Let The Music Play

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

Today’s poem is a kenning and last appeared on the blog during the spring of 2010. It was less well received when I posted it on my general blog, but I have read it at poetry readings around the UK and the response from by mixed gay/straight audiences = especially young people - has always been very encouraging.

Now, sexuality is neither a conditioning process nor a deliberate lifestyle choice. Anyone with a grain of common sense realises that it has to be in the genes if only because it’s the only way to account for gay people world-wide from all manner of socio-cultural-religious backgrounds and persuasions.

Even if I were not gay I’m certain I’d have reached the same conclusion. There is nothing unnatural about being gay; on the contrary, it is but one among many to be found in nature’s mixed bag of blessings we call humanity.

Wherever we are stigmatised or demonised for being gay, you will find foolish, ignorant people so in love with the sound of their own voices that they have little or no understanding or respect for meaning. Fortunately, though, there will always be those among the heterosexual majority with a penchant for enlightenment and passion for humanity that will prevail, as it has for centuries, if not always when, as individuals, we need it most.  

LET THE MUSIC PLAY 

I creep up on you as time passes by;

you sense my presence but unsure

how or why it should make you feel

different from the way you thought

you were (as told) not so many years

before, when childhood games took

their cue from history, the mysteries

of adulthood waiting in the wings

for its mortal gamut to be run

I seize upon your senses as they wake

to the challenges of peer pressure,

parental expectations, private desires

lighting fires in the heart, ambition

conspiring with aspiration to indulge

the mind its appetite for a fate far better

than mapped out at school or around

the kitchen table. Yet, I too, am here

and you less able to suss me out?

I will pluck at your nerve strings until

you recognise the tune I play and let

it loose on heart, mind, body and soul

though (for a while at least) you share it

with no one, unsure how. Now, choose.

Play out the most beautiful song you will

ever hear or let me go, follow a safer

course, give ambition (or convention?)

a stronger, louder (better?) voice

Only, listen to the music and let it play,

this gene that says, “I’m gay.”

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

Tea For Two OR Pink Underwear

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Although 600+ poems have appeared in various poetry publications worldwide (not including my collections) few of these have been on a gay theme. Today's poem is one of the few, first published in an anthology So Starts A New Beginning, Poetry Now (Forward Press) 2001 and subsequently in my collection the following year.

Chance meetings of a romantic nature are comparatively rare. But, oh, the thrill and adrenaline rush when a special someone steps out of a daydream into our lives for real. It may or may not be the start of something big, but ...who cares?   GO FOR IT.

TEA FOR TWO or PINK UNDERWEAR

Stirring my tea, brooding
about my life,
wishing things different;

less angst and despair,
more hope, love and peace
on Earth, everywhere

Suddenly, a hand took mine,

“I say, you’re spilling

your tea!” I looked up, glaring

and found myself

staring….into eyes as blue

as a picture postcard sea,

and all I could do was grin
(somewhat foolishly)
and try to ignore…nipples
pricking his shirt,

making ripples down

my spine, bringing a lump
to my throat, full lips
teasing mine…with a smile
like a burst of sunshine

on a cloudy day set on chasing
the world's cares away

I let him wrap me in velvet,
pocket my dreams

in his jeans as we left,
still chatting away
much as old friends will do,
and seizing the day

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002

[Note: This poem first appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002]

G-A-Y, Among Flowers

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Some people continue to see gay men and women as weeds in the Garden of Life. Naturally, I beg to differ, and might add that I would have done so even were I not a gay man.

One reason I write poetry is because I have a passionate affinity with an increasingly rare humanity that does not discriminate against its own, despite some societies earnestly paying lip service to equality for the sake of appearances (and votes).

G-A-Y, AMONG FLOWERS 

Like flowers, their petals shut,
lives of so many men and women
for whom our world cares not

Like flowers, fair buds asleep
new friends we're getting to know,
good times to have and keep

Like flowers dawn waits to kiss
(Fairy tale images in sweet dreams)
for a season they dare not miss 

Like flowers, fine petals open up
(Earth Mother sharing out due credit)
to drink of a heaven’s loving cup 

Like bulbs failing all expectation,
we, too, may yet be expected to carry
the weepy stigma of rejection 

Like flowers, reaching for the sky,
come sun or rain, our seasons passing,
we’ll yet lift our heads held high

 Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2012

 

Window Last Seen Clinging To A Leaf

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

Is anyone really convinced by those well-heeled members of various societies in the northern hemisphere who love nothing better than to tell us, ‘Ah, but we have equality now...’

Equality, bollocks! Tell that to most women or gay folks or people so often patronised (or worse) for their ethnic origins. Political correctness is all very well but two words won’t put the world right in a hurry even if token gestures do a damn good job of keeping up appearances.

On the face of things, the 21^st century is progressing well, even in a southern hemisphere as blighted by socio-cultural-religious bigotry as by poverty, not forgetting corruption in high and not so high places.

Meanwhile...

When I write love poems, my thoughts always turn to my late partner. Maybe this is why I physically ached for the person who inspired this poem. His partner had been killed on active service only weeks earlier, but he was warned by immediate family to stay away from the funeral in case anyone should get ‘the wrong idea.'

