A Force to be Reckoned With

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

Today’s poem was written in much the same spirit as the one before for which I make no apologies.

As we grow older, our thoughts inevitable turn to mortality and what it means to us in an intensely personal way; sorrow for having to leave family and friends – at least in a physical sense – is only half the battle some of us wage within ourselves as we recall images arisen from threats and promises made during long-ago formative years that are rarely as easy to shrug off as we might wish.

Over the years, I have met gay men from all walks of life and religion; the latter imposing far more guilt and despair on them than they deserve for their rejecting certain aspects of dogma by which a defensive worldly agenda would exclude them from both faith and any sense of spirituality altogether.

While I mean what I say about respecting a person’s religious beliefs, I also mean what I say when I blame religion for so many of humanity’s divisions and flaws, including my own.

Recently, I got chatting with a  gay Catholic man, in his mid-70’s like myself, besieged with doubts and fears regarding a Heaven he never ceased to believe in, but spent the best part of a lifetime in a weepy closet, made to feel by family and peers that he had no right to believe in anything much, including himself.

At the risk of being reprimanded for repeating myself yet again, no religion has a monopoly on spirituality.

The human spirit will be guided as much by the body’s innate feeling for all things positive as the mind’s inclination to trust its own judgement. Together, all three are a force to be reckoned with as world religions are beginning to realise; the more LGBT+ folks who learn to have faith in themselves and each other, the less likely they can be made to feel denied or undeserving of either those aspects of religion with which they most identify or the sense of growing reassurance it brings that no one’s spiritual well-being is threatened by their sexuality alone.

Regular readers will know that, as a pantheist, I reject the kind of dogma perpetuated by most world religions. Many who, likewise, cannot relate to a personified God any more than I do, or the teachings found in Holy Books, may well think of themselves (openly or not) as atheist or agnostic. Whatever, the human spirit clearly does have a will of its own, is capable of generating a sense of spirituality among even the most irreligious of human beings, not least in our capacity for love, in all its shapes and forms; lose that and, yes, we may well be on the road to a living Hell of our own making...

A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH 

A young man stood weeping
at the Gates of Hell where he’d been told
told to wait by certain “betters”
among humankind until let in to join others
whom the Devil has taken
for his own, down to words said, deeds done,
no malice intended, but seen as sinning,
deserving the worst all God-fearing folks can imagine 
within the parameters of their religion 

An angel came out of nowhere,
asked the young man why he shed such tears,
and the young man replied
how it was the sum of all earthly fears to be there
at Death’s door, waiting to see
the flames of hellfire, be made to dive therein,
due punishment for such worldly sin
as being on love with another man, much the same as he 
for engaging with homosexuality 

“Love is love, whatever its nature,”
said the angel, hand to head in sorrow and pain,
“Nor was eternity intended
for such troubles as mortal minds are inclined
to inflict rather than agree to differ,
allow for such reality es as they cannot be a part,
its seeds sown and nurtured in the heart
by assorted mind-body-spirits, rejected by such religiosity
as imposes its own spirituality...” 

“Are you saying I might even qualify
for Heaven? the young man asked, barely daring
to entertain the thought,
yet inspired by the angel’s understanding smile
to hope for more from eternity
than either burning or being as alone as made to feel
for much of his time on Earth
as neither of Earth Mother or Father born,
but an outsider, a freak of humanity, if only in failing to see
religion's monopoly on eternity 

“We who are not of Earth are well aware
of all that goes on there, can see into a human heart,
the sum of all its many parts
as lending the individual any benefit of doubt,
sitting less in judgement
than in compassion, allowing for a sense of spirituality
as comprises a whole that some call ‘soul’
where others see a human spirit engaging purely and simply
with a feeling for what comes naturally 

The young man took the angel’s hand in his,
and flew realms of time and personal space he’d seen
only in dreams of a kinder world,
no one made to suffer for ways of life and thought
that some may well see differently,
but the human spirit deserves a place and say in a world
that, try as it might, cannot dictate
how a person should feel or believe in order to (ever) qualify
to go wherever angels have no fear to fly

Copyright R.N. Taber 2021 

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

Art forms, Life-forms

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

Again, not a gay-specific post-poem today, but I make no apologies for that. 

In my first job (in a public library) after leaving school at 18 years-old, I discovered gay fiction as a positive life-form.  At the time, early 1960's, I was still in the closet, not least because I was still living at home and male members of my family had 0ften expressed homophobic comments. Cowardly of me, I know, but I could not have coped with the inevitable angst and stress; indeed, as regular readers of either or both poetry blogs will know, it would be a good fifteen years yet before I'd feel anywhere near confident enough in my sexuality to look the world in the eye. 

