Finding Love, No Holds Barred

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

This poem is taken from my gay-interest blog archives for April 2015. (Yes,I am working on a new poem, but also struggling with health problems; the latter tend to go with the territory at 70+ however hard we try to keep looking on the bright side of life.😉

Regular readers will know that, while there is an autobiographical thread in many of my poems, just as many others have their origins in conversations I have enjoyed with various people in bars, on trains, even at bus stops. This poem takes me back to a delightful evening I once spent in the company of two young Catholics on holiday from Rome who were refreshingly unafraid to embrace God and each other…

Regular readers will also know that I am not a religious person; although raised a Christian, I found a sense of spirituality in nature that failed me in religion. At the same time, I respect anyone’s religious beliefs while refusing to believe that any God worthy of the name would hold a person’s sexuality against them, whatever their religion. Moreover, I reached this conclusion long before I realised or acknowledged (even to myself) that I am gay.

It saddens me greatly that, even in this 21^st Century, many gay people across the world feel obliged to choose between family, religion, and sexuality if only for appearances sake.

FINDING LOVE, NO HOLDS BARRED

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people tossed two coins

for the same dream, neither expecting

their lives might yet change

for the better, override generations

of secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people eagerly flirted

with the same dream if not believing

their hearts might yet shape it

the way of all good things, overriding

its secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people engaged

with the same dream, hiding tears

for years of battling

to reconcile faith in a God of Love

with secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people all but denied

the same dream, neither daring

to give desire its head,

acknowledge its passion, run a gamut

of secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people sought hope

in ripples slowly but surely lending 

the same dream

graceful flight far above and beyond

any secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two people acknowledged

each other, visibly edging closer

to the same dream,

soaring with doves expressing despair

with secrets and lies

At a fountain in the heart of Rome,

two gay people began

a journey that would one day free them

to make their dream a reality

where no God of Love rejects anyone

for their sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

Inside-Out

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

This poem appeared on my gay-interest blog in September, and I have been asked by a teenage reader (not out to family and friends) to post it here as well.

Every now and then, a young person emails me to say they are gay, in their teens, and have no idea what to do or where to turn. Many are convinced parents and peers will turn against them. Believe me you are not alone. When I think back to when I was 14 years old and realised I am gay, the whole closet ethos threatens to overwhelm me all over again.

In many areas, in many countries, there are support groups that did not exist when I was a teenager in the 1960's; search the Internet and try and make contact as this will enable you to meet other young people in the same situation. As for parents and peers, they may well surprise you, they may even  have observed for themselves that you might be gay and have been waiting for you to talk to them about it, not wanting to raise the subject themselves for fear of being mistaken; if not, yes, they may be hostile at first, but this could be an initial shock reaction. Remember how long it took you to come to terms with being gay and allow them,too, time to get used to the idea.

Never underestimate the power of love and friendship.

Sometimes, of course, family and friends refuse to accept gay people, even within their own family circles. This degree of rejection is incredibly hard to bear, but we need to build on the same strength of willpower and character that brought us out of that awful closet in the first place. Believe me, there is a life to be had and enjoyed out there, and there are many good people who gladly take others as they find them whether they be gay, straight, transgender...whatever. We are stereotyped by many, and it is often the stereotype that is vilified, not the person. Whatever, it is we LGBT folks who are so often made to suffer for that ignorance and bigotry.

To LGBT people around the world, I say this. Never, but never let anyone else put you down or make you think any less of yourself for your sexuality. Where staying in the proverbial closet is necessary, for now at least, confide in someone you can trust wherever possible; this may be a close relative, friend or perhaps a teacher less likely to be judgemental than most. Failing that, and failing the availability of any known support groups in your area, be guided by your better instincts and plain common sense until such a time as you can see your way clear to put closet days behind you once and for all, as I did, although, in hindsight, I should have done so years earlier.

No escape from the closet, for whatever reason?  There is an LGBT grapevine in every environment, so keep an ear out for it if only because a closet shared is a crisis halved. I was a psychological mess for years, but listening out for the grapevine and being part of a closet community probably saved my sanity while I wrestled with all the other issues - good,bad and ugly - with which life tests us at any age, but especially when we are young, emotionally inexperienced, and so often made to feel out of our depth.

INSIDE-OUT

His finger brushes mine
across the desk we share in class
and I can feel his gaze
on me out of the corner of an eye
but cannot, dare not
meet it, for fear someone might see us
and guess the turmoil in me

Can it be that he's gay
this classmate I'd joke with about
all sorts, and our laughter
would spread right through me
like fizzy lemonade
on a hot day, its bubbles applauding us
as we sail through the air?

Can it be that I'm gay too,
but how do I know, and what to do
if his finger means business
and he wants to take our friendship
beyond such felt horizons
as assailing  bleary, but half closed eyes
come some know-it-all dawn?

