Author

 


About The Author


"The soul of the artist cannot remain hidden."
Henri J.M. Nouwen (1932-1996)

“Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which
form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a
constant evasion of ourselves.”
T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)


Roses are red, violets are blue, and before I forget, "How do you do?"

Thank you for letting me be myself, warts and all, for granting me this opportunity to bare my soul, to say what I honestly think or believe, for making me feel completely at ease, for your understanding and non-judgmental* presence, for taking the time to get to know me better, for reading a number of my poems so that you can get the right balance, for adding a poem or two of mine to your favourite folder, or passing a poem or two of mine along, even mentioning my website, and for taking the time to respond encouragingly, or to perhaps share a concern you may have.

Yes, it's people like you that I really treasure.

*There's a big difference between prudent evaluations upon which one acts certain judgments made  and simply being judgmental. See my page Regarding Judging Others, which can be found on my poem list page, secular section.

Because some people like to know a little about the person behind the website (and poetry, in this case), I have put together a brief picture of sorts.
So here we go:
Okay, I'm 70 years old. Was born in 1951. Am what one might call a sixties child, though not a wealthy one. Left school at 15 — silly boy.
I was born here in New Zealand, still reside here in New Zealand (Wellington region) and have never been outside of my country.
I have 4 brothers and 2 sisters. One sister was adopted by my parents when she was a baby. The other sister passed away on the 26th April 2012, aged 72. My oldest brother passed away 27 May 2019, aged 82.
I met my wife (now aged 67) when I was 17 and she 15. We married in 1971 and have been together ever since.
We have 6 children — four boys, twin girls. Their ages — the boys 48,46,38,36, the girls 32.

I'm a vegetarian, though heading more in the direction of veganism.
If you would like to read about the dangers of eating flesh food, and even dairy products, visit my page Why I'm A Vegetarian, Home page, purple box. 
I happen to have the artistic temperament (am more attuned to the subtleties of human emotion and experience, but no Vincent van Gogh though).
I also have a strong empathy with the underdog.

By the way, the only things that I'm aware of that slow down the aging process (other than things steroidal or hormonal, and no doubt concerning), are a healthy diet, perhaps a daily vitamin/mineral supplement, ample healthy water, regular outdoor exercise (and hence sunshine and fresh air), lots of laughter, taking things quietly and sensibly, appropriate work, adequate relaxation and sleep, refraining from injurious substances like alcohol, other drugs and cigarettes, the avoidance of unnecessary risks that can lead to serious injury, and the avoidance of unnecessary, destructive stress. 
As far as jogging goes (which so many people are into these days), and even those workouts in a gym, I believe such are not only unnecessary, but a pointless overuse of one's joints which in time will painfully show. It's the old story — not too little, not too much. Moderation, in other words (coupled with temperance). Just like those parts on a car, the more our joints are used, and the harder on them we are, the quicker they play up and pack up.

Oh, by the way, it’s very nice to meet you, though I can’t quite make out your face,
Not that such really matters, mind you, but that you're part of the same human race.
However, I hope you’re smiling at me, 'cause very comforting that would be,
Given that I’ve kind of been waiting for you, have got terribly bored with me.



Okay, so what do I value, love, like?

I've respect and thought for creatures, love music, art, books, the magic of language, great documentaries, good clean fun, riding my e-bike, and pottering in a reasonable sized garden surrounded by trees and shrubs, and where I can work creatively. At one stage I was very much into making things with wood, and in the early years, into sketching.
The following combination: Enjoyable food, music, conversation-cum-company — that is, quiet, relaxed, refined company, two or three friends, say.
Generous, charitable, kind-hearted people who don’t pull out a check list and pen before they consider helping you out, who willingly search rather than wait to be asked for help, and who take the time to ring and call to see how you're getting on.
Open-minded, fair-minded, impartial, receptive, truth seeking Christians who are just as much interested in knowing your views/beliefs as they are in sharing their own.
People who forgive and move on, rather than holding grudges or letting it colour their behaviour.
Humble people who treat everyone the same regardless of their race, religion, sexual orientation, situation, circumstances, position, issues, handicaps, or appearance.
People who stand up for you when they see that you’re in the right or when they see that  you’re being treated wrongly.
People who’re not hung up on popularity and who’re not afraid to call a spade a spade and rock the boat.
People who are genuinely interested in you, understanding and accommodating of your issues, and who go out of their way to help regardless of the effort needed and time of day.
People who check with you to see if something they’ve heard about you is true, and who give you fair opportunity to defend yourself.
People who keep their promises, don’t gossip, and are open, transparent, honest, and trustable.
People who wouldn't hurt a flea, but who would come to my aid should someone take a pot-shot at me (just as I would like to think that I would come to their aid too). 
Good values, principles and standards.
Truth, lawfulness, rightness, beauty and order.

