Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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Tell Me What You See

Excuse me my little feathered friend, would you mind telling me what you see?
For I can’t fly like you, wish I could do, and you make it look so easy.
So much is hidden from my gaze, which I’m sure would amaze, interest me,
But such I may never see, hence my plea, though even more importantly…

I’d like to know where there’s a child in tears, their head buried in a pillow,
Or a housewife sobbing, fraught with cares and fears — such you’ll see through a window.
Perhaps that child has been abused, that wife just used, both treated like objects,
Or maybe they’ve been neglected, rejected, bullied, reduced to nervous wrecks.

I’d like to know where someone is housebound, feeling anxious, feeling poorly,
Perhaps they’re frightened, can’t pay their bills, face winter ills, need help medically.
Perhaps they’ve been left alone, live on their own, no longer have family,
Or are handicapped somehow, can’t get out, (cost no doubt), or are elderly.

I’d like to know where there’s someone who’s depressed, or seriously unwell,
Going through a bad spell, pain they can’t quell, nursing something, (injured when they fell).
Someone needing help with chores, those things indoors, or around the property,
Someone who has lost their job, house, spouse; contemplating suicide, maybe.

Yes, tell me what you see, my little feathered friend, I’d really like to know,
For where there’s such need, hearts that bleed, one should go, love and compassion show.
We shouldn’t wait ’till they cry, nor ’till they pass by, but rather, such folk seek,
By our heart being led, not just our head, for it’s our actions that truly speak.

Therefore, catch the airwaves, soar and dive, search the city, little feathered friend,
So that someone’s misery, anxiety, I may lessen, even end.
And not just I, but all, I cry, who’ll die to self, (“me”), act unselfishly,
For those who do, what’s right pursue, revealing the best in humanity.

Yes, please do my bidding, my little feathered friend, and tell me what you see,
For I seek not my own, desire no heart of stone, won’t act indifferently.
Plus, the greatest joy that hearts will buoy, and that which gives the greatest return
Is found in what’s willingly given, selflessly driven, which many too late learn.

By Lance Landall




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