Hello again from London UK

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

“Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.” – Robert Frost

“Poetry lifts the veil from the hidden beauty of the world, and makes familiar objects be as if they were not familiar.” – Percy Bysshe Shelley

“Yet, it is true, poetry is delicious; the best prose is that which is most full of poetry.” – Virginia Woolf

“A poet can survive everything but a misprint.” Oscar Wilde 😉

Hello again from London UK,

Sorry, no poem today as I am not well at the moment. I have one in mind, though, so hopefully soon…

I always value reader’s comments and criticism; although I block them on the blogs, I can always  emailed at; rogertab@aol.com. I try to reply to all genuine emails, but please put ‘Poetry’ in the subject field or it may well end up in my spam folder.

Reader C. J. has commented with regard to my latest poem that “…if The Lie is meant to be a kenning, it isn’t because a kenning requires nine nines and a couplet and The Lie has only eight lines…” Many thanks for that, C. J. but it is not intended to be a kenning.  I have every respect for ‘form’ but am inclined to ignore it from time to time. 

Rightly or wrongly, I feel that couplets provide the reader (and poet) with a neat ending as well as helping to make clear what the poem is about and what prompted the writing of it in the first place.

On the subject of form, I should perhaps return to a frequent criticism regarding the absence of a period or full stop at the end of each stanza. I simply feel, as I have always felt since enjoying poetry even as a child, that it interrupts the flow of a poem; what is considered ‘grammatically correct’ is not always in a poet’s interest.

Anyone who has read any of my poetry volumes will know that, at the time, I tried using prepositions at the end of lines further flow; this was a misjudgement on my part which I have not repeated on my poetry blogs. 

C. J. also asks “… what prompted you to start up a gay as well as general poetry blog?”

Well, at the time there was not a lot of gay-interest poetry available. I wasn’t sure if there would be much interest out there. I also lacked self-confidence. A boost to my confidence came when I was privileged to participate in sculptor Antony Gormley’s ‘Live art” One and Other project on the 4th plinth in London’s Trafalgar Square in 2009. It was my first public reading of my own poems and I included some gay poems; the audience below seemed to enjoy it and I went on to give other readings, mostly in public libraries here in London and around the country.

I hope to celebrate my 80th birthday in 2025 by giving a public poetry reading, but having been living with prostate cancer for some years now as well as other health issues that accompany the process of growing old, I am counting no chickens. 

Now, I am hoping to find a publisher for revised editions of my earlier collections. I have had to self-publish in the past because no UK publisher that I approached showed any interest, possibly because I insisted on including gay-interest as well as general poems. However, since the publication of my last collection, Tracking the Torchbearer in 2012, both general and gay poetry blogs have proven popular with readers; according to Blogger statistics, total views for the former now stands at nearly 210,00 and 160,000+ respectively. So, fingers crossed…

Many thanks as always for dropping by, folks,

Take care, stay safe and keep well,

Back again soon with a new poem,

Hugs,

Roger 

[Note: This post also appears on my gay-interest blog today] RT

Hi folks, from London UK

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

“If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain.”  - Emily Dickinson

Hi, folks from London UK

Sorry, no poem today, but I am working on a new gay-interest poem that I will post here once completed.

Meanwhile, a friend’s work colleague recently recommended the poems of Richard Bruce Nugent, a gay American writer/painter:   https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Bruce_Nugent   

I love his poem 'Shadow’: https://poets.org/poem/shadow  At the time, many readers believed the poem was about race, but in a 1983 interview, Nugent explained that, “I intended it to be a soul-searching poem of another kind of lonesomeness, not the lonesomeness of being racially stigmatized, but otherwise stigmatized. You see, I am a homosexual.”

Now, a yet another reader has emailed to ask why “… you only seem to post poems on your general poetry blog these days?” well, sorry about that, but if you explore the blog archives, there are many gay-interest poems there that you may well enjoy; as I have explained before, I don’t enjoy good health these days and my energy levels leave much to be desired. Besides, many of the poems in my other blog have been essentially inspired by my experience of life, not least being an ‘out’ gay man unable to forget the traumatic days of living half a life in the closet.  Indeed, I feel very encouraged by the occasional email from readers who enjoy dipping into both poetry blogs.

The ‘sister of a gay man’ writes that: “My brother is a changed man since he started reading your gay poetry blog, having felt encouraged to let family and friends know he is gay. He is more confident and sociable where, before, he was very withdrawn.” What can I say but many thanks for that… and refer to the Emily Dickinson quote above.

As regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, growing up in 1950’s Britain. which was very homophobic and racist, made a coward of me regarding my sexuality. I did not see my way to coming out as a gay man until my early 30’s.  Sadly, both homophobia and racism persist in various communities worldwide, far less so among young people, though, in whom rest our hopes of an end to all prejudices in time.

That’s all for now, folks. I just wanted to let you know haven’t forgotten just how much I owe to being a gay man and wanting to share its positives. Male or female, we are who we are and what we make of ourselves, whether or not we are able to turn our dreams into reality. I used to think of myself as a failure because my dreams of becoming a ‘great’ poet/ novelist we clearly unfounded, but am more than content with a very modest degree of success. Whatever, as Prospero says in Shakespeare’s The Tempest: “We are such stuff as dreams are made on, and our little life is rounded with a sleep.”

