Comfort and Joy OR Feeling is Believing

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

This poem first appeared on the blogs in 2010. [I do not intend to repeat all earlier poems, but readers are welcome to explore the blog archives as indicated in the far right column of any blog page.

Now, I always write love poems with my late partner in mind even though he died years ago. 

Hopefully, readers will always find time and space enough within themselves to get in touch with their own deeper feelings. In this sense at least, all religious faiths and festivals have something in common. 

Love has the capacity for rising above the worst life and nature may feel inclined to throw at it, including winter, a winter of the heart as well as of the meteorological kind.

Yes, here I go again. The message of all religious faiths and festivals - is one of peace and love; who hears  and acts upon it, is another matter.

Long, long live love … and let's not discriminate against LGBT folks just because it offends some heterosexual 'norm'; in a common humanity, diversity is part of what should be an all-inclusive norm, not an exception to any rules laid down and spread by any religious dogma as a socio-cultural-religious 'norm'. God is love, after all.

Long, long live peace, too, wherever it is given even half a chance.

As for peace of mind, we can but try for it, and once we find, be sure to share it, if only to take  comfort and joy from watching the ripples spread ...

Gay or straight, there is more to anyone than his or her sexuality; certain individuals, organizations, and communities (parents, too) - worldwide - would serve themselves and others by far better for keeping that in mind.

COMFORT AND JOY or FEELING IS BELIEVING 

I could hear bells ringing,

choir voices singing,

snow falling like manna 

from heaven for kids 

and snowmen while I gazed 

from a window,

nose against the pane,

never felt so alone

Suddenly, I saw you there,

sunshine in the hair,

so near, and yet so far …

a dear, familiar grin

daring me enjoy the comfort 

of togetherness

and share in festivity

than bare self-pity

Loneliness ebbing away,

I came out to play 

that wonderful winter's day;

you threw snowballs,

missed, and we kissed…

your lips so sweet 

and warm, grey-blue eyes 

forgiving me for living

Where snow piles your grave,

that winter's night,

we made love while bells 

rejoiced us and angels 

chorused all the pleasures 

of togetherness

that is the joy of festivity,

defying self-pity

Not once a year but every day,

love finds a way 

to bring such comfort and joy

as embraces us all,

nurturing the more positive

side of human nature,

heart and soul of a humanity

celebrating its diversity

If God is Love, and love acts thus,

where does bigotry have a place?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002, 2020

[Note: This poem also appears on my gay-interest blog today; an earlier version appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002; it was originally written as a Christmas poem, but feedback suggested this made it come across as less all-inclusive] RNT

The Dresser OR Contemporaneity, lead Figure in a Docudrama

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

Today's poem first appeared on the blog in 2012.

I have to agree with Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, when he recently declared his his objections to our trying to 'photoshop out' the worst aspects of our cultural history; as bad or ugly as it may well have been sometimes, we need to be reminded of it if only to avoid making the same mistakes.

As for pulling down statues and editing out any media footage that might cause offence, we need to remember that they are products of their time. We cannot and should not deny history, but nor should we dress it up with what amounts to fake news once we start cherry-picking those aspects we prefer to emphasise because they put us in a kinder light.

Regarding some public statues, it is, I suspect, the inscriptions they bear more than the sculptures themselves that cause offence; honouring those, for example, whose financial contribution to society at the time was not least on the back of their being slave owners. Slavery was an abhorrent, inhuman practise, and we should never be allowed to forget that. While I support the Black Lives Matter movement, I would prefer to see the darker aspects of any cultural past confined to a museum rather than provocatively placed in a city centre or wherever and/ or inscriptions changed to reflect those elements of historical fact that dont deserve to be celebrated. At the same time, I have to say that it is a GOOD thing that inequality and prejudice have been given a public platform in the course of recent events; hopefully, we will see world and society leaders take appropriate action to tackle social injustices that have no place in a 21st century.

It has been my experience that certain social, religious, cultural and, yes, even sexual elements of human nature are inclined to conspire against us (supposedly for our own good) in order to establish themselves in this or that driving seat; not infrequently, they choose to ignore that, ultimately, there can only be one driver, who may may well choose to take an alternative route. 

Such is the nature of the human ego that it can be something of a control freak ... as and when it suits. Nor does anything bring this home perhaps than when browsing archives, not least those, relating to family history; reading and capturing the imagination like a docudrama portraying human nature at its best and worst, strongest and weakest, all-enduring despite (even because of) the very flaws that comprise it.

