http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
Family, lovers, friends, colleagues...we are all only human, and it is a sad trait of human nature that we don't always see the wood for the damn trees.
Now, I often repeat poems a year or so after their first appearance on the blog for those readers who don’t have time to browse the blog archives due to other commitments or only have access to a public computer. I try to vary the preamble, but in this case I find myself duplicating the original post from 2009 almost word for word. It is as if my feelings on the subject are so strong that I cannot find a different way of expressing them.
Happy is not a word we hear often enough as we get on with our daily lives.
I well recall how, years ago [I'd have been about eight or nine years old] we kids were taught to sing a lively song at Sunday School; the lyric went like this:
I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I know I am,
I’m sure I am,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y
Only, it was a lie. I wasn’t happy at all. I fretted about that song for years. How come, I'd wonder, everyone was happy except me?
I should say that didn't have an unhappy childhood, but problems at school, a hearing problem no one picked up on and an appalling relationship with my father meant that it wasn't a particularly happy one either. As I got older, I then had to tackle the question of my sexual identity in a climate that was very anti-gay. If my childhood was difficult, my youth and young manhood were a total nightmare. None of my family would have understood, even my mother at the time. Thank goodness I discovered the twilight world of gay sex to keep me sane. Well, sane’ish... I siffered from depression for years, and syill do, although childhood depression was rarely if ever recognised for what it was years ago. It should have come as no surprise that I had a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s.
While I am not bitter (well, not any more, just profoundly sad) I often wish someone had taken the trouble to ask me how I felt. It is good that adults listen to children and young people more these days. Perhaps if someone had asked me, it would not have taken so many years before I could relate to the words of that song...
A SPELLING LESSON
In the garden every day.
I’d tell my love I’m gay,
but my love would not hear,
my love was never there,
my love would be humming
pop songs in the car
on the way to or from work,
glancing at the office clock,
pausing at this task or that
to keep the cat, dog or budgie
happy
In the garden, I’d find a way
to tell my love I’m gay
and we’d lie in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to show our feelings,
share them, let passion take
its course, tear off the clothes
a heart but hires to keep a body
happy?
The day came, I found a way
to tell my love I’m gay,
heard the words I longed to hear
whispered in my ear
and we lay in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to let
love alone get us high,
be H-A-P-P-Y
Family, lovers, friends, colleagues...we are all only human, and it is a sad trait of human nature that we don't always see the wood for the damn trees.
Now, I often repeat poems a year or so after their first appearance on the blog for those readers who don’t have time to browse the blog archives due to other commitments or only have access to a public computer. I try to vary the preamble, but in this case I find myself duplicating the original post from 2009 almost word for word. It is as if my feelings on the subject are so strong that I cannot find a different way of expressing them.
Happy is not a word we hear often enough as we get on with our daily lives.
I well recall how, years ago [I'd have been about eight or nine years old] we kids were taught to sing a lively song at Sunday School; the lyric went like this:
I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y,
I know I am,
I’m sure I am,
I’m H-A-P-P-Y
Only, it was a lie. I wasn’t happy at all. I fretted about that song for years. How come, I'd wonder, everyone was happy except me?
I should say that didn't have an unhappy childhood, but problems at school, a hearing problem no one picked up on and an appalling relationship with my father meant that it wasn't a particularly happy one either. As I got older, I then had to tackle the question of my sexual identity in a climate that was very anti-gay. If my childhood was difficult, my youth and young manhood were a total nightmare. None of my family would have understood, even my mother at the time. Thank goodness I discovered the twilight world of gay sex to keep me sane. Well, sane’ish... I siffered from depression for years, and syill do, although childhood depression was rarely if ever recognised for what it was years ago. It should have come as no surprise that I had a severe nervous breakdown in my early 30s.
While I am not bitter (well, not any more, just profoundly sad) I often wish someone had taken the trouble to ask me how I felt. It is good that adults listen to children and young people more these days. Perhaps if someone had asked me, it would not have taken so many years before I could relate to the words of that song...
A SPELLING LESSON
In the garden every day.
I’d tell my love I’m gay,
but my love would not hear,
my love was never there,
my love would be humming
pop songs in the car
on the way to or from work,
glancing at the office clock,
pausing at this task or that
to keep the cat, dog or budgie
happy
In the garden, I’d find a way
to tell my love I’m gay
and we’d lie in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to show our feelings,
share them, let passion take
its course, tear off the clothes
a heart but hires to keep a body
happy?
The day came, I found a way
to tell my love I’m gay,
heard the words I longed to hear
whispered in my ear
and we lay in a bed of grass,
returning kiss for kiss
while rediscovering ourselves,
reinventing ourselves,
learning to let
love alone get us high,
be H-A-P-P-Y
Copyright R. N. Taber 2011
