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NEW POEM: My Firsts

  • S P Clark
  • Feb 11
  • 4 min read

This LGBT+ History Month (U.K.) S P Clark is sharing 20 new poems to mark the 20th anniversary of this historic celebration of the LGBT+ community and its contribution to society. Each poem celebrates S P Clark's own journey navigating his way through the world as a member of the LGBT+ Community. Here is My Firsts. After the poem, there are some links to take a look at where you can read and purchase works by S P Clark!

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My Firsts

Written to coincide with LGBT+ History Month (U.K.) 2025

 

I. First Awareness of Different Feelings

 

A bricolage of emotions chilled my mind leaving hoarfrost on my frontal lobe

An inimical force that tore me down as my peers charged ahead.

 

The susurration of other small boys as they tried impressing the schoolgirls held partial clarity and a total lack of perspicuity

Kiss-chase confusion, holding hands just an overwhelming dread.

 

I was just a kid.

 

II. First Attraction to Another Boy

 

Primal desire clung to my body as I stared across the playground

My primary years created unintelligible sense of my racing heart – that sound

We ran together in the field, we laughed, we played games

The memories scorched into me, verboten sensations frozen behind the panes of glass on my hearts’ picture frames. 

 

III. First Kisses with Other Guys

 

At 10 years old

Lips lightly touching

Two pre-teen boys with no comprehension but instinctively sensing the ‘unusual’ we were

So young you could hear, if you listen close enough, the peroration of our newborn vagitus.

 

At 14 years old

Pressed against the tired pallid-white wall of a music room when we should be in class

Two callow youths, each hungrily devouring the tongue of the other

Inhaling only the breath the other gave

Deeply aroused in a jejune kind of way

Connected and right, but only whilst shielded from the prying eyes in light of the day

 

IV. First Hate Directly Received

 

We were walking hand-in-hand

Walking and talking desultorily, aimless; not taking a stand

A passel of shouters and spouters came barrelling forward, a not-so-merry-band

Each verbal missile like a dart in the heart, each blow of the fist would painfully land.

 

A dawning realisation that I had to be afraid, to plan beforehand if holding his hand was my will

To keep moving forward, perpetually moving, and never come to a standstill

Accepting their moral turpitude was rough, a discordant band, a most bitter pill

The world became a cold world, a hinterland; the hate took over, began to overspill.

 

V. First Time I Labelled It

 

Adorned in armour, my protective shield

Guard-up yet open, tempted to disclose

This is who I am, I said

I am gay, I said

We know who you are, they said

Yes, you’re gay, they said

 

How could they know? 

I wasn’t even sure myself.

 

I didn’t feel brave

I felt exposed

I could have taken it to the grave

Lived my life unopposed.

 

I’m not sure I knew what I was saying.

 

VI. First Time I Shared a Bed with Another Man

 

Gracelessly, inelegantly, fumbling and bumbling our way out of our fashion in a fashion so ham-fisted it was a sight to behold

Oh fuck!!! The lights are on and the curtains are open.  What if the neighbours see?  The heating’s gone off – God, I hope he’s not cold!

 

Finally disrobed and panting we lay closely-knit as two halves of a calcareous shell of clam

What if he doesn’t like what he sees?  I like what I see!  Look at him now starfished on the bed – the five points of a pentagram.

 

The blundering gave way to warmth as we both lay speechless, taciturn in our entangled flesh

I can feel his heart pounding, the blood in his veins rushing.  I can smell his hair, his sweat, his excitement, his breath so fresh.  

 

VII. First Time I Labelled It Correctly

 

The fact that I was kissing and touching men gave the statement I’m gay some verisimilitude

But it didn’t run deep as the rivulets left from my tears testified

It didn’t ring true inside.

 

I’d loved men, I’d loved women, I’d love those in-between

Bisexual; the term seemed to fit, cleared the smokescreen.

 

A revolving explanation of who I am is a price that I sometimes must pay

Coming out again and again when love with just one gender has been lost

You’ll often hear from lips, I’m bisexual, not gay

I’ve been beaten and heckled, shackled and shunned.  Is it worth the cost?

 

YOU BET IT IS!

 

VIII. First Feeling of Comfort in my Own Skin

 

I was in love

The questions, fears and doubts melted away like a clock in The Persistence of Memory

No longer needing to collogue in corners

No longer needing the approval of others.

 

A state of revitalisation after years of privation

A vertiginous mountain steeped in filth and grime that I struggled to climb

No longer on display as a sparkling anaglyph

Our names are now carved, our own arborglyph.


© S P Clark


You can purchase more S P Clark poetry on LGBTQ+ love by clicking the links below:



 
 
 

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