Points of View

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

Rising above a deteriorating quality of life these days, mostly due to various health issues, I am rarely in the mood to reply to emails unless they are from friends and/or about poetry or such passions as also provide mind-body spirit with creative therapy as well as a healthy emotional diet.  However, someone who signs themselves ’an elderly male reader’ has expressed despair at being “...unable, for various reasons, to make love to my partner of nearly thirty years.” and worries that the partner “... is already  looking elsewhere, and I will be left alone...”

I am in no position to advise as I have been without a partner for the best part of a lifetime, but I have been in love and I strongly suspect that this reader has nothing to fear. It is important, though, that he and his partner talk about this. Too many of us fail to discuss our more intimate concerns with loved ones; either we are embarrassed and/ or fear the possible outcome. Whatever, it is always better to know than just suspect; the latter can only loose all manner of demons upon us, not the least being jealousy.

As regular readers will know, years of hormone therapy for my prostate cancer has left me with no appetite for sex in any form; even porn mags don’t turn me on. At first, it left me feeling emotionally inadequate, and I missed the sheer pleasure of lovemaking. Now, though, I take pleasure even more pleasure in such simple delights as meeting up and putting the world to rights (as if!) with friends and/or visiting places I love, whether for real or in my imagination.  

While I don’t miss sex anymore, I can appreciate that it's not the same for everyone, nor do all men of a certain age lose either their appetite for sex or their ability/ inclination to perform. Even so, the expression ‘making love’ is something of a misnomer, to say the least; love is not made, it is created between soulmates who are mutually inspired by letting it grow and mature. 

There is great pleasure to be taken from sex between partners who are physically attracted to one another, and nothing wrong with it at all, but whether or not they fall in love, that is something else altogether.

A heart-to-heart between this reader and his partner will establish the emotional paths both need to take; should the partner need to continue satisfying his or her sexual appetite the reader should try not  see this as a poor reflection on their love for one another. Easier said than done, I agree, but life is rarely easy in every way. Such are the ways of love that they, too, are no less inclined to test mind-body-spirit from time to time, trusting it to pass with flying colours... or not, as the case maybe.

POINTS OF VIEW

At open windows by the sea,
listening to waves telling and retelling
stirring tales of derring-do,
discovery and exploration, lifting
spirits while breaking hearts
of those left counting days and nights
before any returns on dreams
likely to leave pride in tears, love in pain,
time after time, and time again 

At open windows on cornfields,
leafy woodlands and all manner of bird
and beast sure to nurture
its natural surroundings in the time left
before the human race,
cocksure of ways and means to match
any end-of-world scenarios,
continues to confuse its images of progress
with paths of peace and happiness 

At open windows on the world,
expecting even more from its seasons,
in demonstrating our worth,
nature and human nature, each as vulnerable
as the other to kindness
and neglect, pride, disrespect. even violence
as weathered during Earth Mother’s
labour pains for both peopling and colouring
landscapes worth the nurturing 

At dead of night, left to reflect
on such life-forces as have inspired us
to let love light up our lives, thereby creating
a kinder, wiser personal space, addressing
past mistakes, shying away
from a Here-and-Now that’s dependent
on algorithms as may well suffice,
but never replace innate sensibilities, life forces
defining Earth Mother for centuries... 

Reminding nature-and-human-nature how progress
is best judged by its capacity for alleviating distress

Copyright R. N. Taber 2021

Sunny Days, Passing Storms

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

Many if not most of us have to weather a winter of the heart at some time during our lives; sometimes a winter that never quite passes, but surrenders to spring and other, kinder seasons of life as it proceeds to beat for the best rather than the worst of times. It is then we most need to be reassured that we are loved; it is love, and love alone, that comforts us and will see us through to another spring. It may be the love of family, friends, or perhaps a pet. Whatever, can there be anything sadder than a person having no love in their life to which they can turn for comfort and inspiration in his or her hour of need?

I once worked with a Home Library Service. Among many lovely people I visited on a regular basis was a very old lady who lived alone. I asked her once if she was lonely. She replied, “In the sense that I miss people, yes. But how can I be lonely for long in the company of so many ghosts who love me as I love them? Memory, you know, doesn’t have to be a well of tears. It can just as easily be a garden of all things bright and beautiful that will never stop growing unless you stop caring for them. Stop caring, “she added with a dazzling smile, “and you’re all but dead already.” 