Sorry to digress, but,

I’m worried ’bout my state of health, my mind, I oft talking to myself, you see,
Though having some darn good chats, I have to say, albeit embarrassingly.
But what else does one do when no one else is around and cats don’t understand?
Though I finding myself quite friendly, you know, kind of handy to have at hand.


And what do I abhor, dislike, or simply disaprove of?

Well, given my poetic mission, I'm sure you'll pick up on such as you go, but one thing I will say is, that I'm totally opposed to any violence, persecution, cruelty and criminality of any kind.
And here's something to dwell on:

“The goal of everyone of us should surely be a noble character, a selfless, benevolent, transparent, wholesome,
lawful and peaceable way of life free of cruelty, bias, prejudice and bigotry.”

The Author


So how would I describe myself?

As a very flawed individual who has a deep appreciation of the human condition, and as a consequence, much empathy for my fellowman, his quirks and personal struggles. However, I also realise that we can't use our unfortunate backgrounds or unfortunate circumstances as an excuse for any wrong that we do, but simply as a reason perhaps, and that it's foolish and pointless to add to our woes by somehow compounding things. Better to make the best of a bad situation. Oh, two more things:
1) I believe that we should seek to leave this world a better place, and others happier, for our having been here. Or to put it another way: If our life hasn't turned out all that well in the scheme of things, let's help the lives of others to turn out well, remembering that what goes around comes around.
2) I also believe that we should strive to reach the most noble of heights in our character, and thus in our thoughts, words and actions.

Sorry to digress again, but,

Each time I look in the mirror there is somebody staring at me,
Which is rather disconcerting given the strong similarity.
I guess I could learn to live with that, but what’s really bothering me,
Is that this person appears to have a copycat mentality.


Politics?

I’m neither a member of, nor a supporter of, any particular party, and abhor that left and right mentality that's devoid of balance. 
I have no links with any activist or activist organisation but am interested in examining the material of investigative journalists and those who have compelling arguments regarding certain suspicions worthy of one’s attention. A true construction of history is another thing that I'm interested in.


Oh, by the way:

You may wish to read about my younger days by clicking on the 'New Zealand Through My Eyes' button near the top of this page.

You know, something else just occurred to me,

I’m an endangered species because there is only one of me,
Therefore, should my life be ended, another me you wouldn’t see.
And the same holds true for you too, and hence why we should take great care,
Lest it be that either you or I far too early disappear.


Well, there it is.
Kind regards,
Lance Landall, poet and author.
P.S.



Of Cats And Men


Little did I know it, that I would become a poet, wielding a pen poetically,
A crafter of rhythm and rhyme, blessed with ability and time, and feline company.
Yes, a poet with a cat on his lap, sometimes a handicap, but still my little buddy,
One who likes to curl up and snooze while I’m penning poems, or absorbed in doing some study.

Yes, little did I know it, that I would become a poet, wielding a pen creatively,
One soon scratching his head, racking his brain, and too oft without gain, very frustratingly.
Oh, those days of writer's block, when ideas seem out of stock, and the desired words cease to flow,
Are something this aging poet too often experiences, until, it’s away we go!

