A (Gay) Winter's Tale OR Anticipating Summer

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Lonely? Wintry days seem endless? Well, take heart, you just never know what’s around the next corner or even at the next taxi queue ...

A (GAY) WINTER'S TALE or ANTICIPATING SUMMER

Standing close to me in the queue,

buttocks pressing on my groin;

my sex aroused, I could but surf waves

of desire, riding blond highlights
among waves of his long brown hair;

if I’d stuck out my tongue,

it would have brushed the pale neck

gracing a denim shirt collar

like down of an angel’s wing making

moves on my heart’s reawakening

Moving forward in the queue till just

us pair, a lump in my throat hard

and throbbing like an erection (that, too)

as in craters of a full moon I made

frantic love…to you; a taxi pulled up

alongside us, your turn to vanish

into a darker side of town. You casually

asked if I’d care to share, and I could

but nod, anxious to pursue those highlights

in your hair just about anywhere

In the back seat, leg pressing against mine,

we gladly revealed our names - and

more. It was time, we both knew, to stop

playing games, answer a question

in the wing mirror’s eyes as the taxi

pulled up outside your door;

it was now or never. I yielded to temptation,

said ‘yes’ without further hesitation;

if only a one-night stand, I was well hooked,

my place in your bed long since booked

Wintry days (even in summer) all the warmer

for our being together

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Being Me

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Today's piece is a relatively early poem, rediscovered some time ago and only slightly but significantly revised.

Now, for anyone growing up in an intrinsically homophobic environment as I did, being gay can send self-esteem over a cliff. My closet was an abyss where I hung suspended for years.

Growing up, though, brings with it an appreciation of what’s wrong with our world and how we can change it for the better. We can choose to try, each in our own big or small way, or settle for how things are…

BEING ME

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,

jerk open their shut-down faces,

let, dark, penetrative looks grind me 

to dust at their feet

There came a time as I grew older,

I wearied of playing the ham,

and resolved to get real, be bolder,

look the world in the eye and dare it

deny me for 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,

walk tall, no more putting myself down 

for a self-conscious fool

I was never any good at school,

my early years were a sham,

but if I sometimes play the fool,

it’s because I’m not just gay but human,

and happy to be who I am

Copyright R. N. Taber 1985; 2014

Anthology of Tears OR G-A-Y Discovers O-U-T

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Sexual identity should not be a problem since it is but part of humanity's rich tapestry; the least of a gay person’s enemies should be human nature. Human nature, though, has a penchant for selectivity; it is called discrimination and does its best to give racism, homophobia and various forms of socio-cultural-religious bigotry a sense of legitimacy.

Fortunately, few of us are foolish enough to be fooled. Tragically, though, the darker side of human nature continues to prevail in some parts of the world where fools usurp positions of power and make a good job of pretending to be working for the good of all rather than only themselves.

Gay and transgender men and women have come a long way since I was a tormented gay youth more than half a century ago. Yet, there is no room for complacency. Those of us who are comfortable and confident in our sexuality should never forget those who found the courage to help change things for us nor those who continue to be persecuted for it; physically, psychologically or both.

Homophobia, like racism, is a disgrace to humanity. Moreover, it may well be happening closer to home than you think. Just because it is not happening to you, is no excuse for turning a blind eye to the suffering, often unspoken, of others. We can’t change bad attitude overnight, but neither should we stop trying.  

The less enlightened among the heterosexual majority need to understand that we are just ordinary people getting on with our lives and our sexuality is no one’s business but our own; they have no right to frighten gay boys and girls, men and women into staying in some dark, lonely closet. Oh, but how I well recall that even now, 50+ years on…!

Tears of pain, tears of joy...who has not experienced them all, sometimes even a the same time...?

ANTHOLOGY OF TEARS or G-A-Y DISCOVERS O-U-T

Your mouth on mine, your spirit

invading my dreams, my conventional life

ripped apart at the seams,

I began to see what I hadn’t felt able

to acknowledge for years,

that sadness is not the only cause for tears

but joy, too, debunking fears

instilled in me by ritual, threat and bribes

of salvation (my reward in ‘heaven’)

demanding I recognize wrong from right,

never go where angels fear to tread,

always let Holy words have the last say

and avoid people who are gay

Your raw boldness entered me,

a roughness like sandpaper burning me up

yet it was not for this my tears fell

but on feeling my body assume a new form,

its contours honed to something

beautiful, no mere glossy cover for anyone

to read but an art form likely to last

centuries in minds open to expressions

of individuality as well its privacies,

respectful of inspiration and aspiration,

no matter how some rate its chances

for salvation (whatever they mean by that)

or in terms of ‘moral’ judgement

You filled me with a rare passion

who had been kept behind bars, supposedly

for my own protection, but you divined

a pain I could not share, broke into my prison

that did not even have a name

and showed me how not everyone’s truth

is the same nor any shame

in going against this version or that so long

as we believe right is on our side;

better by far (surely?) than to have stayed put,

lied for appearances sake…

and what’s wrong with taking a same sex lover,

making the most of who we are?