To this day, my remaining family have never broached the subject with me, nor I with them, not least because I would expect them to play the 'politically correct' card while doubting whether any talk of support would be any more genuine now as it would have been forthcoming years ago. In many cases now, families are supportive of gay members, and that is GOOD to see, but many socio-cultural-religious bigots remain, resulting in far too many gay boys and girls, men and women and other LGBT folks being stuck in a lonely closet for many years, even a lifetime. 

Coming out of that damn closet is the best and hardest move I have ever made in life, and I would not wish it on anyone.  Sadly, I was not destined to settle down with a permanent partner and a lonely old age is no fun, but NOTHING compares with those lonely closet years, and my only regret is that it took me far too long to start believing in myself (and others) in so far as our sexuality makes us no less human, contrary to what I had been told.

Indeed, I feel encouraged by emails from readers of my general poetry blog the suggests fewer readers take offence when I mention or discuss certain influences of  my earlier years, including being gay, on my poetry.

Meanwhile...

People have often asked me why I write poetry. Another friend, a painter, is often asked why he paints. Why does anyone get involved in any for of creativity whether it be writing, music, acting, dance or floristry, gardening... whatever, the answer is essentially the same. 

Any creative art form invariably makes the artist feel good, not only about participating by way of communicating, expressing something of the inner self that needs to make itself seen and heard, but also, in turn, being explored by inner eyes and inner ears, among any who care to look and listen. 

We may well disagree with what we see and hear in an art form, but it will invariably give us food for thought. 

Now, I know I have said as much in previous posts and the reader who emailed yesterday to tell me off for repeating myself too often makes a good point. At the same time - and the same applies to the creator and/or participant in any art form - if something is worth saying, it is always worth repeating. 

As for agreeing or disagreeing with whatever point/s are being put across within it, that is part of the art process, drawing us in. Even artists often find themselves at odds with themselves as they pursue whatever it is they are trying to say, struggling perhaps to give it form and meaning; to this end, they may well play devil’s advocate, not to confuse, but lead us to consider our own position and just where we stand in relation to... whatever. 

It may be a painting, a sculpture, a piece of music or a floral display... take any art form lightly, and we risk losing a sense of enlightenment as likely as not to influencer our lives for the better, whether minimally or substantially. 

ART FORMS, LIFE-FORMS 

During formative years,
I’d shed tears for feeling unsafe
in a world teaching me words
to help me guard against the threat
of mutual misunderstandings,
arts of communication as divided
by as many reasons swung
like axes of the proverbial kind
as human remains left behind

 Grown older and wiser
to ways of a world as excited
by the intimacy of playing
word games in any public arena
as lovers testing out dreams
in such open (or closet) scenarios
as may or not work out
for better or worse, blessing or curse.
in a private-cum-public space 

Grown old, the more so
for having had to agree terms
with strangers in my mirror,
shadows haunting dining tables,
or cosy corners for family,
friends, lovers indulging in rites,
acting parts in good faith,
so kinder worlds may yet save a heart
whose faith in one, fallen apart

Find me in all art forms, asking we consider
the good and bad of all we may yet deliver

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

[Note: Much of this poet-poem appears on my general blog today.] RNT

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

Hello, again, from London UK

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

Sorry, folks, No new poem here today, although you will find one on my general poetry blog:

https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

Alternatively, you may also be able to access either or both blog archives via the British Library catalogue:

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102835/https://rogertab.blogspot.com/

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/en/archive/20201119102823/https://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com/

Readers asks why I post relatively few poems on this blog now, and the answer is because I began by posting gay-specific poems here and I am less inspired to do so now; partly this is because I am well into my 70's now and having to grapple with various health and mobility issues, not least hormone therapy for my prostate cancer that has badly affected my memory and thought processes for some years now.

Another reason, I suspect is that the same hormone therapy has left me virtually asexual. I have been unable to enjoy sex with another man for  years, so any images in my head to which I once aspired and would set my imagination into poetry mode... are simply not there  any more.

 Not being able to achieve and erection, does sod all for motivation...

At the same time, I am still a gay man at heart and continue to think of the world as a common humanity in which everyone has a part to play, regardless of their sexuality, gender, ethnicity, politics, religion...whatever. Hopefully, what I have to say in my general poems, makes this point, attempts to draw in all readers, no exceptions.

