Pleasant Place

 

Introduction

These poems are not the light-hearted ones mentioned on my Home page (and found on my poem list page), nor the cluster of sample poems mentioned too (that are found on my Home page).
Thus the following poems stand alone.




1.  A Pleasant Place


We all need a pleasant place to go when the seriousness of this life drains,
A pleasant place where some wholesome distraction takes our mind off our aches and pains.
Yes, it may be a sunny spot where warming rays lift our spirits, bathe our eyes,
Or a quiet relaxing spot where we regain our strength and restlessness dies.

In other words, somewhere where we can daydream, even midst pleasant surroundings,
A place where there’s a bubbling brook, a bushy grove, and a bird that sweetly sings.
Yes, a place that heals, a favourite spot, perhaps, an oasis midst the strain,
Where clouds recede and skies become blue, and creative thought refreshes our brain.

By Lance Landall




2.  Open The Door


Open the door to love, seat it at the head of your table, place it on a throne,
And let it reign unhindered, steal the show, call the shots, save the day and set the tone.
Yes, let love direct your heart, take the wheel, circle each day on your calendar too,
That it may pave the way, heal some wound, bridge some gulf, and pursue the right avenue.

Oh yes, let love stalk the wayward, scale any wall, pull back the curtains, scent the air,
Surround each crib and farewell each casket, hover tenderly where there’s any tear.
Yes, let love choose the right time and place, even words, arrange the notes in every tune,
Thus taking you and I to greater heights via an all-embracing hot air balloon.

By Lance Landall




3.  I Could, But No


I could captain a ship, pilot a plane, guide a rocket into outer space,
Conduct a famous orchestra, become a judge, even win some kind of race.
But the truth is, I’d rather stroll around town as a deliverer of joy,
Be that via word or deed, my presence cheering any man, women, girl or boy.

Yes, I no brain surgeon, no president or king, but a man of different means,
My chest not sporting a row of badges, my wallet not bulging at its seams.
No, my skills or talents used in other ways, my worn pockets lean from giving,
And my back stiff from stooping to serve, for such is what I call really living.

By Lance Landall




4.  Love Is Strength


I heard love singing today, but via a sweet little bird, his cheery little chirp,
He dipping his beak in a bowl of water without me hearing a single slurp.
Oh, you happy little soul, I thought, never mind the wind or rain, you just the same,
Flitting here, flitting there, busy, busy, and putting any discontent to shame.

I would love to know what you’re saying; perhaps “Thank you” for every worm or crumb,
Little babies in a nest telling you that they’ve a never ending empty tum.
And you doing your best, not worrying about tomorrow, and letting us know,
So that we might follow your example, and that same unshakable spirit show.

By Lance Landall




5.  Peck-a-boo


Do you remember when love tickled your tummy, played with your tootsies,
Held your tiny fingers, bounced you up and down, gave you a little squeeze,
When love fed you, patted you on the back and wiped your chinny chin chin,
Changed that soggy, soiled botheration, rubbed talc all over your skin?

Do you remember when love made those funny faces and pinched your cheek,
Repeatedly said, “Boo!” Smiled. Sniffed the air. Grimaced. Had another peek?
Of course you don’t, and you staring blankly at love’s face, until one day,
You couldn’t help but smile back, and your own intriguing things do and say.

By Lance Landall




6.  Where Does love Come From?


A little child asked, “Where does love come from, Mum?” And her mother replied, “From above,
It as high as the heavens, yet deep as the sea, wide as the Earth, and like a dove.
It’s harmless yet powerful, it’s tender yet firm, everything good that’s been said,
It snuggles you in warm blankets, reads you to sleep, and kisses you on the forehead.”

Then love tiptoed away, it turning off the light, leaving the bedroom door ajar,
Because love has an ear that listens carefully, and this why it doesn’t go far.
Except, of course, when it spreads its gossamer wings and flits from soul to precious soul,
Because treating everyone the same way — with the utmost thought and care —- is love’s goal.

By Lance Landall





7.  I'm Sure You'll Agree


When the smiling sun pokes its nose through the surly clouds and warms one’s heart and face,
This oft depressing old world seems not as bad, even the fickle human race.
But what an extra blessing when those stuffy old clouds decide to disappear,
And a sky of blue takes their place with that friendly sun beaming from ear to ear.