“The most effective way to destroy people is to deny and obliterate their own understanding of their history.” - George Orwell 

“Study the past if you would define the future.” - Confucius

“The great force of history comes from the fact that we carry it within us, are unconsciously controlled by it in many ways, and history is literally present in all that we do.”
- James Baldwin,  The Price of the Ticket: Collected Nonfiction 11948-1985

This poem is a kenning.

THE DRESSER or CONTEMPORANEITY, LEAD FIGURE IN A DOCUDRAMA

I come in peace, a force for good

yet am often abused, used to make war

on lesser forces unable to resist

the strength of my will giving ambition

and determination their way;

for good or ill, time will have its say

and those, too, who endure

the wait to see if they can (ever)

put their trust in me 

I bring hope where weaker forces

sure to fail, yet can be misunderstood,

seen as an enemy, threatening

to take control for my own purposes,

harbouring a secret agenda,

a measured tissue of lies and half lies

an impenetrable camouflage

for self-interest convincingly ticking

all the right boxes 

I offer stability where foundations

of enterprise are in danger of collapse

along with all invested interests;

yet, I am easily distracted in playing

the hero, even persuaded

by my own convictions that any potential

for universal gain has to be better

than settling for less on the grounds

it bring happiness 

Personal Assistant to that chameleon, Power,

I am charged with dressing history with flair 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Lead Player in a Docudrama' in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

Bargain Hunters or In the Market

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

How many personae do we take on during a lifetime, I wonder? More, I suspect that many if not most of us would care to admit. A friend once commented that everyone seems to have a mask for every occasion, and she may well have had a point. There is the interested face or mask we wear as and when called upon to do so, whether or not we are genuinely interested in what is being said or done, often to impress and earn admiration; most of us have a sympathetic expression, a cheerful one (a favourite)...whatever, as best suits particular circumstances.  Than goodness for those situations when we need no mask, but are free to be ourselves, with loved ones and close friends whom we do not need to impress or go along with to keep the peace...relatively few in the kind of crowded lives we so often lead, and all the more precious for that, even if human nature is such that we sometimes fail to let them know hot much we love and appreciate them.

Nothing comes completely free, of course; there is invariably a price to pay, in losing a friend or loved one either through their death or, worse, some fault of our own that results in estrangement; not always our fault, either, except in so far as stress  - in all its various shapes and forms - is to blame. Many people don't understand stress, but those who do, and can deal with the worst in others without being judgemental and still leave room for forgiveness...well, they are among the true treasures in anyone's life.

One of my greater regrets in life is that I have not only unintentionally failed people, in one way or another, but also compounded such failures by eventually recognising them without doing my best to rectify or at least try and compensate for them.  I have heard the 21st century referred to as the Age of Communication, especially with the advent of New Technology, yet my personal experience of human nature is that we are probably no more really communicative with each other now than human beings have ever been; we make assumptions, listen to gossip and make even more assumptions ..  and so the cycle of misunderstandings and missed opportunities on a personal level goes on unless or until someone breaks and mends it. Sadly, though, it takes two to break and two to mend, and it is not an uncommon trait of human nature that relatively few of us - myself included - are consistently adept at making first moves in any process of reconciliation, invariably misjudging the situation and all those involved - including ourselves.

Oh, but whatever happened to in-depth communication on that priceless personal level, and how fortunate are those better able to not only seize, but also make good the day.

BARGAIN HUNTERS or IN THE MARKET

End of Term sale;

two, even three for the price

of one mask,

bargains to keep everyone happy

for acquiring personae

that will see us go on our way

if more anxious

to take what (and who) it finds at face value

than be found wanting

End of Season sale;

more bargains to be had at prices

easy on the pocket

nor too hard on the mind-body-spirit;

whatever reservations

the human heart in stalling for time,

better to play games 

others like to play than be called out too soon 

for bending any rules?

End of Life sale;

rummaging stalls for what’s left

to keep the world

from guessing it’s been had

time and again

by personae anxious to fit hand to glove

(it takes one to know one)

but likely bargains already long gone for a song,

needs must, ego-driven

Market, closing down;

no stall holders left making their pitch,

only ghosts, anxious

to avoid seizing on human flaws

sure to incite poor choices,

but giving pride of place to the kinder side

of human nature,

for its proving the old adage that all the best things

in life are - free

Copyright R.N. Taber 2020

Engaging with the Inner Eye

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

'The best part of beauty is that which no picture can express.' - Francis Bacon

'A thing of beauty is a joy forever: its loveliness increases; it will never pass into nothingness.' - John Keats (Endymion)

It is the inner eye that sees most. I used to know couple who, to all outward appearances, might well have been described as ugly, yet they entertained a lot and friends always enjoyed visiting them  because they were such warm, friendly people who not only took a genuine interest in others, but would always lend a helping hand and ear to anyone in need. Their physical appearance was irrelevant; after a few minutes chatting with either of them. one forgot it as an inner beauty shone through.

