Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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The Sparrow

It has been my custom when penning a poem to sit near a window,
Where I watch the world go by while waiting for some poetry to flow.
And there by that window one August day, an intriguing thing occurred,
When smack, right into the large pane of glass, crashed a tiny little bird.

And with quite a wallop too — yet, amazingly and surprisingly
It flew, (who knows how though, given its head-on crash), to a nearby tree.
And there, and upside down, it hung by its tiny claws, tenaciously,
While I sat there watching, expecting it to fall eventually...

And noticing its little brown body pulsating pitifully.

Yes, I could’ve soon run to its aid, but what if it took off in fright,
Only to crash again, too weakened, even worse off, and lose the fight?
No, better to leave it, I thought, so I just sat there watching, waiting,
And upon the slim chances of it surviving, I meditating.

After what seemed ages, and to my astonishment, it flew away,
Which left me sighing with relief, and presuming that it was okay.
What a plucky little bird, I thought, it down but not out, a fighter,
And you guessed it, obvious fodder for a relieved poet-cum-writer.

After all, what courage, what strength, such worthy of preserving via pen,
And so reminiscent of many heroes, gallant women and men.
Yes, real battlers, who though the odds were against them, still continued on,
Or who, despite opposition, fearlessly stood up, spoke out-cum-shone.

Yes, fighters, who like that little sparrow, didn’t give up, but held out,
Men and women who believed in themselves, and didn’t give way to doubt.
Battlers hanging by their fingers, and staring at possible defeat,
And yet, not prepared to give in, give up — they not prepared to retreat.

Say, are you like that plucky little sparrow, a battler, fighter too,
Who's not prepared to give in, succumb, nor adopt some negative view?
Do you, despite your feeling dazed, and hanging by your fingers also,
That same tenacity, pluck and inner strength, as courageously show?

Thank you little sparrow — you’re an inspiration, you know.

By Lance Landall




2.  The Magnolia Tree

(a lesson from)

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




3.  May It Be So, Son

May your gratefulness for another day, the wonder of life and creation,
Steer your course on this Earth, your thoughts, words and actions in every situation.
You mindful of the gift of life that you have received, and that others have rights,
And that too few are heroes and heroines, which your attention thus invites.

Yes, may your birth produce much kindness, a love for man and every creature seen,
Your eyes and ears sensitive to every cry, your heart and conscience sound and clean.
And you, always prepared to lend a hand, more attuned to other’s needs than yours,
And never turning to any means but the right means, a man of peace, not wars.

May your treatment of women be nothing short of outstanding, you thus a man,
Not someone trying to pass himself off as one, chivalry hardly his plan.
But rather, you protective and honourable, speaking out despite the roar,
Your mum and dad proud, your wife experiencing that happiness she foresaw.

Yes, may it be so, son, this Earth having been the better for your presence here,
And all whose path you’ve crossed, come that time when beneath graveyard clods you disappear.
'Cause too many misuse the gift they’ve been given, leaving this Earth all the worse,
Hence why I’m praying that your entrance will prove to be a blessing, not a curse.

The truth is, that men come and go, they either selfish or selfless, women too,
And as far as those selfless men go, and in the scheme of things, they rather few.
Most men saving their own skin, out for their own ends, simply living for the day,
Rather than searching for truth, living to serve, and desiring a better way.

By Lance Landall




4.  Mind That Path

Any path taken that’s not loving,
Any path taken that isn’t true,
Any path taken that isn’t right,
Is a path that will never bless you.

Any path taken that’s not noble,
Any path taken that isn’t wise,
Any path taken that isn’t fair,
Is just a path where misfortune lies.

By Lance Landall




5.  Okay, So You've Messed Up Already

You’ve discovered that certain attitudes and behaviour isn’t good, but sad,
Having found out for yourself, having noted sage advice on your mental pad.
Circumstances and people delivering what everybody should know,
And act upon, but you having messed up already, wishing you hadn’t though.

Well, as sad as that is, and given that others may have been hurt by it too,
It’s not how you were yesterday but how you are today, that different you.
Your thinking having changed, your heart and mind sounder, your focus readjusted,
And thus you no longer on that same old path, old ways and traits done and dusted.

Yes, the results of the past having caused regret and damage, and that’s a shame,
But you knowing that it all belongs to yesterday, and having accepted blame.
Though who knows who or what might have set you on that course, and the young prone to err,
So don’t despair, because you will get there; no point in dwelling on things that were.

Yes, it may take time for others to notice, even trust you again, but hey,
We all make mistakes, and just have to live with some things, even what some may say.
But you knowing that you’re not that same old person, and new friends will come your way,
Life rewarding the brave, that girl or boy, man or woman, who the distance stay.