Bye for now, folks, and here’s wishing you all a feel-good day,

Hugs,

Roger

Home Sown

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

“In any moment in time, the best thing you can do is the right thing, the next best thing you can do is the wrong thing and the worst thing you can do is nothing.” – Theodore Roosevelt

After two years of having to cope with the stresses imposed on us all by the ever-present (but hopefully decreasing) threat of Covid-19, many of us are on a short fuse; frustration, anger, and confusion just three of the triggers to a flame that could see any one of us light the darn fuse any time...

No gay-specific poem again today, I'm afraid; you need to explore the blog archives for most of those,  As regular readers will know, inspiration of that nature rarely strikes since being diagnosed with prostate cancer some years ago..  

Tragically anyone may find themselves a target of verbal and/ or physical abuse, including those of us in the LGBT community especially, too, while stress levels in general remain high and inclined to feed on such darker aspects of human nature as its prejudices, not least homophobia, among others,. 

Somehow, we need to bear in mind that where there are negatives, there are invariably positives, even if the latter appear to be in short supply in any Here-a kinder future beckons us all as mind-body-spirit knows only too well as it encourages us to focus.

Focus but a blur? We can do a lot worse than take our cue from Earth Mother, promising any winter of the human heart yet more of the joys of spring... all in good time, rarely just when we need them most, although a promise is a promise, a lifeline in any crisis.

 Oh, and no, this isn’t just a poet imposing the gloss of pretty rhetoric on hard times, but the voce of personal experience. Testing times, indeed, certain darker life forces, but Mind-Body-Spirit can and will overcome them; we but need to focus on and believe in the power of positive thinking to see us through to happier times.

Yes, dear readers, I draw yet again on the old adage ‘Better late than never...”; trite, indeed, it may well sound, but so true...

HOME SOWN

One sunny wintry day,
messaging a not-too-distant coming
of another spring...
we’d take stroll, just you and I,
in leafless woods
where home birds would be singing
in its trees, a hint of buddings here and there
alleviating human despair

A long winter, it had been,
dragging us, protesting loud and clear,
to abyss, after abyss,
free-fall, but a (very) near miss,
leaning on each other,
holding hands, not least to get the better
of any doubts, nurture hopes, treating any fear
with tender loving care...

Apollo, always smiling through
the troubles of world and personal space,
messaging the hope
of kinder days yet, rescuing us
not least from the worst
of ourselves, giving misty-eyed hearts
cause to open wide, let in the world – and focus;
the rest, down to us...

In winter, be sure that any silver linings to be seen
are home sown...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

[Note: The above poem appears on both poetry blogs today.] RT

Another Open Letter to Readers

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

Hi Everyone, from here in London UK,

Sorry, no poem today, but am working on one...

Several readers have kindly emailed to ask how I am, as I am getting on a bit now and having to deal with various health problems, although not Covid-19, so I count my blessings, even more so as feedback suggests more LGBT readers are dipping into both poetry blogs from time to time. Now and then I even get emails about my fiction blog and asked why I stopped adding to it. Well, it did not take me long to realise that I am not cut out to be a novelist, but am delighted that some readers have enjoyed my earlier efforts.

A reader recently emailed to ask why I have two poetry blogs instead of publishing everything on one blog. Well, I do include LGBT-interest poems on my general blog from time to time, but it made more sense when I started the blogs, about 10 years ago, to separate the two. Yes, poetry is all-inclusive whatever its subject. Sadly, though, the same cannot be said for certain societies, communities and religions around the world; nor is everyone as open-minded as they might be...

My general poetry blog has had over 200,000 views now; this one is trailing at nearly 160,00 views, but has hopefully helped some LGBT readers feel better about themselves who have the misfortune to live among those who continue to stereotype and abuse us. Even so, apologies to any readers who think I should have acted differently.

How an I? Well, my inner self is fine most of the time, I am happy to say; the pandemic leaves me very dispirited from time to time, especially when my bad leg &/or prostate cancer are playing up at the same time. By way of creative therapy, writing up the blog and making contact with readers around the world is not only a welcome distraction from my own problems, but hugely comforting too. So, many thanks to you all again, just for being there and taking the trouble read my poems.

Some days, of course, are worse than others, but I decided a long time ago that I would take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er)side of life. Years go, I did not expect to be having to deal with growing old on my own. As it turned out, I live alone, but have some good friends who keep me on my toes; hopefully, the feeling is reciprocal.

None of us can tell the future, though (probably just as well) so we have little or no choice but to deal with the ups and downs of life as they (invariably) happen or let them toss us into a quagmire of self-pity and despair.

Oh, yes, I  am familiar with that quagmire, been stuck in it many times over the years, but not for a long time, so... fingers crossed. I get fed-up, of course, don't we all? After a nervous breakdown some 40+ years ago, though, I have done my best to give it a wide berth.  Never easy, but well worth the struggle, as anyone who has ever been there will tell you. None of us should ever hesitate to ask for help, either; help is on hand in family friends, professional counsellors... all can help, but none are mind readers and I suspect there will always be times in life when we need to swallow any misplaced pride and learn how to get a life again...

