A Poet's Blog: Roger N.Taber shares his thoughts & poems...

Thoughts and observations by English poet Roger N. Taber, a retired librarian and poet-novelist.- "Ethnicity, Religion, Gender, Sexuality ... these are but parts of a whole. It is the whole that counts." RNT [NB While I have no wish to create a social network, I will always reply to critical emails about my poetry. Contact: rogertab@aol.com].

Name:
Location: London, United Kingdom

Sadly, a bad fall in 2012 has left me with a mobility problem, and being diagnosed with prostate cancer the same year hasn't helped, but I get out and about with my trusty walking stick as much as I can, take each day as it comes and try to keep looking on the bright(er) side of life. Many of my poems reflect the need to nurture a positive-thinking mindset whatever life throws at us.

Saturday 26 October 2019

More sinned against than Sinning

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

Some of you will recognise the title of this poem as taken from Shakespeare's King Lear it appears in my gay-interest blog archives for November 2013. (Any blog archives can be accessed on the right hand side of any post/poem.)

Just because I take my spirituality from nature rather than from religion doesn’t mean I don’t have every respect for those who find their spirituality elsewhere. While I may not believe in a personified God…what’s in a name?

My argument is not with religion but with a predilection for sheer hypocrisy that many of its followers frequently demonstrate by denying LGBT people the right to not only live in peace but also within the parameters of whatever religion they choose to follow. As I have said many times…take the humanity out of religion and all you have is a dogma and ritual that are precious little more than ornamental.

In a Channel 4 Despatches program about the persecution of gay people in many parts of Africa, one interviewee made the important point that it was not  homosexuality but homophobia the West brought to Africa. I agree. In particular, Christian fundamentalism has a lot to answer for.

A reader of African origin (he doesn’t say where) sent in a tragic tale on which I have based this poem, written for those gay people across the world still persecuted by socio-cultural-religious bigots who claim to speak with this ‘higher authority’ or that. 

Tragically, many followers of religion put their leaders on a pedestal, accepting their bigotry as gospel. Thankfully, though, there are many others with open hearts and minds that know better. 

It has to be said too, of course, that there are many religious minded people who find in their own religion such guidance and strength as encourages them to reach out to others in a spirit of empathy and reconciliation whatever their differences. I feel fortunate to have met and been supported by many such people at various stages in my life; people who recognise that we are a common if diverse humanity whose differences make us less different than simply human.

MORE SINNED AGAINST THAN SINNING 

We kept our secret for years;
no one guessed we were lovers
till one day someone
walked in on us, discovered us
making love, as people do;
hours later, someone set fire
to our home, thinking
we cowered fearfully inside
but already we had found
a place to hide, yet knew we’d be
tracked down, only a matter
of time before human decency lost
and religious bigotry won

Why should we be on the run,
who had done no harm to anyone,
lovers who just happen
to be two men, forced to live
on borrowed time in a community
corrupted by religious bigotry?
Spawn of the Devil they call us,
so-called Christians who, in their turn,
can but call on Leviticus,
conveniently forgetting how Jesus
came to bring Light,
to the world, not Terror serving
some darker power

No hungrier for power than those
who see themselves as better than us
who simply get on with our lives,
discovering in our love for each other
a dream that lasts forever;
no lonelier, in reality, than the teacher
tortured by self-delusion,
hell bent upon turning even the stuff
of religious conviction
into tragic illusion for having chosen
to side with its destruction…
until a sleeplessness that lasts forever
in the grip of Earth Mother

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2016

[Note: This poem first appears under the title 'No Case to Answer' in Tracking the Torchbearer 
by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012]

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Thursday 24 October 2019

High Noon, an Epic Confrontation

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

This post/poem appears in my gay-interest blog's archives for March 2013.Such confrontations are still going on around the world; not only  LGBT people either, anxiously debating within themselves whether or not to follow their nature /instincts or continue to struggle within the socio-cultural-religious framework in which they were raised. Will loved ones understand, even support us? Have we the inner strength to go it alone if we must? Is it all really worth it, maybe best to leave well alone and carry on pretending? These are questions it is hard and painful enough for any adult to face - as many do - so imagine what it must be like for a girl or boy still at school and not yet fully matured? It is a living hell, believe you me. For me, though, it was some 60 years ago, yet time and again I have included gay-interest poetry at readings around the country and someone has emailed me the next day to say it is the same for them in this supposedly positive thinking 21st Century.

