Passing Glances

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

Sometimes when I catch someone's eye (or they catch mine) it feels like we are confiding an entire life history without having to say a word.

My mother once commented that a look can reveal more home truths than a bestselling biography although it would be some years before I understood what she meant.

PASSING GLANCES

Sheltered under an awning

only yesterday,

heard someone muttering

‘I bet he’s gay.’

Can’t help but wonder why

he’s sniffing

at my clothes, eager to catch my eye,

turn up his nose

Who knows? Need to flout

a macho pose

so no one’s in any doubt

he ain’t one of us?

Could it be an inner eye

taking in the scene,

closet self in anxious denial, turning

shades of green?

As for me, I was in flames

fanned with lies,

making believe it was anger,

I fed his lovely eyes

Finally, the rain stopped,

we were in the clear,

free to go our separate ways,

no one the wiser

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'A Wet Day on the High Street' in 1^st eds. of The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004; 2nd (revised) e-edition in preparation]

Queer as Folk

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

There was a time when bullies scared me. Thankfully, I discovered that most bullies, especially the homophobic ones, are even  more scared of themselves than I was...

When I was a young man, 'queer' was a term of abuse that the bigots among us would throw at gay men. While I remain uncomfortable with the word, it is good to see how it has been reclaimed by the gay community and reinvented itself for the better.

The poem tells a true story.

QUEER AS FOLK

He was a bully

and I was the coward

too scared to ever
stand up to him though 

he’d call me names,

say all queers should be

shot for the social

vermin they are, to hell
with equality

He led a local gang

that drained every nasty

word he said, awful

things he did, like booze
to an alkie...

He was their god

in whose mind’s sewers

they would freely dive,

invariably come up smelling
of show roses

One day, I turned

a bend, saw him coming

my way on his own,

dived into an alley

and just kept running...

It was a dead end!

He had me cornered,
no point yelling for cavalry
or expecting mercy

He was less sure

of himself on his own,

brow (rid of horns)

starting to sweat,

no one egging him on;

I’ll never know why

but I hit out with my fist,

missed, froze, was aghast, 

fearing the worst

He lunged at me

and we fell to the ground,

his breath on my face

challenging my lips

to let rip with a sound;

I lay still, eyes shut,

way past caring, passively

waiting for the beating

I’d long been expecting

to start...

No blows rained

where I lay in naked terror,

only a kiss on my mouth,

more reassuring even

than a hot shower;

my eyes flew open

and a face homing nervously

in on mine belonged

to someone else, far more
scared than me

Did I have a choice?

No, I struggled to reason,

pinioned to the ground

and dare not resist

this mad, appalling passion;

how could it be true,

these bodies, this rhythm ours,

a growing sureness

and frantic heat, ramming
heaven’s towers?

Spent, we lay,

unable to find a single word

to explain, knowing

anyone might

come by, but no one did;

once on our feet,

he blurted out an apology,

exposing how scared

we’d both been of a restless,
dormant sexuality

He kept his word

and I never knew what lies

he told his cronies, only

that love and hate

went their separate ways;

we never understood

how we felt about each other,

nor were we ever friends,

me and the bully who became
my closet lover

  

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

G-A-Y, Tales of the Unexpected

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

An early poem today, written in the 1980s while I was still recovering from a severe nervous breakdown. I dare say some readers will find it just as relevant now nearly 30 years on.

The poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010 and I hope new readers will enjoy.. 

Now, there are times when...if in doubt, GO for it!

G-A-Y, TALES OF THE UNEXPECTED

An unexpected kiss

sent me in a spin as I hadn’t

really thought much

about men having feelings

for other men like this

A knee jerk reaction

was to push you away as hard

as I could, feign horror,

reel off a string of nasty names

unworthy of repetition

Oh, days, nights, years

in a cold sweat, trying to forget

how my whole body

had thrilled so to an intimacy

wringing me to tears

I’d rather cross the street

than pass you, risk my confusion

spilling down my jeans,

giving myself away, wrestling

as I was with my guilt

Such exquisite passion

as I’d never dreamed existed even;

if sex with a woman

came close, it had but transcended

a vague dissatisfaction

We met again one day

at a in-service training session

about discrimination

against groups within society,

including gay

Later, as colleagues do,

we went to a bar and chatted

over a few drinks;

one by one, the others left - till

just me and you

I didn’t flinch as before

at that first, shy, unexpected kiss,

could see, too, in your eyes,

brimming with tender desire,

a way of life we’d share

Copyright R. N. Taber 1985; 2010

Woman, Gay Man's Best Friend

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

Many thanks to those readers who have been in touch to say how much they enjoy my YouTube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/rogerNtaber

Meanwhile...

Some readers tell me I should invest my poetry with more humour. Well, there is a wry humour in many of my poems if you happen to be in the mood to catch it. Or maybe you would prefer something more up-front, like this...?

WOMAN, GAY MANS BEST FRIEND

Once upon a time, I tried to go straight,
even went out on a female date;
she sort of liked me, and I felt the same,
but the chemistry wasn’t there
so (oh, dear) we just settled for a game
of strip poker

Needless to say, she got the better of me,
but, oh, how we laughed helplessly
till I blurted out blushing, ‘I think I’m gay’;
she just told me to get dressed,
poured two stiff drinks that saved the day,
and I confessed

I told her about a gorgeous guy in my office
and how I’d tried not to notice,
how he stares at me when I thinks I’m busy
so won’t get any ideas,
but (oh, dear) I already had plenty, mostly
in my trousers

She said I should chat him up without delay
since the chances are we’re both gay,
better (surely?) grasp the proverbial nettle,
and let human nature do its job,
no matter if it means I play teapot to a kettle
on the hob

So I took her at her word and caught his eye,
let him see, if he was lusting, so was I;
to my undisguised delight, she’d been spot on,
and soon we were enjoying our first date,
the irony being, it had taken a pretty woman
to bring us out

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011