For many people, everyday life becomes harder to contend with once retired, especially if - for whatever reason - they are unable to enjoy retirement as they had hoped and planned. An elderly friend - long since passed away - once warned me about retirement. "When you retire, be sure to replace your job, especially if it is one that has given you much pleasure and satisfaction, with something that gives you much the same level of pleasure and satisfaction," adding wryly, "We all need a purpose in life. When you retire, it's a case of sink or swim." Having been retired for nearly 15 years now, I am often reminded of those words, hearing his voice speak them in my head whenever I feel myself in danger of sinking into the quagmire...

Easier said than done, of course, but what isn't in the struggle to make the best of circumstances we would have preferred to avoid...?

Oh, and my late friend also told me to be sure and practice what I preach, so I do my best. 😉

Take good care of yourselves, dear readers, play safe, keep well as we can but try to nurture a positive thinking mindset, whatever life throws at us,

Lotta digital hugs, many thanks for dropping by and join me again anytime,

Roger

Please, Listen

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

Often in life, the more important and personal it is that we need to tell someone, the harder it is to find the right words; words that will not be misunderstood or fail to communicate our depth of feeling; a lesson for the learning, indeed, not least as as true love starts to flower and engaging in a relationship takes on a whole new meaning,...

Nor does the principle apply only to lovers. Expressing out trues feelings about someone or something we are anxious to communicate is a problem - if not a crisis of self-confidence - for many of us.

PLEASE, LISTEN

You lay your head on my shirt,
listening to my heart
and does it tell you all the things
I so long to say, but can never find
the words?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

Do you hear a love song taught me
by the birds, confessing
how I need you more, far more,
than I can say since love, it came
to stay?

No? Then listen, and let my heart
tell you so...

We were meant for one another,
soulmates forever,
life, love, dreams, looking out
for each other...
especially at times when it feels as if
the world is failing us, hope falling apart
at the seams

Now, listen and let this heart of mine
tell you how...

Come, passion’s heat, no hearth
simply smouldering,
but as lightening may well charge
Earth’s own heart in the course of fierce
summer storms

Ah, no need for words, the moment
taking us over,
our bodies engaging with each other,
in such passion and peace as bodes well
for You-Me-Us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; rev. 2021

[Note: This poem has been significantly revised since I wrote it in 2001 and included it in my collection, First Person Plural, Assembly Books, 2002; it appears on both poetry blogs today, not least because poetry is totally without prejudice, unlike some people....] RT

 

Cornered OR Nil Desperandum

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

Asked how he was feeling at the height of the coronavirus pandemic, a neighbour replied that he felt “Cornered. I never know from day to day how that day will pan out and whether or not I will get through it in one piece, either physically or mentally, but...” he added with a shrug, “I can’t stop the damn virus, can I?  I just have to get press on and make the best of a bad job along with everyone else... I mean to say, let it beat you and, well, you’re done for, aren’t you?”

Did anyone ever speak truer words...? 

“Nil desperandum, - Never Despair. That is a motto for you and me. All are not dead; and where there is a spark of patriotic fire, we will rekindle it.” - Samuel Adams

CORNERED or NIL DESPERANDUM

The road is long, and crowded with faces
in queues at bus stops, fashion stores,
train stations, even for Covid vaccinations,
anything to give mind-body-spirit a lift
to such far-away places as we see in eyes
reflecting daydreams, general hubbub
given the old heave-ho just long enough to let
mind-body-spirit grab some peace 

The road is long, like a tale we’re making up
as we go along, no end in sight to make it
worth the effort, uphill, down dale, on frantic
city streets, lonely suburbs, leafy turnings, 
sneering passers-by enough to panic hearts
left vulnerable by years of fake news rejecting
accusations of intending more harm than good in
as many real as digital communities 

Yes, the road has been long, and I'm left asking
myself, whether I feel motivated enough
to continue my journey from here, where I stand
at the heart of No-Man’s Land or trust my feet
to find a suitable escape route, but what chance
of success where mind-body-spirit has tried
and failed to achieve anything along such lines a
heroic men and women in our fictions?

Time, perhaps, to consider the role models we
choose, we wannabe heroes, as we pursue
the humdrum and hubbub of everyday life all art
forms seek to encourage us to acknowledge
for fantasy and draw us in while it may, if only
during the kinder seconds-minutes-hours
of days that would leave us feeling all but defeated
humiliated, possibly broken-hearted? 

Ah, but artists, too, have role models into whom 
they breathe life, would give the Kiss of Life to any
relating more closely to near-death scenes than
any celebration of life, for all its pitfalls, resolving
to let peace, love, joy have stronger voices when
having to make choices affecting loved -ones
no less than ourselves, give humanity an opportunity
to get the better of its egocentricity

Come Here-and-Now’s demanding we let it pass us by,
time, perhaps, to be asking “Why...?

