As regular readers worldwide will know, I’ve been
living with prostate cancer for 5+ years now and am doing OK. Hormone therapy
continues to keep my PSA low and the cancer at bay. However, I will be 70 this
year and time is not on my side.
One of these days (hopefully not for a good while
yet) the Grim Reaper will pay a visit, and my blogs will eventually disappear
from the Internet. Now, the blogs are
the only record of my revised poems
as well as many others that have not been published and are not included in my
collections. I am considering publishing them as e-books to Kindle Direct
Publishing. If any blog readers think they might be interested in buying (inexpensive)
e-editions, please let me know as the degree of response will determine whether
or not I proceed. I would have to open a separate bank account and if the
chances of at least breaking even financially are not looking too good, there
is no point.
In the past, I have self-published my poetry because
no publishers were interested in my gay-interest material which I have always
insisted on including. [Why should p[poetry on a gay theme be seen as something
quite separate from poetry on any other major theme?) Yes, I have about broken
even but, no, I will not be publishing any more print editions.
Should I feel sufficiently encouraged to go ahead, I
may well try and publish the serialized novels on my fiction blog to KDP as
well. [Incidentally I am still working on Mamelon 2.]:
I don’t allow comments on the blogs because too many
people flood blogs with irrelevant, even silly comments, but if you would like
to express support, please email me:
A reader recently emailed me in Russian and the
translation button would not work. Can he or she please try again as I will always
read and respond to emails.
Meanwhile…
For the
unattached, cruising bars can be fun, and it can also be the kind of devastating
if not drunken experience likely to send a person’s self-esteem into free fall.
The trick
is to never stop believing in happy endings whatever happens...or doesn’t
happen, as the case may well be.
YOUR PLACE OR MINE…?
I was in
awe of his beauty,
sure he’d
want nothing to do with me
so tried
my luck elsewhere
Stood
beside him at the bar,
bought
him a beer, but he turned his back
(someone
else’s luck)
A tipsy
queen chatted me up,
followed
my line of vision, raised eyebrows
shooting
me down
In
vain, I tried to block us out
of
mind and spirit, self-denial no match
for
a body in flames
Couldn’t
keep away from him;
white
singlet, shorts, a body to die for,
but
always busy flirting
No one
else firing my fantasies
or even a
make-do ‘bird in the hand’ in sight,
just
slaves to stereotype
Walked
home that lonely night,
too
preoccupied with wishful thinking to hear
footsteps
catching up with me
Same
hair, eyes, lips, body to die for,
but an
altogether different, almost shy persona
quietly,
earnestly, asking me…
‘Your
place or mine…?’
Copyright
R. N. Taber 2013
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