Beauty is, indeed, in the eye of the beholder.

ENGAGING WITH THE INNER EYE

There is a beauty in ugliness

only they can see

who can warm their hands at hell’s hearth

and still feel an affinity

with nature

In the ugliest of creatures

there beats a heart

and will to live more splendid than anything

thought up by the art

of egocentricity

In the foul-smelling swamp

of human desire

left to its own devices for want of any insight,

find a lotus flower

shaming us

Yes, an ugly side to beauty,

often seen as worldly,

invariably posing for the press at hell’s hearth

and claiming an affinity

with nature

There is a beauty, too, in beauty

that’s a rare poetry,

braving the daily cat-walk of green-eyed gods,

yet can still feel empathy

with beggars

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]

Ghost Writer

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

Someone asked me recently what I think of modern society. My answer is in the poem. 

I suspect many if not most of us are hypocrites up to a point; we often say one thing, but think and/or do the opposite. What bothers me most, though, is it feels like we are on a conveyor belt, hypocrites being moulded by our so-called betters who are no better than us at all, worse in fact, but untouchable for reasons best known to themselves for having contrived to be placed among society's 'betters'.  

Money talks, power talks, but nothing and no one talks louder than hypocrisy, the more so because it is is a silent, invisible enemy, and if we do succeed in exposing it, the chances are not only that the damage it is intended to inflict has already done its worst, but not even by whomsoever seems the likely author. We are left chasing shadows...

Such is life,I guess. All we can do is stay as alert to hypocrisy as possible, resist the temptation to give as good as we get, and encourage mind-body-spirit to keep looking on the bright side of life. 


GHOST WRITER

You’ll find me among shadows

insinuating nooks and crannies of a mind

co-writing fictions of the heart,

creating ‘No Go’ areas for such truths

as would make themselves known,

walk tall in sunlight, crusade with pride

against bigotry, shred it into pieces

and toss away, cocksure, no loose ends left

for tapers to mischief

I have no time for huts and hovels,

but churches, cathedrals, mosques, temples,

places where authority courts respect,

and if anyone suspect any double dealing

or duplicity, few will care to grasp

the nettle for fear its sting prove fatal

or, worse, provide propaganda

likely to earn a prime time slot on TV,

even win me converts

I always side with Law and Order,

ready to monitor and ratify any small print,

often left unread, I have to agree,

but who can blame me for a human foible

comprising aspects people prefer

to toss away, cocksure, no loose ends left

for tapers to mischief, never dreaming

their best intentions may well provide fuel

for its burning?

I prey on the goodwill of a gullible humanity,

feeding on its conscience, who am Hypocrisy

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009

Note: First published in Tracking the Torchbearer by R N Taber, Assembly Books, 2012

Home Truths, Martyrs to Love

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

A reader once got in touch to say he feels such a fool because he can’t help loving his girlfriend even though she continues to see other guys. 

That same day, there was an email in my In Box from a gay guy relating how he could not get even begin to get his head around his boyfriend's wanting an open relationship. While I, personally, would walk away, I do not underestimate either the power of love  or of well-meaning (if often ill-advised) pressure from family and/or friends - reminding us of our various 'responsibilities'; in other words, we mustn't be seen to let the side down. (Better to let ourselves down...?)

What can I say except these are among many men and women around the world who, for centuries, have settled for less - sometimes far less - in a relationship than, at heart, they desire and need. Some people, of course, can live with open relationships; for others (like me) it is asking too much.

It has to be one of the saddest facts of life that many potential partners cannot always see the other person’s take on love or…each other. Yet, many of us will settle for a one-sided relationship than no relationship at all, and the threat of loneliness; the latter reason perhaps why the world is full of martyrs to love.

Relationships between two people can only work if both partners want it to work, and neither should forget that everyone has a choice.