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

[Note: This post-poem also appears on my general poetry blog today as feedback suggests many gay readers choose not to access it and Covid-19 + variants has left most if not all mind-body-spirits batteries worldwide in need of recharging.. For gay-specific poems, see the blog archives,] RNT

 

Pride in Love

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

No matter who or where in the world, there will always be those who find the love of their life and those that will never quite make it.  Some, like your truly, are teased by fate; we find it, only to lose it again. Yet, true love found is never lost, even in death; it lives in the heart forever and remains an essential part of who we are. 

Now, sometimes gay readers email me to say I am a “fossil” or a “dinosaur” given that no one cares about whether a person is gay, bisexual, transgender or whatever; they urge to get real and join the 21^st century. Sadly, we must agree to differ. In many societies and homes around the world, LGBT folks are still being rejected and/ or made to feel they are less of a human being than anyone else. 

Nothing is more awful than feeling rejected by family and friends or made to feel it is so likely a possibility that LGBT folks are still forced into a closet existence for fear of rejection. It appears to be happening less, I agree, but that it should happen to anyone, anywhere at any age, continues to put the 21^st century to shame. 

A gay reader has asked for a poem for his closet boyfriend who “… loves me, I am sure, but wishes he wasn’t gay and is too scared to come out to family and friends in case they call him a perv.” 

In my experience, where family and friends really care about a person, they won’t stop caring, and they will say so; those hung up on stereotypes may take a little longer to understand how they have been misled and should be forgiven for that. I only wish I had come out to family and friends when I was a young man instead of staying in a lonely closet for years; few people knew I was gay until ai came out at the ripe old age of 40 some 35 years ago. My only excuse is that attitudes towards LGBT folks were different then, invariably hostile. 

Things are different now, yes, and all the better for it, but many of any LGBT persuasion will continue to risk rejection wherever stereotyping, fake news and plain old-fashioned bigotry are alive and kicking. We just have to show we are better than that. 

This poem is a villanelle. 

PRIDE IN LOVE 

Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
of love, a gay heart would never learn to sing;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day 

Gay love, though (and true) chanced my way,
as we ran for shelter when it started raining
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.) 

We‘re exchanging grins, nothing much to say,
raindrops making merry on the shop awning;
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.) 

Soon we were chatting in a light hearted way;
ice-broken, we embraced a feisty thawing …
(years ago, I was told only perverts are gay.)

We were mutually attracted, come what may,
each seizing on the chance of a happy ending;
I realised how lonely I’d been the same day … 

Love and sexuality, they would have their say,
much peace and joy to us would they bring;
Years ago, I was told only perverts are gay,
(I realised how lonely I’d been the same day.)

 Copyright R N Taber 2020

 

Human Spirit, very much Alive and Kicking

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2017.

A winter of the heart such as the Covid-19 coronavirus is bringing to so many people worldwide can be an especially desolate time of year for singles of any age, ethnicity, gender or sexuality. Ah, but if we promise ourselves another spring and do our best to keep that promise, well, who knows…? 

Luck is a fine thing, can strike anyone anywhere at any time BUT we have to be in the right frame of mind to recognise it or it will more than likely pass us by.

The world will not come to us, we have to go out and find it. Yes, there are a lot of mean, nasty people out there BUT there are also a LOT of good, kind people too.

From time to time, we all experience a winter of the heart. Yes, even in midsummer. Yet, we can make the journey back to its spring, especially with encouragement, if not active help, from family and friends. 

Alone, lonely? No help, no encouragement, no one seeming to give a damn? Time, indeed, to tap into the human spirit and set it to work for us as I attempted, with no small degree of success, one bleak December some years ago...

HUMAN SPIRIT, VERY MUCH ALIVE AND KICKING 

Long ago, one bleak winter
a frosty spirit did moan,
heart barely even beating,
no life to call its own,
no one it could confide in,
regarding having (finally) come
to make sense of me 

A lonely Christmas over
New Year out of sight,
asking the point of living
when there is no light,
where no angels dare tread
for fear their ‘never-ending’ story
may well end there 

I heard a voice in my ear
trying to reassure me,
so dropped by a gay bar
and grabbed a chair,
found myself confiding
to a man in grey how I’d only just
faced up to being gay 

Chat became confession,
and once I had begun,
a heavy load grew lighter,
my tunnel all but run;
then my turn to listen how
he’d come out to the world to stay,
no longer afraid to be gay 

We drank beers till closing,
and agreed to meet again,
once strangers, now friends,
and though a snowfall heavy,
I happily made my way,
mind-body-spirit alive and kicking,
on this, its first rebirth day 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; rev. 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem first appeared in On the Battlefields of Love; by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010 under the title, 'A Feeling for Midwinter.']

 

Where the Keyword is Self-Awareness OR Where there's a Will, there's a Way

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

A new poem today, probably brought on by my having too much time to think during such days of Covid-19 coronavirus that the world is waking up to every day, but none of us know how any day will end; even so, 'Hope springs eternal' ...  which definitely has to be my all-time favourite among corny truisms. wry bardic grin

Some of us, for whatever reasons, get off to an uneasy, if not downright unhappy or bad start in life; some blameworthy fate seems to have it in for us.  I felt this way for years as a teenager and young man, not least because I was gay and same sex relationships were illegal at the time; other influences, too, mostly from family and peers, saw my younger self in something of a psychological mess for which it suited me to blame some existential fate rather than take responsibility for myself.

