenting adults’ had been decriminalised in 1967  but it would be many years before society as a whole began to accept us, if grudgingly. I had left school five years earlier but saw myself as having no career prospects and was still a long way from becoming truly reconciled with my sexual identity. Apart from a growing sense of isolation, I felt hurt and angry. Significant though sexual identity may be, it is but a part of a greater whole. (Why should the greater part of me be made to feel it needs to apologise for what, after all, is no one else's damn business?)

While I will always have a great affection for Australia and the people I met there, I arrived with neither enough money nor qualifications to fulfill my dream, even in the longer term. During the six-weeks crossing, however, I’d had plenty of time to think and reflect on my motives. I found myself homing in on home truths that appalled me. Was I really such a coward?

So, yes, on the face of it, Australia was a disaster but I returned to the UK not (quite) with tail between legs but as different person, more self-confident than I had ever felt before and determined to shape my life in a positive way. In spite of a severe nervous breakdown in my 30’s, I like to think that, in general, I have succeeded.  (I have battled with depression all my life but any gay angst has only ever been part of the emotional equation albeit a vital one.)

It is up to all of us - gay or straight - to make the best of things, not the worst, and be positive about ourselves, each other and life in general even when the immediate future may be looking on the bleak side. That’s when the human condition comes into its own, now a pussycat, now a roaring lion. Mind you, everyone has lapses of self-confidence in self and in humanity from time to time, including me.

If the journey to Australia nearly 50 years ago was a nightmare, my stay there was an epiphany. My return to the UK marked the kind of new beginning the poet in me had been yearning for without any real sense of either the what or the how, only the why. Moreover, I no longer felt that gay-interest poetry is something for which I should feel any need to apologise; a poem is a poem is a poem just as a person is a person is a person ... regardless of gender and sexuality. 

Yes, it was a long way to go to find myself, true, but well worth it ...

SEXUALITY, ALL CAGED UP AND DEMANDING O-U-T 

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left wondering
why it should attack now,
this animal lust
for freedom, open spaces
far, far, away from city faces
and grubby streets

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left wondering why
it should strike now,
this hunger for adventure,
need to prove something
although what or to whom
remains to be seen

Mouth gone dry, sweat
soaking the brow;
I am left feeling excited
if scared of a caving in
rather than a pressing ahead
with some heady fiction 
well aware its return thread
so easily broken

Looking to play the hero
or merely wishing
to please myself for once
instead of always
putting head before heart,
doing the ‘right thing’
but right for whom after
all's said and done?

Rage, burning, a life-long
learning in flames;
passion, a feisty yearning
to escape this caged-up 
non-life, a Here-and-Now
parody of a lion’s den
where the mouth gone dry,
sweat soaking the brow

Who is it, this other 'Me'
writing up emotions
half killing me to admit
in these early hours
where conscience seeks
respite in its humanity
as if its poetry were indeed
a match for its sword?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2017

[Note: The last stanza has since been added to the original version of this poem that first appeared under the title, ‘A Poet’s Diary’ in  The Third Eye by R. N. Taber Assembly Books, 2004; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Dancing the Night Away

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I remember a boyfriend’s parents once telling him years ago that I had bewitched him, and it wasn’t even Halloween! They said I had been sent by the Devil to tempt him into evil ways...! How can intelligent (?) people believe such rubbish?

We stayed friends long after we split up, but he was never reconciled with his family. Yet, he has lived very happily with the same partner for the best part of twenty years now and his partner’s family has no problem with their relationship.

Oh, but human nature can be a monster at times! It can take a while for us to find the strength of character and conviction to venture out and take it on.  Some of us (like me) take encouragement, guidance and fortitude in nature where other socio-cultural-religious so-called ‘role models’ fail us.

Whatever form love takes, any ‘temptation’ is but to share its beauty and spirituality with another person, and no one should be penalized let alone ostracized for giving in to that. Yet, that is exactly what (still) happens in various parts of the world. Some people not only never learn from the harsher lessons of history, but seem intent upon perpetuating them. We can but take them on and hope to educate them into a more enlightened sense of humanity.

This poem is a villanelle.

DANCING THE NIGHT AWAY

Shadows dancing on my lawn,

(open window to see better);

a misty-eyed moon looking on

Sense change about to happen,

(reshaping my life forever);

shadows dancing on my lawn

Silhouettes, men and women

(looking so right together);

a misty-eyed moon looking on

Putting aside threats unspoken

(reassured by Earth Mother);

shadows dancing on my lawn

Witness to ties as yet unbroken

(by culture, creed or colour);

a misty-eyed moon looking on

No sign of dancers moving on,

(nor can I resist any longer);

shadows dancing on the lawn,

a misty eyed moon looking on

Copyright R, N. Taber 2009

Out In the Country

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When I was 14 years-old, my family relocated from my home town to a new housing estate in the countryside. Much as I love visiting the countryside, I hated living there and was glad to leave within a year or so of leaving school. I hated everyone else feeling they had a right to know everyone else’s business. It was hard to keep any secrets.

