Bonding wth Eternity

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

I have written many love poems; this one is a favourite, written with a wonderful couple in mind who had been happily married for many years before one partner died; it has been slightly revised since its first appearance on the blog in 2013. As I said in a previous blog entry, I am currently preparing a new collection of poems; as always, I come across some with which, from a distance of months or years, I consider need some attention.

Now, it is so hard being left behind after loved one dies. Family and friends are a source of great comfort, and memories too. Even so, there can be no substitute for the real thing.

Ah, but where love is the real thing, be sure it inspires the mind to all things bright and beautiful, transcending the human body into the very spirit of its being, leaving a trail across time and space for others to follow. True, love has its ups and downs, good times and bad, but the more enlightened among us will always put our trust in its capacity for enduring joy.

Yes, we all die, but the love we have shared - in all its shapes and forms - lives on in a posthumous consciousness that will sustain us its spirit always; religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality, that privilege falls to love. The love of my life, my dear mother and others with whom I bonded closely... all remain with me, influencing my life for the better. 

As for those poison darts to which the poem refers, I dare say many if not most of us have some experience of those, whoever and wherever we are in a world whose greater tragedy is – as it has always been - that certain prejudices remain as common as garden flowers.

When my turn comes to accompany the Grim Reaper, I can but hope to haunt others, in the kindest way, so that part of us both will live on in that posthumous consciousness with which most of us feel the need to touch base from time to time, especially when the going gets tough. Religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; the human spirit has a mind of its own.

This poem is a villanelle.

BONDING WITH ETERNITY 

It was love that opened up my heart
to all life means to me…
nor shall death our bonding part 

Sands of time, soulmates at the start,
(homing in on destiny?
it was love that opened up my heart 

May the world no finer truths impart
than in its natural beauty,
nor shall death our bonding part 

Like summer skies, stars, even clouds
charting a fragile humanity,
it was love that opened up my heart 

Be its taste on the tongue sweet or tart,
togetherness is a rare delicacy,
nor shall death our bonding part 

Sworn to survive any such poison dart
as a festering inhumanity,
it was love that opened up my heart,
nor shall death our bonding part

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007, 2019 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the same title in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; this poem also appears on my gay-interest blog today.]

 

 

Sexuality, No Backseat Driver OR Diversity, the Human Condition

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

Last week, I said I would post a new or revised poem as and when I can while I do battle with preparing a new collection of poems while also having to contend with various health issues. A reader suggests that I revise a poem I published here in early May "... because it just doesn't feel right." I have to agree so here is the revised version that will appear in the collection as and when I can get it together, not to mention find a UK publisher. 

Now, while I do not post readers’ comments, I will always reply if they give an email address.  Time and again, readers ask how to break free from a gay closet without losing family and friends who may well have no idea of their true sexuality.

There are, of course, no easy answers. My poems, though, try to reflect the power of love, not only in the sense of forming sexual relationships, but also in the wider sense of being a friend or part of a family.

More often than not, love will endure even where it may not triumph in quite the way/s we would wish. That said, the odds on its overcoming certain socio-cultural-religious objections are barely 50:50, often far less. So much depends on the family environment and how far people are willing to put love first even when it means (as they see it) compromising beliefs and principles they have probably been spoon fed since childhood. Some will compromise while, at the same time, such a compromise may well not be seen as proof enough of love for the man or woman who has just come out as a gay or transgender person. Both sides need to give some ground, especially in the early days, or any hope of reconciliation will only fade as time goes by.

Yes, Coming Out is a risk, but one worth taking (surely?) even in this so-called ‘modern’ age where, certain communities continue to live in the past. No one else can make the decision for us nor do they have the right. (As I see it, anyone who thinks they have a ‘right’ or ‘duty’ to ‘out’ another person is beneath contempt,)

“Perhaps home is not a place but simply an irrevocable condition.” James Baldwin (Giovanni’s Room)

This poem is a kenning.

