http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I will be 75 this year, but it’s not so many years (well, maybe, but doesn't seem so) since I enjoyed spending time with a charming young man (29) from India. Needless to say, he made the first move as I was already becoming more than a trifle self-conscious about my age and looks. There was not only a physical attraction between us but also a genuine affinity. It turned out we had a lot of common in both our past and present lives. We continued to exchange emails after he returned to Delhi until he wrote that it was ‘too risky’ for him to continue as he had been ‘persuaded’ by his family to marry a woman he ‘quite liked’. I often wonder how he is now and how he had adapted to married life.
As a result of living with prostate cancer since 2011, and being treated with hormone therapy, I am no longer sexually active. Even so, gay or straight, male or female, you’re never too old for physical affection, whether it expresses itself in sex or just a friendly hug...and never let anyone tell you otherwise.
It is love, in all its shapes and forms, that nurtures the body-mind-spirit triumvirate in each and every one of us. We may grow old(er) every day, but - gay or straight - never a day passes without love in it...one way or another...unless we let it.
Oh, and on the subject of friendship, I have met up with several readers (gay and straight, male and female) from all walks of life since I started the blogs and we have become friends although, sadly, none live in the London area. I live in (fairly) central London and am always happy to meet up with readers for a chat over a meal/ coffee or a few beers; feel free to email me - rogertab@aol.com - if you happen to be passing through.
TIME ENOUGH FOR TEARS
In the autumn of my years
we lay on summer grass watching clouds
drifting on by...
the sun’s twinkling eye caressing your skin
as you dropped your jeans,
pulled off your tee, lay down so intimately
under cheeky clouds,
laughing at us (but wryly, not unkindly)
the sun’s, wicked eye
melting my hands as you stirred beside me,
now unbuttoning my shirt,
unzipping my fly, loosening my belt...
our smouldering desire
metamorphosing us into a mind-body-spirit
transfiguring time and space,
awarding out posthumous consciousness
pride of place, first among equals
Again, I lie there with you,
watching other cheeky clouds passing on by,
chucking companionably,
Apollo expressing sheer, unreserved approval
to see us bare all...
one long summer of love's moans and murmurs,
cooing doves favouring us
with a fly-past, a sycamore’s heavenly cheering
ringing in our ears, sounding out
promises freely made, broken, kept, reworked
untiringly for centuries,
lifetimes spent challenging a flawed status quo,
humanity failing to see
how nothing and no one has any right to claim
a monopoly on love
while urging passing clouds to save heir tears
for the winter of our years,
to live and let live in loving memory
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2015
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]
I will be 75 this year, but it’s not so many years (well, maybe, but doesn't seem so) since I enjoyed spending time with a charming young man (29) from India. Needless to say, he made the first move as I was already becoming more than a trifle self-conscious about my age and looks. There was not only a physical attraction between us but also a genuine affinity. It turned out we had a lot of common in both our past and present lives. We continued to exchange emails after he returned to Delhi until he wrote that it was ‘too risky’ for him to continue as he had been ‘persuaded’ by his family to marry a woman he ‘quite liked’. I often wonder how he is now and how he had adapted to married life.
As a result of living with prostate cancer since 2011, and being treated with hormone therapy, I am no longer sexually active. Even so, gay or straight, male or female, you’re never too old for physical affection, whether it expresses itself in sex or just a friendly hug...and never let anyone tell you otherwise.
It is love, in all its shapes and forms, that nurtures the body-mind-spirit triumvirate in each and every one of us. We may grow old(er) every day, but - gay or straight - never a day passes without love in it...one way or another...unless we let it.
Oh, and on the subject of friendship, I have met up with several readers (gay and straight, male and female) from all walks of life since I started the blogs and we have become friends although, sadly, none live in the London area. I live in (fairly) central London and am always happy to meet up with readers for a chat over a meal/ coffee or a few beers; feel free to email me - rogertab@aol.com - if you happen to be passing through.
TIME ENOUGH FOR TEARS
In the autumn of my years
we lay on summer grass watching clouds
drifting on by...
the sun’s twinkling eye caressing your skin
as you dropped your jeans,
pulled off your tee, lay down so intimately
under cheeky clouds,
laughing at us (but wryly, not unkindly)
the sun’s, wicked eye
melting my hands as you stirred beside me,
now unbuttoning my shirt,
unzipping my fly, loosening my belt...
our smouldering desire
metamorphosing us into a mind-body-spirit
transfiguring time and space,
awarding out posthumous consciousness
pride of place, first among equals
Again, I lie there with you,
watching other cheeky clouds passing on by,
chucking companionably,
Apollo expressing sheer, unreserved approval
to see us bare all...
one long summer of love's moans and murmurs,
cooing doves favouring us
with a fly-past, a sycamore’s heavenly cheering
ringing in our ears, sounding out
promises freely made, broken, kept, reworked
untiringly for centuries,
lifetimes spent challenging a flawed status quo,
humanity failing to see
how nothing and no one has any right to claim
a monopoly on love
while urging passing clouds to save heir tears
for the winter of our years,
to live and let live in loving memory
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004; 2015
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]
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