Seagulls Over Brighton Pier

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

Given that it has a gay-interest story line, I am thrilled that feedback suggests many gay-friendly straight readers, including some parents, are also enjoying it.

Dog Roses comprises 25 chapters + Epilogue so I hope you will enjoy it through to the end; when a terrible tragedy strikes, Rob, its narrator, for all his flaws,  eventually finds new strengths among family, friends and colleagues, a wiser and better person:

http://rogertaberfiction.blogspot.co.uk/2011/07/dog-roses-chapter-one_14.html

Meanwhile...

Today’s poem has not appeared on the blog since 2009 and is another favourite of mine. Regular readers will know that I have been visiting Brighton (East Sussex, UK) for many years, since I was about eight or nine years-old. (Born in 1945, I will be 66 later this year.) Its ghosts are never far away; a dear late partner, mother, cousin and old friends are always happy to keep me company here, there and just about everywhere. In this particular instance, it is the only partner fate has seen fit to allow me, if only for a short while; on Earth, that is, since our love has lasted for the greater part of my life and will endure beyond it.

So where do you meet with your favourite ghosts? [Never shut them out.]

Oh, but I’m being fanciful, did you say? Of course I’m being fanciful. I ask you. What use is a poet without imagination, and what use imagination if it cannot work its magic on anyone? When people tell me they have no imagination, I tell them to get in touch with their feelings (the power source for imagination) and go with the flow...

SEAGULLS OVER BRIGHTON PIER

I met a ghost once on Brighton pier,
greeting me warmly like an old friend,
lightly dismissing my fear;
although its features were blurred,
I recognized a cheeky catch in the voice
and my doubts disappeared

A passer-by wore a queer expression,
shook his head at us, no empathy there
with the poetry of illusion;
an old woman walking with a child
looked nervous and quickened her step;
the child saw us and smiled

Halcyon days rolled determinedly by
like a sure tide taking on Brighton beach
in time’s tearful eye;
I barely felt an embrace, only desire,
and your kisses left my mouth feeling dry,
my whole body on fire

I strained to hear such words of love
making a bonfire of all self-pity and grief,
smoky clouds above
absorbing us into a gull’s cry,
now circling, now swooping, lending us
its wings to fly…

With good grace, let’s soar and share
a lifetime of love as feisty as Brighton pier
in summer, even winter;
no more will halcyon days pass me by
since I know now for sure you’ll stay near
and seagulls don’t lie

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