http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
‘It’s a life for a crust!’ my
mother would often exclaim with mixed amusement and stoicism to us kids.
More than half a century on, and
growing old, I understand only too well what she meant.
An earlier version of this poem has
appeared on the blog before; in 2000, at the turn of the century, it was published
in an anthology the same year and has resulted in a number of emails from
readers (of all ages) to say how much they can relate to it. Some years on, I have
to say I don’t find much changed for the better ...
Oh, well, c’est la vie.
My maternal grandfather would often
say "Better a plodder than a plonker be." Oh, and why not? We
plodders are (on the whole) a happy breed if struggling sometimes to rise above
the chaos of battles between nature v human nature. We try to make the best of
things, refuse to be cowed (for long) by the worst, and trust common sense will
(eventually) impose a benign order (of sorts) on our surroundings ... whoever
and wherever we may be in a century that has come far, but still has as
much to learn about as from nature and
human nature, not least regarding the (all-inclusive) art of
nurture.
NATURE V HUMAN NATURE (WINNER TAKES ALL?)
Can’t get on a bus, schoolkids
won’t walk half a mile;
stuck on a train, points failure,
(blame the weather);
arrive at work later than usual,
half the staff phoned in sick;
Start to get things done - and
the IT system goes down;
mad rush to meet Management’s
deadline, only to discover
it's been extended yet again;
no relief (or lunch break);
long afternoon, more than ready
to make the Home Run, left
fuming how quirks of modern life
always ganging up on me
Soon, feet up, relaxing (I wish!)
but family strife, no easy life;
a stressful stroll through streets
paved with fool’s gold,
feeling old, and youths sneering
at wrinklies in designer gear;
cyclist hurtling along the pavement
sends shoppers running for cover;
resentment boils over. I stand
firm;
cyclist takes a nasty tumble;
a cop across the street rushes
over,
takes my details, warns me
I’ll get a letter, says folks my
age
really should know better ...
Oh. and when did mind-body-spirit
ever let age get the better of it?
Peace at last on a quiet hill as
dusk
settles on this, my cruel city;
world without pity, but so
beautiful;
kite flier, taking on a rough wind
with laughter, joy and pride, proof
(as if any needed) of humanity's
predilection for turning a blind
eye
and/or deaf ear as and whenever,
the better to give mind-body-spirit
every chance of making good
and breaking free of what 'society'
would have us take for gospel,
since that’s the way it is, we can
take
or leave it ... except we can't,
won’t,
because humanity has a conscience,
that would have the last word
Much as a swallow will fly warmer climes,
shall the human heart wing kinder times
Copyright R. N. Taber 2000; 2020
[Note: An earlier version under of this poem first appeared under the title ‘Citizen 2000’ in an
anthology, Through Life’s Window, Poetry Today [Forward Press]
2000 and subsequently in Love and Human Remains by R. N.
Taber, Assembly Books, 2001.]
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