Barely attending the lesson,
the farthest corners of our eyes engage,
attempting to read between lines
blurred by mixed feelings for years,
given our having been raised
to believe one step beyond male bonding
a step too far, the Devil's work

I look away, and so does he,
eyes wide shut, if seeming to look ahead
at our teacher, her lips moving
but any sound coming out drowning
in a sea of intimate images,
and such cries as could easily be of ecstasy
as for help from poor swimmers

Final bell, school's out, mates
on the way home, chatting about nothing
in particular if only to steer clear
of all we need to coax out into the open
from a suffocating closet,
too close for comfort, too real for fantasy
feeding on a vulnerable innocence

Taking a shortcut down an alleyway
we've walked every day for years, turning
to me in tears, giving me a hug
and I hug him back, not a word passing
between us, our first kiss
when it comes, winging us across s history
that once dare not speak its name

A companionable silence descending
as we emerge from that alleyway, bonding
in a new sense of togetherness
transcending our Here-and-Now in ways
defying poetry, prose, gesture,
any spoken word or 'live' art to even attempt
lending expression to its intimacy

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

Going to Meet The Man OR GOD is NO Homophobe

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

Today's poem takes its title from a wonderful novel by that outstanding American black writer, James Baldwin; it appeared on my gay-interest blog in August 2011. I had already removed it from both blogs for some time after a stream of abusive emails became not only boring, but also threatened to clog up my PC; I reinstated it on that blog later.

Now, regular readers will know that I subscribe to no religion but find spiritual relief and inspiration in nature where religion offers me only division and bigotry. Even so, I will always defend anyone’s right to follow the religion of their choice regardless of ethnicity, gender  or sexuality.

Now and again, someone emails me to relate how they have been made to feel rejected by their respective religious communities for being gay. Invariably, they are devastated. What has happened to world religions? I was raised to believe that religion was synonymous with humanitarianism, but discovered my mistake as I grew older.  While I have met some lovely religious minded people who would help anyone, regardless of their gender, sexuality or religious persuasion, I have to say that, in my personal experience, these have been relatively few.

As far as I'm concerned, so-called religious people who practice any form of socio-cultural-religious bigotry are a disgrace to their religion and its founders. I  have said as much more than once on the blogs and also on You Tube - e.g  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrTjc2373IU (Answering Leviticus.)


GOING TO MEET THE MAN or GOD IS NO HOMOPHOBE

A young man went to heaven,
and knocked at the door;
an angel came, looked him over,
told him he’d have to wait
a wee longer. A second angel arrived,
carrying the Book, stood there,
scratched his head, gave the poor lad
a hard, old-fashioned look.
When yet a third angel came to see
whatever could the matter be,
the youth managed to say,
‘Is there a problem ’cause I’m gay?’
The angels muttered piously,
‘Know, truth will have its way.’
The young man broke down
and turned to leave when Someone
took him, oh, so gently
by the sleeve, reminding loud
and clear...

"Who seeks shall enter."

Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: Slightly revised (2010) from an earlier version that appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002 and other poetry publications.]  

A Sense of Spirituality

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

Another poem from my gay-interest blog today for those readers who never visit it for whatever reason. Interestingly, though, I do hear from gay-friendly straight people from time to time who seem to find it.. well, .'interesting' is the most used adjective, but 'informative' and 'illuminating' pop up from time to time, even 'educational'; there are, of course, numerous antonyms to these as well; that's human nature for you.

As a gay man and someone who does not subscribe to any religion, I am often criticised for claiming a strong sense of spirituality. I get it from nature and my personal experience of the kinder side of human nature. The human spirit is common to us all so why should religion be seen as having a monopoly on spirituality? These are two separate phenomena that can, and often do, go hand in hand, but no one deserves to be be put down for not accepting one or the other; similarly, no one deserves to be put down for embracing both. It has long been my view and personal experience that world religions are often responsible for fostering the more judgemental aspects of human nature, and I say this as a fellow human being not just a gay man.

Human beings are inclined to divide rather than unite, but isn’t love a common bond, and one we would do well to acknowledge rather than be persuaded to pursue the politics of division by various socio-cultural-religious forces that so like to dominate for domination’s sake even if they so love to pretend otherwise. I have met some lovely people whose religion may not be LGBT-friendly, but they see no conflict in taking people as they find them without prejudice aforethought, and the world needs more of them.

Love does not discriminate; it is as much an integral part of the human spirit whether those engaging with it are gay, straight, transgender or bisexual. Religion and sexuality are not mutually exclusive, only where society and/or dogma would have it so.

A friend of mine attends his church regularly, but has not been able to bring himself to tell his friends and colleagues in the congregation that he is gay. Yes, it snacks of hypocrisy, but who is the greater hypocrite, I ask you!

