A meeting

I'm glad you seem to tune in to the message of this poem. I used to play cricket with Indians, Pakistanis, Jamaicans and Africans, and we got on fine. The only problem was that we Brits had taught them all the secrets of that mysterious game (and they could play it all year round where they lived) so they usually won! I have also been lucky enough to travel a little, and have met many people of other religions and colours without feeling any tension. (The big exception was Thailand, though I think the guys I came up against there were not native Thais - see my short story Thai Rack if interested.) With Indians (from India I mean) in particular, I even seem to experience some weird sense of identification. If you liked this poem you might also be interested in 'Colours'. Best Wishes, Robert.

You may well be right on that point. This meeting happened many years ago, and I probably drank a little too much as well, so my memory of that dinner isn't too clear. But I think you have understood the main idea. Perhaps I can rephrase the poem in some way so that it doesn't specifically mention the Koran, using an expression like 'Muslim law' or 'Muslim rules' or 'your faith' instead. Thanks for commenting. Best Wishes, Robert.

I thank you truly for the insight that your offer. Individuals should not be conditioned by race, religion or family expectations. They should try to discover their natural personality and talents and use them for the best. The problem is that I only discovered mine quite late in life, and I think that happens to many of us. It sounds as if you have a true friend, and you are also a loyal friend to her. Thanks for your comment and I am glad you enjoyed this memory. Best Wishes, Robert. .

Both comments I have received from you about my poems are exceptionally long and interesting, so many thanks. I thoroughly agree with your idea that 'peace...is the love of differences'. The grail story is fascinating, too. It reminded me of when I fell in love with a Mexican girl (see my poem called 'Colours' if interested) because although we were both Christians, she was a Catholic and I was a Protestant, and there were big differences between our cultural backgrounds. Also, I spoke no Spanish at that time (nor she English) so we had to overcome some big barriers, but we managed to do that in just a few hours. I understand your doubts about the last line, and will be thinking about it over the next few days. I love your final joke about catsup and bad beer. I once took an American businessman (then my boss) to a good restaurant here in Asturias, where they specialized in exquisite local fish, lightly grilled with a little chopped garlic, fresh parsley and olive oil. When he asked for some catsup, the expression on the waiter's face was one of pure disdain, and it turned out that they didn't even have any catsup on the premises (presumably because no Spanish customer would dream of making such a request when the food was so good on its own). I suppose the waiter saw it as an insult to the chef. Best wishes, Robert. P.S. I am glad you have tuned in to the 'concrete experience' element in my poems, which are almost always based on something that really happened to me or to someone I know, however strange the story may sound. I tend to think I've had a rather weird life, though I suppose odd things happen to all of us from time to time...