Obviously, not everyone is into poetry. I can only hope that regular readers will continue to dip into my general blog and even recommend it to others; the more, the merrier and hopefully, the bigots among us may even find food for thought in what I have to say, even feel it's high time to change the habits of a lifetime... (Hope springs eternal.)

I may yet post a gay-specific poem here again while, in the meantime, you may well enjoy some of my earlier poems in the blog archives.

Meanwhile, while email feedback suggests that more gay reader are dipping into my general poetry blog, I can but ask others to at least.. give it a go, if only now and then?

Whatever, here's wishing all of you love, peace and happiness, or if they are denied you in the longer term, only available in snatches of time and personal space... continue to nurture a positive thinking mindset.

Where  any socio-cultural-religious circumstances prevent us from looking the world in the eye as unashamedly part of a natural, LGBT global community let's at least let our inner selves find peace in a safe corner of personal space created so we can be as and who we are, not as others would have us be.

If you can, get out of the damn closet and look the world in the eye, but that is not always possible given the attitude of certain loved-ones we don't want to hurt and/or any misgivings we may yet have about being openly gay.

Bye for now, folks, and I'll be back with  a gay/ LGBT - specific poem as and when I can. Meanwhile, take care, keep well and enjoy all the kinder aspects of life than help compensate for its dark side if we but let it.

Love 'n' Hugs,

Roger x x 

Home Games, Own Goals

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

It is not uncommon for many if not most of us to rail against fate when life doesn’t work out as we had planned/ hoped it would; a train of thought that can prey on the mind with even greater force as we grow old. Whatever manner in which we choose to contemplate dying, there is no getting away from the fact that it involves departing the known for the unknown, leaving those closest to us, hoping and/ or praying that their love which has sustained us in life will continue to do so in death. 

Those who subscribe to a religion tell me that this is where Faith comes into its own. Now, that well may be, but - as regular readers know - I subscribe to no contemporary world religion and see myself as a pantheist rather than either atheist or agnostic. It doesn’t matter who’s right or wrong; what matters is whatever leaves mind-body-spirit feeling at ease rather than fearful. 

An old schoolfriend, the last time I visited him before he died, confided that he was less scared of dying than full of regrets for being, as he saw it, one of life’s losers. He had been a closet gay person all his life, having grown up, as I had, in the grip of a society that was essentially homophobic. Hopefully, I managed to convince him that his life as a teacher had touched many young lives for the better, cause for celebrating a life rather than regretting it. 

Oh, how I empathised, though. While I had eventually emerged from that particular closet myself, and doing so had brought a welcome relief from years of loneliness, it would always fall short of the stuff of which dreams are made. Never had I envisaged growing old alone, for example, as I do now. Yet, I don’t think of myself as one of life’s so-called ‘losers’ albeit no ‘winner either… 

So, how do we measure our losses and gains? Not in material terms if we have any sense (no disrespect to the ethos of legitimate wealth intended.) Suffice to say, perhaps, there is far more to the idiom ‘to each one’s own’ than any dictionary can supply. 

I once read life being described as a ‘beautiful game’. Certainly, it can be… sometimes.  I guess it depends on whatever motivates the player/s. Such is the complexity of human nature, it is always worth remembering that ‘Beauty is in the eye of the beholder; yet another idiom to bear in mind, of course, is that ‘One man’s meat is another man’s poison.’ Whatever, while our mind-body-spirit may well let close family members and friends access certain parts, its whole remains ourselves to know (for better, for worse) and no one else. (True, there are many among us who will argue that God sees and judges us for all that we are, but these are the same people who may well also argue that we are His creation…) 

To err may well be human, but all we human beings are vulnerable, no more so than to the various pressures imposed on us by our own hopes and dreams, nor any less so by such expectations of those who matter most to us others as persistently haunt mind-body-spirit. 

We can but let mind-body-spirit find its own way in life, remind ourselves that we are loved and do our best to let that love be its greater driving force while remaining true to ourselves.

HOME GAMES, OWN GOALS

Fate, all things to all people,
often the butt of games we choose
to play rather than lose face
by accepting our share of any blame
for whatever fault it may take
to make a loser of any one of us, have us
fall or give us a break

Fate, at whose whim some argue
the world turns, for better or worse
as the case may be, no telling
how a dice may fall, Lady Luck mistress
to creatures great and small,
as likely as any deity in time’s watchful eye
to have us rise or fall 

Fate, all things to all consciousness,
any excuse better than none as it mulls
past-present-future, warts ‘n’ all,
leaning on its strengths to put any failings
aside, encouraging the world
to see it for such potential as supplies history
with all but the last word 

Fate, cat-and-mouse games teasing us
to make the most (or least) of humanity’s
common quest for purpose
and meaning enough to let mind-body-spirit,
wherever, whomsoever,
(and whatever form it takes) have the measure
of its own joie de vivre 

Win some, lose some, the games people play
come what may…

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2021

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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.']