SEXUALITY, NO BACKSEAT DRIVER or DIVERSITY, THE HUMAN CONDITION

Family,

they know me for all they

would have me be

no matter how hard I try

to make them see

I am no piece of clay

to be shaped

in any image but my own, for all

its faults and flaws

Friends,

they see other sides of me

for running with peers

all but bursting at the seams,

(it’s called growing up)

sharing certain thoughts, ideas,

hopes for a future

becoming clearer to me each day,

for breaking down walls

Lovers,

they know me for all they

would have me be

whether between clean sheets

or in your parked car

after closing time at some bar

on the other side

of town, giving all mind-body-spirit

its head

I am Sexuality, last seen on life's highway,

and no backseat driver for being gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Love, Testament to Life OR Au Revoir Mon Amour

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

There will be no blog entries for a week or so after today while I make time to start preparing a new collection; it is now ten years since Tracking the Torchbearer appeared under my own imprint. (Oh, and, yes, they did sell well and I even made a profit albeit a small one.) I also need to start work on new editions of earlier collections as a number of poems have since been revised, often only slightly, but always significantly. Only one (U.S.) publisher has expressed any interest so far, but messed me about so much that I withdrew my submission; others did not want to include gay-interest as well as general poems, and I will not compromise on this. Being gay is an integral part of who I am, but it is only a part, and we are all the sum of our parts. I may not publish  print editions again, though, but upload as e-books, but time enough to cross that bridge as and when I come to it. Hopefully, some of you will enjoy exploring the blog archives in my absence.

I will try and post a new (or revised) poem from time to time, although, like so many people around the world - not least those of us who live alone - I have to confess to lockdown fatigue at the moment. As I suspect I had the milder version of Covid-19 back in early January, and count myself fortunate, everything I do still seems to be taking much longer.

Take care, folks, and many thanks - as always - for the pleasure of your company.

Meanwhile ...

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2016. At the time, a reader who had been browsing blog entries and emailed to ask why on earth I should think anyone reading a general poetry blog would be interested in a gay relationship. Fair enough, except that poetry is about human nature as well as the natural world; most of my gay-interest poems only appear on my gay-interest blog, but I happen to think the occasional entry here is not as inappropriate as ttis reader plainly thinks. Like it or not, there are many LGBT men and women in the world, and we are no less human (or naturally so) for that. Why must so many people rush to judgement on others, a judgement often based on shallow stereotypes? Being gay is an important part of a gay persons' whole identity, but it is only a part; what about those other parts that make us who we are?As for why I publish the poem here, I guess I live in hope that stereotypical and bigoted attitudes will eventually bee seen as fake news; there are many gay-friendly straight people out there who don't have a problem with a person's sexuality because it is the whole person they are happy to call a friend. Besides, there is nothing wrong or unusual (or immoral) about the ages-old principle of agreeing to differ ... is there?

Regular readers will know that my partner was killed in a road accident many years ago. He was not my only love, but the only person with whom I wanted to spend the rest of my life, no reservations whatsoever. Sadly, we did not have long together, but his love has inspired me (and my poetry) ever since.

Now, there is nothing romantic about death, but neither is death any match for love.

I will be 75 years old this year. For me, it has never been so much the case that that time heals as that any brush with mortality makes life all the more precious while the pain of loss serves to remind us that we are, indeed, very much alive. It is a philosophy that has also served me well since I was diagnosed with prostate cancer in February, 2011. 

"Why should I fear death? If I am, death is not. If death is, I am not. Why should I fear that which cannot exist when I do?" - Epicurus 

LOVE, TESTAMENT TO LIFE or  AU REVOIR, MON AMOUR

I have kissed Death on the cheek as it slept,
let a flow of memories course my veins
while Hope, past a grieving heart, it crept,
ghost rider tugging gently at the reins

I have kissed Death on the lips as it rested
where nature's tides may flow no more
but neither its finer spirit’s growth arrested;
songs of love and peace, no talk of war

Life called out my name as I would leave,
its firm, kind, touch wiping away a tear,
prising my fingers but gently from its sleeve,
for conceiving its eternal watchtower ...

Fear not as Death calls, or where it takes us; 
be sure of waking among Memory's flowers

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2007; 2020 

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in my collection, Accomplices to Illusion, Assembly Books, 2007; this post also appears on my general blog today.]

"Humanity, Come on Down!" OR L-I-F-E, Make-or-Break Connections

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

More than once, readers have written in to ask why I don’t post more ‘nature’ poems instead of (often, it’s true) composing what has been called ‘so-called’ poetry that - in the words of one reader only recently - “…is just social comment.” I confess I take exception to the word ‘just’; besides, the arts are littered with social comment so why should I not join the fray?

Literature, music, art, ballet, sculpture … whatever … if anyone thinks it’s all entertainment, and nothing else, they are missing out on the whole of what any art form is about; there are parts to many if not most things - including human nature – and it is standing back to see-hear it as a whole that really counts.