By Lance Landall




6.  Should Love Ask You

Should love ask you how you acted today, what would you say, and could you look love full in the eyes,
Or would you choke on your words, stammer and splutter, and if big enough, humbly apologise?
Well, your response would be governed by that choice you made on arising, for love’s an attitude,
One that’s married to doing what’s best and right; and that also maintains an air of gratitude.

Yes, best we arise with a desire to improve the lot of others, self having been snoozed away,
And thus any thoughtlessness and indifference buried in yesterday, not part of today,
For such sorry yesterdays are best left in the past, they never any good to nobody,
Which love’s well aware of, and hence why it doesn’t waste time creating regrets and injury.

Life is very short in the scheme of things, it far too short to just fritter away on folly,
Nor on that which robs us or others of sleep, we guarding our inner peace and serenity,
And thus maximising rather than minimising our happiness, and that of others too,
Who, given our kindness, will be less likely to afflict us somehow, via what they say and do.

So may it be that should love ask you how you acted today, you can smile and in all truth say,
“With all the dignity, nobility and wisdom I could muster, and so too yesterday.”
For anything other than that would have robbed you, detracted from your joy, and this, so foolishly,
As you wouldn’t have got the best from life — just short-changed yourself — and marred other lives too, maybe.

By Lance Landall




7.  “Why Me?”

Oh, how oft that “Why me?” is cried aloud, and literally by millions, not just you and me,
For bad luck, (as many call it), bad timing and unfairness are common to humanity.
Hence why so many end up stuck with a lemon, out of pocket and inconvenienced somehow,
They upset, hurt, angry, (even injured), and oft immersed in some long running dispute-cum-row.

And no wonder, for not only do things happen randomly and without any real cause, but,
This world’s full of charlatans, abusers, the reckless and irresponsible who doors oft shut.
Yes, if not ending, they delaying or spoiling some dream, marring someone’s life, causing trouble;
They effectively saboteurs who deprive of sleep, peace and joy, thus bursting many a bubble.

And all why it’s best to roll with the punches, to adjust and adapt; fretting of no value,
We accepting our losses, beginning again, and some poor response choosing not to pursue.
For negative responses hardly develop character, and meantime, oft add to our pain,
As if life’s not stormy enough, and seas oft rough, without us increasing gales, cloud, hail and rain.

But sometimes those things we view as negatives are actually blessings in disguise, for they
Prove to be to our benefit or advantage, even though at first it didn’t look that way.
Hence that missed plane that crashed, that partner we missed out on that time proved would’ve caused much misery,
Or any number of things, but whether so or not, it never just you or I crying “Why me?”

And yes, millions are having those same bad runs.

By Lance Landall




8.  Take Charge

Don’t let anyone kill your spirit, steal your soul, play with your mind, nor trample all over your hopes and dreams,
For your life is your life, not theirs, and hence why you shouldn’t give up, give in, no matter how tough it all seems.
And nor should you let anyone weigh you down, pull you by the nose, treat you like a puppet or as a pawn,
For you’re your own person, a free agent — a right that you automatically received when you were born.

And hey, don’t shoot yourself in the foot by doing your head in via drugs or via booze, nor harm your body too,
(Be it via this or that), for you’ve a whole life to live, and there’re so many possibilities to pursue.
And hence why you should learn what you can, seek to achieve, strive to be better, give, share, help, support and forgive,
For the wiser, kinder and more positive that you are, the healthier you’ll be, and the longer you’ll live.

And remember: Your value as a person is inestimable, your potential considerable,
And you, a power plant of rhythmic, dynamic, creative energy, a living breathing miracle.
Yes, you’re a world of your own, full of emotions and feelings, a scientific and medical marvel,
A being who has the power to choose, and in order for things to work in your favour, you need to choose well.

You’re no one's property, your heart, mind and body are your own, and your conscience only as good as you choose,
And hence why you should only seek the very best of paths in life, and anything that’s injurious refuse.
For at the end of the day, it’s our choices that largely determine the outcome of our lives, good or bad,
And whether we’ll look back with much regret and sorrow, or over such, and our decisions, be very glad.

By Lance Landall




9.  When Life Up And Gives Us A Boot

We often wish that the rain would go away, but without it where would we be?
And so it is with set backs and so forth, growth occurring via adversary,
Or hopefully.
’Cause calm seas never make good sailors, and a trouble-free life bears little fruit,
And hence why we should simply rub our bottoms when life up and gives us a boot.

