This poem is from my gay-interest poetry blog for April 2016.
We cannot help with whom we fall in love, but our love is not always reciprocated in the same way. Loving someone who sees us as a close friend, no more or less, can be hard sometimes. Even so, - whether we are gay or straight, male or female - friendship is a wonderful thing, and if worth having, always worth saving…whatever it takes.
No one gender or sexual orientation has a monopoly on love; it really does have an agenda all its own, and who are we to argue with that?
Any commitment to loving each other is down to those immediately concerned, no one else, whatever our socio-cultural-religious (or sexual) preferences. I put it to you that more of us should respect and at least try to support those choices instead of criticising (or worse) simply because we do not agree with them.
We cannot help with whom we fall in love, but our love is not always reciprocated in the same way. Loving someone who sees us as a close friend, no more or less, can be hard sometimes. Even so, - whether we are gay or straight, male or female - friendship is a wonderful thing, and if worth having, always worth saving…whatever it takes.
No one gender or sexual orientation has a monopoly on love; it really does have an agenda all its own, and who are we to argue with that?
Any commitment to loving each other is down to those immediately concerned, no one else, whatever our socio-cultural-religious (or sexual) preferences. I put it to you that more of us should respect and at least try to support those choices instead of criticising (or worse) simply because we do not agree with them.
LOVE, AN AGENDA ALL ITS OWN
There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write
about the way his hair blows in a breeze
and his face almost vanishes from sight
but for a wicked laughter in the eyes
There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write
about the way his voice eases my pain
like a balm to sores, moon to wintry night,
sunshine filtering through a summer rain
There’s a poem I’ve often tried to write
about the way his hugs near break my heart
and how, as his arms are holding me tight,
it aches for knowing we must quickly part
There’s a friend for whom I often begin
poems I know he’ll wish I’d not written…
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007
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