So you can imagine what it was like for a gay lad, having to keep his sexuality a secret not only from family and friends, but also from the whole estate and original (delightful) village of which it was an eyesore of an extension! Gay relationships were illegal in the UK until 1967, the year I was 22.]

So I have been pleased to hear from gay people who come out in the country and been accepted by local people although I have to say that, on the whole, I hear the opposite. The majority of gay men and women living in rural areas, in the UK as well as worldwide, still feel they must keep their sexuality a secret. I dare say they suffer much the same torment as I did all those years ago.

When, oh, when will everyone realise that sexuality is only a part of who we are, and a very private part; it is no one else’s damn business? We are human beings like everyone else who have as much to offer our local communities as anyone, and don't deserve to be stigmatised simply because too few among the heterosexual majority understand what it means to be gay or some (if not most) religious groups are intrinsically homophobic. I should not have to be saying this in the 21^st century, for goodness sake. It should be taken for granted.  Oh, but I wish...

Why, oh, why do so many people worldwide continue to believe the many outdated, misleading and generally offensive stereotypes that continue to attach themselves to gay and transgender men and women? 

Yes, we have pro-gay legislation in some part of the world, but anti-gay legislation in others. Besides, as I have often said on the blogs, you cannot legislate for bad attitude.  Where schools and colleges refuse to go out of their way to educate these people, I guess all we can do is try and lead by example and hope for the best.  True, it's not enough. It's nowhere near enough. But what else can we do? 

OUT IN THE COUNTRY

He asked me to dance

on the village green;

I jumped at the chance

Though neighbours askance

(some thought it obscene)

he asked me to dance

Forget all that token stuff

about poufs on-screen?

I jumped at the chance

Band playing by chance

our favourite tune,

he asked me to dance

Measuring every advance,

treasuring each joining-in;

I jumped at the chance

A subtle rush to ring-fence

(unsuitable for children?);

He asked me to dance,

I jumped at the chance

Copyright R N Taber 2005

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

G-A-Y, Among Flowers

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Some people continue to see gay men and women as weeds in the Garden of Life. Naturally, I beg to differ, and might add that I would have done so even were I not a gay man.

One reason I write poetry is because I have a passionate affinity with an increasingly rare humanity that does not discriminate against its own, despite some societies earnestly paying lip service to equality for the sake of appearances (and votes).

G-A-Y, AMONG FLOWERS 

Like flowers, their petals shut,
lives of so many men and women
for whom our world cares not

Like flowers, fair buds asleep
new friends we're getting to know,
good times to have and keep

Like flowers dawn waits to kiss
(Fairy tale images in sweet dreams)
for a season they dare not miss 

Like flowers, fine petals open up
(Earth Mother sharing out due credit)
to drink of a heaven’s loving cup 

Like bulbs failing all expectation,
we, too, may yet be expected to carry
the weepy stigma of rejection 

Like flowers, reaching for the sky,
come sun or rain, our seasons passing,
we’ll yet lift our heads held high

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2012

 

A (Gay) Poet's Take On Stoicism

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Only recently, I was chatting to someone in a cafe who, after a while, asked me if I am gay. When I answered in the affirmative, he confided that he, too, is gay, but scared’ not only of coming out to family and friends he had reason to suspect would not be supportive, to say the least, but also of his understanding of the whole gay ethic. ‘I’m not sure I want to live a gay life,’ he told me.

So what is a gay life? For goodness sake, apart from our sexuality, we live no different a life, for better or worse, than those among the heterosexual majority. Being in a minority may mean we have to work harder to assert ourselves more often than not, but my gut feeling is it’s only human nature to be up for this challenge or that. Moreover, the human spirit does not suffer fools gladly.  

Let’s face it, even being actively closet, in those countries in the southern hemisphere whose governments continue to hold a candle to the ignorant ramblings of various socio-cultural-religious bigots, is not only a challenge but is also knowingly and invariably bravely sowing the first seeds of a deservedly inauspicious end for our enemies.

So let’s go for it, yeah?