Eventually, I came to realise that any hell I was in was of my own making; it was the start of my finding a way back to a self with whom I was (and still am) more comfortable.

Where there's a will, there really is a way, and the way may well be heavy-going, but worth every heartbeat if we want it bad enough.

“I have always believed, and I still believe, that whatever good or bad fortune may come our way we can always give it meaning and transform it into something of value.”
- Hermann Hesse, Siddhartha

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”  often attributed to C. S. Lewis

WHERE THE KEYWORD, IS SELF-AWARENESS or WHERE THERE'S A WILL, THERE'S A WAY

There is a part of me

that no one ever gets to know

for my living out

its fantasy, a nightmare fiction imposed

on mind-body-spirit

Mind, it can but fight

as best it can to get the better

of forces as unremittingly

as uncaringly infiltrating the human body

time after time

Spirit, it can but resist

until worn down by nightmares 

passing for home truths

by certain elements of human psychology

worn on its sleeves

The better part of me,

struggling with secrets and lies

it’s made to house

in a heart hell bent on betraying appearances

behind closed doors

The years, they but pass

in tears for needing  to break free

of a mind-body-spirit

that would ransom me to Reason, but Reason

is having none of it

Finally, Reason pays up,

returning me to the kind of self

that is a kinder person,

if vulnerable to life forces that can get the better

of you, me, anyone

I grow old, but less haunted

by secrets and lies putting me down

than by other ghosts, 

old allies in adversity come to rescue me again,

and dry my tears,

That's life, and human nature;

we may well seek to nurture a natural 

predilection for peace 

and love in a world open to taking on all-comers,

but… who knows…?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

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

Hell is a Place called Closet

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Sometimes life gets too much for us and we feel a need to run away from everything and everyone. Only, there is no running away unless it is to that dark, distant place we call loneliness. Oh, we might plan to stay just a little while, but time has a nasty habit of playing tricks on us, and before we know it half a lifetime has passed.

It is always good to talk over problems with a good listener. Never bottle things up (I speak from harsh personal experience) as they will always break out in the end, sometimes with devastating results. As regular readers will know, I put a severe nervous breakdown many years ago down to just that.  There were many reasons for the breakdown, not least my having to keep my sexual orientation a secret from friends and family during teenage years and young manhood; gay relationships were illegal in the UK in those days. 

The gay factor was part adventure, part nightmare for me during those closet years. I’d cruise when and where I could for the company of other gay guys. My dream was that one day I would not only be free to acknowledge my sexuality, but also let a gay-friendly world in on my secret. That dream has been partially fulfilled; we even have pro-gay legislation here in the UK and other parts of the West to back it up. Tragically, though, it, is not the same for gay people worldwide. Mind you, there is no legislating for bad attitude; homophobia is alive and kicking just about everywhere.

Gay or straight, the going may be tough sometimes, even most of the time, but it has been my experience that it pays to tackle the rough along with the smooth rather than keep putting off the inevitable until some proverbial tomorrow that will never come unless we focus on the kind of person we are not the kind of person we (or anyone else) might have preferred us to be. Once we focus on that, accept responsibility for it, and start making our own choices accordingly, only then have we earned the right to be counted among the world's free spirits.

Now. as I have said before in the blogs, whether or not a person decides to be openly gay is a personal choice and depends on his or her circumstances. I have no time for the ugly process of 'outing' people. Whatever the apparent reasons behind a person's decision, we should respect that decision; the chances are we don't know the whole story, and it's none of our business anyway ... or is it?

HELL IS A PLACE CALLED CLOSET

There’s a place

as gloomy as a hermit’s cave;

only, caves

don’t have holes in the roof

for bird droppings;

it’s a place as cold as a tram shelter

in winter;

only, no there’s no history

of tramlines;

it’s a place as scary as a graveyard

by moonlight, headstones letting slip

the letters of my name

I should leave

this gloomy cold, dead, place;

only, I long since

lost all sight of alternatives

(and choices);

a voice tells me to take a leap of faith

into the light;

only, it is so high, so far away,

and I’m scared;

I glimpse the tip of a bird’s wing 

through a hole

in my sky, can only wish it well clear

of human malice 

I hate this place,

yet I know it like I know the self

that never meant to stay 

as long as it did after mind-body-spirit 

met its demons

and only mind and body ran away, 

found faux safety

in a cave, leaving my spirit

to its imaginings 

of birds in flight and contending

with human nature

at its worst in this, the awful loneliness

of its despair

For sure, high time

I reconciled with alter ego after years

of its telling me to dry

my tears, leave this hell for a heaven 

of my own creation

instead of making do as best I can

with stereotypes

profiling differences, equating rights

with wrongs

and causing such chaos,

as to prevent fake news spreading,

being taken to heart and (worse) acted on

in good faith

Now, coming out, 

to show the world I'm made of far more

than meets the eye

so quick to judge us by appearances

and body language

incompatible with whatever imprint

of self-image

formative years may have nurtured

in circumstances

beyond its line of vision at the time, left

to find its own way,

by hook, by crook, by this or that random

learning curve

G-A-Y, ready to come in from a bitter cold,

integral to the oldest stories never told

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011, 2019

[Note An earlier version of this poem -appeared on the blog in 2011 under the title 'The Place'.]