Yet, come the body’s joy for our lovemaking,

let tears fall, too, for those (still) kept waiting

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

[Note: Due to an editorial error, this poem also appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Listening Works Both Ways

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Today’s poem was inspired by an email from someone some time ago who had taken himself off to ‘think through whether I am really gay or not' only to decide that he is and return to be reunited with his boyfriend a few months later. A subsequent email told me of their civil partnership earlier this year ‘attended by many family members and old friends. ‘

While it is always worth listening to what others have to say, even if only to find out where we stand with them, eventually we must make up our own minds. With any luck, we may yet prove them wrong who cast doubts on our capacity for sound judgment, even do their best to bring it into disrepute. 

Whatever, we only get one shot at living this life so far better (surely?) to do it our way rather than let anyone else dictate differently; just as they are entitled to their life so, too, are we.

When, oh, when will some people understand that our differences don’t make us different, only human?

LISTENING WORKS BOTH WAYS

I’d hear voices calling,

battle cries always the same,

dear, familiar, voices persuading me

to come home

I’d hear my love calling

all the time, be it night or day,

shooting down every reason I’d said

I couldn’t stay

Family, demanding

I pause and lend an ear for once

to such ‘home truths’ as never gave us

even half a chance

Old friends, warning,

‘Give yourself a break, go away,

get your head straight, and give up on

this being gay…’

Neighbours whispering,

‘Something is never quite right

about someone slinking off like a thief

in the night…’

I’d hear a voice screaming

whenever, wherever, I’d roam,

always the same voice, and in such pain,

(it was my own)

Kinder voices calling,

once I ran out of excuses to roam,

returned to my lover where we’ve since

made a home

Family, friends, neighbours,

can take or leave us as they may,

we’re all only human, nor any the less so

for being gay 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012

Getting the Better of Winter

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Across the northern hemisphere in winter, we think of cosy fires and keeping warm while on the other side of the world it may well be the sun’s heat sea is throwing out an invitation to jump in the sea and cool off.

Wherever, fortunate indeed are they for whom a warm glow engages with the heart and  throws out an invitation it cannot refuse.

Me, I love the seaside in winter. Yes, it can be a lonely place, but so can anywhere else where we feel the need to home in on love...

GETTING THE BETTER OF WINTER 

We sat on a bench looking out at the sea;

you edged closer, laid a hand on my knee,

arms around each other the way friends do

only this time, something different, new

I felt your hand move until it found mine,

caress my fingers lightly then entwine;

hot breath on my cheek like intimate lace

though I dare not turn, look you in the face

Not a word, your head on my shoulder,

my mind in turmoil, heart beating louder;

I froze and hastily you pulled away,

winter closing in on us, sad and grey

I turned, licked my lips and leapt the abyss;

on the other side, we shared our first kiss

[From: Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007]

The Zen Of Counting Beans

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

Several readers have asked why I usually include the link to my Wikipedia entry on each blog post.  Well, apart from providing more info about myself and my work for anyone interested, feedback suggests that it also encourages readers to take me more seriously as a person as well as a poet given that poetry on a gay theme is rarely given either a good press or high profile.

I post most of my Gay Awareness poems on my general blog as well. One reader contacted me a few years ago to say I am ‘compromising the very integrity of poetry by using it to suggest that being gay is remotely respectable or can ever be acceptable in civilised society.’ Someone else has called me ‘a nobody with literary pretensions.’ On the other hand, most feedback appears to confirm that because the Wikipedia editorial team take me seriously, readers - especially gay readers who live in a gay-unfriendly environment - are more likely to take heart for knowing that the more serious sentiments expressed in my poems are not taken lightly by blog readers worldwide.  Now, anyone may disagree with them, of course, but at least they get a public airing. Oh, and if I manage to ruffle a few feathers along the way so much the better...

Having said all that, I just hope readers enjoy my poems and try to leave space in them enough for the reader to find his or her own way.

Meanwhile...

I am often asked to repeat this poem; it last appeared on the blog in 2010.  ‘Miles’ got in touch to say he had searched the blog archives but could not remember the title and the tags he tried came up with too many poems! Oh, dear. Well, here you are Miles, and I hope it cheers you up as it did me when originally inspired by a reader whose happy-ending tale is  related in the poem.

  

THE ZEN OF COUNTING BEANS

"I’m gay,"I told a mirror on the wall;

the mirror said nothing, nothing at all,

eyes staring at me filled with tears;

I felt older, much older than my years

and went downstairs

"I'm gay," I told the family at dinner;

No one said a word and only a clatter

of stainless steel on best crockery

broke a silence I thought must surely

last forever

"How can you be sure?" Mother said;

Dad sniffed and snorted, shook his head;

Bro swore aloud and Sis ate her greens;

I fought emotions way beyond my means,

and counted my beans

"You're sure?" Mother wanted to know;

I could only nod, put on as brave a show

of self-confidence as any ham,

suggest it’s no big deal, just how I am,

and why give a damn?

