http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2012
Today’s poem
first appeared in its original form
in an anthology, Truly Mine, Poetry
Now (Forward Press), 2003 and subsequently in my collection. I have only recently revised it.
I have discussed
revising poems - and titles - in the past and am aware of the arguments for and against.
However, it is my view that as a poet moves on, there is no reason why a poem
should not move on with him or her. Some people will argue that a later version
loses its spontaneity, yet as I re-read some poems, a spontaneous revision
springs to mind as I sense something missing in the earlier poem despite its
good intentions.
The poem relates to an affair with a deaf-gay man years ago who, among other
things, did his best to teach me sign language. I fear I have forgotten most of
what I learned in that respect if not in others…
Partially deaf since childhood, I’m afraid I have never been good at sign language (but can lip-read) probably because I’ve not had much opportunity to practise it. Even so, I have never had a problem communicating with any deaf or hard of hearing friends; lip-reading, facial expressions, a custom-inspired-signing-of-sorts and shared sense of humour (plus the written word where all else fails) have always proved more than enough to let us enjoy each other’s company. It was the latter that especially attracted me to him. We were both members of a local walking group and had stopped for a pub lunch. I was zipping up my fly in the toilet when he entered, paused, saw what I was doing and gave me the wickedest grin. followed by a questioning glance to which I instinctively nodded. I eft and we had little more to do with each other for the rest of the walk after which I had planned to catch a bus home. At the bus stop, he pulled up in his car and I got in. He helped me with my seat belt and gave me another wicked grin, and that was the start of a love affair that lasted months and a friendship that spanned a good 30+ years. He had a fatal heart attack on a sea voyage and was buried at sea., but I only have to close my eyes to enjoy his company all over again.
Partially deaf since childhood, I’m afraid I have never been good at sign language (but can lip-read) probably because I’ve not had much opportunity to practise it. Even so, I have never had a problem communicating with any deaf or hard of hearing friends; lip-reading, facial expressions, a custom-inspired-signing-of-sorts and shared sense of humour (plus the written word where all else fails) have always proved more than enough to let us enjoy each other’s company. It was the latter that especially attracted me to him. We were both members of a local walking group and had stopped for a pub lunch. I was zipping up my fly in the toilet when he entered, paused, saw what I was doing and gave me the wickedest grin. followed by a questioning glance to which I instinctively nodded. I eft and we had little more to do with each other for the rest of the walk after which I had planned to catch a bus home. At the bus stop, he pulled up in his car and I got in. He helped me with my seat belt and gave me another wicked grin, and that was the start of a love affair that lasted months and a friendship that spanned a good 30+ years. He had a fatal heart attack on a sea voyage and was buried at sea., but I only have to close my eyes to enjoy his company all over again.
VOICE OF A ROSE
Love gave me a
rose,
fond hands
signing
in a light summer
breeze
like petals
waving
Its fair petals falling
like heaven’s
tears,
hands helpless at
my side,
pricked by
thorns
Thorns, drawing blood
where love’s
fingers
get a feeling
for nature’s
darker dreaming
Dreams, like
parodies
of summer roses
Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2012
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