Home Fronts

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

A new poem today. I am not well at the moment so hope you like it. I started writing it to cheer me up as I had been feeling very low; it certainly worked I that respect so …

Now, fear is no stranger to most if not all of us, especially now as the Covid-19 coronavirus continues to ravage communities around the world.

As a child I was afraid of being misunderstood as I was inept at properly expressing myself vocally; to some extent, I still am. As a youth and young man, I feared being exposed and beaten up for being gay; fortunately circumstances - notably my mother’s death when I was 30 – helped me to be open about my sexuality; while my mother could not have cared less,  she would have shared my secret with other members of my family who - although they may well hotly deny it now - were not gay-friendly (to say the least) in those days. Later, I would be unemployed for nearly four years after a nervous breakdown; as I recovered, I was scared I’d never work again just as I was scared I would never walk again after being warned it was a possibility after a bad accident in 2011, the same year I was diagnosed with prostate cancer.

Time and again, Fear has threatened me with all sorts as it does so many of us; yes, it’s scary, but I’d say, when it comes to allies in times of adversity, the human spirit is up to the challenge … if we but learn to keep faith with it. Never expect plain sailing all the way, though.

Fear drove me to attempt ‘emigrating’ in 1969 with near-disastrous results Indeed, fear continued to all but take over my life until I finally acknowledged its power over me and resolved to hit back rather than try and run away; no point in the latter, I finally recognised,  since fear would always catch up with me unless I stood up to it once and for all. I still have certain fears … of acute pain, losing friends to coronavirus or whatever … but (apart from pain) no others that spring to mind. Religious associates have told me I should fear death as I do not subscribe to any religion beyond an affinity with Pantheism, but no God of Love or Nature is going to send me to some ‘Hell’  for either refusing to let dogma tell me how to live my life, or my being gay. If life has taught me little else it is that hell is what we, ourselves, make of it from time to time, a human condition in which, yes, Fear can be relied upon to play a central role.

Fear wears many faces and takes on various personae. I defy anyone say, hand on heart, that he or she is afraid of nothing; but if we cannot beat it, at least we can do our best to stand up to it, face it head-on, and let it know we are no pushover. I only hope that when the Grim Reaper finally comes for yours truly, I can still find the strength to do just that.

Meanwhile, I take my strength from my friends, my favourite ghosts and my poetry. Is that enough? What is ever ‘enough’ but, yes, it will do nicely, thank you … wry bardic grin

HOME FRONTS

No one looks for me,

but be sure I'll find them whoever,

wherever they may be,

nor am I rejected easily, resisting 

any denial of my existing 

at the heart of mind-body-spirit;

though I intrude like a thief

in the night, nor ever dissuaded

by any absence of light

They often wear a mask,

attempt to assuming another persona

to the one I insinuate,

dragging on any positive thoughts,

until they litter a landscape 

of despair, no-one to the rescue,

wannabe heroes put to flight

for a curtain of fake news falling

even on inner sight

Ah, but who comes here,

wagging a feisty finger at you-me-us,

but an ally of sorts,

pointing out that any battles lost

leave a war you can yet win,

other positive forces on standby,

urging you don't cave in, 'you'

whom a common humanity sees

as one of its own

I am Fear, never one to be easily ignored

unless made to fall on my own sword

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2020, rev. 2021

[Note: Eagle-eyed readers will see that I have revised this poem since it first appeared on the blog; it also appears on my gay-interest poetry blog today. While, yes, poetry is universal and would hope to address anyone, feedback suggests that many readers continue to only only access one blog or the other.] RNT

 

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

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