A (GAY) POET’S TAKE ON STOICISM

Temptation drove me to cliffs,
where I contemplated rocks below,
despairing of such an end as this,
seemingly no place else I dare go;
the cliffs, they yelled defiantly
above the furious roar of a raging sea;
their words struck a chord in me,
Life and Death vying for my sanity

Nature raised a Gorgon's head
like a devil among the monstrous foam,
wishing me ill (better still, dead)
resolved to turn my better self to stone;
Love it was that had other ideas,
and joined the battle for my salvation,
converging on my worst fears,
blasting them with ancient canon

Life ill-deserves such derision
as to be tossed in a storm’s fierce jaws,
the consequences of our action
condoning betrayal of all natural laws;
where nature vents its fury
on lesser humanity’s short-sightedness
to colour, creed, sex or sexuality,
let' stand firm, reconcile differences

I answered Love’s call that day,
and the sea began to calm, the sun shine,
dark clouds steadily driven away,
like prejudices (eventually) in decline
while I returned, my corner to fight,
argue the ages-old case for sexual identity,
expose myself to human right,
walk tall, proud, confident and free

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

A Reject's Song

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A teacher concerned about homophobic bullying in her school has asked me for a poem to kick-start a class discussion. I sent the one below and can but hope that any classes to whom she reads the poem will have something positive to say about it. She goes on to say she is particularly concerned about one boy who plays truant a lot and when asked why, told her that he is gay and nobody want him so why should he bother with anyone else. I hope she has suggested gay counselling and/ or joining a gay group in his area. She is welcome to give him my email address. Whatever, the poor lad is obviously in need of a heavy dose of positive thinking. There really should be far more discussion about gay issues in schools. As it is, the majority are breeding grounds for homophobes.

Now and then teachers ask me if they can use poems I post on my blogs and my answer is always, yes. However, the copyright to all the poems I post is exclusively mine so please ask me first if only so I can keep track of what poems are being used and get some feedback. I don’t expect everyone to like every poem I write. Fair enough. I know some of you hate villanelles while just as many of you love them. Every writer feeds on criticism, good or bad so long as it is fairly constructive; it is helpful to know what it is about a poem that someone loves or hates or feels does its theme no favours.

Another teacher kindly got in touch to say he uses my blogs as ‘an educational resource’ and says many kids respond to my poems about street crime, bullying, multiculturalism etc. gay-interest poems too although use of these in schools appears to be minimal. I have to say, any suggestion that I am providing an ‘educational resource’ thrilled me to bits.

I try to reflect this sorry world of ours warts ‘n’ all; life, love, nature, war and peace. Most of the time, I try to lift the reader and end a poem on a positive note. Sadly, though, there is much to be lifted from and this doesn’t always happen.

Meanwhile...

I have been (very) distracted by my prostate cancer, but will be back on a regular basis before too long. Now and then, I'l drop by with a new poem and let you know how I am responding to treatment. In the meantime, Graham and I hope to continue filming for YouTube at various UK locations, so you will find me there at:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

As for that schoolboy and far too many like him who feel rejected, I can only say that I always found a cousin's advice invaluable, who told me "Never think twice about rejecting those who reject you for your sexuality since their company is not worth having in the first place. "Love," she added wryly, "is inclined sometimes to lose its way, especially if means having to stand up and be counted ..."

A REJECT’S SONG

There’s a word, or so I’m told
is not for hearing or sight
but shutting out in a killing cold
like a pup on a wintry night

The word, I’m earnestly assured
is a key to the Devil’s lair
so a dead cert I’ll be damned
if I ever venture there;
a word, consuming all of me
since I was a child,
learning on my father’s knee
about sin running wild,
sure to shadow my every step
in a world holding me
to promises I would never keep
surrounding my sexuality

Such a word I’d come to learn
(in the arms of a lover)
that no God will strike me down
for its breaking cover;
a word that dares to remind
any who stand in my way
that any Creator of humankind
allowed love its say
(and free will) given a chance
to prove its humanity
if frequently led a merry dance
by certain powers-that-be

Look, where doves and eagles fly,
writing up the world’s history,
see nature inscribe the legend G-A-Y,
testament to its bigotry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Take care, all of you, keep well and – be happy!

a BIG HUG from

Roger x

Roller Coaster Rides

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Today’s poem was written after an unsuccessful night on the Gay Scene in London’s Soho district. I bet you know the feeling, yeah?

I was nearly 50, but I don’t think my age had much to do with the fact that no one showed any interest in me. I saw much younger men stagger home on their own with a look in their eyes I knew only too well; it was a look that spoke volumes of loneliness and disillusionment. Oh, the Gay Scene (anywhere) is fun if you’re just looking for a one-night stand but you’ll rarely find anything more than that. Nor is it a template for a gay lifestyle unless you’re prepared to settle for less than you deserve.

I defy any gay man or women who has cruised the Gay Scene anywhere in the world to say he or she cannot identify with this poem. As with most things we go after in life, it’s a case of win some, lose some.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not knocking the Gay Scene. I’ve had some great times there (and a good many not so great times too). But there are times when you arrive and just know you shouldn’t stay but you do anyway, and the evening lurches from bad to worse...