SUNNY DAYS, PASSING STORMS 

Wintry sunshine, breaking through

a fine mist of fun things done,

summer places known, kinder times

to memory consigned yet gladly retrieved

now and then when we are lonely, to enjoy

all over again like a toy always kept

in a special place that’s yours, mine, ours,

for rediscovering things that matter

more than rose-tinted tears of self-pity;

the simple joys of peace of mind

secured by friendship’s hugs, kisses,

cuddles, confiding poems, making plans

(though they be but daydreams)

and caring about each other, even apart;

let fiction against fact conspire

to distract us and a storm break, together

we’ll weather whatever challenges

the dark side of nature may throw down

or a gossipy neighbour just across the street,

curtains (forever) unsubtly twitching

No friendship is surer than upon itself

freely feeding or love as enduring,

no matter that some seize any opportunity

to redefine, malign its intimacy ...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2014

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in first editions of Accomplices To Illusion by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised edition in e-format in preparation.]

First Symphony, Play On ...

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

Who can ever forget the first time they made love, and discovered that religion does not have a monopoly on spirituality...? 

'If music be the food of love, play on...' [Shakespeare, Twelfth Night]

FIRST SYMPHONY, PLAY ON ....

Our very first lovemaking 
saw me nervous, shy,

and very unsure of myself,

scared you might

feel let down, disappointed

in me, that I wouldn’t

send the same electric shocks

through your whole body

as you were passing into mine

with every deft caress,

each lingering kiss on my lips,

gently tongued apart

for strawberries and cream

on as glorious a summer’s day
as to waken the dead

My fears, they melted away

the more I felt at ease 
and safe with you, learning 
how best to respond 
to the all-inspiring rhythm 
of a your nakedness
teaching me that same symphony

of sex as composed

by the twin spirits of Passion
and Desire, worshipped 
by lovers across all time and space;
fine men and women 
creating brave new worlds
for future generations to explore, 
and leave their mark

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.]

The Secret Garden

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

This poem has not appeared on the blog although I posted it on my gay-interest blog back in January 2009.

Gay or straight, we are all entitled to some privacy and deserve respect, not condemnation, for personal decisions we make for reasons that are perhaps best known only to ourselves. A straight couple who read the poem in my collection have asked for this poem to be posted on the blog. They, too, have problem with prejudice. Both are Muslims but one is a Sunni and the other a Shia, branches of Islam historically opposed to each other. As a result, they are in hiding from family and friends.

Few important decisions that we are called upon to make in this life are easily made. Yes, we might think someone has made a wrong decision but it is their decision to make and their life that will be affected by it…not ours. Some people, instead of judging others, would do well to wonder how others judge them.

We all, each and every one of us, need support and encouragement to feel GOOD about ourselves. Only in this way can we do our bit, privately and publicly, for the general GOOD of our particular society and help make the world a better, kinder place; one in which people count for who they are, regardless of colour, creed, sex, sexuality, age or position in life with regard to wealth, poverty, career, vocation or whatever…

For humankind to deserve surviving its custom made slings and arrows, it needs to demonstrate its humanity. As I have said before and will almost say again…take humanity out of any socio-cultural-religious equation and all that’s left is Ground Zero.

THE SECRET GARDEN

Mouth on mine
devouring a lonely heart,
imploring me to start
living again and forget
we were but strangers
in the rain, shy glances
at shop windows
regretting missed chances,
non-starter romances

Hands on my body,
driving lonely avenues,
past secret gardens
blooming with flowers,
fruits of light showers,
lonely hours keeping busy
rather than let feelings
of intimacy get the better
of me; a native sexuality
more a part of me than
hand thrust in glove,
whose familiarity brings
warmth, sensuality
words can never explain
any more than strangers
like us, seeking to come
in from the rain

Penetrating the silence
of my soul, a driving force
I never thought to know
again, bringing truth and life
to my secret garden,
songbirds leading the world
in heavenly celebration
of such perfect harmony,
as you and me

Sexuality, as deserving a flower
as any of due nurture


Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2010

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]