 A SENSE OF SPIRITUALITY

Down by the river,

where kingfishers fly,

I lay with my lover

one joyful summer’s day,

passing clouds

parting for kisses

from fair Apollo,

as if reaffirming our faith

in peace, love,

and a native integrity,

nor necessarily less so

for being gay

Down by the river,

where music fills the air,

I kissed my gay lover

under eaves of a willow tree,

its leaves shimmering

like stained glass windows

as if Earth Mother

restoring Apollo’s church

to the likes of us

to worship at the altar

of passion and rediscover

its spirituality

Down by the river

summer flowers fill the air

with perfumes

conspiring to fill our church

with all the colours,

smells, sounds of love

and a peace of mind

that Earth Mother would have

a common humanity

bring to bear on each other

whatever our ethnicity, creed

sex or sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015 

Listening to Love

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

Today's poem first appeared on my gay-interest blog in 2013 with 'Listening to Love' as an alternative title. To read the preamble I posted then, you are welcome to take a look; simply type the title in the subject field of my other poetry blog: 

https://aspectsofagaymanslifeinverse.blogspot.com

I wrote this poem while recovering from a severe nervous breakdown for which having been made to feel something of a freak for years because of my sexuality was partly responsible. Writing has always been a form of creative therapy for me; it contributed considerably to my recovery as did my resolving, once and for all, to stop playing Jack-in-the-box with my sexual identity.

Meanwhile, here's wishing everyone that inner peace and love which, for many of us, remains sadly elusive. Whatever, we must rise above the naysayers of our time as best we can, take each day as it comes, resolve to look on the bright side of life and enjoy whats on offer; wherever the latter found significantly wanting, we can but focus on and work to effect change for the better, each in our own way, however long it takes.

Did I say it was easy? But we can do it. You only have to look how much public opinion has changed for the better towards LGBT issues - in many a socio-cultural-religious environment - since the Stonewall riots in New York, 1969.

LGBT relationships have existed behind closed doors for centuries; there will always be bigots who know no better, but we owe it to the next generation to make sure the more positive attitudes towards sexuality are not made to do an about-turn by any less discerning influences; every society has those, too, of course, not least amongst its more vocal socio-cultural-religious lobbies whose only concern is self-interest in one form or another.

LISTENING TO LOVE

Love gave me flowers
that faded away;
Love gave me kisses
that faded away;
Love told me any doubts
would fade away

Love did not mind
we’re gay

People took your flowers,
threw them away;
they scorned our kisses,
called us names;
the same people warned us
we’d rue the day

Some people mind
we’re gay

The language of flowers
speaks of love;
the heat of your kisses
speaks of love;
our love asks but people put
their doubts away

Copyright R. N. Taber 1982; 2012

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

Closet Fear

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

Yet again, I have been asked to publish a gay-interest post/poem on this blog; it has been on my gay-interest blog for several years. A reader writes, "I have a pc at home, but dare not risk reading your gay blog, and have to go to my local public library for that. I know that some members of my family read your general blog so please post more gay poems there so they might yet come to understand that being gay is neither crime nor sin."  Whether the writer is male of female, I have no idea, but I hope the poem helps, at least in part, to bring any family members to a greater understanding of the human heart as a free country and any God as a God of Love, regardless of any contradictory dogma by this or that religion. 

Here in the West, it has been my experience that many gay people take freedom of sexual identity for granted.  True, there is no denying that homophobia is still alive and kicking. Yet, I have listened over the years to chilling tales of how it is to be gay in countries where same sex relationships remain a criminal offence (Iraq, Iran, Saudi Arabia and various African countries among many) punishable by a public whipping, prison or worse. I have learned to count my blessings…even during those low points in my life when they may otherwise have seemed too thin on the ground for much comfort.

Yes, the heart is a free country, not a prison; wherever its every beat expresses fear of exposure under pain of punishment, even death, that's more than an abuse of Human Rights, but makes any of any religious dogma advocating it the greater abuse or sin against humanity by far. Religion is meant to be an expression of love; no God of Love would condone hate crime in any shape or form. I left my local Church Sunday School for this very reason at the age of ten years, four years before I realised and acknowledged (to myself at least) that I am gay. 

It is a tragedy for the West that many if not most immigrant families bring their religious dogma with them, forcing their gay young people into the kind of closet that public opinion forced me into years ago; one which resulted in a mental breakdown in my early 30's and a suicide attempt. Even now, I bitterly regret not coming out to family, friends and work colleagues, whatever their take on homosexuality, until my early 40's. Regular readers will know that I do not subscribe to any religion. At the same time, nor do I consider religion to have a monopoly on a sense of spirituality; the latter and homosexuality (or gender identity) are not incompatible. As I have said so many times on both blogs, our differences do not make us different, only human.