But such is life, eased via a very kind wife, who hot drinks on a cold winter’s day supplies,
Which saves me from freezing, inevitably sneezing, and those medicines that one then buys.
And all in all, I do manage a few, expressing a point of view, and some humour too,
Which makes me feel better, encased in my warm sweater, until warmer days come into view.

Yes, such is the life of a poet, and boy, don’t I know it, having gone through pens rapidly,
For more oft I doodle instead, nothing going down in my head — just wasting ink, you see.
But despite it all, I do get to scrawl, and then out comes another, eventually,
Which makes it all worthwhile, and I even manage a smile, and hope on the horizon see.

Come on little buddy, it's time I stretched my legs.

By Lance Landall




Photo


San-Yai and Simba 

Once We Were Little


Nice To Meet You


Hi there, we’re Siamese, with a little less body to squeeze,

But though somewhat slimmer, we’re exotic, from overseas.
Yes, we’re very elegant, agile, and darn clever too,
A lover of company, sporting gorgeous eyes of blue.

I’m San-Yai, a seal point, I’m Simba, a chocolate point,
And via origin and family, we’re thoroughly joint.
We snuggle up together and share the same owners too,
A cat loving family who we’re often chatting to.

By Lance Landall


When is a cat not a cat? When it's a Siamese!


The Author with San-Yai and Simba 

Caught On The Hop With A Shorn Mop


The photo above was taken in 2016 midst my recovering from a hernia operation.
My wife couldn't resist the chance to snap two Siamese sitting on either side of their servant.

With much sadness, and on the 9 May 2018, and at the human age of 13 years, Simba (on the left) had to be put down due to kidney failure. He was such a gorgeous, affectionate, and passive cat.


"To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and to endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty; to find the best in others; to leave
the world a bit better whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even
one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded."
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882)

And one final word, muse actually:



I’m an individual
— in other words, I'm uniquely me, simply I,
And so very complex, even complicated, and why I oft mystify.
And therefore, they will never figure me out — he,he,he — well, not completely,
Because like I said, there’s only one of me, and only one there’ll ever be.

Oh, I forgot this other poem:

Just In Case


Just in case I have unintentionally erred in some way, somehow, somewhere,
Remember I’m still learning and growing too, have some way to go to get there.
Hence why I mightn’t have always worded things that well, but though that be the case,
My poems have in fact been designed to provoke thought, for there’re things we need to face.

However, I can truly empathise with those people who’re struggling badly,
Be that physically, emotionally, or addiction wise, believe me.
All why my heart bleeds for them midst my own suffering, and I thus reaching out,
Though negative things mentioned at times in order to bring better things about.

So, dear friend, rest assured that I care, and that I am indeed cross where I err,
And that only penning things that please and delight is what I’d really prefer.
But good friends know that both sweet and sour have their place, and hide from such we shouldn’t,
And why when it came to leaving the sour things out, I’m afraid that I couldn’t.

Yes, I drawing from my own folly, bearing in mind the high price that I’ve paid,
That others may not suffer the same, nor cause any grief too — hence my crusade;
And it hardly pleasant, by the way, for brighter things I’d rather do and say,
But how selfish, for this world is far bigger than me, at the end of the day.

In other words, there’s you, and that’s the whole point, 'cause you might have more years ahead,
My life largely over, and thus why it’s better that my ponderings are read.
And hence why more often than not, I call a spade a spade, and a lie a lie,
Lest you, friend, take the wrong path, follow the wrong crowd, or the wrong side of things buy.

Yes,

I could do with encouragement too, but dare I consider myself again,
'Cause that’s where our troubles generally stem from — yes, that selfishness in men,
And women, and why I try to forget myself, though some things making that hard,
'Cause I, just like you, perhaps, am battle worn, wounded, hobbled, weakened and scarred.

So,

Mind you don’t bring more on yourself than life in general brings, it not worth it,
Nor so hurting others,
Hence why of my own misadventures and folly, I sadly write and admit,
But I doing my best to make the best of things, despite some concerns ahead,
'Cause one can’t turn the clock back — and why what might help you, I’ve well or poorly said.

By Lance Landall