A Life in the Day of a Smile

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber

“Pain pays the income of each precious thing.” - William Shakespeare

¨What sunshine is to flowers, smiles are to humanity. These are but trifles, to be sure; but scattered along life’s pathway, the good they do is inconceivable. ¨- Joseph Addison

“A warm smile id the universal language of kindness2. – William Arthur Ward

“The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.” – E. E. Cummings

"Peace begins with a smile."- Mother Teresa

Now, on the face of it, there’s not much to smile about at the moment, with soaring living and food costs and staffing problems in just about every corner of society having a knock-on effect in all kinds of ways. 

Even so, better to grit our teeth and raise a smile, surely, that waste precious time and energy crying over spilt milk? Never easy, as I have said many times on the blog, but Hobson’s choice in so far as we sink or we swim. 

Besides, managing a smile, even a laugh in the face of adversity, never fails to give mind-body-spirit a boost, makes us feel better and more confident about the future… even when the immediate outlook is not good, to say the least.

Oh, and yes, mine is the voice of experience, and how…! wry bardic grin.

A LIFE IN THE DAY OF A SMILE

Weary of battling hard times,
tempted to wave a white flag at them,
let them treat me as they will;
invariably, I find a way to counter-attack,
body-mind-spirit refusing to cave in
to such vagaries of fate as would see me
crushed by the weight of my own
shortcomings; rather, I choose peace of a kind
that foxes all humankind

Circumstances, eager to see me
on my knees, not least various health
issues and matters pecuniary
that would send all mind-body-spirit
into freefall, kith and kin
on tenterhooks, my end in their eyes
clearer and closer each day,
throwing down a gauntlet to all heart-and soul
to resist and rise above it all

Lips set in cheery curve, eyes on cue,
the taste of love and hope on the tongue
sweeter than I have ever known,
I embrace all that’s beautiful in the world,
as good a prop as any
to light up its past-present-future and have it
find peace; though the way ahead
take its toll on me, let any tears provide rainbows
promising kinder tomorrows

No matter what, needs must we go that last mile,
nurture the nature of a smile

Copyright R. N. Taber 2022

On Call, 24/7

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Someone once told me how I lucky I am to be a poet because ‘poets have a way with words and are blessed with an imagination.’ Yes, I enjoy writing poetry and feel a lot better for having written a poem than I probably felt before starting out; it is the only form of creative therapy at which I can (hopefully) claim to be any good.  

Imagination, however, turns not on words but on the human spirit, and each and every one of us has access to that.

Painting, gardening, any form of creativity stirs the imagination because imagination is a state of mind, not ability. When we are unhappy, we feel better for distracting ourselves by doing something that gives us pleasure and will help ease whatever pain is causing whatever unhappiness, physical or mental, that is burdening us way beyond any measure of words.

Never let anyone tell you that you have no imagination, but if life is an epic poem, so we, too, are epic survivors for the way we journey through it; each in our own way, a poem in the making.

“It is not the load that breaks you down. It’s the way you carry it.” - Lena Horne (singer)

We all need a stop-gap if only to give as a breathing space when things get on top of us, as they invariably do from time to time. Oh, and never think you have no imagination; just close your eyes, relax, and let it work its magic. Whatever is troubling you won't go away, but you can always trust imagination to refresh mind-body-spirit, if only briefly, enough to make dealing with it less of an ordeal.

ON CALL, 24/7

As a child, I would rejoice

in every day, take it in my stride,

good or bad, fall asleep

at night among pleasant dreams

of beautiful places

and beautiful people whose beauty

lies but in the eyes

of the beholder, no expectations foiled

by the worst of human nature

As a teenager, I would dread

schooldays almost as much dealing

with a personal space

to which I dared not admit family

or friends, tried hard

to take it in my stride, but sensed

I was falling apart

until I discovered real-life companions

for mind-body-spirit

In later years, I’d find how love

takes many shapes and forms, in people,

places, wildlife,

waves and seashells…all eager

to comfort, reassure

and support a sad mind with memories

of happy times…

always there to be logged into, undermine
any mental or physical pain

I am Imagination, on call 24/7, feel free
to call on me, stopgap for reality

Copyright R. N. Taber 2019

A Short History of the Human Race

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2014 marks the 100^th anniversary of the outbreak of World War 1. While it is only right that we should remember all those who fought and died for world peace along with millions of unsung others caught up in the conflict one way or another, we should perhaps reflect upon how various socio-cultural-religious divides have caused conflicts through the ages, and continue to do so.

If wars are all about winning the peace, remembering that has to be making sure peace prevails, surely? Or what has it all been for, apart from killing innocent people, greasing the palms of arms dealers, promoting political rhetoric and profiling humankind’s inhumanity towards its own? [World leaders of all socio-cultural-religious persuasions, please note.]

When will they every learn? When we ever learn...?

This poem is a villanelle.

A SHORT HISTORY OF THE HUMAN RACE

Coursing centuries,

blood of angry ancestors

cancerous war cries

Wherever they rise,

venom of our adversaries

coursing centuries

Kingdoms, dynasties,

playgrounds for predators’

cancerous war cries

A pot-pourri of lies

camouflaged in scriptures

coursing centuries

Socio-political policies

(sovereign ears and eyes)

cancerous war cries

Drawing on prejudice’s

bottomless well of tears;

coursing centuries,

cancerous war cries

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

Nightmare on Civvy Street

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I was against the war in Iraq and have never been any too happy with the presence of our troops in Afghanistan. However, both are down to our politicians. Our servicemen and women are doing a fantastic job and deserve nothing less than our 100% support. (M.O.D. please note).

While I fully support anti-war demonstrations, I have nothing but respect and admiration for those front-line men and women who risk their lives daily in the name of peace. Many pay the ultimate price. Others do not receive the 100% support to which they are (surely?) entitled. The dead invariably make headline news, but what about the injured?

There are, of course, two sides to every war. Both genuinely believe they are in the right. We should not be too quick to condemn an enemy comprising many ordinary men and women who, too, risk their lives in a common cause...however much other may deplore that cause.

Whatever, politics fights a dirty war with precious little thought (if any) for those in the front line other than its own [The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a prime example.]

There are various charities available to help serving and ex-serving armed services personnel. The w
former wife of one told me that her husband was ashamed to ask for help, but the stress on their marriage contributory factor in their divorce.

No one but no one should ever feel ashamed to ask for help as and when they need it; it takes courage, but that first step is, in fact, a giant leap for common sense, not to mention a slap in the face for local gossips who know f**k all.

NIGHTMARE ON CIVVY STREET

A soldier, an arm and leg in traction
(truck blown up by a mine)
reassuring us he feels fine, just fine…
while half-listening to pulp fiction;
no regrets, he says, well worth
any price he’d known he might pay
for the thrills and kills every soldier
sees but as Hobson’s choice

As the audio story starts to spread
dark mischief in his one good ear,
he leans forward as if trying to peer
into shadow lands of the dead;
war’s is mother’s milk, he explains,
to those with subtle convictions
like its paymasters and those politicians
floating victory on the wind

The audio voice ducking and diving
the whistle of a sniper’s bullet,
the blind young soldier ducks a hit;
beads of sweat, waking nightmare
without end, need help but ashamed
to ask, need to brave it out in case
anyone guesses there's a human being
behind the hero's smiley mask

Honourable discharge, fighting off tears
for all the world's nightmares

Copyright R. N. Taber 2010

[Note: This poem first appeared under the title 'Sweating it Out' in On the Battlefields of Love by R N Taber, Assembly Books, 2010; rev. ed. in e-format in preparation.]]