CLOSET FEAR

No one can know we’re lovers,

everyone sees us as good friends

or lany peace of mind for love stands

no chance

No one can know we share a bed

whenever I stay over at your place,

taking each day as it comes, for good

or ill

No one can know we’re gay men

playing hide-and-seek with shadows,

one mind-body-spirit no less deserving

of nurture

No one must guess our secret,

war weary of judgmental stereotypes

dragging us down even as we recharge

its batteries

No one must catch a single look

between us that even hints at a story

that dare not be told though reworked

for centuries

No one must guess we’re lovers

who would cheer us publicly stoned

to death to satisfy an inhumanity baying

for blood

Yet, we will lie, bodies entwined,

away from prying eyes and loose talk,

make love among far kinder hypotheses,

dream on…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2015

  

Nature and Human Nature, Rites of Passage

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

As one season passes into another, so too the seasons of human life. For me, the relationship between human nature and nature is best summed up by the words of Albert Camus: “In the depth of winter, I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer.”

Spring, summer, autumn, winter ... not dissimilar a rites of passage as we humans (whoever, wherever we maybe) journey through the mind-body-spirit of any whose lives we may have touched by word or deed, lessons learned even ... to be passed on, and on again ... until no one remembers the original source yet something of its place on all our learning curves across a past-present-future to which we all subscribe and contribute, each in his and her own way. Such, to my way of thinking, is immortality.

For now, spring is here again. I look out of my window and am filled with the joy and wonder of rebirth. I may not be a religious man, but as I ponder the endless path of nature’s four seasons, I do not regret preferring nature to dogma. There is a spirituality in nature that touches and moves me more than any religion ever could.

NATURE AND HUMAN NATURE, RITES OF PASSAGE

As a new leaf on an old oak,

find a mind-body-spirit regenerating

greener centuries

As new buds on a rose bush

find all animal senses coming on heat

after a wintry frost

As new petals on a daffodil,

find emotions rising above their flaws

on a robin’s wings

As driftwood on home shores,

find young potential needing to be put

to better use than this

As seeds on a southern wind,

find life forces placing time and space

on a learning curve

As pilgrims to raison d’être,

find ghosts dead set on helping us live.

let live, have a voice

As fairy tales to a child’s mind,

find ancient legends wringing metaphors

from contemporaneity

As singing wires to cloth ears,

find rebel green campaigners messaging

the Earth’s naysayers

As ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

find art and science performing last rites

over tablets of stone

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

You-Me-Us, the Ultimate Selfie OR Partners for Life

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

It is not only gay people who have a problem with other people's approach to their sexuality; given that given that part of its whole happens to be sex, it is not uncommon for people to be wary, even afraid of sex, especially if they happen to have been have been raised - intentionally or not - in a sex-unfriendly environment. In some homes, sex and sexuality remain ‘not in front of the children’ issues so what are children, especially the early teens, supposed to make of that? Children are not fools; they are frequently more intensely aware of what goes on around them than many parents or even teachers appreciate.

Sex is fun, and in the context of human love can also be a very spiritual experience; there is nothing wrong with having fun, and no spiritual experience deserves to be put down simply because it does not necessarily relate to any religious experience.  As I have often said on my blogs, religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality; of all the parts comprising human nature, a sense of spirituality is one that deserves nurture, but is all too often neglected where religious or cultural identity have a lesser or no role to play.

Some people, of course, simply have no real interest in sex and that’s OK. Others may well be confused by various socio-cultural-religious attitudes towards sex and sexual identity.

Could we all not benefit from being better educated about sex and sexuality other than as prescribed by various socio-cultural-religious conventions? (Yes, I know I am repeating myself and probably will again.) Certainly, there would be far less denial, confusion and bad attitude regarding either if more schools would only discuss it with classes in a manner appropriate to the ages of the children and young people in them. No easy task, I agree, given how many children and young people will laugh and make jokes, as is the nature of people everywhere when someone touches on a nerve. Would they perhaps be less inclined to do so, though, if we adults encouraged them to discuss the subject - in all its aspects - sensitively and intelligently instead of suggesting it’s really a matter for the birds and bees?

In many cases, by the time any birds and bees get in on the act, most children have an idea in their heads about what sex and sexuality involves; that idea needs to be expanded, clarified and discussed.

Since many parents find intimacy if not love too embarrassing a subject to raise with their own children, a family member can be called upon or someone to whom the child or young person can relate and for whom they have affection and respect. All too often, though, this does not happen just as far too many schools also shirk the task of educating their students about where sex related issues fits into the complex jigsaw that is a life comprising love, pleasure, consideration and respect for others (and ourselves) among a gamut of emotions, not least a sense of spirituality. In my case, as regular readers well know, I take the latter from nature, but taking it from religion should not mean intimacy - as an expression of love and/or desire and/or the need to be physically close to someone for whatever reason - becomes demeaned in any way. In many cases, of course, it isn’t, while in others it most certainly is.