Yes, it’s better to splash in life’s puddles, to sing in the rain or laugh out loud,
’Cause wherever reality is, there’ll be a spot of rain or surly cloud.
And sometimes a winter, and hence that need of mental coats and umbrellas too,
’Till that wind and hail has passed, and there with a big summer smile stands steadfast you.

By Lance Landall




10.  It's Only A Body

If you’re aging, badly scarred or not endowed with good looks, don’t let it bother you,
’Cause your body’s just a prop for your head, a skin sack that’s keeping your insides from view.
Thus it not meant to be on parade, but to simply do the job and nothing more,
’Cause without that prop your head would fall off, and without skin there’d be blood and gore.

So don’t take your body too seriously, it’s for using, not for looking at,
’Cause in time there will be cracks and peeling, things a bit too thin or a bit to fat.
And when it’s time to go, it’s underground that you’ll go, never to be seen again,
Old Father Time always having the last laugh when it comes to vain women and men.

By Lance Landall




11.  Once Pristine Wells

Our mind, just like our body, was clearly designed for the purest of things, and
This why both the mind and body can be injured by what was never planned.
So why are many filling both the mind and body with so much rubbish today,
And how tomorrow they reap what they’ve sown, mental or physical decay.

All why only noble and healthy entries will serve us well, and this fact tell,
We noted amongst others, many corrupt of mind and indulgently ill.
They having read, watched and listened to, or dined on, mind and body contaminants,
And hence their toxic influence, or that sad arrival of an ambulance.

Once pristine wells, but no more, they as polluted as Earth, and thus stricken too,
A curse or burden on their fellowman who that very same path may pursue.
Yes, once pristine wells, but no more, wrong choices resulting in buckets of regret,
Positives exchanged for negatives, when most of us should no better, and yet...

By Lance Landall




12.  Everyone Loves Chips

It’s just a humble potato, but everyone loves chips, and thus why it’s so
That it all comes down to what people do with something, enter that creative flow.
Hence that humble potato pleasing many palates when that good idea was born.
Just like that brainwave that saw someone take a bicycle and add a warning horn

Yes, just a humble bicycle, but oh, all the fun that children have with that horn,
Which one day in the contemplating brain box of some clever head was seen to dawn.
And all how some people think themselves out of trouble, or solve a pressing issue,
And why I hope that out of this poem well come something that’s just as fruitful too.

By Lance Landall




13.  Moving On

Many who’ve been badly hurt, wounded by someone’s callous and selfish arrows, have no choice but to move on,
Leaving that certain someone behind, things hardly repairable, whatever they had well and truly gone.
They possibly having suffered beforehand, and here they are, having to remove themselves from further ill,
For were they to stay, and not prudence obey, they’d be forced to keep riding that miserable carousel.

The human heart can only take so much, and far less so, the heart of those who have suffered previously,
They often still dealing with weeping wounds that weren’t attended to — their battle in this case, even more lonely.
And midst such, finding themselves being fired at again, even more callous and selfish arrows coming their way,
And all because of those who cruelly abuse, be that mentally or physically, or who trust betray.

And hence why there comes a time in the life of many out there where moving on is a mere formality,
Something they’ve no choice but to do, for remaining would ensure a far worse outcome — yes, greater injury.
And such they can’t afford, and what’s the point where there’s no gain? — simply more anxiety, misery and pain,
That day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year, hope, joy and happiness will drain.

No, it’s sad but true, that moving on is the only sound option for many, they having done what they could,
For were they to stay, more ill would come their way, and in some cases, serious consequences the likelihood.
And why for many, only moving on can provide a way out, usher in a new day, and healing too,
Whereby someone new is even found, someone who only right seeks to do, their love being genuine and true.

By Lance Landall





14.  Happy Just Being Me

You may not be someone famous, applauded by adoring fans, sought by the paparazzi,
You no prince, pop star, actress, best selling author, Olympic champion-cum-celebrity.
But nonetheless just as valuable, precious and no less worthy, so rejoice in your being,
For you’re an amazing creation, an engineering marvel, even if this folk aren’t seeing.

Yes, look at you, you’re a walking, talking miracle too, no less than they and no more than they,
For everyone of us is equally as human, composed of water, flesh, blood, bones and clay.
And each of us only spending a limited time here, a time too short to waste on fretting,
For some things we’ll never be, never do, and why time wasted fretting we’ll soon be regretting.

And besides, fame oft ruining character and lives, and many fritting their millions away,
Such folk oft having got lost in their own self-importance, and why many of them soon dismay.
For their lives aren’t really the norm, but more a fantasy world, one not all that desirable,
And why for so many of them — despite that glossy outward appearance — all is far from well.

