http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Today's poem first appeared on the
blog in 2016.
Some lovers are lucky enough to grow old together while the rest of us must be content with focusing on happy memories.
For the inner eye, though, the line of vision is always the same, on love, as it was at the start and always will be ..
Oh, and who cares if the writer of a love poem is gay or straight? For that matter, why should anyone mind about someone else’s sexuality anyway? As for those who so love to bring God into the debate, if God created humankind, He (or She) also created our differences and is hardly likely to reject anyone for those differences since it is, after all, our differences that make us ... no, not different, just human.
As those of us well into our 70's and beyond, there is nothing romantic about growing old, especially if you live alone; it's tough; no older person would dispute that. At the same time, where there is love in the heart, a feisty spirit is rarely anywhere near as far away as it may seem to the casual observer; invariably, there is a life within that refuses to grow old... even as it prepares to explore the Poetry of Mystery we call death. It is an open invitation we dare not refuse; whatever our ethnicity, sexuality, religion (or non-religion) the human spirit can and will survive anything life throws at it; we have but to sow and nurture its seed so that others may (or may not) appreciate its flowering long after our all our seasons have passed into remembrance.
My old English Teacher, 'Jock' Rankin once commented that "It may be down to us to write the chapters in life, but it is left to time to publish our biography." - words that meant little at the time, but have become more meaningful with each passing season.
Some lovers are lucky enough to grow old together while the rest of us must be content with focusing on happy memories.
For the inner eye, though, the line of vision is always the same, on love, as it was at the start and always will be ..
Oh, and who cares if the writer of a love poem is gay or straight? For that matter, why should anyone mind about someone else’s sexuality anyway? As for those who so love to bring God into the debate, if God created humankind, He (or She) also created our differences and is hardly likely to reject anyone for those differences since it is, after all, our differences that make us ... no, not different, just human.
As those of us well into our 70's and beyond, there is nothing romantic about growing old, especially if you live alone; it's tough; no older person would dispute that. At the same time, where there is love in the heart, a feisty spirit is rarely anywhere near as far away as it may seem to the casual observer; invariably, there is a life within that refuses to grow old... even as it prepares to explore the Poetry of Mystery we call death. It is an open invitation we dare not refuse; whatever our ethnicity, sexuality, religion (or non-religion) the human spirit can and will survive anything life throws at it; we have but to sow and nurture its seed so that others may (or may not) appreciate its flowering long after our all our seasons have passed into remembrance.
My old English Teacher, 'Jock' Rankin once commented that "It may be down to us to write the chapters in life, but it is left to time to publish our biography." - words that meant little at the time, but have become more meaningful with each passing season.
LOVE, AN ENDURING LIGHT
If strands of grey in the hair turning white
and less subtle laughter lines in the face,
you smile, and my world is filled with light,
as tired limbs summon dignity and grace
If the voice sounding weaker than before,
its familiar lilt still as sweet on the ear,
and a heart that keeps listening out for more,
the happier for knowing we’re together
If time, it parts the world’s lovers too soon,
our nurture of nature will have its way,
and who seeks among craters of the moon
will find flowers we planted there today
In good times and bad, love’s light endures,
though Death's tears its vision blurs
Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020
[Note: This post/ poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; an earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Line of Vision’ in Tracking the Torchbearer R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]
If strands of grey in the hair turning white
and less subtle laughter lines in the face,
you smile, and my world is filled with light,
as tired limbs summon dignity and grace
If the voice sounding weaker than before,
its familiar lilt still as sweet on the ear,
and a heart that keeps listening out for more,
the happier for knowing we’re together
If time, it parts the world’s lovers too soon,
our nurture of nature will have its way,
and who seeks among craters of the moon
will find flowers we planted there today
In good times and bad, love’s light endures,
though Death's tears its vision blurs
Copyright R. N. Taber 2012; 2020
[Note: This post/ poem also appears on my general poetry blog today; an earlier version of this poem appears under the title ‘Line of Vision’ in Tracking the Torchbearer R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2012.]
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