Shades of Comic Genius (and Quinquagenarian Angst)

 

From Roger’s good friend – Graham

 

Sap is rising, shoots are sprouting and buds are throbbing in anticipation…

Today’s poem ‘Shades of Comic Genius’ offers an amusing take on a couple who rediscover the passions of youth in their later years. A blaze of glory as they surrender to the unbridled urges of nature and cast away, if briefly, the burden of age. It’s an enchanting example of the whimsical aspect in some of Roger’s writing.

Speaking of age, I imagine that cresting past that mid-life hill can be daunting for many of those in my generation. Especially if they find themselves single and there’s an incentive to maintain that sylph-like physique of youth! Although that objective does become a bit of a pipedream, unfortunately, as years advance.

It’s an unsightly truth that age and gravity conspire to steer one’s finest assets on a southward migration. Looking in the mirror recently, I was reminded of one of those mudslide events that you might see in a disaster movie. Although I consider myself fortunate that I can still glimpse my feet between shoegazing moobs. (It’s certainly a stark contrast with the type of ‘hangovers’ I faced during my student days.) Sitting in the bath the other day was reminiscent of a baggy old armchair that had become waterlogged.

As if that wasn’t bad enough I was disappointed recently when my young niece asked me why I appeared to be frowning in some of the family photos. I had to explain that I was just facing down slightly and the mouth was sagging. She was kind enough to offer the assistance of a photo enhancer app although I gratefully declined. (Fastening a large bulldog clip to the back of the scalp might be more effective?)

I remember poor Rog complaining about ten years ago about his midriff getting wider. He was worried about becoming ‘bell-shaped’. I couldn’t think of anything diplomatic to say so I suggested that at least, he’d be the ‘belle of the ball’. Fortunately he was immune to my cheeky banter and laughed. Latterly, his avoidance of dairy products seemed to stop the expanding girth which was some consolation.

Much of the time we tried to laugh about our frailties and work around them. Or imagine, at least, that our salad days hadn’t entirely withered on the vine. Anyway, it’s good to throw caution to the wind sometimes; budding with memories from the bloom of youth…

 

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‘She said she was approaching forty, and I couldn't help wondering from what direction’. Bob Hope (British-born American entertainer).

 

*  *  *

 

SHADES OF COMIC GENIUS
(For old[er] people everywhere)

We stripped naked under a leafy sky,
saw our bodies turn gold,
for a while forgot about growing old

Rediscovering youth’s feisty passion
we surfed its glorious tide,
put aches, pains and home truths aside

A balmy breeze gave us its blessing
and songbirds sang amen
while halcyon days revisited us again

Though years pass and take their toll,
the spirit of adventure remains
to seize the day, throw off its chains

If love is the greatest adventure of all,
sex is but half the story,
a shared empathy, its power and glory

We dressed quickly, nature applauding
bodies frayed at the seams
acknowledging its comedy of dreams

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010. From the collection On the Battlefields of Love

 

*  *  *

 

I’ve also included a jokey poem that I found in an old email which never quite made the grade for publication (‘Senior Moments…’) . However, it ties in so well I’ve included it. I think older readers will appreciate it...

 

SENIOR MOMENTS or GROWING OLD WITH CHUCKLES
(And, no, Chuckles is not my cat.)

This little poem of mine
may well be missing the occasional line
since senior moments with me
are as common as sugar or milk in a cup
of coffee or tea

Whenever out and about,
I rely on my trusty walking stick’s support,
but will often raise the alarm
when I put it aside and it chooses to hide
(usually on my arm)

An easy to follow recipe
(meant to impress old friends visiting me)
might well prove a mistake
when I get proportions sufficiently wrong
to make us all feel sick

I have hurried for buses
only to find I’m soon counting my losses
for its heading (miles) away
from whatever destination I’d had in mind
and forgetting that anyway

A positive thinking person,
I refuse to let senior moments get me down,
but love to laugh at them
among friends over a few drinks in the pub,
ever toasting, ‘Carpe Diem’

 

Copyright R. N. Taber 2016

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

A Life in the Day of an Armchair

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

Regular readers will know that I am not well these days, although a positive thinking mind-body-spirit prevails.  When we are young, we think we are invincible, but life invariably proves us no less vulnerable to its eternal ups and downs than anyone else. I guess, the secret of any upbeat heart is to keep focusing the inner eye on the ups and let the downs go into free fall. Easier said than done, of course, as a feisty youth passes into an uncertain middle age, yet one we can continue take no small pleasure in rising above if not outmanoeuvring more ups and downs. Then, one day we wake up and realise we not only growing old, but all the more vulnerable for that.