WINDOW, LAST SEEN CLINGING TO A LEAF

The moon is full and stars are shining

for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf

clinging fast to my bedroom window

Your lips are full and eyes are shining

as your lips descend on mine for a kiss,

remains of a lifetime of false hopes

Fighting a good fight with expressions

of love that deserves better than defeat

by armies raised by and allied to bigots

Hearts so full, they can but spill over

into hands making ready a vat of tears,

battle for peace of mind already lost

Our lovemaking as splendid a farewell

as ever a leaf took from a branch, its tree

no match for relentless autumn winds

You went away to fight another war

where being gay might matter to some

but not to those carrying your coffin

The moon is full and stars are shining

for our lovemaking on a gilt edged leaf

left in pieces at my bedroom window

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Born Gay, Born Free

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An Indian student once commented on this poem that first appeared on the blog in 2009. He printed it out to show some gay friends back home in India. He told me, ‘Gay men in the West are so lucky that you can be openly gay without being subjected to abuse. In my country, a person’s sexuality may be the worst kept secret, but a secret it has to remain.’

Oh, we may not always feel as free as we would like here in the West as everyone’s behaviour and movements are more and more closely monitored and/or targeted; by increasingly technological  means, and no less questionable for that. 

But, yes, we should never take what freedom we have for granted. Nor should we forget it is our birthright, not some almighty favour dished out to us (or repressed, as the case may be) by this society or that.  

This poem is a villanelle.

BORN GAY, BORN FREE

Born gay, born free,

it will see me through,

a bold spirit in me

Taking love’s journey

as it would have us do,

born gay, born free

No time for secrecy

preferring out and true,

a bold spirit in me

Making sure bigots see

a right to points of view

born gay, born free

Theirs is the tragedy,

who refuse credence to

a bold spirit in me

Investing in humanity

where equality overdue;

born gay, born free,

a bold spirit in me

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

Love Never Dies

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Loving someone, whether for years, weeks or even less, is sure to leave its mark. Sometimes, when I’m fighting depression, as I am at the moment, I think of all the people I have ever loved, and the sum of that love helps me find my way through the maze of confused thoughts and feelings that invariably precede depression although we rarely have a clue at the time just where they are taking us. [In time, though, we learn to recognise the signs.]

A recent telephone conversation ended with our both agreeing that life can be so unfair sometimes. After I’d replaced the receiver, I found myself back in the maze. Only, this time I wasn’t alone, but accompanied by those who may have played a small or huge part in my life, yet whose own lives were cut short, depriving them of any chance to fulfil their potential. I can’t honestly say that I’ve fulfilled mine, but that’s down to me, no one else. Whatever, I’ve (mostly, not always) enjoyed trying. More to the point, at 66 years-old I’m still here to tell the tale, and can look forward to the roller-coaster ride continuing for a few more years yet. Well, fingers crossed...

It is not only so true that love never dies, but it also never ceases inspire. Moreover, it is as likely to pay us a visit out of the blue, and leave us a better person for that, as we are to spend a lifetime in its company.

Don’t ever be afraid of friendly ghosts. Oh, they can never take the place of real people, but they can be good companions all the same, especially when real people, however well-meaning, fail to grasp what we need most...love, and its (reciprocal) belief in us.

LOVE NEVER DIES 

He had looks, he had charm,

always a pretty girl on his arm;

I could only admire

a swinging of hips as he walked,

an incredible self-confidence

when he talked, a man who knew

his own mind, unafraid

to voice an opinion, no matter

upsetting anyone

I was shy, I was scared

in case anyone suspected I’m gay;

all I could do was pretend

an interest in the opposite sex

even though he was always

on my mind, asleep or awake,

this god with jet black hair

who invariably wore a (very)

tight tee and jeans

One day caught us waiting

at a bus stop in the pouring rain

and we got chatting

about everything and nothing,

my pulse racing,

heart skipping so many beats

I thought I’d die

especially when he teased me

about my school tie

Our bus arrived, everyone

soon aboard but we’d hung back

and somehow the bus

went of without us, leaving us

wondering why were there,

soaking wet, grinning at each other

like conspirators caught out

and not quite knowing what to do

or say next

He told me he’d noticed

how I was always watching him,

demanded to know why;

I expected the worst but, even so,

couldn’t lie;

something in me wouldn’t let me

apologize either

but I couldn’t look him in the eyes

or stop my tears

I turned and walked away

but he laid a hand on my shoulder,

forced me to face him,

pushed me into the bus shelter,

my back to the wall.

waiting for a punch in the face

or worse

but all that came was a long, slow,

gentle kiss

No one ever knew about our love affair;

he died in a road accident a month later

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Spring Mist

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Okay, so one March day doesn’t make a spring, but I am an incurable romantic, and spring is just around the corner here in the UK besides being ever present in the hopeful, positive thinking heart regardless of colour, creed, sex or sexuality. (Age, too, I might add as I grow old...)

What better reason to celebrate the ultimate victory of gay love over the less enlightened among the heterosexual majority...even it may lose a few battles along the way?  Where history confirms, it also inspires, and although we may sometimes despair of certain present-day socio-cultural-religious hang-ups over sexuality, we need to believe that there will come a time when common sense and humanity will prevail worldwide.

"You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep Spring from coming." _Pablo Neruda

SPRING MIST

One spring we strolled by a murmuring stream,

listening to the happy tales it told

of peace and love walking out of a dream

to take their rightful place in a sad world

As we walked, your fingers entwined with mine,

they too with a joyful story to tell

of lonely gay people thrown a lifeline,

saved from drowning in contempt's ugly swell

We paused, saw two fish in a gentle flow,

wished them safe from the angler's cruel rod,

their colours and grace making a fine show

yet vulnerable, like us, in this world

Crossing a bridge, we paused again and kissed,

peace and love embracing us like spring mist

Copyright R N Taber 2005

[From: A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]