Sunday, 19 May 2013

Sleeping Dogs

While I love to receive your emails and will always reply, there is no need to commiserate with my having so few followers. I dare say I might have more if I allowed comments, but there are too many idiots out there spoiling blogs with silly comments so I prefer to accept none at all. I have no wish to create a social network. I also have few followers on Twitter and Google. Even so, both blogs are likely to hit 40,000 page views by the end of June so that can’t be bad…especially  perhaps for a poet in his late 60's who also happens to be gay.

Now, we don’t always appreciate the effect our words and/or actions might have on others, even loved ones. It is so easy to be well-meaning yet misunderstood. Yet, if a relationship is worth saving it is worth fighting for, and all parties should make time to talk things through…

I have been let down badly by friends and family in the past (haven’t we all?). Sometimes we have talked things through and grown closer. However, there have been times when much, as I would have liked to talk things through, some people only have ears for what they want to hear. Our friendship was, but a mirage. I dare say they feel the same about me, but for all my faults, I am always ready to talk things through…with people prepared to consider points of view other than their own. It is rarely a question of who is right or wrong but simply bearing in mind that, just as we may easily bruise ourselves so, too, it is easy to unintentionally inflict hurt.

The better you know someone, the least likely you are to want to hurt them, and vice versa. The closer you are, though, the easier it becomes to do just that. All relationships need to be worked at; some people simply are not prepared to put in the effort so never really get to know anyone that well.


Love may well never die
nor friendship, but sometimes
both may well lie sleeping
within a heart grown, oh, so weary
behind eyes brought
to weeping for all those things
not as we would have them;
accepted, understood, forgiven even,
and never quite forgot,
but left asleep in the arms
of every dreamer
that ever loved or had a friend
where love and friendship
not returned in kind, or even in part
if we include untold damage
to the heart, ignorance of some crisis
of body and spirit neither love
nor friendship can impart to a mind
open only to its own desires,
fires of inspiration fed by flames
of desperation, a reaching-out
for an ideal expecting every opportunity
to wear appropriate regalia,
those spectators by any other name

In time, we appreciate
(only too well) what we're up against,
we friends and would-be lovers
left waiting at a gate,
we know will never open unless
by whim of a kinder fate, by which time
the chances are it will be too late

Rarely will lost friendships and loves,
though stirring in quiet hearts
every now and then, chance returning
to how (one wistful once-upon-a- time)
things might have been…

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2013

[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books 2005]

No comments :