We all have to find our own way through life, and old age is no exception to that golden rule; whether we are fortunate enough to have loved ones with whom to share it or not. Some people look back with anger, others with an increasing bitterness for feeling that their future offers so much less. Neither attitude helps anyone, least of all ourselves. Oh, there will be moments, yes, and plenty of them, when we find the winter of our years darker, for whatever reason, than we anticipated; we may even feel cheated, deserving better. Whatever, there is much to be said for the old adage - 'There’s no point in crying over spilt milk.' What’s done is done, what’s past is past, and it is down to us to make the best of the Here-and-Now, rather than dwell on the worst. Never easy, especially if you’re lonely, poor, unwell, hospitalised or homeless…but there is another old adage that has served me well since my recovery from a mental breakdown many years ago – 'Where there’s life, there’s hope.'

Lose hope, and that may well be the beginning of our end, yet I say to you from personal experience that human nature is full of surprises, and can help us turn our lives around as and when push comes to shove... if we let it; not perhaps immediately, but that’s not only life for you, that’s time, too, its partner in crime.

Now and then readers and other associates ask me if I regret being gay. I ask them, in turn, how does anyone reconcile themselves to living a life that does not draw upon who we are rather than whom anyone else would have us be, no matter how well-meaning? The bottom line is that we are responsible for ourselves as well as looking out for others; at the very least, honesty demands we accept that responsibility, sooner or later...does it not?  Certain judgemental societies and individuals worldwide would do well to keep that in mind.

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF AN ARMCHAIR

The world, it’s passing me by;

though time slow enough for me to ask questions

about the whys and wherefores

of life, it only answers me with more questions,

demanding I look closer to home,
ask of mind-body-spirit how and why
it has brought me to this
dismal failure of expectation and imagination
if ever there was one

So, what is ‘this’ that I find harder

to bear as memories assail me (good, bad and ugly),

now offering comfort enough

to bring a smile to my face, now torturing me

with errors that, unmade,
may well have seen latter days kinder
than a tearful armchair
failing to empathise with a mind-body-spirit
finding itself wanting

My window on life misting over;

a splatter of raindrops reciting poems, calling to mind

faces, voices, seeing me through

all my whys and wherefores, their being on hand,
answers in themselves
to any questions I may well have asked
of mind-bod-spirit
had I envisaged then any such Here-and-Now
as, this, even as I speak

Ah, but where inclined to look back on this life in tears,
find the sum of its joys come to rise above its fears

Copyright R. N. Taber, 2019

[Note: This poem also appears on my gay-interest blog as not all readers dip into both. We are, after all, a common humanity in so far as  each and every one of us needs must ask much the same questions of it (and ourselves) as time passes.]

Sanctuary OR Thoughts on Growing Old

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

Many years ago, someone told me that the best thing a person can do with his or her life is to be sure to create as many happy memories to fall back on during less happy times. Oh, but how true! ]

Growing old can be tough, painful and lonely for some if not many of us although, of course, old age has no monopoly on any of these. 

Happy memories are not for crying over because they are in the past, but for celebrating and providing a sanctuary of thoughts as we run the gamut of life's harder times, thereby making the Here-and-Now less tough, painful or lonely...if we let it; they may also inspire us to create more such memories because  it's never too late all the while we can raise a smile and laugh enough to encourage others into our lives. As my dear, late mother once commented, no one enjoys the company of a perennial whinger.

SANCTUARY or THOUGHTS ON GROWING OLD

When I walk in the Valley of Memory,
all those I have loved greet me there,
light in their eyes like the sun in summer skies,
past harsh words, beyond pain or care

When I walk in the Valley of Memory,
I rejoice to be all that I can,
mistakes redeemed, life all that it seemed
to the child I was and young man

When I walk in the Valley of Memory
lambs among wolves play at ease,
rain washed clean, the grass growing green,
flowers, icons of love and peace

When I walk in the Valley of Memory,
a breeze recites poems in my ears,
trees sing songs about rights instead of wrongs
and all raison d’être reappears

Whenever I leave the valley, as I must,
for the world as it is, a sorry place,
I feel safer for knowing it’s there for the going
as a cold wind rips at my face


Copyright R. N. Taber, 2014