Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.




Yes, another David Beckham, (soccer champ), or so I thought,
As I imagined the crowds that are drawn to such a cool sport.
I ran towards the soccer ball, and kicked as hard as I could,
But to my utter horror, that ball headed where no ball should.

Straight towards the kitchen window went this ball my boot had sent,
Which I can truly assure you was never this man’s intent.
Bang! Yes, it smashed its way inside with a sound that left me weak,
And shortly, through what glass remained, my dear wife began to peek.

Only seconds earlier my dear wife had been standing there,
Busy preparing the dinner that very soon we would share.
And had my wife still been standing by that window near the sink,
What on earth she would have suffered, I would truly hate to think.


When our twin girls were three years old, I called home in the work van,
Where I backed down the concrete drive, and inside the house then ran.
Then moments later, I went back to that van parked in the drive,
Thinking that back at my workplace I would very soon arrive.

When I had jumped from the work van to quickly hurry inside,
I had dislodged some small thing, which underneath, someone saw glide.
And when I returned to the van, I guess I'd forgotten that,
But forgotten, or unaware, now under the van it sat.

I turned the key, began to move, felt a bump, a cry, then stalled,
So I jumped back out, ran ’round the van, and what I saw appalled.
While busy inside the house, my daughter unbeknown to me
Had crawled under the van to retrieve what her sharp eyes could see.

The front wheels of the work van had crossed her legs behind her knees,
Hence that bump that I had felt, that cry, and my sudden unease.
I, and a nearby workman, grabbed at her amidst my “Oh no’s,”
But the next day she was walking, and now, just a wee mark shows.


One day my other daughter and I went out for a wee walk,
For such we regularly do, and about this or that talk.
First I slowed to check the mailbox, then slowed to tie my shoe-lace,
Then we crossed the road, walked a block, at a rather casual pace.

We then turned into a short street, a street where we often walked,
Casting our eyes about, (as folk do), while we quietly talked.
Halfway down and opposite, a man in a car drew my gaze,
One seemingly day-dreaming, and whose actions would soon amaze.

His car had stopped at the end of his driveway, just near the curb,
That is, right across the footpath, our walk ready to disturb.
For soon he accelerated, shooting ’cross the road at speed,
And down another’s driveway where it crashed, and left us weak-kneed.

Yes, only yards in front of us did this incident occur,
That could have taken our lives in an instant, and in a blur.
Had I not checked our mailbox, or slowed to tie my loose shoe-lace,
It could have left our dear loved ones with a tragedy to face.

Yes, I do believe in miracles, like those I’ve mentioned here,
And I have experienced more throughout my life, here and there.
In fact, it's quite a miracle to survive another day,
For danger is ever present, and life can be snatched away.

By Lance Landall