How do many among the heterosexual majority justify putting anyone through this, but especially a young person? Where is the morality in it, I ask of those who whose prejudices are such that they even support hate crime against anyone who happens to be 'different' from some academic 'norm'? Are we not one human race, and should be supporting each other? If climate change progresses as expected, there will come a time when we will all need each other to stand any chance of survival.

We should never forget that in some countries, same-sex relationships are still a criminal offence, punishable by long prison sentences or even death.

A reader in the UK but whose family live in Nigeria has been in touch on several occasions to say he has a gay relation there who is suicidal. I can relate to that. Gay relationships were a criminal offence here in the UK all through my teenage years into early manhood. I did not feel I could confide in anyone, least of all my family, and found it hard to get on top of my struggle with an emerging sexuality that contradicted everything I had been told and taught.

As regular readers know, I won my battle, but it contributed hugely to a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s during which I contemplated suicide more than once; on one occasion, I took an overdose that was no cry for help but a serious attempt to end my life. Thankfully, I came through all that, and am all the stronger for it. Even so, it was a living nightmare that haunts me even to this day. Whenever I hear about people brought to the edge of suicide or have taken that final step, my heart goes out to them.

I am fortunate enough to live in a country that now permits me to be openly gay, but even here in the UK there are young gay people growing up in a gay-unfriendly environment and facing much the same inner struggle with their sexuality as I did all those years ago. (I am in my 70's now.)

What can I say? I can only reassure gay people worldwide that they have nothing to be ashamed of although, yes, in some countries and within some families of various cultural origins they may well have reasons to be scared.

The freedom to be ourselves and not as others - even if not especially those closest to us - would prefer us to be is one of life’s greater gifts; we may well have to wait, even fight for it (emotionally if not physically) but it is my personal experience that either is well worth the effort.

To those gay boys, girls, men and women who live under repressive regimes that continue to fan the flames of homophobia I can only repeat, never feel ashamed of your sexuality or believe you are a less of a human being for it. Whether or not our circumstances allow us to be openly gay, there is an inner freedom that no one can take away from us.

Regular readers will also know that I support euthanasia in certain circumstances. More often than not, though, suicide is a temptation that is our enemy, Surrender to it, and we let the enemy win. It has to be better, surely, to live to fight our corner, each in our own way?

Yes, I am gay, but each to his or her own personal battles, whether it be with the homophobes among us or certain other socio-cultural-religious bigots bent upon giving this early 21st century of ours not only a poor start around the world but also a bad name. 

We hear much talk of ‘freedom’ and ‘democracy’ but even here in the West, there is too much rhetoric and not nearly enough done to ensure that, within reason, we are left safe and free to be ourselves rather than puppets of someone else’s convention, morality, politics, culture, religion, whatever…

HIGH NOON, AN EPIC CONFRONTATION

I had adopted a stoic pose at a cliff edge,
preparing for whatever, although no Icarus,
but able to rectify my mistakes

Despairing of promises my inner self
would gladly have let me keep,
but for a life eroding like a coral reef
for whom even its Big Fish fear
in still waters running far, far, deeper
than the, oh, so fickle foam below
now yelling, ‘I told you so’ for the times
I’d turn a blind eye and deaf ear
to all a better, kinder, self in me refused
to hear or see for its both feet kicking
at reality, too busy kidding as true a self
as ever wore a size eight shoe