Demonstrations here in the UK and the U.S protesting about the needless death of George Floyd, an unarmed African-American while being forcefully restrained by a police officer in Minnesota, have caused pain and anger beyond description; nor has either been appeased by precious little attempt at government level to pour oil on troubled waters. As for building bridges, well, hope springs eternal …

HUMANITY, “COME ON DOWN” or L-I-F-E-, MAKE-OR-BREAK CONNECTIONS

No matter the colour

of a person’s skin, their gender

or sexuality,

we all deserve no more (or less)

than to be treated

fairly if not equally at (and by) all levels

of human society

All mind-body-spirit

asks of the world is that it play fair,

be kind,

not impose such grim rites of passage

as racism, sexism,

hate crime against same sex relationships,

all stereotypes

Humanity is diverse

and that is how it needs to be or we

would want to know

how to make it (far) more interesting;

a common humanity

needs to respect such differences as it asks

to make us human

Take away respect

and we but give the worst of human nature

both nod and wink

to kill as well as give birth, ley anarchy loose

on streets that understand

any protesters would rather march in peace,

and be heard

The arts call on us

to pull together, be kind, give understanding

a chance to pave

the way for good intentions instead

of leaving them blocked

by socio-cultural-religious taboos, made to fear

recriminations

Human history

tells many a sorry tale of its wars and injustices,

but love, too,

reconciliation, grounds for hoping

that certain leading “Betters”

may yet touch base with those expected to settle

for the status quo

Any Here-and-Now

needs to be, open to change, and all its peoples

will never always agree,

but that’s where human nature comes

into its own, the jewel

in its crown, its capacity to hear and listen, look

and see

Human nature, get off your throne, earn your crown,

“Come on Down”

Copyright R. N. Taber 2020

[Note: For any readers who may not be aware, "Come on Down" is a catchphrase from the television game show The Price Is Right; this poem also appears on my general poetry blog today..]

G-A-Y, Dance Moves

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

A reader asks if my poetry collections are still in print, Sadly, no, although I am hoping to publish revised editions at a later date. Poetry publishers did not want my gay-interest poems, and I was not prepared to publish a collection without any their being fairly represented. Eventually, I resorted to self-publishing (all) seven collections, but could only afford 200 copies of each at the time; they sold well, and I even made a small profit so I have no regrets. 

One U.S. publisher expressed an interest, but they seemed to think they were doing me a huge favour and could mess me around as much as they liked, so I withdrew. Another, expressed surprise that I write both general and gay-interest poetry … as if there is no more to any of us than our sexuality.

Needless to say, I eventually gave up on poetry publishers altogether apart from continuing to submit poems to poetry magazines for some years.

Now, a young gay man once confided that he was fed up with one-night stands ‘because they never lead anywhere.’ Ah, that may well be true enough, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, and more often than not sex will do just nicely. Besides, you never know …

DANCE MOVES

He caught my eye in a busy bar,

didn’t think I stood a chance

till he grinned and came right up to me,

asked if I’d care to dance

I had to confess to two left feet;

he laughed wickedly and loud,

grabbed my hand without another word,

and led me through the crowd

On the dance floor, I was aware

of people staring at us,

desire pulling strings on my arms and legs,

my heart doing somersaults

Lust, it was, dug its claws into us,

at mind-body-spirit it tore,

in a delicious frenzy of pregnant yearning

demanding more, more, more…

Lust it was, too, kept insisting

we skip coffee at his place,

strip each other naked at its feverish pitch,

submit to its ultimate embrace

All we wanted that crazy night

was sex, sex, and more,

no thought of love’s ever getting a look in 

never been in love before

As we lay awake the next morning,

he tightly squeezed my hand,

our kiss when it came confirming much more

than a one-night stand

Copyright R. N. Taber 2013; 2020

Dance Partners OR G-A-Y, Back to Nature

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

A former Archbishop of Canterbury, Doctor Rowan Williams has been quoted in the UK press as being okay with gay bishops so long as they remain celibate. Isn’t that rather like saying they can own a car so long as they don’t drive it?

We are often told (yes, even these days, in the 21st century for goodness sake!) that homosexuality is ‘unnatural’…and celibacy isn’t?

