Jungle Book

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

“The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man known himself to be a fool.” – William Shakespeare

“The best way out is always through.” – Robert Frost

“Clouds come floating into my life no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add colour to my sunset sky.” - Rabindranath Tagore

Now, reader J. H. has emailed to protest about yesterday’s poem being published on both poetry blogs in so far as “... not everyone is interested in LGBT matters.” He or she goes on to say that “... your poems are barely poetry at all, no imagination, merely a medium to put across your own arguments and points of view. Real poetry, like all art forms, is something beautiful...”

Well, show me an art form that does not express the artist’s point of view and I’ll eat my cloth cap; the thing about art, in any form, is that it attempts to offer points of view that some observers may not have the experience or imagination to consider whether or not they agree disagree with that particular standpoint, whether it be the artist’s or anyone else’s. 

Art forms that are simply admired for what the eye sees, regardless of what voices it whispers in the ear, is barely art at all. So yes, if my poetry fails to attract as many listeners as observers, J. H. is spot on in suggesting it is barely poetry at all...?  Even food for thought needs must be digested with care, or not only is taste is sacrificed, but also digestion...

JUNGLE BOOK

Sudden sky, a livid blue canvas
for live art, as creatures great and small
make their presence known
and felt to any mind-boy-spirit choosing
to host nature’s art work,
engage with a potential for imagination,
escape, if only briefly, the greater
threats to everyday life that it needs must face
in own time and personal space

Lions and elephants, free to roam
jungles where no hunters care to go, no sport
to be had here, only the art
of inner eyes, hosted by escapees from a world
for which there are no words,
only anxiety and pain, well-deserving respite,
heart-and-soul left free to journey
where it may, unshackled from any inhibitions
as would see it lose its way...

Here-and-Now on hold, if only briefly 
while we take cover from slings and arrows,
take pleasure in taking pleasure
for its own sake, letting moving fingers write
words we never learned to say,
paint similes and metaphors in the sky to which
art forms can only aspire, no comfy fire
but a sunburst of imagination out of nowhere,
resembling an elusive Somewhere

I see dragons rearing their scaly heads
alongside fearless sheep and even smiling faces
peering into the real me, reserves
I can draw on whenever I need to raise a grin,
even as I limp home on marathon days,
having to rely on kinder life forces than worldly
aids to see me through,
mind-body-spirit failing, close to dying as living,
yet closer still to an inspired loving

Throughout the day, various skyscapes
invade my thought processes, but never warlike,
even in stormy weather, any images
running for cover, eventually assuming hues
of splendid sunsets inclined,
to message through art forms of its own,
walking, talking shadows
engaging the nature of the art of communication,
in defining and redefining imagination

May any mind-body-spirit that finds itself
walled in by its own inhibitions and inability to see
beyond limited horizons, unite its whole,
let it see-hear-feel such meanings in art that pose
food for thought, make doors of walls,
entrances to such realms of interest and concern
hitherto left unexplored,
lessons yet to be learned, not least for wondering why
there should be jungle creatures in the sky... 

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2022

 

 

Family Ties

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

This poem is from my gay-interest poetry blog archives for August 2009.

A reader asks why I should encourage people to dip into both blogs on the grounds that "What straight person would be interested in a load of homoerotic poetry?" Yes, there are some poems there that might be considered mildly homoerotic, but I started the blog for two reasons: (1) to encourage  any gay people to feel good about themselves wherever they feel put down by those in the home and/or socio-cultural- religious environment simply for their sexuality and (2) to educate those who insist on putting us down for our sexuality into a better understanding of the whole LGBT ethos and how misleading stereotypes give a false impression of what it means to be gay to a gay person. I have said it many times on the blogs and will say it again; we are all part of a common humanity, and the keyword should be mutual respect.

Whatever happened to respect, I ask you! A person only has to adopt a different point of view these days to be verbally and/or physically abused. World religions preach love and peace, but many religious people are disrespectful to anyone who follows a different religion or (like me) subscribes to no religion at all.

A cleric once said to me that family is at the heart if any religion. "religion is a family," he said, "and we should love and respect one another as we would our immediate family." yet I have met numerous gay men and women  disowned and cast out by both their immediate and religious 'families'; if that isn't a 'sin', it is an attitude or dogma that deserves less respect than any LGBT ethos. Fortunately there are many religious (and other) people in this world who have open hearts, open minds and will take anyone as they find them without rushing to judgement; sadly, these are relatively few. My gay-interest blog targets such bigots among us as well as LGBT readers.

Now, regular readers will already have some idea how my father was jealous of anyone who - as he saw it - came between him and my mother. That included his children. It was one reason he and I had an appalling relationship from my early childhood into adulthood that never improved.

