It's not so Different if you're Gay

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

This poem is from my gay-interest blog archives for March 2012. I confess I had reservations about carrying over some poems from one blog to another, but many readers seem to like it so I will continue, for now at least, especially as health problems (in my 70's now) mean I am not always feeling up to composing new poems. Archives are listed on and can be accessed from the right hand side of any page on this, my gay-interest (G-A-Y in the Subject Field) or fiction (Fiction in the Subject Field) blogs.

Straight and gay friends alike have told me how they thought they had found the love of their lives, only to discover that all he or she wanted was sex.

Now, I'm not knocking sex, but so many of us are in love with the idea of falling in love, and good sex can be very persuasive.  Love, though, now that's something else, and if sex was good before, love adds a whole new dimension and meaning; there is a whole lot more to love than good sex.

Love, loss, grief, pain, relief, happiness, joy...all are feelings common to everyone. I can only say (and should not need to) that...

IT’S NOT SO DIFFERENT IF YOU’RE GAY

Sunshine threw a veil across the sea,

keeping you from me

as we shared the heat of frantic kisses

in anxious embraces;

lithe limbs, every contour of your face,

I dared trace…

among the smouldering ashes of noon,

promises made at dawn

Against your body’s rhythmic heaving,

the poetry of leave-taking

exploded love’s bitter-sweetness in me

(myth v reality?);

Clouds, like exhausted lovers sprawled

on a water bed

turned to the mechanics of bland gesture

signifying bad weather

We put into harbour barely interacting

with each other,

you so distant, anxious to drop anchor

and dash ashore;

a storm broke, but unexpectedly mild,

like the tears of child,

for no better reason than a desire to cry

as did I…

There would be other lovers, other times,

and other poems;

more storms, too, I could be sure of that

and keep a look-out;

yet, if that day on the water played tricks

on me with sex

I took for love, I’d learned the hard way,

it’s no different if you’re gay

  

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

Close Encounters of the Third Age

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

Here's another post from the archives of my gay-interest blog, yet another I had to choose where to post given that we are, each and every one of us, only human, whatever our gender, sexuality or socio-cultural background.

The Third Age - or Old Age as many if not most people call it - is whatever we choose to call and make of it; for many, it is an opportunity to make time for people and / or pastimes that - for whatever reasons - we have either neglected or turned a blind eye/ deaf ear to in the past. Consequently, the human spirit undergoes a transformation, a rejuvenation of sorts for looking forward instead of back all the time; the past cannot be reclaimed, and we need to motivate ourselves for the years ahead, no matter that time is no longer on our side.

A gay friend, growing old(er) like me, once commented with some bitterness that he probably would not be on his own in the winter of his years if he wasn’t gay. ‘Gay relationships are so fragile,’ he said.

That's not only 'loser' talk, it's simply not true. It can be true, yes, but only if we let it.

True, many people find themselves on their own as they get old(er). Some relationships are too fragile to stand the test of time, but that has more to do with people not working at them than their sexuality. (Far too many people take their partners for granted.)  Sadly, some partners die while others fade away into a mist of wishful thinking. No one has to be lonely. There are organisation to join, new people to meet, and if you cannot get out and about easily, there are lots of friends to be made on the Internet. (Don't know how to use the Internet? There are classes for all ages in most areas. Do not own a computer or tablet, whatever?  Here in the UK, most public libraries offer free computer access, and it costs nothing to join or use a public access computer; usually, you only pay for any printouts you may want to take home.

Whatever, the Human Spirit (in all its various shapes and forms) will be a good companion for life if we but let it. Moreover, gay or straight, male or female, we are never too old for romance, and never let anyone tell you differently. The way some people pour scorn on relationships between old(er) people where clearly more than just platonic makes me so angry. Take no notice. They are just jealous. (Okay, sex isn’t everything, but nice work if you can get it…)

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE THIRD AGE

Clouds broke,

made us run for shelter

in a shop doorway;

you spoke first,

but I didn’t catch a word

for wind and rain

I could but trust

my smile would convey

all I wanted to say

as you closed in,

put your mouth to an ear

straining to hear

Breath on my face

sweeter than a love poem,

and I was smitten,

half-forgotten

dreams of youth returning

my embrace

A dull, grey, day,

bringing people together,

no matter we’re gay

or past our prime

for the Rainmaker doesn’t

give a damn

Copyright R. N. Taber 2011

Sometimes Love Doesn't (Quite) Make It

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

Gay or straight, man or woman, I dare say there are a good few people out there whose hearts have been stirred if not broken by a romantic interlude on holiday…or just about any time, anywhere.

Oh, but romance can be so fickle. Love, now that’s something else, and where there’s life…

SOMETIMES LOVE DOESN’T (QUITE) MAKE IT

I’ve strolled in green hills

felt summer’s fingers in my hair,

raindrops like kisses,

envying leafy songbirds

free to fly where they choose

as nature intended,

lying on a bed of heather

its scent invading all my senses

just as you (still) do

We’d stroll in green hills

where you’d run fingers in my hair,

(pausing for kisses)

and write love songs

for the birds, fly where we chose

as nature intended,

lying on a bed of heather

its scent invading all our senses,

all but conquering us

I’ve walked grubby streets

felt summer’s fingers tease my hair,

raindrops like tears,

envying couples holding hands

their sweeter life choices

(or nature at play?)

wishing them kinder places

than sure to invade all the senses,

keep the spoils

Once, we were songbirds flying high,

till a north wind exposed us for a lie

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

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.]

Holiday Romance

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

I was reminded of this poem as I got chatting to a couple of students in my favourite seaside resort of Brighton in East Sussex recently. Both were on holiday from Italy with a view to going to London for Her Majesty The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations this weekend. Having only met for the first time earlier in the day, they were plainly so enjoying each other’s company.

Could it be love, I wondered?

Whatever, holiday romances are meant to be enjoyed to the full.

Photo: Northumberland coast, taken by Judith Rhodes

Oh, to be young and so deliciously romantic again...!!! Ah, but you don’t have to be young, either, to enjoy romance and more.

HOLIDAY ROMANCE 

There's a shadow on the sand

that points across the sea

to a distant land - where once

you walked with me,

your hand in mine, our laughter

like spray in a summer breeze,

desire sparkling like diamonds

all around, our joy the key

to such rapturous harmony

of sea and shore as ever seen

by lovers who have surely passed

that way before

Even now, in a holiday crowd

I hear you laughing aloud

as I hoist our flag upon

a castle in the sand, dreaming

of that distant land - where once

we strayed and dared to dream,

each for the other, wage slaves

baying for the moon, knowing

our time together would be over,

too soon, and we saved all our tears

till after I had flown

Shadow on the sand placing us

2000 years on...

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2000.