Conscience was clear and not to blame,
accomplice (by any other name)
to dark forces as likely to smash against
the walls of the mind as the sea to rage
at the world’s cliffs simply for being here,
where I stand - NOW - at a moment
in time and space above cultural hang-ups,
religious dogma, the rhetoric of politics
or philosophy, turning my back on poetry,
rejecting plain fact and pretty fiction,
answering for size eight shoes by making
a gothic horror of friendly ghosts
summoned to decide and execute my fate
(ultimately relieving me of its weight)

Ah, but they know me too well, my ghosts
and utter not one word of reproach,
or persuasion even to listen to what some call
the ‘voice of reason’ - but preferring
to watch and wait as I move closer to the edge
of mortality, martyr to infinity, gift wrapped
in foam for tin gods to argue over its contents
without even opening me, a galling enough
metaphor for eternity, come a high tide intent
on swallowing us whole dare we surrender
to it. Not a whisper in the wind, only the sound
of angry gods rising to the bait…
(a pretty if senseless enough simile for fate)
where I flinched for feeling mocked

Taken for a fool by world, ghosts and Muse
for not only refusing to be overlooked
but eager to enter any fray that might justify
pole position at my shoulder like a parrot
repeating such facts of life and death by rote
as I may have been known to utter now
and then (voice of reason or drama queen?)
returning to haunt me, remind me
I’m no Gary Cooper challenging high noon;
(If I don’t cave in, I still can’t win.)
So what to do? Where to go? Time to start
trusting my friendly ghosts implicitly

Coming clean, letting life get real with me,
holding my head high for being gay, tin gods
left to their quarrelsome play

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012, 2019

[Note: This poem takes its title from the classic western 'High Noon' (1952)]

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Thursday 26 December 2013

Beyond Christmas OR Whatever Happened to Peace on Earth and Goodwill to All?

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

Come Boxing Day, we may well already be starting to look beyond Christmas. Oh, but if only the spirit of Christmas - and other religious festivals - might endure, messages of peace and love be heard around the world, especially in those parts where bitter conflict persists. Fat chance, little hope, beautiful dream ...? Why so, given that where there is the will there is (supposedly) a way...?  

As a child, I once asked a complete stranger standing next to me at a carol concert, what happened to 'peace on earth' and 'good will to men' after hearing 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day' at a carol concert. He did not hesitate, but replied in two words, politics and religion. I thought he was being sarcastic. Some 50+ years on, I look around and see only too plainly what he meant. On the arre occasions I have heard that particular carol  - based on a poem by Longfellow - sung again, i understand his despair and only wish I could enter into his ultimate optimism for the human race. Even so, hope springs eternal...and if we all play our part, who knows...?

Now, I have friends who are Christians and feel I am missing out because I don’t believe in God in any religious sense but take what I like to think of as a sense of spirituality from nature. 

Well, as I see it, no religion is all about its interpretation of God, but also about humanity. (Interpretations of God as a homophobe are as absurd as they are pathetic.) Take the humanity out of the religion and what's left is not worth having. (Fundamentalists haven't a clue!) Nor does religion have a monopoly on spirituality.

Now, whether we choose to believe in God or not, all world religions have much to say about humanity that is well worth listening to; some would do well to pay more attention themselves. It may well be that any given religion is a closed shop, members only, but interpretations of it remain open access to anyone at all times.

In those parts of the world where people are still persecuted for their sexuality and/or democratic principles, we can but wish them peace and love. As for their persecutors, especially those arrogant, evangelical types who are a plague on all our houses, (especially in parts of Africa) but other bigots and despots too, whatever socio-cultural-religious excuses they may care to make for their behavior, they would do well to remember that what goes around invariably comes around…

I have met many open-hearted people (from all religions) who have put to me that our only hope for a better, kinder, more peaceful world is to make ripples if not waves in our own home-school-work environment and trust they may yet spread. Food for thought, indeed...

BEYOND CHRISTMAS or WHATEVER HAPPENED TO PEACE ON EARTH AND GOODWILL TO ALL?