Beware, I play Dirty OR Myself, My Enemy

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

Today's poem first appeared on my general poetry blog in 2013. A gay-friendly reader has asked me to repeat it here for a friend "who is a great guy, but hasn't the self-confidence to tell everyone he's gay."

 I suspect most people's self-confidence is being put to the test as Covid-19 continues to rage around the world. As I see it, it's important that we meet the challenge head-on while, at the same time, using our common sense when it comes to everyday risk management. 

Once lost, self-confidence is hard to regain, and we all need to pull together as a common humanity to help restore it; hopefully, less divisiveness, stereotyping or rushing to judgement and more talking things through, accepting that our differences don't make us different, only human.

Oh, but I well remember how scared I was of coming out in my late 30's after years of being made to feel homosexuality is an'abomination' and LGBT folks are 'sick' ... not least by certain world religions whose God of Love is often if not usually perceived as homophobic. I still subscribe to no religion, but have met some wonderful gay and gay-friendly heterosexuals who see no conflict with their Faith.

Now, I am no extrovert. Indeed, there was a time when I was a near nervous wreck for having to go our there and meet people. But every stranger is a potential friend, and that's a good way of thinking to get into.

There was a time, too, when I was more than a little paranoid and thought everyone was looking at me, talking about me, judging me...and not only for my sexuality, but how I look, dress...everything about me. Yet, as my dear, late mother once pointed out (but I ignored at the time)...even if that were true, all the while they are having a go at me, they are leaving someone else alone. So I (eventually) managed to substitute paranoia with a sense of stoicism which, in turn, gradually metamorphosed into a growing self-confidence. 

I once commented to a young man buying drinks in a gay bar (it could have been anywhere, of course) that I admired his self-confidence, He laughed, “Me, self- confident? Don’t you believe it, mate. It’s all an act.” He winked and gave me this advice as he went to join his boyfriend, “Try it and see.” So I did, and it worked.

Oh, I never found the degree of self-confidence that young man exuded, but at least I was on track for getting a life. Besides, regarding my sexuality at least, it was the kind of life I really wanted for myself, not the one I had been made to feel for years that I should want. 

Self-confidence and faith in a sense of our own personal identity is a lesson I suspect many of us would do well to learn, gay or straight, male or female, whatever our socio-cultural-religious background.  Sexuality, for example, is only part of the human equation, an equation that can add up to a prize fight in more ways than one...but worth it (surely?) to establish who we are, not only to others, but more importantly to ourselves.

“Our doubts are traitors,
and make us lose the good we oft might win,
by fearing to attempt.” - William Shakespeare (Measure for Measure)

“The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.” - ― Sylvia Plath

This poem is a kenning.

BEWARE, I PLAY DIRTY or MYSELF, MY ENEMY

I am with you in sickness
and health, especially in early hours
as you toss and turn,
fretting over a seemingly huge gulf
between early ambition
and later achievement in a mind’s eye
whose vision blurred
by lack of sleep and paying attention
to speculation and gossip

I will seize upon your senses,
throw them into chaos like martyrs
thrown to lions
and torn to pieces for the satisfaction
of a cheering audience
only, on this occasion an audience
of but one, reduced to tears
by the frustration of feeling helpless
to effect a rescue

I have all the tools of torture
required to force you to admit flaws
in judgments made,
paths of action chosen for fear
of what might happen
if no choice made at all, when perhaps
it may have been wiser
to reassign the Devil to hindmost
than imagine the worst

Call me Self-Doubt a native vulnerability
that's any aspiration's worst enemy 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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

Stormy weather

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

I am repeating this post just as it appears on my general blog. (See also that blog's archives for January 2013 as listed on the right hand side of any blog page.) I will be 74 in December, and it is a tragedy of any Here-and-Now that there will always be bullies if only because it is among the worst aspects of human nature. It is worth remembering, though, that all bullies have a weak spot - fear of exposure to a less than sympathetic authority and having to face consequences for which no bully has the stomach, not least of which is further exposure to their more discerning peers.

[Update: 26.9.2019: Only six years have passed since I published this post/poem on the blog, but during that time bullying has raised its ugly head time and again on social media. Boys, especially, are inclined to suffer in silence, probably having been raised to think it isn't macho to tell tales out of school, but no small number of girls as well. Bullies are sick; reporting them is actually helping them to focus on what and who really matters in this life. So never suffer in silence. Tell a parent, teacher, best friend...someone you can trust to help you find the moral courage to do whatever needs to be done to expose the bully for the cowardly scum he or she is, and put a stop to it if only to prevent them putting someone else through the hell they are putting you through.] RNT

The main reason I am on the blog today is to recommend tyDi's great song/ video on You Tube  about some of the worst aspects of modern life that continue to plague many of us, especially young people, homophobic bullying among them. In case you haven’t found it yet, I urge you to go to:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CseffFUSAkg

I am 67 years old, and yet it wasn’t so different when I was young. What does that say about the world we live in, eh?  Even so, change is happening and people are becoming more aware of bullying and how it can drive people over the Edge of Reason into the Abyss. More importantly, come what may, love and the better, kinder, side of human nature continue to assert themselves over bigotry and ignorance.

