Forgotten happiness

Posted on by kenhallettblog

scan 21-1

 

 

 

 

 

When I was a small boy
at the zoo

This world seemed
fresh.

And yet

If someone told me
then
how lonely
life would grow.

What could I have done
(or changed)
to stop that fate?

 

(Hence
not finish up
as melancholic.
Black-clad
faded soul.

Like a goth in spirit.

Minus
style.)

 

 

 

Perhaps long illness shows us
who our true friends are?

With mine revealing
I had none.

Except
a loving uncle.

Close
until the end.

 

His photographs were left for me.
Preserving childhood days.

Those early sunlit trips
escaped oblivion
again.

 

 

7

 
To my surprise
he claimed I’d been
a source of fun and joy.

 

(Depression
arrived later.

Once art waned
I lost my way.)

 

His favourite picture
caught me unaware
a swan approached
behind.

 

 

Konica12496

 

 

Recently
I found an unseen image
of what happened next.

 

He’d made it known
the bird drew near.

So I turned back
delightedly.

 

 

8

 

 

Thus
these few shots

which now
survive

though blurred
or aged

might still display

their faint remains

 

of such

(forgotten)

 

happiness.

 

 

 

 

 

 

(This is my third

Birthday blog post.

🎂

After 30 years of spending them alone (and ill)
I often feel sadness, on the day.
It tends to emphasise continued isolation.

My uncle used to ring me.
But, since his death, the phone stays, mostly, silent.)

 

Hope everybody is well?

Do you like any of the photos?

 

Comments are always VERY welcome!

 

Thank you
for reading.

 

( art / blog / blogging / depression / goth / life / mental health / photography / poem / poems / poetry / reading / thoughts / writing )

Published by kenhallettblog

I post thoughts and musings upon existence while living with chronic illness. On my blog you can take a break from relentless positivity, to indulge your inner lostness. My interests include: art, poetry, reading, writing, music, guitar, philosophy and chess.

177 thoughts on “Forgotten happiness”

  1. Just caught the tail end of a piece on radio talking about Virginia Woolf’s essay on illness, which I had never heard of before and thought you would be interested: Your poem is very moving!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Sad but very true.

    Maybe loss and pain are an uncouth wake up call that up that snaps us out of the illusion that so many of our species are under the influence of. But we can wander most of our lives in a prolonged state of shock after that, never finding a real alternative to the dreams we had.But there is always hope.

    I hope you can find healing from your hurt and that you discover the true love that never lets you down.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Beautifully written, at first it made me laugh, by the end my eyes were moist. It looks to me Ken, you have a lot of friends now here through your beautiful and inspiring work 🙂 keep writing.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. Hi Ken, most of the time I quite enjoy my aloneness as it inspires my creativity but Birthdays and Christmas time it tends to get me down as there is a social pressure to be jolly and an emphasis on family which is tough when you don’t have one anymore. Are you involved with the Disability Arts Movement at all? There’s a group on Facebook which is full of interesting creative people who live with isolation due to various reasons. Take care.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Yes, I agree, Nikita:
      isolation often feels more painful on days associated with human connection.
      I had not heard of the Disability Arts Movement.
      (Also, I have never actually been on Facebook.)
      Thank you for the information.🌞

      Liked by 1 person

  8. I only started to participate on Facebook recently when the Pandemic began and in some ways it’s useful in forming connections. There may be a local disability arts group near you and there is a good national website you will find through Google. Wishing you well. 🌈

    Liked by 1 person

  9. Tears didn’t roll but came to moist and disturb my sight, blurred. Long time the phone no longer rings, and when you dial that number it has no one 🙂 Only, if ..and then no. That is life, a bit sore I guess eh.

    Liked by 4 people

    1. How lovely to hear from you, Linda!😊
      I’m glad you think it works, because the piece actually started as prose, but gradually morphed during editing.
      I wanted to somehow use the last photo, which had gone unseen for so long.

      And yes: It would be nice to see more childhood pictures of YOU, as well!

      Liked by 1 person

  15. There is something very nostalgic about the second to last photo. Don’t lose hope! Even if life is harsh to you, you have all of us here to share your talented words with.

    Liked by 1 person

  18. I hope happiness finds its way back to you again. I think this piece speaks to so many of us. I pray you find solace in your fellow writers and fans of your writing.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for the kind thoughts, Clary!😊
      Yes: this post has turned out to be surprisingly popular.
      (Sorry for my delayed response: I’ve been out of action with a virus, since your comment arrived.)
      Hope you will visit again.🙏

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Maria! 😊
      I’m glad you like it.
      That’s an interesting idea about studying history via blogs.
      Though I wonder how long they will all remain online,
      and how investigators might choose among the vast number of sites.🤔

      Liked by 1 person

  25. This made me cry… I can really feel the heart behind the words, the images… And in a way.. I can really relate.. Loneliness has been a more stable companion than anyone else I know on this planet. I, too, have spent many birthdays alone. Even the ones that I wasn’t, I felt so very alone. Thank you for sharing your heart. I hope you find genuine connections in this world in spite of the limitations of your health challenges. 🌷

    Liked by 1 person

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