And oh, how sweet it is when blossoms peek out from their buds and cheerily bloom,
Joining in the sun and sky’s welcomed attempts to disperse any frost and gloom.
And what another blessing when it seems as if every bird has thought to sing,
And when every kind of multi-coloured fury butterfly is on the wing.

And to top it all off, frisky and boisterous fountains sharing their liquid joy,
Or sedately captivating any loitering man, woman, girl or boy.
And yes, a duck or two, and a nearby river that beckons oars and swimmers,
Who, after all those strokes and splashes, head toward that picnic lunch that simmers.

By Lance Landall




8.  A Love Drone


I wish I had a love drone that could drop love bombs, and then busy I would be,
I spying out those targets in need of bombing, the hard of heart or teary.
And, “Bombs away, bull's-eye!” Folk momentarily staggering under love’s spell,
And then skipping and dancing with loving passion and a feeling that all’s well.

Oh, how my expertise would grow, no person beyond my reach, my spying eye,
Love bombs bursting wherever someone was grumpy, angry, seen to sniff and sigh.
Yes, my battery always charged, my drone always ready for action, and, “Fire!”
Heat seeking love bombs raining day and night, and I hardly about to retire.

By Lance Landall




9.  Stronger Than A Summer's Sun


Love says a lot without saying a word, though it’s not beyond using words too,
But hey, where it excels is in doing, for actions speak louder than words do.
And thus love busy where it’s at, scratching where it itches, rubbing where it’s sore,
Words only used where necessary — yes, love more a silent ambassador.

But it the greatest example of all, hence why love’s welcomed everywhere,
It pulling back the curtains, opening the window, changing the atmosphere.
Oh yes, how it waxes lyrical without saying a single word, not one,
And why wherever it’s present there’s a warmth that’s stronger than a summer’s sun.

By Lance Landall




10.  Singing In The Rain


When the sky packs a sad, covers itself in cloud and turns its tap on hard,
And thereby, the dark and gloomy landscape is seen to angrily bombard,
Out with the umbrella, raincoat and gumboots, thus one singing in the rain,
For though the heavens have opened, we can smile and that lost sunshine reclaim.

Yes, too bad what the moody sky may say, too bad what the weather might do,
Let’s splash in those puddles, enjoy the watering, laugh at the rumbles too,
We shrugging off that grouchy storm, making our own blue sky, warmth that’ll shine,
Ignoring that ill-tempered wind that has nothing better to do than whine.
 
By Lance Landall




11.  On A Roll


Morning world! — and hey, get out of my way, for I’m about to seize another day,
Haven’t got time for negative introspection, would rather love, laugh, sing and play.
So look out worry, 'cause I’ve had enough of your old spoil sport ways, am on a roll,
Have a basket full of promise, a new zest for life burning deep within my soul.

Yea, can’t keep me down, 'cause I’ve a spring in my step, am like a bud about to bloom,
A fountain about to gush, or a chandelier that’ll brighten up any room.
Won’t take no for an answer, couldn’t care less if I come across a cloud or two,
’Cause I’ve got a brush that’ll take any moody sky and soon cheer it up with blue.

By Lance Landall




12.  Traces Of Love


Traces of love, traces of love, conveying where love’s gown brushed past on its way,
It touching enough to leave an impression that only love’s manner could say.
It soft on the cheek, light on the arm, warm in the heart, and easy on the mind,
A butterfly with slippers on, a Summer day that a gentle breeze has signed.

Yes, traces of love, traces of love, their sweet perfume lingering here and there,
Kind messages that remain in the memory ready and waiting to share.
Silky caresses, cotton wool dabs, powder puff strokes, feather duster swishes,
All leaving behind their own cute little something, and conveying best wishes.

By Lance Landall




13.  Sherlock Love


Love’s a spanner in the works given that it gets in the way of any ill,
Holding up selfishness and even stopping it, oft making things turn out well.
Yes, it’s sometimes a fly in the ointment, but a good fly, one that has clean feet,
And a habit of doing things that are beneficial, life-changing and neat.

Oh, how it soon stops things in their tracks, turns evil on its head, and saves the day,
Thus changing frowns into smiles, sending callousness and coldness on their way.
Yes, it charming its way around things, melting icebergs, softening hard faces,
And hence how it has earned a reputation for cracking the hardest cases.

By Lance Landall




14.  Make Life Count


Make life count, skin those potatoes, peel that banana, skip with your nose in the air,
Show troubles that you couldn’t care less, that you’re going to sing and dance while you’re here.
No hanging around in the shadows, but you as large as life in the old sunshine,
And swinging from tree to tree like Tarzan, clinging to an imaginary vine.