Now, while I’m here…

I find writing increasingly stressful at the moment as my cataracts are getting worse. This poem is an early piece that appeared in several poetry magazines, 1996-1998, before I included it in my first major collection. Regular readers may be surprised to see that I made more (conventional) use of upper case letters at the start of lines in those days. I wrote it one stormy day while sheltering from the rain in a bus shelter.

I suspect the ‘rush of images had as much to do with seeing Derek Jarman’s amazing film 'The Garden' (1990) a few days earlier as a sense of nature ‘rushing’ me into…what? Writing a poem, maybe…

STORMY WEATHER

Cloud faces grimace;
lifelines leafing
through pouring rain;
fantastic canvas
leaping at the eye;
rooftops dripping
(sweat of heavens);
rhythm of children
braving a temporary
freedom

A rush of images
as ever seen;
Van Gogh, Jarman
each to their own
spirited inspiration;
distant thunder
rumbling our fears
while (reprieved)
we try to pass it off
as living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2017

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

Flight of the Bluebird

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

When I first started posting the poetry blogs ten years ago, it soon  became clear that I needed to keep them separate as most readers  were not inclined o visit both, It is encouraging, therefore, that since I began posting poems retrospectively from one blog to the other, feedback has been very positive.This poem was posted on my general poetry blog in April 2015 and was inspired by a growing interest in memorial woodlands since attending a funeral service at one some time ago. Hopefully, it will be read as it was written, in inspirational not morbid mode.[To read the original post, go to the April 2015 archives on the right hand side of any blog page.]

Someone once told me that love is the dare only a fool will refuse. Well, not everyone will accept a dare, and that doesn’t make him or her a fool, but when it is love - whatever our ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality - the chances are we risk a lifetime of regret by walking away.

The same person told me the Bluebird of Happiness is just a dream, but how like all the best dreams, we would do well to spot it if we can, and be thus inspired to keep the memory alive evermore by going for it. Yes, giving a dream a go can be a win-or-lose affair, but better to have fun losing then regret not having tried, surely? (In that sense, every loser, too, is a winner.) We can't all win jackpots, but it is open to any of us - whatever our gender, ethnicity or socio-cultural background - to turn a deaf ear to the naysayers, and see where chasing that special dream might lead...

Good luck, folks!

FLIGHT OF THE BLUEBIRD

There are woodlands where I go

whenever life finds me feeling low;

I have but pause beneath a tree,

see its branches shape our history

for letting the Bluebird of Happiness

work its magic on me

I feel the pull of Memory Lane

to peace of mind, away from pain;

among the lines in your fair face,

subtle comforts of a warm embrace,

the finest poems of earth and sky

recalling the love we dared, you and I,

young and impatient (even grown)

anxious to be seen wearing its crown

where bluebirds in twilight’s lace

perform evergreen images of grace

Though winter bite, nature rest,

in love and renewal we dare trust,

have but to pause beneath a tree,

see its branches shape our history

for letting the Bluebird of Happiness
work its magic on us

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

[Note: Revised (2015) from an earlier version that first appeared in an anthology, Thoughts and Reflections for Throughout the Year, Forward Press, 2009 and subsequently in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010] 

Falling in with Nature

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

Maybe it was the aspiring poet in me or simply because I have always been partially deaf, but even as a child I was easily contented with my own company, especially with my head in a book or communing with nature. While my mother was OK with this, my father was critical of what he considered to be unbecoming for a boy. Thankfully, my brother was more ‘masculine’ so that took the heat off me a bit. Needless to say, my relationship with my father was never a good one; there was no father-son bonding, probably due his being a product of a generation scarred both by war and even more misleading and misguided stereotypes than my own would see.

Children, of course, only come to understand such things in time. Meanwhile, they can but rely on adults to point them in the right direction; what is right for them, that is, not, the mentoring adult. Fortunately, my mother was cut from a very different cloth to my father and I survive to tell the tale.

I grew up with very mixed feelings about how I should approach the world, family life and (not least) myself. Perhaps that is why I love everything about the natural world; for all its unpredictability, it exudes relatively less than its human counterpart. On the whole, nature also suggests a greater sense - for me, anyway - of being on one’s side; at least, not against anyone simply because he or she has a mind-body-spirit of their own that may not be in sync with some socio-cultural-spiritual ‘norm’.

I grew up, too, believing that being gay was abnormal simply because it was ‘different’ and was never more glad of the sense of spirituality nature has always inspired in me. While my mother could not have cared less, the same could not be said for the rest of my immediate family nor even some people I looked upon as friends.