 

Pièce de résistance

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2015.

A reader once emailed me and asked the nature of my thoughts. For example, he wanted to know, am OK with being gay? Do I have regrets for being in my 70's now? He might as well have just asked if I am OK with being myself.

Yes, there is a part of me that is not happy with all I have achieved and not achieved. Who doesn't’ have regrets? I have more than my fair share, but being gay is not one of them. Coming out openly as a gay man, albeit waiting until my 30's to do so, is one of the relatively few aspects of my life of which I will always be proud.

PIÈCE DE RÉSISTANCE

Body, seeking love,

where doors closed to me

or slammed in my face,

warning I must know my place,

given an open sexuality

scorning all prejudice

and bigotry, daring to stake

my claim to co-exist

among the best (and worst)

humanity has to offer

Mind, anxious love

close not its open doors to me

or slam them in my face,

reaffirming that I have a place,

given an open sexuality

trusting prejudice and bigotry

will (eventually) accept

nature’s everlasting legacy

to history of the best (and worst)

humanity has to offer

Spirit, conspiring with love

to engage a kinder humanity

with the likes of me,

urge a smile on the face

of adversity, keeping it in place,

for taking pride in sexuality,

tasking prejudice and bigotry

with (finally) accepting

all the integrity of human nature

demands, that our differences

but make us human

Body, mind and spirit, steering us

through good and bad patches...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015; 2020

[Note: This poem has been slightly but significantly revised since it first appeared on the blog in 2015.} 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

Chain Gang OR Doing a Runner

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

I published the poem below on my general blog in May 2012. As well as the abusive emails I received in response to it at the time were some from closet gay people and gay-friendly straight readers who were pleased to find a gay-interest poem on a general poetry blog; all were hoping for 'more gay-friendly societies worldwide as our heterosexual brothers and sisters learn to live and let live', as one reader from a very gay-unfriendly African country put it. Yes, more have learned to do just that although , in my experience, there remains a prevailing bad attitude towards LGBT folks just about everywhere, although I dare say exponents of political correctness will argue differently. My problem there, though, is that what people say and what they think are often poles apart as their subsequent behaviour (when not under any authoritative microscope) illustrates  Even so, hope springs eternal ...

Now, I am happily, openly gay. But it wasn’t always that way. 

As regular readers will know, I am still haunted now and then by dark, cold, closet years when I was afraid to tell anyone. Throughout my youth and early years of young manhood, gay relationships were illegal here in the UK. Yet, even after these were decriminalised, I was still more in that damn closet than out of it.

Part of the reason I hesitated to be openly gay was that I had such trouble shrugging off all the offensive stereotypes with which I had been burdened for years. Another reason was that I could rely on no support from family or friends for much the same reason. In many areas there are support groups available now; there is also a LOT of support available on the Internet that includes access to gay forums. [Always keep your wits about you when chatting to people on the web, though, as not everyone is as genuine as they may seem.]

Much has changed for the better since those dark days some 30+ years ago. Many of the stereotypes still exist but are countered these days by supportive (rather than just defensive) arguments, and in some parts of the world gay men and woman can turn to Equal Rights legislation.; in other parts of the world, though, there is none of this and gay people, especially young gay people, are suffering much as I did all those years ago.

It has to stop. Societies whose leaders support anti-gay legislation must be made to see sense by more enlightened societies; political pressure must be brought to bear and seen to be brought to bear.

All the blame for the continuing suffering of all LGBT people, often struggling with their sexual identity and in need of support and reassurance, does not always lie at society’s door. Support and understanding starts in the home. Even in the so-called liberal West, many gay boys and girls, men and women, are (still) living in a gay-unfriendly environment.

Wherever you look, and closer to home than you may think, various socio-cultural-religious anti-gay pressures are being brought to bear on gay people.

As I keep saying and will keep saying, the key to supporting gay people in home, school and workplace lies in educating, family, friends and work colleagues into just what it means to be gay; dismantle all those same stereotypes and arguments that kept me in the closet once and for all. Parents and teachers worldwide must start taking responsibility for this along with just as societies’ less enlightened leaders.

Those readers who get in touch to tell me I am being a dinosaur, things have changed and gays have never had it so good should take a closer look at what is happening in Uganda and many other African countries, for example, also in Russia where gay people amongst others must be aghast at Putin’s policies.

