Poetry With A Mission

...a thought provoking poetical exercise.


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

Self Absorption

It’s so easy to forget or overlook the burdens that other people carry,
And here I’m talking about those who’re nearby, people that we have contact with daily.
Perhaps a friend, our spouse, mother or father, brother or sister — our own family,
Or it could even be a workmate, or someone that we somehow mix with socially.

Thus, while we laugh, sing and play, as it were, or get caught up in our day to day affairs,
We fail to remember another’s burden, and thus aren’t aware of their inner tears.
And yet, daily they carry such, right in front of our noses, even throughout their lives,
All of which is lost on us, and to our shame, and all because of what distracts or drives.

We know that they carry such, we even get used to such, rather insensitively,
For such we shouldn’t get used to, nor neglect, leaving them alone in their misery.
And yes, they may have learnt to go without our daily concern and help, (rather bravely),
But that’s not how things were meant to be, for such is the thoughtless side of humanity.

Yes, so absorbed in our own little world, or our own woes — perhaps introvertedly,
And perhaps it even suits us to forget or not notice another’s misery.
However, more often than not, it’s just self absorption, lack of sensitivity,
For at the end of the day, the truth of the matter is, we’re all too concerned with “me.”

By Lance Landall

Go Visit!

Many years ago, there was a TV add that I think went: “Don’t wait to be told you need Palmolive Gold,”
The add referring to a particular brand of soap, and no, we certainly shouldn’t wait to be told.
Well, when it comes to us wanting to visit folk that we know and would like to, a similar thing applies,
And that is: We shouldn’t wait to be asked, (for we may not be asked), and we thus looking poorly in their eyes.

At the end of the day, how much do we really care about those folk, or for them? — and we do have a voice,
Our asking them if we can visit them thereby showing a true interest, and such clearly being our choice.
In other words, we don’t have to wait to be asked, for we can ask them — and surely if they haven’t asked us,
That’s the only thing to do, and what we should’ve done in the first place — such hardly thoughts of a genius.

Yes, it’s pretty ABC stuff, for waiting can make us look like we really don’t care, and there is the phone,
Such only taking a few minutes, and they possibly wanting a visit, more so if they are alone.
So what’s with the waiting? — as such has got to be the silliest of things, and it more likely to offend,
For many complain that they’ve not been visited, and even sneer at promises which seem to have no end.

So many must be owed a visit that they’re not going to get, all thanks to others waiting, foolishly,
Such more a negative sign than a positive one, folk even dying before they’re visited, sadly.
Yes, those who wait to be asked have no reason but their own, a reason that is hardly worth the light of day,
For we all have a voice and two legs which were meant to be used — unless we’ve clearly been told to stay away.

By Lance Landall