Perfect Strangers

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

Sometimes we sense a mutual attraction but can’t be sure, past mistakes gathering like vultures to pounce on the remains of yet another disappointment or worse.

Gay or straight, you know the feeling…that this just might be the One, but self-confidence is shaky after taking so many knocks…  

Well, what’s the worst that can happen? He (or she) is not interested. It's hardly the end of the world...

Whatever, every stranger is a potential friend if not more, so...worth finding out, surely, and letting time and tide take its course? 

Someone may not turn out to be the love of our lives, but the love of a good friend can never be overrated. 

PERFECT STRANGERS 

Shirt front hung wide open, red hairs

on his chest;

tongues of fire, leaping out at me,

licking at my nipples,

rekindling desire, teasing this cold heart

with dreams once cherished,

long forsaken;

liquid eyes spilling over, soaking my tee

like spring rain,

letting a body breathe again after years

of choking on ashes,

living on flashes of memory

I long to take this stranger in my arms,

be close to someone again,

yet dare not even ask his name,

can but look, my life

an open book if he but cares to flick a page

or two, sewn with paper thin threads

of flesh and bone, sure to snap

should he come any closer, neither of us

quite ready to give word or sign

that we’re peeping through the keyhole

of a door to a heaven

that has rarely welcomed us before

Lips parting, tongues shyly peeping,

hearts fairly leaping...

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2011

[Note: revised from an earlier version that appears in 1st eds. of A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004.]

All Patched Up and Ready

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

Years ago, I was ‘queer bashed’ more than once. Fortunately, homophobic attacks are less common these days. However, when I posted my poem Ode To A Homophobe on this blog some time ago, several readers emailed me who genuinely believe homophobia is a thing of the past.  

Oh, but I wish!!!

Only a few years ago it was reported on TV that a gay man was stabbed to death and his partner injured in the London area during an unprovoked homophobic attack in their own home.

Since then there have been several high profile homophobic attacks here in the UK, usually on gay men, but I suspect many more go unreported and almost certainly include women especially among ethnic minority communities whose the culture of origin is intrinsically homophobic. Imagine, for example, how tough it must be for a gay Muslim, and I am assured by those I have met that there are plenty.

We must not be scared back into the closet by these thugs (or be afraid to come out of it either) but do our best to set an example and defy such ignorance and bigotry. Oh, and as far as I am concerned, they are no better than thugs, these holier-than-thou types who prefer to use gay people for a punch bag with socio-cultural-religious rhetoric rather than physical force. 

Meanwhile…be safe and - enjoy!

ALL PATCHED UP AND READY

A leg brushed mine

and the pulse of his sexuality

passed into me,

tore through my whole body

like an express train

A hand brushed mine

and the heat of his sexuality

passed into me,

embracing my whole body

like summer sunshine

A cheek brushed mine

and silk threads of sensuality

passed into me,

patching up my whole body

where holes were

A mouth brushed mine

and the joy of his sexuality

passed into me,

wishing my whole body

a safe passage

Naked flesh against mine,

the demands of our sexuality

passing into us,

joining our whole bodies

making us complete

Copyright R. N. Taber 2008

[From: On the Battlefields of Love by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2010.]

Alternative Transport

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

Today’s poem last appeared on the blog in 2010 and is posted today especially for readers ‘Jim and Philippe’ who are (like me) fed-up with people passing snide comments about not owing a car.

Now, people are often appalled by the fact that I don’t drive. Well, I live in a city so having a car is not essential. (It really isn’t!) I am happy to go along with the UK government’s drive to persuade everyone to use public transport more often. Even so, the Greener argument is not the only one that works for me...  

Public transport can be a real adventure.  Well, less of one or me these days, it’s true to say. I will be 67 later this year; not old, but let’s face it I have no partner and am not as young as I was either. Oh, but I’m not complaining. One way or another, I relive my life through poems where memory filters away the bad times and the good times continue to serve me well. Even in later years, they come back into play, those good times (e.g. a nothing special car drawing up alongside, a something special guy suggesting I jump in...) thereby encouraging me to add to the archives.

Now, why should an old dog learn new tricks when the old ones are such fun?

ALTERNATIVE TRANSPORT

We got chatting on a bus
in pouring rain, feeling bold

for no too-obvious reason,
cocking an ear to fairy tales
reworked by a pitter-patter

on the roof making us feel safe;

we chuckled, sharing a joke

or two, and it felt right to feel

comfortable with you

At your stop, I got off too;

we just laughed at getting wet

on a street you thought

was mine, I thought was yours,

took a while before we saw

this comedy of errors for what

it really was, not just fate
conspiring to bring us together,
but also our consenting

Another bus happened along

and dried our clothes, rumbling
ifs and whys of closet gays;

in his mirror, the driver winked,

saw clearer even than us

how (so) much happier we were

for (finally) getting it together,
two strangers on a single decker 

coming out to each other

Copyright R. N. Taber 2005; 2012

[Note: An earlier version of this poem was posted on the blog in 2010 and appears in  A Feeling for the Quickness of Time by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2005.] 

Casual Sex And Candle Wax

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

Today's poem last appeared on the blog in September 2009 and prompted a number of wry comments. [Although I don't publish comments, I always read them and will reply if the person includes an email address.] 'Mikael' wrote that on a visit to London, 'Among all the wonderful tourist attractions, I vote Hampstead heath the best. By day it is very beautiful. By night, it has to be one of the most exciting places for a gay man to be.'

I heartily endorse those sentiments although, regarding the Heath at night and in the early hours, I have to say that I have not visited that part frequented by gay men looking for sex since I was a young man. I am now 65. These days, I enjoy strolling its rolling expanse of grassy slopes, taking in trees of all description, ponds and varieties of wildlife, simply for its peace and natural beauty. Even so, I remember them well, those feisty days of old...]

Now, if some gay men are promiscuous, they certainly don’t have a monopoly on promiscuity. It is no less prevalent among heterosexuals. Moreover, it has been my experience that those people always expressing their disapproval of casual sex are, just as often, those who enjoy it the most.

Casual sex happens. It is a fact of life. We should enjoy it. Certainly, it is nothing to get up on a soap box about. Even so, we owe it to ourselves and any sex partner to act responsibly, practise safer sex and use a condom. Nor is it only HIV-AIDS we have to guard against. The rise in various venereal diseases in recent years has been little short of astronomical, not least in chlamydia, which can result in infertility.

So…have fun but play safe, yeah?

CASUAL SEX AND CANDLE WAX

One day on Hampstead Heath
I met a nice man, hair turning grey,
knew instantly he was gay

We sat and watched spectacular
views of London dim at close of day,
keeping stars at bay

We said nothing, looks enough
to let heart and mind have their say
and in the grass we lay

Twilight gave way to feisty stars,
a benevolent moon had turned full on
at the altar of passion

Taking no chances, we risked all
for the bitter-sweet spoils of desire,
fighting fire with fire

His mouth was warm and tender,
our bodies sculptures crafted in wax,
flaring, melting...in sex

We parted, never to meet again,
but I‘d learned how to seize the day
and be, oh, so glad I’m gay

Copyright R. N. Taber 2007