As a gay man in my 70’s now, I am so glad attitudes towards homosexuality continue to change for the better in many countries, even among the more discerning within intrinsically homophobic cultures. Alas, there is no room for complacency; more education is needed about how -, whatever our colour, creed, sex or sexuality - we are all part of a common humanity and all, each in our own way…different.

Reports of further legislation to re-enforce Equal Opportunities and Political Correctness may well suggest steps in the right direction in many respects, but you cannot legislate for bad attitude which, in turn, invariably stems from ignorance of the issues involved and/or a point-blank refusal to enter into any points of view other than one’s own. Enter, Education… if  only to show that what is often taken for liberalism is, more often than not, plain common sense in the absence of which any real (as in worthwhile) communication between certain people, peoples and cultures  is likely to prove but illusory.

As for my scepticism, that remains part of who I am, too, and most likely always will. At the same time, I am also a very positive thinking person; a contradiction, some will say, but then what’s one more contradiction in a world whose elected (or self-appointed) spokespersons  contradict themselves for much if not most of the time…?

Gay or Straight, Earth Mother is a friend and ally, but we (all) need to remember that - like most if not all of us - she will be pushed only so far before she will start hitting out if only in self-defence of all creatures great and small.

FALLING IN WITH NATURE

I’ve heard folks say I should get real,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to talk to flowers,

let them know I am here for them

and care if they live or die

much as I, too, could have someone

care for me, watch out for me

as I make my way through passages

of time and space among crowds

jostling to be first in line for whatever

best is yet to come as rumoured

by those assumed to be in the know

if only because it would appear

they have the ear of someone said

to really count for something

in a greater scheme of things as full

of promise as sparing on detail

nor so much as a mention of any Plan B

lest investors in social conscience despair

of profit margins

I’ve heard folks say I should man up,

and I do as needs must…

Yet, I love to spread wings, fly

among (all) birds over cities, towns,

and dreary suburbs top heavy

with killer-by-stealth pollution,

escape to the countryside,

take off with ducks, swans and the like

on its waterways, nature’s answer

to frantic airport runways…

comment on city carbuncles, enthuse

about country cottages, get angry

about global warming, especially where

powers-that-be in denial refusing

to put it on various agendas just in case

they lose votes (or face) among any

who couldn’t really care less so long as

they don’t miss out on rewards of a (very)

pecuniary nature

I’ve heard folks take me for a sceptic,

and they would be right…

Yet, I’ll believe a sunset’s promise

of sunny (or stormy) days in the wings

before I’ll trust a politician’s word

that the shape of things to come is safe

if not (quite) secure in party hands,

preferring to take my cue from such cloud

and bird formations as nature inspires

from time to time by way of suggesting

we make appropriate preparation, less need

for reparation  the powers-that-be

may well have us make for what turns out

to be their (only human) mistakes,

ours, too, if only for hearing what we want

to hear than what mind-spirit

would  take us to task for, a falling in 

with the commoner (if only human) failings

of contemporary society

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Something to Declare

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

As we are growing up, many experiences - and the emotional context in which we relate to them - are new to us; sometimes we guess how we are meant to behave, guess wrong and try to mask our confusion and any embarrassment by playing the fool (well, I did ) if only because it takes the heat out of whatever situation it is that we haven’t a clue how to handle. (Heaven forbid we should appear ignorant of the appropriate conventions!)

As we grow older, we (hopefully) find the self-confidence to express our own views and feelings without fear of being contradicted or even put down because we are more adept at holding our own in this or that situation, this or that point of view. We can dispense with masks, up to a certain point…at which we may well feel the need to retrieve one that has helped us out in the past if only for token reassurance.

I suspect most if not all of us all have a variety of alternative faces hanging in that wardrobe of the mind we call memory, one for every occasion. I do, although I binned the heterosexual mask with which I grew up more years ago than, at 70, I care to remember; my own face will have to do, warts ‘n’ all.

We are who and what we are, a complex mix of identities - including sexual identity - and that has to be as personal as anything gets. Half the battle, in my experience, is getting to grips with self-awareness; if needs must we remain in a closet, once alter ego has access instead of having to bang on the door demanding entry, it becomes much easier (rarely easy) to live with ourselves, and get a life.

SOMETHING TO DECLARE

I was never any good at school,

my schooldays were a sham,

I’d mess around and play the fool

because I couldn’t quite get to grips

with who I am

I had a working class education,

didn’t ever dare aim high,

couldn’t see the point of ambition,

so I’d mess around and play the fool,

content to live a lie

I had a real problem with identity,

couldn’t bear anyone to know

it was an awakening homosexuality

saw me mess around and play the fool,

put on a side-show

I’d have sex in sly, secret places,

even fancy guys in the street,

could sense revulsion in their faces

though never one sure, all-seeing eye

would I ever meet

There came a time as I grew older,

I wearied of playing the ham,

resolved to get real and be bolder

about letting on to this sorry old world

just who I am

I came out to just about everyone,

and it was scary, but, oh, so cool

to be free at last of secrets, have fun,

be a man, walk tall, and less of playing

the fool

In those days I never had much of a life,

my early years were a sham;

now, though. if I sometimes play the fool,

it’s because I’m relaxed, happy, content

to be who I am

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2016