"Well," said dad, "what will be, will be."

(grabbed a handkerchief, sneezed noisily);

"Could be worse," Mother supposed;

Bro tossed a wink, now more composed,

and Sis praised the potatoes

Dinner proceeded much as it always had

and beans never tasted so good

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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

Surprise, Surprise

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Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2010. (I try not to post poems too close together, but repeat them as and when asked or for readers who don’t have time to browse the archives or perhaps don’t have a computer at home but rely on other venues for Internet access.)

Now, you have probably noticed how very intelligent people sometimes say very stupid things.  I read a villanelle at a poetry reading once and a ‘self-confessed poetry lover’ in the audience (why else would he be at a poetry reading?) said how much he enjoyed hearing a poem on an ‘intelligent’ theme. He smiled patronisingly when I admitted to a passion for villanelles and confessed to having written some 200+. Then he said I must find writing in poetic forms ‘a nice change from writing gay stuff.’  ‘I mean to say,’ he went on, ‘whoever heard of anyone writing gay villanelles?’ When I told him I have written lots of villanelles on a gay theme, he just grinned inanely, laughed nervously, and promptly sought refuge in someone else’s ear...

Yes, this poem is a villanelle.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE

It’s a feel-good something every day

getting the better of me;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

If I have the look of a man on his way,

who am I to disagree?

It’s a feel-good something every day

Making best of worst come what may

(two cheers for democracy);

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

Risen above fear since fear doesn’t pay

if you’re in a minority;

it’s a feel-good something every day

Forgiving folks who go out of their way

to attack my integrity;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

In nature, I rediscovered a spiritual way

denied me by society ...

it’s a feel-good something every day;

surprise, surprise, it’s called being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Mother And Child

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Years ago, I found a stronger sense of camaraderie among gay people than has struck me in recent years. I even began to wonder if it was still there.

So I need to say a BIG thank you to those readers who have contacted me to wish me well with my prostate tumour, forthcoming biopsy and subsequent results.

It is good to know that there is still a sense of common humanity among many of us (still) trying to get across to the heterosexual majority that homosexual identity is a natural part of a natural whole, not something to be seen as separate or in any way unnatural.

Oh, there will always be bigots who love to pontificate about ‘sin’ and the like if only because they are punctilious pricks huffing and puffing their own self-importance at the doors of anyone who’ll listen. But there are also many decent people in the world, with open minds and open hearts, whatever conclusions about themselves they may have drawn.

Now, although I am not too worried about the tumour in my prostate, every now and then I get anxious. At such times, as I have always done in anything resembling a crisis, I let my thoughts turn to Earth Mother and she reassures me in much the same way as I suspect my birth mother would if she were still alive.

This poem was written in 2009. I was recently reminded why I wrote it by emails from men and women made to feel guilty about their sexuality by religious minded people who really should know better. As I have said before (and will undoubtedly say again) - take humanity out of religion and what you have left is not worth having.

'One touch of nature makes the whole world kin.' - William Shakepeare (Troilus and Cressida)

MOTHER AND CHILD

They stripped me naked,
wrapped me in a cloak of nettles,
dragged me to Hell’s gate,
calling on those gathered inside
(seeking a way out)
to open up and take me in, away
from a world that such as I
dare stain with the juices of a sin
beyond redemption

Yet, the gate did not open
though their screams of abuse
did not cease
nor did those inside overtly refuse
to do their best…
for I made so bold as to call
upon Earth Mother
to rebirth me at the milky breast
of sanctuary

They slunk away like wolves
from firelight, heat and glow more
of a threat even than I;
as for those others for whom also
the gate refused to open,
they could but resume fighting
among themselves
over who was to blame this time
and in whose name

‘Peace, child,’ she croons reassuringly,
from whom I inherit my sexual identity

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Holiday Snaps for the Photo Album

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Although not written until 2000, the occasion today’s poem celebrates took place in the 1980's. There was still a lot of homophobia about here in the UK in those days (significantly less in your face now, mostly driven underground by Political Correctness!)

Years ago, a sunny weekend in Blackpool turned out to be a refreshing change in more ways than one …

HOLIDAY SNAPS FOR THE PHOTO ALBUM

Side by side, we met the tide,
plunged into the sea
and swam with the fishes;
now dipping, diving, risen again,
my love and me

Hand in hand, we crossed
the sand, smiling
at everyone; nudge-nudge,
wink-wink on our backs, hotter
than the sun

We stayed just long enough
to gather up our stuff
and stroll the daily gamut,
pausing for a kiss - to oblige
the local press

We hit page three, you and me;
Breakfast  was strained
at the B and B till one guest
declared, a fine pair we made,
and the rest cheered

Over greasy eggs and bacon
and mugs of stewed tea,
we grinned happily, enjoying
a grand vacation, my gay love
and me...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2001; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poems appears under the title 'Wish You Were Here' in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000]