Yes, make life count, let people know that you’re coming, and that you won’t be sitting still,
But making the most of everything, thus electrifying every cell.
No, no flies on you, but mental wings, your creativeness running riot, on fire,
Your flames of passion sneering at any negative, your heart singing like a choir.

By Lance Landall




15.  Making The Most Of It

Shame about the weather, ay, it rather emotional, all over the place,
Sunny smile one day, cloudy frown another, then comes those wild gusts in one’s face.
Or it sheds its tears — yes, we the unfortunate victims of its moody swings,
Those stormy temper tantrums where it booms and crackles — and oh, how that hail stings!

But midst it all, we making the most of it, turning the tables, so to speak,
A comfy chair, fire, hot drink and engrossing book — who cares if the weather’s bleak.
Yes, we tucked up inside, snug in bed, or sporting warm gloves and a woolly coat,
And should a little flooding occur, who’s bothered, because there’s always a boat.

By Lance Landall




16.  Smile!

A smile is a kindly thing, and more so when we are feeling down,
Or when we’ve been on the receiving end of a judgmental frown.
Yes, a smile can lift our spirits, make a difference to our day,
Which is why we should smile too whenever anyone comes our way.

And should they smile in return, we’ll feel all the better for it too,
And encouraged to smile more, every stranger being our cue.
And you know, pleasant words often following, a nice “Howdy-do?”
Two people all the better off for it, and days a brighter hue.

By Lance Landall




17.  Love Is Very Special

"Should love come my way, would I recognise it?" enquired the little boy.
"Oh yes," I replied, and I hugged him, and at such he expressed much joy.
"Was that it?" he asked, and I nodded my head, for love he hadn't known,
And I wondering if he ever would have if such I hadn't shown.

Yes, love is very special, and it’s kind of heart shaped, or so I’m told,
And they say it's red, though others say he or she has a heart of gold.
Well, although that makes things confusing, it really doesn’t bother me,
Just so long as love is beating within me, and universally.

By Lance Landall




18.  Go For It


There’ll never be too much love in the world, so pop it in letters and emails,
And ensure it’s delivered by speedy cheetahs and not time consuming snails.
Spare no expense on the wrapping, tie it with the biggest most colourful bow,
So that unbridled extravagance and a passionate energy will show.

In other words, tuck it everything, and take it wherever you go,
Leaving plenty behind for others, little heart shaped impressions that will grow.
Spread it around like graffiti, leave its tap running and unravel its hose,
Toss it just like snowballs, bounce it just like basketballs, and let it boldly pose,

And if you dare, rub its little feather under noses, let it tickle toes.

By Lance Landall




19.  Words Are Only Words

I would rather be shown love than just told all about it,
Because an example is of far greater benefit.
And at the end of the day, words are just words, nothing more,
Until, that is, love in person comes walking through the door.

But what colour's love, I wonder? Could it be wounded red,
Terribly blue, even green, or naively pink instead?
Or is it not coloured at all, just our feelings, maybe,
Because shouldn't love be neutral, transparent and stain free?

By Lance Landall




20.  That's Love For You


You can see love coming, no cloak and dagger stuff, except when it’s surprising,
Cooking up something that will cause a squeal of delight, without ’em realising.
Yes, they walking into a room and there it is, or somewhere else, and, “Surprise!”
And if they’re not dancing and whooping, there’s tears of joy welling up in their eyes.

But otherwise love just being its self, openly expressing its feelings,
Full of thought and care, loving concern, and always honest about its dealings.
It nodding its head, winking knowingly, even smiling mischievously,
Or it looking for opportunities to act extraordinarily.

By Lance Landall




21.  The Magnolia Tree


Come spring, and oh, what lovely blossoms we see, like those pinkish ones on the magnolia tree,
But you know, they no sooner here than gone, and how of our human lifespan they so remind me.
And thus the thought, that just as we cherish those blossoms, we should cherish each human blossom too,
For they too, are no sooner here than gone, their presence simply for a season, such sad but true.

And what varying blossoms we see, be they those on a tree or those forming humanity,
Each one making up the whole, a colourful bouquet, but each, only momentarily.
For each blossom only has its day, its short season in the sun, and then it’s gone forever,
And hence why we should value each one, and far more so each human, whoever and wherever.

