From which there is no return
While we’re on the way to there
Why not share‘Regrets’ (c) Rob Goldstein 2018
One orange, one Styrofoam cup, one opened
can of tomato sauce, and, used as a pillow,
one King James Bible.
(c) Rob Goldstein 1984-2019
Eros smiles seductively
and takes the seat next
He caresses my thigh
and whispers a filthy
secret: to know him
in a thousand
(c) Rob Goldstein November 5, 1985
I wrote this poem in December 1984.
San Francisco’s gay men were hit hard by the AIDS epidemic: the sick and dying were everywhere and no one really knew how HIV was transmitted.
As the number of cases increased most of the healthy men I knew thought they were they were going to sicken and die.
The press called us the worried well.
I was 31. This is how I wanted to die.
If now is my time of dying
let it be a time of giving
a time of joy
an exchange of one gift
to be part of the plan
aware of the plan
God grant me grace
in this interlude
this movement foreword
this final act of life.
‘My Time of Dying’ Rob Goldstein 1984-2019
Portrait of Rob Goldstein by Nina Glaser
Writing Stories of Love, Faith and Happy Endings While Enjoying the Journey
The Official Website for the Best Blogging Event of the Year!
Events, submissions, poetry, chat.
(formerly Elizabeth Krall Photos)
When we show each other what we find beautiful, we get a glimpse into each other's hearts.
Musings of a cockney lad
Short Stories & Prose
Home of Author Louise Brady. Writer - INTP - Ravenclaw - Queen of Dragons - Fanfiction Enthusiast - TV lover - Shipper - Gamer - Historian
Writings on Life, Love, Music & Whatever Comes To Mind
Musings Of A Blind Hebrew Teacher
Tips, tricks and tutorials for writers and authors
A writing blog by H.R.R. Gorman
Steve's body of work spans conflicts, vanishing cultures, ancient traditions and contemporary culture alike - yet always retains the human element.