Monday, 1 February 2016

Positive Thinking, Getting the Better of Dark Forces

[Update (Nov 7, 2016): Readers sometimes get in touch to ask just how positive t thinking person I am. Suffice to say perhaps that, having been diagnosed with prostate cancer in 2011 and treated with hormone therapy ever since, I still take a leaf out of Monty Python's book by always looking on the bright side of life. Indeed, I have opened a Just Giving page to help raise funds for Prostate Cancer UK with a poetry reading in London next year, and am optimistic that I will continue to elude the Grim Reaper long enough to deliver: ]

Now, many of us have experienced hard times since the credit crunch began to bite and may well continue to do so for some time yet.

Recalling happier times can make us feel worse…until we pause to remember that what goes around comes around.

Happy memories are reminders of what we can look forward to again. Things won’t be the same, of course. Nothing stays the same for long, but develops and matures just as we do…for all life’s ups and downs along the way.

Now, the heart may well be familiar with an autumn that turned into winter far too soon for its liking, burying memories of its finest summers under layers of sadness and longing. Ah, yes, but we can always look forward to another spring, nature bursting with the joys of life and music, inspiring us to go with its flow, recover poor, damaged hope along the way, and set about the task of making it whole again. Besides, memory knows better than to ever (quite) let go of better days even during the worst of times.

I guess we just have to allow for hard times by ensuring we pave ole Memory Lane with more than enough good times to compensate…

[Did I say it was easy?]

This poem is a villanelle.


Where angry winds blow
scary smoke rings,
a brave spirit, too, may go

Harvest home, we know
but sadness brings
where angry winds blow

Where naked fear on show
(peasantry among kings?)
a brave spirit, too, may go

Nature, daring us to follow
(dove or hawk’s wings?)
where angry winds blow

Where too few flowers grow
as dark winter clings,
a brave spirit, too, may go

Bonding with a late swallow,
of spring a robin sings…
Where angry winds blow,
a brave spirit too, may go

Copyright R. N. Taber 2009; 2016

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