Colour, creed, sex, sexuality, these are part of a whole; it is the whole that counts so the greater our understanding of and respect for that, the better person we are likely to become; better equipped, too, for surviving the jungle that is human nature.

This  poem is a kenning.

YOU-ME-US, THE ULTIMATE SELFIE or PARTNERS FOR LIFE

I am that you-me-us

calling on love and peace

wherever they go,

whatever path they take

through life,

trudging sadly, skipping madly

or taking wary steps

across minefields scattered
like leaves of dogma

I am a good friend,

proving a good companion 

on life’s journey,

even beyond halcyon days

and nights committed

to memory, transcending

any regret for times past,

inspiring a lasting spirituality

independent of dogma

See me for what I am,

rooting for the natural world
to beat human odds;

on your side if sometimes 
agreeing to differ,

trusting love to win through;

my brief, to rise

above any contentiousness

perpetuated by dogma

Only, acknowledge my integrity

who am called Sexuality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Potential for Victory OR Tackle the Weeds, Save the Garden

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

[Update (March 4 2017) Our thoughts are with the friends and families of all those killed and injured in yesterday's terror attack on the St. Petersburg Metro. At the moment, no terrorist group has claimed responsibility although official Russian sources are saying it was, indeed, a terrorist attack. A second bomb at another Metro station was successfully defused. The world's War on Terror goes on, a war its perpetrators cannot and will not win if only because they underestimate the human spirit's capacity for overcoming even the darkest forces. How ironic, though, that terrorism should bring out the best in good people everywhere, uniting us in grief, peace, and love even as other wars rage and divide us.]

[Update ( July 15 2016): I am sure readers will join me in sending heartfelt sympathy along with thoughts of love and peace to all the families and friends of those killed and injured during the latest terrorist attack; this time in Nice, only yesterday. May the eternal optimism and resilience of the French people help them through such terrible times. Indeed, it would seem that decent people worldwide must find a way to rise above the constant threat of terrorism if only so these psychopaths cannot claim victory over the better, stronger, kinder and more stoical elements of the human spirit that will endure long after all terrorists are less than dust in the wind, no matter how many lives they may have taken or whatever trail of destruction they leave behind; any suggestion that the name of any terrorist is in the least bit worth remembering is an insult to the memory of his or her victims.]

We can but hope common sense will prevail over politics and a two-way dialogue will (eventually) allow diplomacy to triumph sooner rather than later over the sub-machine gun, the missile, the roadside bomb, the suicide bomber, the likes of an attack by mindless fanatics on innocent commuters, a defenceless young soldier in broad daylight on a London street, worshippers in a place of prayer, tourists sunning themselves on a beach…

And so it goes on across the world...

The trouble is some people - especially the more vulnerable among us - are easily persuaded that weed flowers are worth saving, even nurturing. The good gardener, of course, knows better.

I guess all we ordinary men and women on any street anywhere in the world can do is just get on with our everyday lives, do our best to create ripples of peace, love, and respect for each other’s socio-cultural-religious differences instead of open hostility. Hopefully, these may spread far and wide enough to do at least some good. Wishful thinking…? Well, maybe, but worth a try surely?

No one is necessarily an enemy because they are 'different' in respect of race, religion, political outlook ... whatever. I have said it before and will keep saying it... our differences do not make us different, only human, and we are all, each and every one of us, part of a common humanity.

This poem is a villanelle.

POTENTIAL FOR VICTORY or TACKLE THE WEEDS, SAVE THE GARDEN

Where terrorism strikes fear,
encouraging the world’s divisions,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Inhumanity painfully clear
(election fodder for our politicians)
where terrorism strikes fear

Though survival cost us dear
following conscience-led decisions,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Dare humanity turn a deaf ear
to the in-fighting among its religions
where terrorism strikes fear?

Once mutual respect finds cheer
in spirituality’s common aspirations,
sense its victory, oh, so near

May peace songs persevere
with infiltrating all enemy positions;
where terrorism strikes fear,
sense its victory, oh, so near

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010; 2015

Configuring Personal Space

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

A human being is a human being is a human being, whatever his or her race, creed, sex or sexuality. 

Love is a live poem. 

Just as a poem is a poem is a poem whatever its structure or theme, so, too, love is love is love … in whatever shape or form.

Those who rage against the world's lovers on grounds of  race, creed, sex or sexuality, rage against humanity.

I look at various socio-cultural-religious factions dead set on imposing their ideas and ideals on anyone who does not share theirs … and …thank goodness for the enduring power of love, rising above all else. 