Homophobic hate-crime remains  an ugly stain on the human race along with all other acts of physical and verbal abuse committed by perpetrators driven by its prejudices.

CHAIN GANG or DOING A RUNNER

Shovelling lies, bundles at a time,
though wore my hair long and sang,
making out I didn’t give a damn,
breaking my back on a chain gang

Yes, thought about breaking loose,
though rarely let it tease me for long;
couldn’t face ever having to choose
between alter ego and the chain gang

For long hours, days, weeks, years,
I slogged on, never putt a foot wrong;
no one ever saw me shed any tears
for making a career of the chain gang

I knew the politics, chapter and verse,
yet still kept singing the same old song,
ringing changes, for better for worse,
and more new faces on the chain gang

One face lingered in my mind’s eye,
wry grins sure to catch me responding,
couldn’t ignore, even though I’d try
‘cause it just ain’t done on a chain gang

Too scared to come clean and get real,
told gay love ungodly so must be wrong,
but how could I argue with a smile
that lets heaven shine on a chain gang?

We got to know each other better daily,
mindsets more than merely getting along,
office gossip machine churning madly
(for our not doing right by the chain gang)

We did a runner one day, my love and I,
got a life, determined to do our own thing,
happier at work (even happier at play)
just two gay people getting on with living

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007 

Through a (closet) Keyhole

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

Gay, straight or transgender, there is a temptation, especially as we grow old, to look back on our lives if only because there seems more to look back on than forward to. (Not so, as who knows that tomorrow will bring? ,We always need to think positively about that however hard gets sometimes as body fails to keep sync with heart.) There is a further temptation to dwell on our mistakes, bad choices, missed opportunities; we all make them. The result of such negative reflection is that we may well lose sight of all the positives… many of which we may not even be aware,

Some years ago, I visited an old school friend who confided that he was gay, and I was the first person whom he had told. He was ill and had only a few years to live although neither of us had an inkling of this at the time. What bothered him most was that he saw his life as nothing more or less than a string of missed opportunities. “It’s all been such a waste of time,” he groaned, “my whole life,”

My friend had chosen a career in teaching.  I visited him on his 65th birthday, and he let me browse his cards, many from ex-pupils whom he had clearly given cause to remember him fondly, One card included the photo of a young man, his wife and three children, and he had written: ‘You were right. Trust your instincts, and you can do anything you put your mind to, however much other people try to tell you it’s in your best interests to do something else.’ It seems he had joined the police, and made his way well up the promotion ladder against the advice of family, friends and several teachers who had seen a promising career for him as, yes, - a teacher.

There were similar comments on other cards from ex-pupils whom he had plainly influenced for the better and they were clearly grateful.

A waste of a life, indeed…! I think not, and am glad I managed to convince him of that as he died a week later so I never saw him again.

Gay or straight, much of what we achieve in this life, we never get to see through to the end if we are aware of it at all. A word here, a word there, to the right person at the right time can make  the world of difference between their doing well instead of badly…and the chances are, we will never know.

Yes,I try to encourage gay people to .come out, but we are all different and all caught up in different sets of circumstances, some of which make being openly gay impossible. (This is why I despise the practise of 'outing' people.)

Yes, there are far better ways of getting a life than in a closet, but it isn't only LGBT people who have inside knowledge of closets; who doesn't have a secret close to their heart for fear of the harm it might do themselves and/ or others were it to be discovered?

A life without love in it? No way. My friend, for example, loved his job, loved nature, loved travelling ... no disrespect to sex, but there is more to life (and love) than that.

THROUGH A (CLOSET) KEYHOLE

I grow old alone,
those who may have grieved me
gone into that unknown
some call Heaven,
Paradise or whatever, anything other
than Death

Death, a cruel word,
metaphor for a ghost, last spotted
peering over the shoulder
of one such as I
in a bedroom mirror, grown anxious
for sleep

Sleep, harbinger
of dreams, good, bad or too ugly
to ever contemplate
in the light of day
where alphabet lanterns spelling out
my darkness

Darkness, companion
to personal space if sure to keep
a (very) discreet distance
since it would not do
to discover even tenuous connections
in circulation

Secrets, running rings
around me, less able to send them
to those dusty archives
of mind-body-spirit
than younger personae less concerned
with repercussions

Repercussions, haunts
of bygone days, years of answering
to outward appearances,
inner self suffocating
in a closet I let few in, and among those,
nobody to love

Love, always so near
yet so far, on the tip of my tongue
but at the last minute
struck dumb
for centuries of homophobic propaganda
finding its mark