And, for that matter, appreciating the blossom that we are — yes, that miracle of birth,
And how not just others, but we too, in our own way, adorn same hills, valleys and plains of Earth.
And how, come our exit, there’ll never be another blossom the very same, and thus why we
Should rejoice in our uniqueness, and in that of others too-cum-human creativity.

So when looking upon those blossoms that burst forth each spring, let’s look with eyes anew, and heart too,
Mindful of each human blossom — in other words, we minding those things that we think, say and do.
For every blossom is precious — yes, it making up the whole — and hence that beauty we see
When looking at the likes of the magnolia tree, or via different lens, humanity.

By Lance Landall




22.  Sad Begining, Happy Ending


A pretty little flower wanted to be itself, but such wasn’t to be,
’Cause no one was taken with its colour, nor how it expressed itself, sadly.
So it just stood there until it drooped, dropped all its petals and wasted away,
Never having been appreciated, nor considered fit for a bouquet.

But midst its sad departing, it left behind other free-thinking seeds that grew,
Each one another pretty little flower with its own expression and hue.
They surely not destined to suffer the same fate, each head erect and pleading,
But sad to say, and come each day, their bid for attention no one was heeding.

Until, of course, an innocent child appeared, her face expressing joy and awe,
And each one was lovingly gathered and sniffed at, which made their tiny hearts soar.
Oh to be noticed, wanted, partiality not the hallmark of childhood,
And why in the heart and room of a little child those flowers soon basked and stood.

By Lance Landall




23.  Out And About


It’s good to roam the countryside for pleasure, health, education and chance meetings,
The air pregnant with the scent of Nature’s bounties and those passing friendly greetings.
And then to return to a meal that replenishes, a favoured chair by the fire,
And a sound and comfortable sleep in a cosy bed that was heated prior.

One soon lost in dreams after a day well spent, blessed by the exercise, sun and air,
And those momentary stops for purifying water that’s needed here and there.
Yes, it’s so good to roam the countryside, to lose oneself midst heather, brooks and trees,
Those chirpy birds, grazing beasts, butterflies, dragonflies, ducklings and watchful bunnies.

By Lance Landall




24.  Coming Ready Or Not!


Wouldn’t it be great if love was hiding behind everything,
And when anyone walked past it was seen to up, out and spring.
All at its mercy but willingly succumbing to its spell,
Love wrapping itself around folk in a way that'd kiss and tell.

Yes, it sparing no one, all bitten and smitten on their way,
Love never leaving off but hard at work come night or come day.
And soon the whole of Earth covered in a glorious mantle,
Love having captured each heart and brought any out of their shell.

By Lance Landall




25.  Course You Have


You’ve forgotten me, ay, but I’ve always been there, just kind of hidden away,
Though perhaps it’s those glasses, that grey hair, or those wrinkles that something else say.
Yes, I guess that I’ve sort of metamorphosed, shed that earlier looking me,
Nothing like a change, you know, and I also looking at things differently.

But I’m still that person you knew, my name not having changed, but simply my age,
Hence those things that fooled you, you still caught up in an earlier chapter and page.
It just the same book, but the story having moved on and nearing its ending,
The scene changing, the spotlight shifting, I bowing and the curtain descending.

By Lance Landall




26.  In The Form Of You And I


Love saw me coming, it giving me a hug and even complimenting me,
Which not only caught me by surprise, but also planted a big warm fuzzy.
That encounter remained with me throughout the day, capturing my heart and mind,
And why on its energizing emotional nourishment I wined and dined.

Oh, if only every day of the week, love in the form of you and I,
Would give a hug and complement, leaving behind a grateful smile and moist eye.
Yes, there’s nothing like those loving acts that deeply touch and cheer another soul,
Especially amidst those rigors of life that can dishearten and take their toll.

By Lance Landall





This last poem is a little taste of what's on my page:
To My Wife.

27.  Pop-up Girl

  
You’re my little pop-up girl, the toast of my life, a slice of Heaven on Earth,
My morning boost, stronger than coffee — oh crumbs, how grateful I am for your birth.
Your composition exquisite, your texture pleasing, your warmth energizing,
Hence why my initial infatuation with you was hardly surprising.

Yes, you’re my little pop-up girl, the gluten that holds my day together, and
I quick to pluck you from over exuberant elements, take you in hand.
And there you are, I savouring the moreishness of your presence each morning,
When from the inner warmth of that toasty environment you soon up and spring.

By Lance Landall


Sometimes my wife tells me that she's as warm as toast, so there you go.