‘Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes; Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.’ - William Shakespeare (Romeo and Juliet)

CONFIGURING PERSONAL SPACE

Today is all we have;
yesterday left long, long, ago
where tomorrow plays host
to a sandman waiting to say,
‘Hello’

Tonight is all we have;
tomorrow left long, long, ago,
and yesterday never was
until love came by and said,
‘Hello’

This life is all we have;
its ghosts left long, long, ago
on fleeting wings of time
inspiring  a sandman’s cheery
‘Hello’

This love is all we have
to be sure, ourselves, to know
in that personal space
forever sounding out its first
‘Hello’

Copyright R. N. Taber 2014

On Cherry-picking Life-force Metaphors and Straws

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

As regular readers will know only too well, I like to think I have a strong sense of spirituality but find it - along with a sense of raison d’être - in nature, not religion. (I find dogma more imprisoning than enlightening.) At the same time, I am often accused of hypocrisy because I use religious metaphor in many of my poems.

For me, the more sensitive, imaginative, and spiritually enlightening passages in Holy Books are metaphors for humanity, its weaknesses and strengths.

Raised a Christian, I have never been able to take the Bible literally, but always found much food for thought in it and poetry to enjoy. I admire the historical Jesus of Nazareth as a man ahead of his time who spoke good sense and encouraged the kind of open mind and heart that many so-called Christians today would do well to follow.  

We have much to learn from founders of all the world’s religions.  So, yes, I often use religious metaphor in my poetry, and don’t consider this makes me a hypocrite.

Readers of my gay-interest blog often contact me on the subject of religion versus sexuality. Among them, ‘Julie M’ who wrote to say that she too ‘turned to nature for spiritual strength and reassurance after my religion failed me, a lesbian, when I needed it most.' Others have written to say they have been disowned by their family and friends for making life choices (not necessarily to do with sexuality) considered ‘inappropriate’ in the context of various socio-cultural-religious traditions.  [As the title of a poem of mine asks, whatever happened to love?]

This poem is a villanelle.

ON CHERRY PICKING LIFE FORCE METAPHORS AND STRAWS

Passive spectator to war,

the last tree left standing, evergreen;

God, a first and last metaphor

Tested like Adam (all the more)

by a world’s dark intentions unseen;

passive spectator to war

Eve called out for a whore

by busy minds hastily swept ultra-clean;

God, a first and last metaphor

Snake in the grass and more…

making of nature something obscene,

passive spectator to war

Behind the kitchen door,

preparing to feed off a television screen,

God, a first and last metaphor

Presuming to keep the score,

let one coin outshine a leaf’s dawn sheen;

passive spectator to war...

God, a first and last metaphor

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'God's Metaphor' in 1^st eds. of Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; 2^nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.]

Looking for Answers

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

It has been my experience of life so far (I was born on Dec 21 1945) that many people ask the wrong questions of themselves and others. Could that be why, more often than not, they come up with the wrong answers?

Questions are too often tailored to preconceived ideas, including stereotypes. I refer in particular to those bigots who persist in condemning gay people for their sexuality and/or others for the colour of their skin and/or religion (or non-religion). Whatever happened to live and let live?

Sadly, stereotypes of all kinds become fixed in some people’s minds; especially where the mind is so small there is little room for manoeuvre. If only more people were to consider opening up their minds and hearts to accommodate new ideas, confront the possibility that their approach to morality and various socio-cultural-religious issues is not without its flaws. 

World religions preach love and peace, but this requires an open heart and mind. Sadly, it has been my experience through life that relatively few religious  people practice what their religion preaches. Oh, they would deny it and are quick to seek media attention whenever a personal, local or national tragedy strikes, especially any form of hate crime that makes headlines, but many if not most most are simply paying lip service to what is expected of them; increasingly less so with young people, it is good to see.

Could it be that asking more appropriate and relevant questions might well encourage all of us to enter into (even if continuing to disagree with or even disapprove of) more appropriate and relevant points of view...sufficiently, at least, to leave us feeling less inclined to impose our own?

Oh, but I wish...!

As I have said before (and probably will again) our differences don’t make us different, only human.

“Judge a man by his questions rather than by his answers.” - Voltaire

LOOKING FOR ANSWERS 

‘Who am I?’’I asked a river

but it just kept rushing on by without

making any reply;

‘Who am I?’ I asked a songbird,

but it just took off into the sky without

making any reply;

‘Who am I?’ I asked a sycamore

where angels fell from the sky without

making any reply

‘What are you?’ asked a river

but I’d just keep rushing on by without

making any reply;

‘What are you?’ asked a songbird,

but I’d just scoff pie in the sky without

making any reply;

‘What are you?’ asked a sycamore

where angel wings were in a flap about

any right of reply

River, bird, tree, human being,

leading questions in the mind’s eye, only

guessing at replies;

questions of identity the world seeks

to thread through a needle’s eye without

caring how or why;

If Discovery the Mother of Creation,

may it teach us to ask the right questions,

respect any reply

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Playing Dirty, the Politics of War (and Peace)

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

It has to be one of human nature’s greater ironies that it invariably deflects the greater blame for its worst tragedies away from itself.

