A (Gay) Winter's Tale OR Anticipating Summer

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

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.]

A Singular Take on Rush Hour

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

A reader contacted me to ask if I have any more ‘story’ poems. Well, I like to oblige where I can…

Like many of my poems, this one is based on a conversation I once had with a delightful gay couple in a predominantly straight bar, at a time when I was feeling (and probably looking) very fed-up after a BAD day, all of which only goes to show how life is full of surprises; we never know what positive possibilities may await us around the next corner unless we just…turn it.

I do so love a happy ending, don’t you? We may not always find one, but we can have a great time trying, and one unhappy ending doesn't make a lifetime...

It's important, too, to remember that a happy ending may not take the form we would like. For example, I did not expect to be spending the latter years of my life on my own BUT I have some GOOD friends, am in sufficiently reasonable health to get out and about...and, of course, I have you, my readers. SO...no unhappy ending either and I remain a Happy Bunny, always looking on the bright side of life...well, most of the time. 

A SINGULAR TAKE ON RUSH HOUR

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
cruising bars.
misreading faces that seemed
interested in me
only to discover as we moved in
on each other
these were only masks, ghosts
without substance
except in eyes of desire looking
for more, far more
than a one night stand, but living
in a fantasy land

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
catching eyes
in turn-on, quick, turn-away faces  
less interested in me
than in feet, all sizes, pounding
frantic streets
for all manner of everyday meets
about as likely
to measure up to expectation
as wishful thinking
about a sexy lead in a new drama
on television 

Looking
for love in all the wrong places;
dressing to kill,
trying to thrill, excite, make out
I’m all that I’m not
because so unhappy with all I am
without someone
to need me, want me for more
than sexuality
demands we must satisfy this way
or another
given mind, body and spirit at odds
with each other

Thinking
of love in the most unlikely places,
even day dreaming 
on the 7:15 carrying me through
the hustle and bustle
that’s an everyday commute to a job
I’ve come to hate,
not least because it’s all repetition,
nine to five
and never (quite) alive at start or end
for being on my own
at waking, playing, even (mostly)
sleeping alone

Not looking 
or even thinking of love, but chatting
to a stranger
while waiting for train running late
one dreary day;
it turned out we had much in common
and it mattered less
about all the pushing and shoving
on the platform,
frantic rushing for a seat once the train
(finally) arrived;
we laughed companionably, thankful
to have survived

In time, friend and lover to each other
without (at first) looking for either …

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Open to Question

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

Hi everyone. Hope you like today’s poem. Some blog readers contact me via the comments button, but I do not post comments, good or bad. Please include an email address if you want me to reply. (I love to hear from blog readers worldwide.)

Body language says it all...but is easily misunderstood, too, so you have to get it right .

Oh, but who has not been there, sitting at a bar, cafe, wherever... alone, glancing around...wishing and hoping ..? 

OPEN TO QUESTION

He looked at me, smiled,

made my day,

and I could only wonder.

is he gay...?

He was with a friend

chatting away,

and I could only wonder,

is he gay...?

I smiled back uncertainly,

wistfully, shy;

was it just a friendly smile

or…why?

He did not look at me again,

my fantasy guy,

leaving me to but wonder,

can a smile lie?

They left, these two friends

I ordered  a beer,

thinking how life is a bitch,

my way unclear…

Man with the Smile returned

on his own,

grabbed a bar stool by mine,

tossed me a grin

The way his eyes engaged me,

made my day,

and I did not have to wonder,

is he gay...?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Oasis OR The Agony and the Ecstasy of Wishful Thinking

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

How do we know if we can make it to what we see as our main goal in life or is it just a mirage?

Ah, but is that a trick question? If so, I could it not be that the trick is never to stop looking for answers?

Who knows? We might even be pleasantly surprised at what we discover. Take world peace for example, not to mention our own peace of mind…

As for me, not only a poet but also gay, what can I do but run with Apollo, and love it? For Apollo, the sun god, was not only a source of light and warmth but also bisexual, according to myths and legends that were oases in a hostile, concrete desert to a young Roger T.

OASIS OR THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY OF WISHFUL THINKING

I have risen with Apollo

and strolled among hanging gardens,

each smelling of its season,

bursting with colour, filling the eye

with those that thirst,

and fall on their knees at an oasis

that beggars belief

I have run with Apollo

among bodies strewn like careless litter,

each smelling of its season,

caked in blood, filling averted eyes

with tears as useless

as grains of sand around an oasis

that beggars belief

I have paused with Apollo

and looked back at where high noon

has taken no prisoners,

each grave smelling of its seasons

to those of us who thirst,

risen above tears to defend an oasis

that beggars belief

I have retreated with Apollo

from the battlefield, without conceding

to a huntress moon

any victory of sorts since she selects

her prey at no less a whim

than those of us thirsting at an oasis

that beggars belief

Poor humanity, left reeling from its brief

to thirst at oases that beggar belief

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2013

Holiday Snaps for the Photo Album

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

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]

Imagination, the Agony and the Ecstasy

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

A reader has asked me to repeat the link to my poetry reading (for an hour) on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square last year as part of Antony Gormley's One and Other: 'live sculpture' project: 

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T   [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that the video is no longer available as it was incompatible with a new IT system, However, it still exists and BL hope to reinstate it and make it available to the public again at some future date.] R.N.T

Meanwhile...

Here’s another poem from the Taber archives, discovered in an old exercise book last year and revised but not substantially. The original was dated February 1964 at a time when homosexual relationships were illegal here in the UK. I would have been 18 years-old. Regular readers will know what a rough time I had during those dark, closet years. I guess it is why I empathise fully with people - especially young people - who feel unable to be openly gay for whatever reason.

I still feel guilty about being in and out of the closet for years before I finally came out to stay. It was hard to shrug off all that ugly baggage I was made to carry during my younger years. Sadly, even tragically, it is no easier now for gay men and women world-wide who grow up in a gay-unfriendly environment.

During those awful closet years, I never spoke out against homosexuality as some do (to cover their tracks perhaps?) but was acutely aware that it wasn't enough....

IMAGINATION, THE AGONY AND THE ECSTASY

I see him almost every day
yet dare not let him see how
I’m lusting after him

Sometimes he’ll chat to me,
his every casual word churning
my stomach

His voice tickles my tongue
then trickles down my throat
like juice from a pear

Sometimes we shake hands
and it’s enough to put my mind
in a frantic spin

Oh, to strip off his all clothes
and feel hungry fingers tugging
excitedly at mine!

Gladly, I’d let the glory of sex
with this god from over the way
be the death of me

Instead, I can only fantasize
about my lips descending on his,
pinioning him

He’ll move on, perhaps turn
at his front door, wave, smiling,
sticking the knife in

Copyright R. N. Taber 1964; 2010