Meanwhile, we get on with putting on a life performance, few if any guessing at quite just goes on between acts. Besides, there’s always a next time, a philosophy I dare say all those who cruise the Straight Scene also share.

ROLLER COASTER RIDES

One drink just to get through the night;
another one, two, three for the road;
animations all around look as though
they might lend an ear, a voice even
to kill this creepy silence in the head
(requiem for an also-ran). Calling ‘Time’
Soon - and still feel like a waxwork
on show with no one passing comment
so might as well get another one in, and
oh, then what? (‘Go, GO)

Over there, someone I used to know.
Can’t hurt to say ‘hello’ surely?
Sparkling eyes flash, ‘No way, dearie!’
One foot forward, freeze; on the rack
like a wicked see-through plastic mac;
boozing again, praying for acid rain;
nearly ready to quit this place,
maybe settle for a haunting of care-lines
in the face, highlights in the hair, whatever,
but gotta have one more beer...

Fool’s gold? We’ll never know, you and I,
strangers till we die, wondering where
love has gone, why no one wants to know
secrets of a heart so full it’s overflowing
with pity - and making a mess. Fat chance
of happiness! And why should you
help clean up my distress and how dare I
paw your privacy like some stray cat?
Small wonder you keep well away from
the likes of all that…

Oh, but life’s a bitch! I clutch the glass,
drawn a short straw, left to drown
in my jealousy. Why me? Dare I chance
speaking out? Needs must, I suppose.
Beats sneaking home, tail between legs
as usual. Besides, who knows?
We might dance, chat, or better still,
get out of here (your place or mine?),
take a trip to see that ole Wizard of Oz
(because, because, because...)

I catch a smouldering glance, throw a grin;
mouth tightens, gold turns to lead again;
a hand gropes mine. I swing round and see
brave eyes inviting, lips parted hopefully.
I grimace (wrong time, wrong place). I scowl
and move on, glimpse a wolf on the prowl
seize my Golden One. They leave together
for a fun-night stand. (I know that look!)
Ah, yes, I’ve sung the song, read the book,
seen the show. Oh, but time to GO

Copyright R. N. Taber 1995; 2011

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from the version that appears in  Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]

Never Alone at Christmas

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Christmas - like all religious festivals – is a time for coming together. Sadly, far too often it is also a time when divisions become more clearly marked than ever. Where family and friends do come together, those who are and/or made to feel excluded can feel terribly alone and isolated. Birthdays, anniversaries, special moments we long to share with family and friends, these are times when not being able to share them, for whatever reason, can make us feel physically sick with the intensity of exclusion.

It is not only gay people, of course, who are often made to feel excluded because they haven’t lived up to the expectations of others but made their own way in life. It is high time some people realised that, much as we may want the best for family and friends, we have no right to tell them how to live their lives; we should respect the decisions they make instead of harping on about how they could and should have done things differently. Nor is turning to socio-cultural-religious traditions any excuse for making people feel guilty about how they choose to live their lives...or rejecting them for it. [Multicultural societies will never work well until more of its leading lights get real and bring their followers into the 21st century.]

Let those of us who fare better, wish all those who are alone and unhappy a peaceful time over this period of Christmas, and always. Peace of mind may be elusive but it is there if we look hard enough; it involves keeping faith with ourselves as well as if not more than with each other. Gay, or straight, male or female, we all need to believe in ourselves and can but trust others will come to believe in us too, albeit it may take time for some to accept us for who and what we are.

Me? I’ve been on my own on Christmas Day for years now and love it. I can do exactly as I please, which usually includes over-eating (especially chocolates and other goodies I deny myself all year) as well as mulling very self-indulgently over Christmases past (some wonderful, some awful) and be glad that close friends will be around for (hopefully) years to come.

At the end of the day, there are always loved ones to keep us company, whether or not they are still with us. whenever we feel lonely or unhappy. for any reason; there is always much comfort to be found among our kinder ghosts.

This poem is a villanelle.

NEVER ALONE AT CHRISTMAS

Alone at Christmas, yet never alone
(memories flooding mind and heart)
among flowers of a peace full grown

For errors made, we can but atone
(join a common humanity for a start)
alone at Christmas, yet never alone

May the world look past a tombstone
(in whose design we played our part)
among flowers of a peace full grown

Recalling wise words written in stone
(keeps us close, though made to part)
alone at Christmas, yet never alone

Live by the Poetry of Kindness shown,
and to others, its words impart…
among flowers of a peace full grown

Though time, like a bird, quickly flown,
hear its love songs as swiftly return;
alone at Christmas, yet never alone...
among flowers of a peace full grown

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2018