Ah, but what’s that I hear?
voices out of nowhere reminding me
of words said, soon forgot,
(and to whom)
thanking me for lending a guiding hand
to get a life

Alone, yes, but lonely no more
for invisible hands warmly shaking mine
re-awakening sensibilities
half-forgotten;
of despair for a life with little to show for it,
nothing to speak of

Through the keyhole, head high,
no need to make my peace with mortality,
having done my best
for an upbeat heart
in as free a spirit of peace, kindness and love
as I can speak of

Would that I could have spoken out
than let bigotry have its wicked way with me
through formative years
that all but provided
a rope to hang by, but though a time of strife,
I've had a life


Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Close to Nature

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

Just when I don’t think I have another poem in me, Earth Mother takes me by the hand and takes me 

back through my life, good times and bad, the former prevailing, landfall a human spirit refreshed, revived and ready to take on anything life throws at it.

As a child, I had a strong affinity with nature until I became aware of homophobia and its being seen as 'unnatural' by many, including my own family. I felt unhappy, guilty, confused ... you name it ...and spent years in a lonely closet.  It took me awhile to understand that being gay is not what but who I am. 

Finally, I understood that I was as entitled as anyone else to feel close to nature. This realisation burst like a beautiful flower in me and continues to do so, especially at times, now and then, when I have doubts and start to wonder how my life might have panned out had I not been gay. All I have to do then is meet a bigot's eye, feel the same flower burst anew in me, and if they cannot see it for their own narrow mindedness, the more fool them. We are a common humanity, whatever our gender, sexuality, ethnicity, religion ... and the sooner more people see how our differences do not make us different, only human ... the sooner peace in every corner of the world really stands a chance.

CLOSE TO NATURE

As I walked in a wood

at twilight, a nightingale sang 

to me of days gone by,

and I found myself recalling

that first time I told the world 

I’m gay, and that’s how it is,

accept or reject me, your choice,

my life

The nightingale sang on,

about the good times and bad

such as everyone gets

to know (be they gay or straight)

so why the big deal

with sexuality? No harm done,

and bigotry doesn’t get to control

my life

Trees began a chorale

of love and peace as a sunset

pinked the sky,

and I found myself recalling

with a heavy heart

how we let prejudice and dogma

have their way with us, promising

a ‘better’ life

An audience of stars

watched as I wound my way

through the wood,

siding with me as I took my past

to task for a present

that only (ever) left me needing 

to feel there had to be a kinder way

of life

An owl flew overhead,

hooting its applause, all nature

(or so it seemed)

thrilled for my having turned away

narrow thoughts

and judgemental jibes, consented

to the sum of my selves demanding

a life

Darkness fell, and silence

no less bitter-sweet than a sense

of being alone

in a magical world where positives

cast long shadows

and negatives are as moonlight

on leaves of grass prettily lamenting

a life

It's the nightingale's song

re-awakes in me a stronger sense 

of being at one

with a natural world where positives

shine brighter even

than sunlight, negatives best left

to shadows as we let reality shape us

a life

Copyright R. N. Taber 2017

Making Good Time

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

Update June 11th 2019]: A reader, Max, who regularly emails me and appears to enjoy all three blogs, has kindly said  he misses my Google + site since Google recently deleted personal G+ sites, but goes on to say “Whenever I find a poem I really like, I make a note of any search words or phrases in the labels column and use them to find more poems …” Well, thank you Max, and I'm sure some readers will find the tip useful and time-saving. For the record, search words and phrases include: communication, culture, death, dreams, guilt, innocence, history, human nature, human spirit, imagination, love, mind-body-spirit, memory, mortality, nature, past-present-future, personal space, posthumous consciousness, prejudice, religion, relationships, sexuality, society, and time... among others. [Another reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one; it's because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better or worse...]

Meanwhile...

As regular readers will know, I stayed in the proverbial closet for years; well, it was real enough, and I was in and out of it for years although few people were in the know; the stress was excruciating. A nervous breakdown in the late 1970’s, awful experience though it was, came as no surprise to the few, least of all to me. Mental illness can be a messy affair and mine was no exception. I even attempted suicide, remained unconscious for a good thirty-five hours and escaped death by a whisker, thanks to the efforts of hospital staff and staff at my nearby local surgery where I managed to stagger before passing out. It was a wake-up call and the next few years found me re-appraising mind-body-spirit, warts ‘n’ all.