Here’s another poem from the Taber archives, written just a few months before I left school. I would have been 18 years-old at the time and have only recently knocked the original into shape if only to satisfy the poet I am now as compared with the scared, confused, far less articulate teenager I was then. Along with other poems I’ve written, at all stages of my life, it shows a determined lifting of guilt and an awakening realisation that I was not the disgusting person I’d once been given to believe gay people were. Even so, my brother, for one, was always making crass remarks about homosexuals. It didn’t help.

To be fair, I don’t think my mother ever told him or my father I am gay although they may well have guessed but never asked me outright. I suspect it would have made no difference. Whatever, I wasn’t going to pander to their homophobia. I was an emotional and psychological mess already without making things worse. Could they get any worse, I used to wonder? They did, of course, but managed to weather even the worst storms that would hit me in later life.

Thankfully, then - as now, 50+ years later - writing as well as nature came to my rescue, not to mention some delightful gay men …

Even in those dark days when gay relationships were illegal, I found a very special and meaningful acceptance in nature; only rejection and/or worse was on the agenda elsewhere. [Religion was never an option for me but this had nothing to do with my sexuality and wouldn't have been even if I were not gay.  Even so, had I become the Christian of my upbringing, I would not have let being gay come between me and God, whatever the majority of Christians might say.]

No, I didn’t find love among the trees; that came years later. But I discovered how sex and people can be beautiful, also not everyone is a homophobe and being gay is neither ugly nor unnatural as I’d been given to believe at home, in school and just about everywhere I went for years.

“The creation of a thousand forests is in one acorn.”- Ralph Waldo Emerson

DANCE PARTNERS or G-A-Y, BACK TO NATURE

We ran into trees

when no place else to run

and sought comfort,

found a deep peace and love

others would disown;

the trees, they welcomed us,

gave us sanctuary,

sang to us of another world

of long, long ago,

no less harsh in many ways

yet where its peoples

made time for its saplings,

proud of them all

We talked to trees

when no one else would listen

to what we had to say

and the trees, they understood

how it is to live

under threat, day after day,

subject to the whim

of who decides this, derides that,

claims to know

what’s in our best interest

in the longer term;

the loudest voice, but hollow,

an axe sure to follow

We danced with trees

after being escorted from the floor

for dancing cheek to cheek,

thought indecent behaviour then

by the less enlightened

among a heterosexual majority

inclined to see red

at any hint of homosexuality,

no thought for humanity,

(at best a well-staged sideshow);

morality a priority;

survival, left to a subjectivity

as dispensable as trees

Let the world grow old, memory pass,

the last trees left will watch out for us

Copyright R. N. Taber 1963; 2010; 2020

Unrequited OR Where Angels Fear to Tread

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

A reader asks why I don't always publish blog posts/ poems on both poetry blogs. As regular readers will know, feedback clearly suggests that many readers (of either blog) do not have any interest in both; in latter years, more LGBT-friendly readers have accessed both, but these remain a relative minority.

Now, although I have not shared my life with anyone (for long) since my partner was killed in a road accident many years ago, that doesn’t mean I’ve  never met anyone else for whom I’d have given just about anything to share its ups and downs in the way only loving partners can. Life, though, often has other ideas.

Whoever, wherever we are in the world, I suspect few of us are never visited by impossible dreams about someone of whom we had high hopes in the love stakes, but our feelings were not returned; there will be those, too, with whom we may once have been  ecstatically intimate and thought this was the 'real thing'  but who lived (and loved) only for the moment …

Various socio-cultural-religious taboos (not least concerning same sex couples) have, of course, prevented love, even friendships from flowering in the past, and still do, so it is good to see that growing numbers among the younger generation, from all walks of life, have minds of their own enough to depart from the more restrictive conventions, dogma and prejudices that certain ‘betters’ would impose upon them who really don’t know better at all.

Whatever, it has been my personal experience, more often than not, that where there's a will, there's a way, and you can bet your life the human spirit will find it ...

This poem is a villanelle.

UNREQUITED or WHERE ANGELS FEAR TO TREAD

My eyes begging sleep,

stay open for you;

heart, starting to weep

Thoughts I cannot keep

from rushing through;

my eyes begging sleep

Words of love I’d heap

tenderly on you;

heart, starting to weep

Arms that would keep

you safe, loved too;

my eyes begging sleep

Desire, Child of a Deep

few can subdue;

heart, starting to weep

Come dreams, I’ll reap

a harvest rare and true;

my eyes begging sleep,

heart starting to weep

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2020

[Note This poem has been slightly revised - and alternative title added -from the original version that appears under the title 'Unrequited' in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005; it also appears on my general poetry blog today].