The Green Man OR Come, Live the Dream

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2010 and is one of several that readers asked me to include in my collection Tracking the Torchbearer (2012).

Another reader has asked why I often hyphenate several nouns to imply they are one -e.g. past-present-future and mind-body-spirit; it's because I see them as inseparable one from the other, a continuum in which we human beings are pivotal, for better, for worse ...

Meanwhile …

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=745Auxo0Z0Q  :

While health concerns have prevented my from adding to my YouTube channel for a long time now, it is encouraging to see that it is still visited from time to time. I read the poem for it, and my best friend, Graham Collett, made the video; it relates, among other things, toa time, some forty years ago, when I was still coming to terms with my sexuality and learning how to shrug off various offensive stereotypes the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority continue (even now) to attach to gay men and women worldwide. I had the strongest sense that nature was on my side, and was only too happy to let The Green Man, close kin to Earth Mother, play a part in rescuing me from doubt and near despair. (I added the alternative title much later.)

I have always had a very close relationship with nature and see no reason why my being gay should get in the way of that. To those who argue that gay relationships are 'unnatural', I say that sexuality comes with the gift of life; it is as much a part of nature and human nature as the act of giving birth, and what could be more natural than that? Those among us for whom it is all but a reflex action to condemn what (or who) they don't understand might do well to pause long enough to consider how all of us comprising a common humanity are different and how (and why) it is those same differences that make us human.

Where differences for some may imply a common weakness, for others they confirm a common strength.

Sadly, many if not most gay-unfriendly people are those with heads buried in sand; they cannot (or will not) see how the more misleading, often offensive stereotypical view of a person - or groups of people - is invariably biased against them from the start and will rarely if ever stand up to objective, constructive, criticism.

‘Dream no small dreams for they have no power to move the hearts of men.’ – Goethe

‘A dream you dream alone is only a dream. A dream you dream together is reality.’ – John Lennon

THE GREEN MAN or COME, LIVE THE DREAM

Walking in woods one day,
a beautiful stranger came my way,
a youth dressed all in green,
sweet breath chasing clouds away,
in sunny hair, a leafy crown

The young man beckoned me
to take a path I’d not followed before;
I did just that, unhesitatingly,
so commanding, if fair, a look and air
of ages-old majesty

Trees, brambles, wild flowers,
making an impressive if chaotic show,
we sprinted autumn’s hours,
keeping pace with its bold amber glow,
undeterred by leafy showers

We came at last to a pretty glade
where the young man bade me lie down
on a spacious grassy bed
then lay beside me, took me for his own
and I, oh, so gladly responded

Pleasurably spent, I slept till dawn,

woke, not in the wood of our lovemaking

(the Green Man, too, was gone)

but where once I’d be tossing and turning

for fear I was a bad person

A dream, yes, but also nature’s way

of reassuring a youth so tormented by shame

there is none in being gay;

we have but to give the Green Man a name

and live to love another day

[From: Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Getting the Better of Beasties under the Bed

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2013, and caught my eye as I continue sorting poems for a new collection, hopefully later this year; it will not include most poems posted during the pandemic as I have many other  unpublished poems waiting in the wings, but they are already earmarked for yet another collection so long as I have time to collate it before the Grim Reaper comes calling. Oh, and, yes it will include gay-interest poems as do all my collections in spite of potential editors losing interest because they see gay-interest poetry as a retail risk. wry bardic grin

Many thanks to those of you who get in touch from time to time and ask about my prostate cancer.  In 2011, after being diagnosed, I opted for radiotherapy, but was unable to hold my water prior to treatment so began hormone therapy instead. I have injections of Zoladex about every 18 months and … so far, so good. I feel fine. Yes, I get tired, but that is partly because I need to get up at least several times during night for a pee so have all but forgotten how it is to get a really good night’s sleep. My memory is also affected, but I will be 75 later this year so no surprises there anyway, and writing poetry as well as doing word puzzles helps keep to thought processes in reasonably good shape. On the whole, no complaints. I have been living with prostate cancer for 9+ years now, and suspect I may well have survived the Covid-19 coronavirus back in early January when I had the symptoms but put it down to a very bad cold so just stayed indoors. Yes, I am stressed by the pandemic and its implications for all of us, but I have good reason to count my blessings.

Meanwhile...

Now, like many very young children, I used to force myself to look under the bed and in any cupboards to reassure myself there was no Beastie there waiting to pounce on me once I fell asleep.

Well, you will be pleased to know I no longer do that particular security check before settling down to sleep.  Even so, you will realise there is a Beastie of sorts that causes me some concern now and then. Yes, hormone therapy is managing my prostate cancer so far, but I am very much aware that the cancer is there inside me. Most of the time, I forget about it. Now and then, though, especially at night, I find its presence more than a shade unnerving so I do what I used to do as a child, and work a magic spell. I think of nice things, nice people, nice places, until my head is full of all things NICE that's sure to keep the nasty Beastie away. It a trick that also saw me through years of fearing family and peers discovering I am gay, not to mention falling victim to several gay-bashing episodes (called queer-bashing when I was a young man) should I let my guard down.

The trick has never failed me, and if I don’t get a good night’s sleep sometimes it’s invariably down to those calls of nature better answered than ignored. The same magic has seen me through the pandemic so far, too, so you might want to try it if you haven’t already; what often works for children can work just as well for adults too.

GETTING THE BETTER OF BEASTIES UNDER THE BED

There’s was a Beastie

under my bed, eyes glowing red

like a devil

in the fires of Hell,

willing me

to descend, put an end

to all living artifice,

make the ultimate sacrifice,

set the body free

(in other words, surrender

to the Beastie ?)

There was a Beastie

under my bed, looking for a way

to get into my head

and indulge its penchant

for mind games,

challenge me to defy

a necessary evil

or demand I answer why

I’ll not cave in

to the inevitable, dare me

do battle

There was a Beastie

under my bed; like a cancer

it has spread

news of its purpose

to my brain,

but there it was put to rout

(if not without a fight)

for Brain knows every trick

every Book (and more)

exposing Beasties sixk intentions

to a higher power

There was a Beastie

under my bed, face a puffy red

as it returns

to where there still burns

a welcome

for its kind if likely

to meet its match

in the human spirit, burning

more brightly than some

devilish hearth in the bowels

of metaphor

No Beastie under my bed,

for its recognising a lost cause;

though it feed on my body,

no true or lasting gratification

to be had where flesh

but a coat of many colours

lent by Earth Mother

to distinguish friend from foe

until our return

to Her womb, the likes of Beastie

denied entry

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

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