I was forty-one years old before I finally Came Out to stay; incredible, and not a little sad given that I’d known I was gay from the age of fourteen. My only excuse is cowardice; homosexuality was not well received just about anywhere in the UK throughout the 1950’s - 1990’s, and even now among some families, peers and communities. Old stigma die hard where human nature is concerned.

The evening prior to my finally Coming Out to the world, at work as it so happened, I confided in an old friend who had known about my sexuality for years, being one of my earliest encounters with that species of heterosexual who was confident enough in his own sexuality not to give a damn about anyone else’s. I explained that I felt a pressing need to  come out of that awful closet, but continued to doubt the wisdom of it; it was the early days of Equal Opportunities, but the fickle public was still divided on the issue and various socio-cultural-religious influences prevailed for the most part, as I suspect they still do albeit less obviously so than in certain other countries.

 “Let me put it this way,” said my friend,” Fools may well rush in where angels fear to tread, but do you really want to side with angels or are you saying to yourself, to hell with all that, I just want to be ME, and if that’s a fool’s game I’ll make damn sure I have the time of my life playing it …”

Needless to say, I had already made my choice, just needed someone to spell it out for me. Moreover, I suspect that moment in time is also when I finally, and consciously turned my back on religion to embrace not only nature, but the kinder, more discerning side of human nature as well.

This poem is a villanelle.

MAKING GOOD TIME

We’ll make time for us, just you and I,
where some (still) refuse us the time of day,
but two among millions under the sky

But two among millions under the sky,
wannabe free spirits with a mortgage to pay,
loving life by living for love till we die

We’ll make time for us, just you and I
to live, let live, letting love light up every day,
no matter any dogma raising hue and cry

But two among millions under the sky,
an ordinary couple, contrary to what bigots say
(that same sex relationships prove the lie)

We’ll make time for us, just you and I,
despite needs must discreetly since we’re gay,
and it may (still) matter to passers-by

Hear race, creed, culture having their say,
only, trust the human spirit to find its own way;
we’ll make time for us, just you and I,
but two among millions under the sky


Copyright R N Taber 2019

Head in the Clouds, Reading Aloud

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

As a closet gay teenager 50+ years ago when gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK, it was ironically a Church of England minister (who insisted gay people would go to hell) that helped me through what were very traumatic years. Whenever you feel lost, he would say, look to God in Heaven for directions.

I did not go looking for God as I was already disillusioned on that count, but I did find myself gazing up at the sky one day and saw cloud shapes resembling two men holding hands and smiling down at me. After that, I coped with my secret life far better and with far fewer doubt as to whether or not I really had lost my way.

Yes, of course, it was all in my imagination. Even so, the heavens seemed to be telling me something, and who was I, a potential poet no less, to turn a blind eye? 

As for God, whatever we understand by that, I saw God and nature as inseparable one from the other even in those long-ago days. Consequently, as my consciousness of who and what I am developed and began to leave self-consciousness behind, a sense of spirituality I take from nature rather than religion was less and less threatened by my being gay. 

Acknowledging and accepting that we are gay is a cue for LIFE not an excuse to pursue a charade meant to persuade the heterosexual majority we are 'normal'. Besides, if normal is as normal does, it doesn't say much for many among the heterosexual majority anyway. On the other hand, if trying to be a good person (open mind, open heart) is as being a good person does, neither colour, creed, sex nor sexuality matter as much; on the contrary, all can play an important part in shaping us for the better...if we but let them, and refuse to be held back by conventions and dogma that need to get real.

Gay or straight, the sky's the limit as far as human potential is concerned. As for being gay, why do gay-unfriendly heterosexuals make such a big deal of it. We all share the same earth and sky, and LGBT is no more or less than another template for life.  (Certain socio-cultural-religious groups, please note!)

This poem is a villanelle.

HEAD IN THE CLOUDS, READING ALOUD

I take my cue for life from the sky,

where the sun winks back at me

among clouds spelling out, G-A-Y

Too often, the world makes me sigh

with frustration, rage, anxiety;

I take my cue for life from the sky

Now and then, people make me cry

until I find an answer to bigotry

among clouds spelling out, G-A-Y

Often advised to let sleeping dogs lie

than let them wake up to reality,

I take my cue for life from the sky

Once, told to hide my true self and lie,

I found an anthology of sexuality

among clouds spelling out, G-A-Y

Walking tall and holding the head high

can test even sense and sensibility;

I take my cue for life from the sky,

among clouds spelling out, G-A-Y

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Looking the World in the Eye

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

How many of us can say, hand on heart, that we have never told a lie? True, some lies are for the greater good; others, though, have a way at eating away at us.