It is called politics.

It is probably fair to say, though, that most if not all of us are no less guilty sometimes than those who tread the Corridors of Power.

PLAYING DIRTY, THE POLITICS OF WAR (AND PEACE)

Last seen standing on the edge of war,

strutting bravery, dreaming of glory,

no conception of carnage gone before,

rewriting, in blood, a nation’s story

Heads high, eager to answer duty’s call,

faith let fly in the wind, flags unfurled,

no one suspecting how many might fall,

prayers unanswered around the world

Victory (as ever) fell on time’s sword,

eleventh hour, day, month, 1918;

no action-replay, we gave them our word,

only to break it again and again…

Heroes, on Time's sword called upon to fall
for the sake of Peace and Goodwill (to all?)

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2018

[Note: Revised (2016) version of a poem that  appears under the title 'The Rhetoric of Blame' in   Accomplices to Illusion, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]

Lost in Translation

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

In response to this poem, someone once complained that I 'seem to be suggesting that being gay is as natural as God intended.' Well, the poem lends itself to various interpretations (as a poem should) and if that's theirs, I am delighted to have at least giving a religious bigot some food for thought.

When it comes to the various Holy Books and the attitudes they convey towards gay, bisexual, and transgender men and women, I know many people feel the same as me; much has been lost in translation or, as often as not, deliberate misinterpretation. Too many people have too great a fondness (reliance even) on a stereotyping which not only confuses important issues but, worse, is put forward as a truth, Time and again, I have heard people trying to justifying an attitude that beggars belief, not least because it has its roots in stereotypical caricatures, especially when it concerns LGBT issues. I am not disputing everyone's right free speech, but let's at least get our facts right, yes?

We all occupy a mother’s womb. I will never believe the love there is conditional to our turning out the way some parents’ preoccupation with various socio-cultural-religious conventions try to impose as. indeed, they have done very successfully since the beginning of time. Thank goodness for a natural capacity of the human heart for rebellion against such constraints; it may well have lost a good few battles and will surely lose a good few more, but is as sure to win the war for  common humanity as day follows night.  

It was once put to me by a work colleague that poetry - no more or less than other art forms - is all about self-indulgence. I beg to differ. Poetry - no more or less than other art forms - is all about finding out who we are; nor is it a definitive 'we' or first person persona for, as the metaphysical poet John Donne points out, 'No man is an island entire of itself...' (Meditation XVII)

Whatever, be it in reading prose or  poetry, appraising a painting or a person, the chances are few if any will come to the same conclusion, and even greater are the chances of any one person reaching the right one; we are all made up of many parts. The arts - among which feedback regarding my own suggests poetry is often considered the poor relation - attempt to reach at least some of those parts, the sum of which makes us who we are.

There can be no perfect interpretation of mind-body-spirit, but we can at least try to lose as little as possible in translation, and allow for human error ...

LOST  IN TRANSLATION

When people ask where I came from;

I answer, my mother’s womb,

so why am I so haunted by a sense
of having been somewhere else,

distant, unknown, as if I’d crossed
mythical territories of time and space
just to find my way here?

When others ask if I have a ‘real’ goal
in life, I confess I’m never sure

which doors are left ajar just for me

to take a peep (our choice, enter

or not) and may let a still, small voice
out of time and space persuade me to try
the safer (better?) path

Sometimes I am even accused of sitting

on some metaphorical fence

rather than explore secret passages

of the mind, and the doors open
to tease me, dare me enter, have a go
at translating the ages-old hieroglyphics
lining Mother’s womb

Yes, I have a ‘real’ enough goal in life

if prompted by a poet’s feeling
for wrestling with the hieroglyphics

between womb and tomb,

writing up an alternative autobiography
of my life and death than trust local graffiti
on doors kicked shut

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2016

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Accomplices to Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007.]

Sleeping Dogs

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

We don’t always appreciate the effect our words and/or actions might have on others, even loved ones. It is so easy to be well-meaning yet misunderstood. Yet, if a relationship is worth saving it is worth fighting for, and all parties should make time to talk things through…

I have been let down badly by friends and family in the past (haven’t we all?). Sometimes we have talked things through and grown closer. However, there have been times when much, as I would have liked to talk things through, some people only have ears for what they want to hear; any 'closeness'  was but a mirage. I dare say they feel the same about me. For all my faults, though, I am always ready to talk things through…with people prepared to consider points of view other than their own. It is rarely a question of who is right or wrong, but simply bearing in mind that, just as we may easily hurt ourselves so, too, it is easy to unintentionally inflict hurt.

The better you know someone, the least likely you are to want to hurt them, and vice versa. The closer you are, though, the easier it becomes to do just that. All relationships need to be worked at; some people are simply not prepared to put in the effort, or cannot see how or why they should, so never really get to know anyone that well. Sadly some people are so self-centred and/ or dogmatic in their approach to others, they find it hard if not impossible to relate to feelings and points of view they don't, won't or can't share.

