Celebrations ringing True, ringing False

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Sometime next year, hopefully in the spring, a selection of my general and  gay-interest poems will be published by Austin Macauley (London and New York); it is the first time a mixed selection of new and revised poems will be so widely available in bookstores around the world, and I am hoping it will fare well enough to allow for a follow-up volume. Here is no money in poetry, of course, but your support can only help give it a stronger voice in the modern world. I am 72 now, and have been living with prostate cancer for nearly eight years so may well be living on borrowed time. One day, the Grim Reaper will come calling, and I dare say my blogs will eventually descend into some digital Black Hole …

Ah, but still looking on the bright side of life here, and not ready for the G R just yet.

Meanwhile …

Every year for some years now, I have sent gay and gay-friendly straight friends a poem instead of a card as I am not really a Christmassy person and do not subscribe to any religion. Well, Christmas is almost upon us and I would like to take this opportunity to thank you, my readers – whatever colour, creed or sexuality, wherever you are and whether you dip into just one, both. or even all three of my blogs - for letting me into your lives.

CELEBRATIONS RINGING TRUE, RINGING FALSE

Christmas, ringing out loud and clear,

carol singers at the front door

mistletoe and ivy in the living room,

customised fir trees everywhere

dressed up with fairy lights signalling

festive cheer

Christmas, ringing out loud and clear,

children, live portraits of delight

embracing the stuff of winter dreams,

home comforts and joy everywhere,

all dressed up in laughter if only to hide

splitting seams

Christmas, ringing out loud and clear,

mums and dads denying the cost,

refusing to put a price on getting away

from a world in pain everywhere

all dressed up in promises of another day,

another year

Christmas, ringing out loud and clear,

celebrating the birth of a boy

believed by Christians to be the Christ

reaching out to a world in despair

in peace and love superseding any dogma

anywhere

Christmas, ringing out loud and clear,

disturbing the rough sleeper

fearful of waking to cold, snow, hunger,

home comforts but chinks

in curtains wrapping up my brother’s keeper

in make-believe

Copyright R. N. Taber 2018

Christmas, Cue for an Open Heart

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For years now I have written a general and gay-interest Poem for Christmas and sent it to everyone on my contact list instead of a Christmas card, not least because (as other poems on the blog may well illustrate) I am not a particularly Christmassy person.  It is my pleasure to share this one with you; the other will appear on my gay blog and both will appear on my Google Plus site. (Although I have a gay and general poetry site, as far as I am concerned, a poem is a poem is a poem, regardless of content which is why I am pleased to post both on Google Plus.)

Incidentally, some of you may be interested to know that I am giving a sponsored poetry reading for Prostate Cancer UK on World Poetry Day, May 21, 2017. I will not only be celebrating having seen my poetry in print for 60 years (my first poem appeared in my school magazine, 1957) but also living with prostate cancer for 6+ years. 

As I am not a religious person, Christmas means nothing to me in that sense. While I can appreciate and respect the fact that religious festivals are important to those who wish to celebrate their religion, it often seems to me (being gay) that any messages of love, peace and goodwill to everyone are little more than empty words. 

Religions are only closed shops, though, if their followers choose to make them so; many if not most (but not all, thank goodness) have closed hearts, open only to those who follow its dogma to the letter. (Heaven forbid, anyone should ‘deviate’ even in the name of humanity). Any inhumanity is easily put aside for a Heaven that’s any sheep’s reward for not having the temerity to stray from the dogmatic fold as preached by ‘betters’ who would appear to have His (or Her?) ear. 

Some readers may think my Christmas poems disrespectful, but I can assure you that it is not towards religion that I am so minded but towards those who - in my experience - pay little more than lip service to the major lessons (any) religion professes to preach; e.g. peace,  love, equality, respect and fairness amongst a common humanity…

Thank you for reading my blog/s, hope you have found plenty to enjoy, and here’s wishing you all a VERY Happy Christmas. 

CHRISTMAS, CUE FOR AN OPEN HEART

A pet is not just
for Christmas
nor should December
have a monopoly
on spreading peace 
and goodwill

Love is not just
for Christmas
nor should celebrating
any religion
mean shutting one
up or out

Caring is not just
for Christmas
nor can token gestures
of goodies
repay neglecting
the real thing

Mind, body, spirit,
have no need 
of fairy lights on trees,
decorations,
or even and being seen 
going to prayers

Let’s celebrate
the heart
that’s open all seasons
and all hours,
no one turned away,
no excuses 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

Come the Spirit of Christmas

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Some people think I am an oddball because I don’t celebrate Christmas. Well, for a start, I do not subscribe to any religion. Yet, as regular readers well know, I like to think I have a strong sense of spirituality although I fake it from my relationship with nature rather than religion.

I often spend Christmas Day on my own and enjoy watching some great DVDs and not having to make an effort for anyone. Selfish, perhaps, but this time of year brings back many bad and sad memories, and I prefer to get through it in my own way. Yes, I may get a wee moody now and then, but on the whole I can relax and do my own thing in my own way without any well-meaning people telling me what I should do or how I should feel.

Even so, a part of me relates to what is meant to be a celebration of peace and love and togetherness. (Could it be an element of pagan in me, having been born on the winter solstice…?)

Whatever, I wish all family, friends and readers peace and love now and always. (Regular readers will know that I have nothing in common with my own family and those with whom I have got on well, loved even, are no longer with us, but that doesn't mean I don't wish the rest every happiness.)