HOME TRUTHS, MARTYRS TO LOVE

You warned me not to fall in love with you,

that it was sex alone, never love, spurring us on,

for love is only for fools (you said) its course

set and steered by wet dreams; we worldly types

know better (you said) while tonguing words

of intimacy as if rites for a benign conspiracy

Keeping up appearances, it was nothing more

(never love) fuelling inspiration. Gladly I’d let

your fine body take mine, clung to the hope

that you’d come to love me, despairing as each

frantic, mindless, orgasm ripped through us

like that double-edged sword we call honesty

A culture of hypocrisy concealing human needs,

never quite able to satisfy the loneliness it feeds

  

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2015

Keeping-Up-Appearances

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

Not so long ago, I spent an evening with a couple about my own age (68) who are so obsessed with looks that they have resorted to cosmetic surgery on more than one occasion. Ironically, the results are none too flattering. Besides, its's personality that counts more than looks, and don't let anyone tell you different. 

Respect comes into it to, doesn't it? Personally, I have more respect for the person who lets nature take its course and stays young in at heart than for the man or woman who prefers to kid themselves they have discovered the secret of eternal youth. The body may be a slave to time, but that doesn't have to be true of the spirit. The mind may well be vulnerable, but a strong dose of positive thinking and avoiding daytime TV has to be a good start. Couch potatoes do not age well in my experience.

Now, I ask you. Gay or straight, let;s stay young at heart by all means, but what’s wrong with growing old naturally?

Surely, it's enough that so many celebrities love to make fools of themselves by trying to turn back nature's clock without we ordinary men and women playing the same silly game?

On my opinion, cosmetic surgery is only ever justifiable in cases when people may have some kind of visible disfigurement that causes them distress. [It would probably cause them less distress if other people were less obsessed with outward appearances and more concerned with the person behind them.]

This poem is a kenning.

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

I’ll make a hunchback of you,

both feet arguing with waistline,

whitened teeth making tongue

abort any truer word in the offing

as if you have no real affinity

with the fix you’re in, only dimly

aware of any discomfort, unable

(or unwilling) to follow it through,

and carrying on regardless

I’ll make a fine fool of you,

object of scorn (though tempered

with compassion among family,

friends who may well stay silent,

fearing you confuse concern

with interference, pity, jealousy,

for preferring home truths

stay backward in coming forward

in case anyone notices

I’ll make a poor loser of you,

unless you choose to take me on;

recognize the enemy within

for what I am or else go as a lamb

to slaughter at the altar of vanity,

always seeking shelter from life’s

worst storms in love’s harbours,

but as a guest, no sense of belonging,

only a hungry yearning

I am foolish pride, oblivious to the fact

that my folly is perceived a poor act

Copyright, R. N. Taber 2007; 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title Obsession in Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; this rev. version, 2019.]

Chameleon

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

Some readers may be interested to know that I have posted Chapter 1 of a new serial, Catching Up with Murder on my fiction blog. 

Hopefully, readers who enjoyed Predisposed to Murder will also enjoy meeting up with many of the same characters and discovering how they first came together.

Catching Up with Murder is available in paperback from amazon and could well be described as a black comedy in parts; it is not a gay novel as such, but has a strong gay storyline that becomes clear and takes off in Act II:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/catching-up-with-murder-chapter-1.html

Meanwhile…

It has always struck me how curious it is that some words used to describe human nature can mean different things to different people in exactly the same circumstances.  Not surprising, though, since everyone's take on life (and people) is different depending on how various socio-cultural-religious, age, economic and political factors conspire to directly affect our personal lives, and therefore our opinions. (Whatever, we need to be wary of rushing to judgement and/or being fooled by a sweeping take on stereotypes; there is much to be said for 'judge not lest ye be judged.')

This poem is (another) kenning or 'Who-am-I?' poem.

CHAMELEON 

I'm not always where I should be

and there are times you will find me

wearing the face of human cruelty,

lashing out at anyone who dares

stand in my way, stamping on them

as if they were but vermin, ready

to excuse, even glorify any choices

I make to mask feelings of inferiority
(indeed, the more fool, me.)

Rarely assuming parts conventions 

would have me play in the world 

or in such corners of the human heart

open to anyone to view who cares

to curry favour with me if only to be

rewarded in turn, with such gestures 
of rank or position as best serve 

anyone at listening in, hoping to learn

how not to be duped again

I'm not always a villain of the piece,

now and then accepting applause, 

with due modesty, ever taking credit 
for acting beyond any call of duty,

such as openly acknowledging 
my sexuality or services to humanity 
as nature intended me to provide, 
rejecting a darker side that I confess
lurks just below my surface

Call me chameleon, for good or bad,

walking tall, running scared

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010, 2019

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010. a later version that appeared on the blog in 2013 has since been revised again.] RT