My mother fretted about my relationship with my father. In latter years, she told me not to tell my father or brother I was gay as it would only make things worse. [If they guessed, I daresay I will never know as my father died in 1985 and my brother and I have been estranged since that year also]. We were never a close family although my mother liked to think so.

My mother’s anxiety regarding my sexuality dragged on my nerves and conscience for years. It was not until a few years after her death (in 1976 ) that I finally came out as a gay man and stayed out (I had been selectively in and out, here and there like a jack-in-the-box for years).

Much as I still miss my mother - a remarkable woman in many ways and to whom I was very close - it was (and still is) a good feeling to be free of all that parental angst. I have always envied families who are close and where, in spite of whatever differences individual members might have with each other, mutual love and respect will always win through.

Most parents want the best for their children but should remember and respect the fact that their children might have different ideas as to what is best for them.

It is a wise parent who will let a child find his or her own way in life while letting them know their love is unconditional. They should not impose their own desires and/ or go the way of emotional blackmail as many do. Parents should be role models and mentors, not jailers (intentionally or otherwise). The latter is nothing less than a form of mental cruelty…from which the scars are slow to heal and some never do.

Family ties should be a joy, not a ball and chain.

This poem is a villanelle.

FAMILY TIES

How I long to be free
(in a world usurping Nature's crown)
of maternal anxiety

And I would assuage paternity
though not for me, ambition's clown.
How I long to be free!

I seek good company
to lift the heart, ease the kindly frown
of maternal anxiety.

A gay inspiration fills me
(or in paternal conflict, surely drown)
How I long to be free!

Father, will you walk with me?
Any jealousy (just for once) no clone
of maternal anxiety…

What matter, the stains of history
on a much cherished christening gown?
How I long to be free
of maternal anxiety...

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2000; 2018

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised (5th stanza) since first appearing in Love And Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000; poetic licence with the use of 'clone'.]

Human Spirit, the Making of Us (All)

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

This poem can also be found in my gay-interest blog archives for May 2012.

There will always be some who refuse to get their heads around the fact that there are millions of us gay people amongst all humankind making as equally valuable a contribution to its humanity as our heterosexual neighbours. The trouble is, humankind comprises multiple closed shops marketing multiple closed hearts under various socio-cultural-religious and political umbrellas. Fortunately, the human spirit is an open house and will yet see the  greater part of humanity prove itself the better for that.

Spirituality emanates from a person's mind-body-spirit; no religion has a monopoly on it. It has always struck me as absurd to suggest that a non-religious person cannot, by default, experience a sense of spirituality; bonding with nature is no less of a spiritual experience than embracing God as defined by whatever dogma. Yes, people will argue for one concept or another, but is it not agreeing to differ that makes us human?

HUMAN SPIRIT, THE MAKING OF US (ALL)

When folks ask why I’m gay,
I tell them I was born this way

Some will say it can’t be true,
any God has better things to do
than create distorted images
to blot humankind’s copybook,
rewrite history’s pages,
make religions take a long look
at themselves, leave cultures
to those power-hungry vultures
that love to preach and lead,
assuming their authority as read

Some suggest my sexuality
is irreconcilable with spirituality;
they, so blessedly taken in
by interpretations of Holy Books,
a case for eternity that brooks
no argument among those afraid
of condoning, let alone trying
to understand bigotry they’re sold
by those we’re told know better
how best we live with one another

People accuse me of blasphemy
(at best, a penchant for immorality)
thus putting me on the defensive
for what has to be a clear distortion
of what Holy Books have in mind
for each person (Oh, so what am I?);
Ah, but taking issue asks we see
how and why there is a place for each
and every one of us, regardless
of ethnicity, creed, sex or sexuality

Those folks who ask why I am as I am
might well ask the same of themselves

Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2016

[Note: An earlier draft of this poem under the title ‘Found Wanting' appears in Tracking the Torchbearer by R. N. Taber, Assembly Book, 2012]

Real-Life Heroes and Popcorn Soldiers

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

I know I have said this before but it never ceases to amaze me how, when terrible clips of deaths and injuries suffered during the war in Afghanistan are shown on TV News, some people - especially children and young people - instead of being appalled, become excited, as if they were watching a war movie!

Oh, but it’s a sad reflection on our times if we cannot get across to everyone how to discriminate between fact and fiction.

REAL-LIFE HEROES AND POPCORN SOLDIERS

Dust, sand and blood

on his boots;

dust, sand and blood

on his uniform;

blood, sweat and tears

on his face;

blood, sweat and tears

in his eyes;

only a quiet heart kept

clean if not safe;

as for more of the same,

bags of them

No dust, sand or blood

on designer shoes;

no dust, sand or blood

on custom tee shirts;

no blood, sweat or tears

in high places;

no blood, sweat or tears

in eyes glued to TV,

only the armchair soldier

biting popcorn bullets;

as for more of the same,

bags of them

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2010