In my experience, it is possible to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship (of whatever nature) once, even twice, but rare, indeed, is he or she who can find it within themselves to make the effort a third time; better then, perhaps, to let sleeping dogs lie than enter the fray yet again ...

Most friends and family members fall out from time to time, although if a relationship is worth having, it has to be worth saving; as always, it takes two to tango. In my experience, it is possible to pick up the pieces of a broken relationship (of whatever nature) once, even twice, but rare, indeed, is he or she who can find it within themselves to make the effort a third time; better then, perhaps, to let sleeping dogs lie than enter the fray yet again and put our own sense of  well-being, not to mention physical and/ or mental health, on the line.

SLEEPING DOGS

Love may well never die

nor friendship, but sometimes

both may well lie sleeping

within a heart grown, oh, so weary

behind eyes brought

to weeping for all those things

not as we would have them;

accepted, understood, forgiven even,

and never quite forgot,

but left asleep in the arms

of every dreamer

that ever loved or had a friend

where love and friendship

not returned in kind, or even in part

if we include untold damage

to the heart, ignorance of some crisis

of all-inclusive mind-body-spirit

Ah, but neither love nor friendship
can fire those open only to self-interest
with the inspiration required
to subdue the flames of desperation
just long enough to enable
a reaching-out beyond abstract expectation
all but set in stone
that every opportunity needs must wear
appropriate regalia, leaving us free

to spot 'spectators' (by any other name)
intent on having sport with us;

in time, may we come to appreciate

what (and who?) we're up against,

we family, friends and would-be lovers

left waiting at a gate we know
(only too well) may never reopen for us

unless by whim of a kinder fate

Awake, sleeping friendships and loves

stirring in quiet hearts every now and then,
chance overcoming
feelings of rejection by those
who should have known so much better
than to doubt us, recalling
wistful might-have-beens left to fade
into some once-upon-a- time
for mind-body-spirit to turn now and then
like the pages of a fairy story
by Hans Christian Andersen, relating
brave new worlds for children
to carry into adulthood and spread the news
how love will endure and hate expire
if we let it, albeit any tale takes one to tell.
another to share, and that same pair (at least)
to leave lie but sleeping in the heart

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2005.]

The Usual Suspects

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

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2008. Given the results of the latest European summit during which President Sarkozy of France and Chancellor Merkel of Germany appear to have succeeded in marginalising Britain from the rest of Europe, at least in the short term, its title may seem appropriate.

It is important that Britain should not be sidelined while fiscal discussions on the survival of the Eurozone take place. It is all very well for Sarkozy, Merkel and other countries to argue that Britain cannot have its cake and eat it, but they are glad enough of our huge monetary as well as political contribution to the EEC which, as I understand it, will continue anyway.

The Eurozone is a mess, and that isn’t Britain’s fault. David Cameron’s demands to protect the City of London from those who are to blame were not unreasonable. If ever the Politics of Cain was given its head, it appears to be now.

I love Europe, but cannot say the same for its various Governments. Mind you, I am not a political animal, and that often goes for my own Government too. My support for David Cameron in this instance is not an endorsement for British politics as a whole.

As far as I can see, there is not one giant on the British political scene to whom the electorate can point and say, ‘Yes! That person has my vote (regardless of their Party) because I feel I can trust him or her and they know what they are doing,’

The Germans are fortunate to have Chancellor Merkel at the helm; I may not agree with her, but she has a strong sense of political direction and integrity, and sticks to her guns. It is also clear that she is one of the few European leaders who has not only her country's best interests at heart in resolving the present crisis in Europe, but Europe's too. The rest rely (far) too much on rhetoric.

I admire Angela Merkel, while I cannot say the same for the leaders of France and Italy. As for the rest, especially Greece, well...Enough said.

And is the rest of the world in any position to judge?

THE USUAL SUSPECTS

Chains dragging on hands and feet,

shabby grey vines under a three-line whip

demanding satisfaction in the best

interests of the nation, a well-paid-for

education

Casualties of demonstrations against

the best intentions of well-heeled maestros

better schooled (indeed) to take a lead

ostensibly for a common good, knocking

on wood

Let the punishment fit the crime

else a whiff of success rushing to the head,

wins a prime TV slot, makes capital

out of it (if but a reprieve) while shooting

up the stock market

Gold stars for a job well done and liberties

taken, whistle blowers exposed, co-operation

(the key, surely?) sparing us anarchy

and mass destruction while not forgetting

indigenous reparation

Call out the dogs, round up any strays,

keep a weather eye on rebels for ‘los’t causes

lest they get it right, turn one-to-one

into three times three as well as re-inventing

our ABC

Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2011

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]