Christmas spirit can’t always connect
with peace in parts of a sorry world
divided by crises, all failing to reflect  
even hidden meanings in the word

Wherever colour, sex, sexuality or creed
tell dark tales, let light in, hear love call
by way of answering a basic human need,
body, mind, and spirit seeking to fulfil

Where mortality respects no boundaries,
conflict deaf to cries for a lasting peace,
love continues to tell its beautiful stories,
bring hope to each and every one of us

Christmas says much for love’s spirituality,
common even to a divided humanity 

Copyright R N. Taber, 2007; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revided ed. in e-format in preparation.]

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Saturday 6 August 2011

Answering Leviticus

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

Yesterday was D-Day (Decision Day) for me. My bowels would not co-operate in preparation for a CT scan late morning and subsequent radiotherapy; my bladder isn’t exactly behaving itself either. [I am supposed to clear the bowels and hold my water after drinking three cups of water for a good half an hour prior to a scan; it is the same for radiotherapy.]

I have therefore decided to withdraw from the radiotherapy programme scheduled to start mid-August and take my chances with hormone therapy. [If you keyword 'prostate cancer' in the blog's search field you will find (positive thinking) poems I have written on the subject.

[Update (April 2016): Today’s poem first appeared on the blogs in April 2010. The villanelle was originally repeated especially for ‘Harry’, Kurt’,’ Jean-Paul’ and ‘Anne-Marie’ who had been in touch (separately) to express their anguish at being from Christian families who ‘cannot cope’ with their being gay and/or HIV+. All say their religion is important to them and ask what has their sexuality and/or being HIV+ to do with Faith? Kurt has recently been in touch to say that he is very happy living with his partner, and their respective families have come round to the idea that they are gay. Others readers around the world have experienced similar family estrangement. We can but hope that love and common sense will prevail. Love should be unconditional and the idea that anyone chooses to be gay is pure fantasy' it has to be in the genes or how else so many of us worldwide from all manner of social, cultural and religious backgrounds?]

Now, regular readers will know that I am not a religious person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t respect various religious beliefs. Moreover, having been raised in a Christian home, and regularly attended Sunday school as a child, I know my Bible. It is personal experience of the sheer hypocrisy of some religious-minded people (of all faiths) that led me to reject religion and put my trust in nature long before I acknowledged even to myself that I am gay. Yet, each to his or her own, and I would defend anyone’s right to subscribe to any religion against any narrow-minded, ignorant bigot who says gay people forfeit that right because of their sexuality.

I have read this poem on the 4th plinth in Trafalgar Square in 2008 as my contribution to sculptor Antony Gormley's One and Other 'live' sculpture project that ran 24/7 over 2,400 days in the summer of 2009. (Some readers may be interested, but be warned the whole clip lasts an hour.):

https://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223131109/http://www.oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T    [NB: Sept 19, 2019 - The British Library confirmed today that he 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.] RNT

Feedback suggests some people have difficulty accessing You Tube so I have also posted that video here: it lasts about two minutes:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrTjc2373IU

[For my other videos - all shot by Graham: https://www.youtube.com/user/rogerNtaber/videos ]


Never let anyone tell you religion and being gay or transsexual are mutually exclusive.

The poem is a villanelle.

Leviticus 18:22
'You shall not lie with a male as one lies with a female; it is an abomination.'

ANSWERING LEVITICUS

Old Testament embodies dread
of a God slow to love, quick to rage;
listen instead to what Jesus said

Life, hanging by a fragile thread
like a half-finished poem on a page;
Old Testament embodies dread

Let blood be on the sinner’s head,
freeing the lion of love from its cage?
Listen instead to what Jesus said

Religious bigots would see us dead
(directing Leviticus to centre-stage);
Old Testament embodies dread

Deplore how same sex lovers tread
on humankind’s God-approved rage?
Listen instead to what Jesus said

Let no child hide under the bed,
nature allow all its poems a full page;
Old Testament embodies dread;
listen instead to what Jesus said

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]


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Tuesday 18 January 2011

The Partisan

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

http://www.webarchive.org.uk/wayback/archive/20100223121732/oneandother.co.uk/participants/Roger_T  [For now, at least, this link needs the latest Adobe Flash Player  and works best in Firefox; the archives website cannot run Flash but changes scheduled for later this year may well mean the link will open without it. Ignore any error message and give it a minute or so to start up. The video lasts an hour. ] RT 3/18

Meanwhile...