As for the Christian message of peace and goodwill to all ... would that it it prevail always, and across all socio-cultural-religious divisions. Ah, but if only ... !

COME , SPIRIT OF CHRISTMAS

What does Christmas mean to me?

peace and love need no pretty fir tree,

no decorations, no Christmas fare,

only to spread goodwill everywhere 

What does Christmas mean to me?

The sum of all I am that’s my history;

trying to do better by each new day,

and be a better person, come what may

What does Christmas mean to me?

Beggars on streets (give generously);

No in-fighting on wings of prayer,

world religions feeding on its despair

What does Christmas mean to me?

(A cure for HIV-Aids… oh, let it be!)

Let every day be a Christmas Day,

respecting one another, straight or gay

What does Christmas mean to you?

But listen to your heart and answer true

(else we become our worst enemy);

peace and love need no Christmas tree

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

Looking out for Christmas, Anyone?

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Yes, Christmas will be with us in less than a month. However, not everyone enjoys a happy Christmas. For homeless people and others down on their luck, it is a time much like any other time...unless we can somehow make it special for them too.

Years ago, I met a homeless gay man who had been physically ejected from his family home on Christmas Day after his father discovered he is gay. This Christmas, I know of a couple on the run from their families who disapprove of their relationship because they are on opposing sides of the same religion. [If God doesn't mind, why should anyone else?]

No matter what religious festival is being celebrated at whatever time of year, a little understanding goes a long way. It is, after all, part of the pact we make with love. And what worth any religion without love in it? I am told that the God in whom so many people believe is a God of Love. Take love out of the prayer and ritual and all I imagine He sees is someone enjoying an ego trip.

We can't always expect to understand those we love and may not always agree with them, but that doesn't (or shouldn't) mean we love them less. It has always been one of humankind's greater tragedies that too many of us let socio-cultural-religious traditions dictate how we live, even love.

At the heart of every religious celebration is (or should be) love in all its shapes and forms...or what is there left that any God would have anyone celebrate?  

LOOKING OUT FOR CHRISTMAS, ANYONE?

Come, hear the bells of Christmas

though lost, alone, in the snow,

recalling times past when we’d leave

a card for Santa, hot cocoa

and a mince pie, try to sleep while

listening out for reindeer hooves

pounding across the sky, a cheery cry

ringing loud and clear for children

everywhere to hear, know (for sure)

that we are loved, no matter who

we are or how our lives shaping up,

whether or no we’re finding signs

of Christmas or much the same cruelty

(or worse) than the day before

Peering ahead down an endless road,

lost souls, alone, no place to go

till time (at last) to reclaim gifts of love

and peace, count blessings, let bells

speak for us, echo high and low, anxious

to share out the joys of Christmas,

fearful for lost souls looking for refuge

from a bitter-sweet winter snow
where no pretty flowers able to grow
yet nurtured out of sight and light
by Earth Mother, chief carer for a world
beyond even mind-body-spirit,
where all the odds stacked high against
mutual understanding or trust

Copyright R. N. Taber 2003; 2013

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised since it first appeared in Christmas Remembered, Anchor Books [Forward Press] 2003 and subsequently in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]

Winter, life forces in the Snow

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For some people, winter is a time for looking back at kinder, happier, better, days, especially those who may find themselves alone at times like Christmas and other festive and/or religious occasions meant to be a time of coming together in a spirit of love and peace. Yet love-and-peace is neither seasonal nor an excuse for making out all is well with the world when it's not, but an all year round perennial, no excuses; we have but to believe in it and be prepared to play our part - big or small - to make it happen

(Photo taken from the Internet)

(Photo taken from the Internet)

The trick, so I'm told by wiser folks than me, is to draw on that same feeling for love-and-peace that once inspired us, and let it inspire us into renewal;  just as spring always follows winter so, too, that springtime of the heart if we but choose to let it go there. Sometimes, we don't need to colour things simply because - if we want it to be - the truth is plain to see in glorious black and white; colour it by all means, but we need to let our better senses do that for us.

WINTER, LIFE FORCES IN THE SNOW

Earth and sky coloured ominous

one midnight in midwinter

when I looked out of my window

to see a heavy snow falling,

thought I heard an owl calling me

(No, mistaken, surely ...?)

Then I saw it, silvery bird gliding

phantom-like, summoning
images of a lace tablecloth gracing

our table, oh, so many years ago,

when love-and-peace would spread
its wings and voice its pain

No family now, only a scattering

of memories like winter snow

piling on a branch by my window,

heaped higher even than regrets

these eyes glaring back at me deny

(or could it be they lie?)

Gone, the owl now, weary wings

but wistful, fleeting, moments

like characters in a classic movie
colouring themselves shades
of some broken rainbow colouring
decades of wishful thinking

The wind is up. A blizzard throws

an angry net over glaring traffic

on the night shift, testing the weary

and fainthearted, suggesting

an omnipresence if only to make up
for any human shortfall

Will nature stand by and let owl die

or lend it such sanctuary as found

under a cosy duvet inviting us to close

the eyes, bury the face, leave owl

winging winter's worst, not our fault
if that's just the way it is?

The heart, it yearns for the colours
of spring to bring it back to life,
recover perspectives long since flown,
comfort where there is but pain
for the way life was before its landscape
changed so ... or was it me, us?

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2018

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears under the title 'Shot in Black and White'  Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.]

A Christmas Truce

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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]