They say you can tell if a person is lying by looking them directly in the eye. Perhaps, but even more so, in my personal experience, if that same person, once challenged by word or glance, looks away before we can test the theory for ourselves; it is a useful tip for those of us who think we may have found someone to love while, in truth, they are only looking for sex.

Don’t get me wrong. I am not knocking sex, but there is more to life, and love cannot survive on sex alone.  Man or woman, gay, straight or transgender, it makes no difference. We are all vulnerable when it comes to love.  Who doesn’t have a tale to tell about someone suspecting they may well have a one-way ticket to love while doing a damn good job of convincing themselves otherwise?  Invariably, though, the eyes have it, and truth will out.

What’s that? Oh, dear me, no. I’m not knocking truth either. Truth is one of the few forces in life that can turn a negative into a positive, weakness into strength, even if it is often inclined to take its time in doing so…

This poem is a villanelle.

 LOOKING THE WORLD IN THE EYE

Life can hurt, make us cry,

even lead us astray…

(Worse, if buried in a lie)

When love begs give it a try,

do we look away?

Life can hurt, make us cry

Once love asks reasons why,

it fades away…

(Worse, if buried in a lie)

Yes, we look folks in the eye

and say, “I’m gay.”

Life can hurt, make us cry

Cave in to history, let it deny

and drain us away?

(Worse, if buried in a lie)

Once we look love in the eye,

we win the day;

life can hurt, make us cry

(worse, if buried in a lie)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Macho-In-Crowd Taboo

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

I just love it when people get in touch with feel-good stories. Invariably, they inspire me to write a poem. It doesn’t even matter if readers think it’s a good poem, a bad poem or even a corny poem. If just one person can not only relate to it but finish reading it feeling GOOD about themselves, and perhaps a more kindly disposed towards that weirdly unpredictable phenomenon we call human nature, it has been a poem worth the writing.

This poem was originally written especially for ‘Roy’ and ‘Davis’ who are out to family, friends and work colleagues and ‘everyone accepts us without a hint of the hostility we were expecting.’ True to say, life doesn’t always work out like that, but isn’t it just so wonderful when it does? They asked if I could write a poem for them. How could I refuse?

In seventy-six countries, gay relationships remain illegal; in at least five, it is punishable by death. Their governments and secret ‘religious’ police (as in Iran) should be thoroughly ashamed, especially the latter who are a disgrace to their religion. Every human being is different; those differences don’t make us different, only human, and that applies to sexual as well as social/cultural/religious/identity.

Those clerics - from various religions - who insist that LGBT issues are incompatible with religious principles are a disgrace to that religion. Religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality. Even so, no one should be made to feel they must choose between their sexuality and religion. [How does living a lie conform to any religious principles?]

Here’s wishing all those gay boys and girls, men and women around the world who cannot or will not take a chance on truth – for whatever reason – much love and happiness in their lives anyway.

Yes, yes, I have said all this before on the blogs, but as my dear mother used to say, if something is worth saying it is worth repeating.

A teacher at my secondary school once commented along the lines that we should never assume the worst although it does no harm to be prepared for it. That was over 50 years ago, and I have since learned the hard way that it is a sound principle by which to live.

Some secrets were just never meant to be kept. For example, not all gay men are screaming queens so At the same time, not all gay men so why even mention sexuality unless the subject comes up? A straight person does not introduce himself or herself as 'Hello, I'm ---- , 'm straight' so why should it be any different if you're gay?

Oh, and by the way, people are always asking how much autobiography I weave into my poems. Ah, well, that’s for me to know and you to wonder…

MACHO-IN-CROWD TABOO

I hungered for your body,

and could tell you wanted mine,

the way you’d catch my eye,

throw me an, oh, so wicked smile

when you thought no one else

was looking, trying to catch me out,

put it on the grapevine

that the rumours were true

about me and you

I longed to feel your lips

on mine, hands tearing off my clothes

while mine played copycat

with your quick, fever pitch fingers,

though so far we had only

made love in each other’s heads,

exchanging glances across

this office, that cafe, a bar popular

with hot-blooded hets

Oh, but our in-crowd

wasn’t really us, hadn’t been since

you surprised me with a kiss,

swore it was for a dare, and I might

have believed you

but for the queerest look on your face

that gave the game away,

suggesting some dreams come true

and you, too, are gay

We made love one night

in a cramped single bed at your place

(did we care?) finally resolved

to kill the lie, hold our heads high,

tell the world we’re in love,

reason with family, friends, colleagues,

and anyone else uncomfortable

with the fact that falling in love equally

applies to gay people

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2011; 2016