As we journey through life, we inevitably leave footprints of all kinds; carbon, yes, but also emotional, intellectual and spiritual.

Just as others influence us, so we influence others, often quite accidentally...not just by family, friends, teachers or workmates but often by complete strangers. Conversations in a bus queue or on a train may well reverberate through our lives and affect us more than we realize; certainly, far more than those strangers will ever know.

We, too, invariably remain strangers to people we may well have influenced greatly by a kind word or gesture, an expression of sympathy or encouragement...

Death comes to all of us but our words and deeds live on. It isn’t only the famous who leave a legacy of character and personality for those who come after to model themselves upon or steer well clear of heading in the same direction, as the case may be...

Eternity isn’t an empty phrase. We create our own eternity in the hearts and minds of both those who live alongside us and those who come after us. In my humble opinion, they are mistaken who suggest that even Memory cannot keep faith with us once everyone who ever knew us has died. In that context, many of those we influence and by whom we have been influenced have no claim on Memory at all. Besides, eternity is a continuum.

Whatever our religious beliefs and whether or not death is the end of the road for us, we will always exist in Time.

This poem is a kenning.

THE PARTISAN

I have left footprints in sand
where waves came and took them to places
they had never been;
I have left footprints in dust
where the wind came and lent them a body
that transcends endurance;
I have left footprints in grass
where rains fell to wash away the evidence
to leave everyone guessing

I have left hand prints in sand
where waves came and lifted them to places
they longed to be;
I have left handprints in dust
where a south wind lent them flight on wings
of words, paint, and music;
I have left handprints in grass
where rains fell so none would know for sure
who jumped their garden fence

I have left my signature
where people came and carried me to places
they had never seen,
left it, too, on dirt tracks
where winds came and lent them brief access
to nature’s finest...
whose footprints on this Earth
(before it rains) may prompt us to seek answers
to questions we’ve never asked

World partisan, Nature’s partner in crime,
I am Creator and Destroyer, called Time

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2011

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

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Friday 3 December 2010

A Christmas Truce

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

Religious festivals should bring people together. Yet, so often they follow the age-old tradition of religions worldwide and, in the end, but cause division among family, friends, neighbours....

Christmas is no exception for many of us.

Even where people are brought together for a day or two, it is often no more than calling a truce. Before we know it, we are divided; fighting, insulting, demanding more than we deserve, failing to enter into each other’s points of view...or simply ignoring each other again.

Even so, calling a truce can be a new beginning ... if we let it, always bearing in mind that it takes two to tango' there has to be the will to get together, albeit often absent for all kinds of reasons it is not for any of us to judge.

A CHRISTMAS TRUCE?

Sought, a safe haven on Christmas Day
from family stuff, presents round a tree,
giving the rein to how things should be,
denying what stares in each tinsel face;
A stranger in red mentioned such a place
where I might escape, find sanctuary,
even peace - away from all pretence
at burying home truths under layers of truce,
letting sweet carols on the ear replace
a harsher cacophony of lies, more lies,
accusation (and retribution?) for crimes
against the ego (never mind humanity)
in the daily round of sheer hypocrisy
and petty discrimination against whatever
points of view that can’t, won’t, shouldn’t
always go with the flow in case we tread
on Someone’s feelings, trigger into motion
a tedious, even violent chain reaction,
that might go on for years, spill more tears
than for Judas or lied about Christmas

So, where to go? I asked a jolly man in red
who started laughing, said to use some
common sense and moved on, leaving me
for dead among piles of pretty wrapping,
more calls for a truce, plates of mince pies
and sausage rolls blind to a soul’s fears,
deaf to its prayers

[From: A Feeling For The Quickness Of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005]

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