But you know, it’s just being who we are that makes us unique and special, not the stage or limelight,
For if anything, such tends to subtract from folk, and the real them invariably overwrite.
And is it any wonder, they moulded by an industry that’s simply driven by money,
One that effectively just uses and abuses, has its favourites in society.

So don’t lose heart should you be among the rest and most of us, our lives the norm, reality,
We ourselves, not some generated, same as others who’ve gone before creation — clone, possibly.
Yes, we uniquely who we are — no catalogue look, no borrowed image — and no pampered star,
But quite happy to be the one and only us, that very different person that we are.

By Lance Landall




15.  Seek To Forgive

Yes, people can hurt us, let us down, or simply cause a lot of bother, hence so much upset,
But given failings are common to us all, it’s best we bear long and forgive, even forget.
Many are struggling with serious issues, their background and old ways — change not coming easy —
And they unhappy they’re causing problems, upsetting others, and from such, wanting to be free.

Things that need undoing take time, folk having become programmed, as it were, their habits engrained,
And thus many automatically responding as they’ve always done, or how they’ve been trained,
Or influenced, should I say? — and why they often need time, support and forgiving, lest it be
They give up, continue as they are, or get worse, and who’ll be all the worse off? — not just them but we.

It’s also true that many don’t see ’till they’re older, their hearts full of regret — and time left, short —
And why despite their sad trail, we should still forgive, they oft having suffered as well, of a sort;
Such either due to their own unfortunate issues, or their wrongdoings — both undoubtedly —
Many victims themselves, prisoners of their afflictions, and they in need of a saving key.

And sometimes that key comes in the form of forgiveness, an acceptance they haven’t known before,
They having been shunned because of their ways; yes, mistreated too, that mistreatment oft at the core.
And why forgiveness never goes amiss, it blessing the forgiver, for they’ve acted nobly,
And no doubt realising that they may desire forgiveness too one day, and may it be ready.

By Lance Landall 




16.  Knots

The truth is, that things and people more often disappoint and let us down, unfortunately,
And why it’s all about being content with little, expecting less-cum-facing reality.
And as a consequence, we all the happier, free of sandcastles that are soon swept away,
Those desperate desires-cum-dreams that are destined to be shattered, thereby filling us with dismay.

Yes, things spoil, deteriorate, break, play up, pack up and cost, and as for people, words are lost,
For in so many ways that shouldn’t be, the human element is seen to thwart and accost.
All why we shouldn’t put too much store in others, focus too much on things, or even some dream,
For all that glitters isn’t gold, and more often an illusion, and some folk not how they seem.

The thing about things is that they’re just that — things — and why any fixation with such we can’t afford,
And why best we mind expectations too, for though some things should be, they oft aren’t, as we’re all flawed.
And why both things and people are bound to disappoint and let us down, and why it pays to be
More content with little and less expecting of others, lest we cause ourselves grief needlessly.

Oh, how we get ourselves in knots fretting over this and that, our lives oft spoilt by little things,
And why we need to take a lesson from that tiny bird that midst foul weather still bravely sings.
Yes, a simple nest and busy life, no time wasted on peripheral things, and so may it be
That we too, don’t get caught up or hung up on what isn’t for our best, and folly too late see.

But rather, and like that tiny bird, we head down, grateful for blessings, chirping away bravely,
Giving rather than expecting, all things in perspective, and thereby, we at peace inwardly.
In other words, we content with little and expecting less, our disappointments handled well,
And we no longer getting ourselves in knots-cum-free of that sad old joy robbing carousel.

By Lance Landall




17.  Don't Bottle Things Up

It never pays to bottle things up, but rather, to express ourselves freely, and thus get things off our chest,
For what’s bottled up can ferment, and in time explode — the results being anyone’s guess, and not for the best.
Yes, such acting like a poison within us, a boil that hasn’t been lanced, which can only but lead to ill,
Not just physically and emotionally, but also causing some relationship to go downhill.

Yes, it’s always better to say what we honestly think, to say what’s bothering us, for when we hold back
Such can create a toxic frustration, one needful of release, lest we blow our top, have a heart attack.
At the end of the day, there’s nothing worse than us feeling unable to express our upset, or feelings,
Such being the root of so much tension, anger, illness and ill feeling, from which even worse usually springs.

Hence why we should always let folk say what they think, tell us what’s bothering them, we showing maturity,
We nobly taking such on the chin like adults, accepting their constructive criticism graciously.
And thus learning and growing from such, whilst meantime freeing that safety valve of theirs that’s too often left stuck,
(Thereby allowing a dangerous pressure to build, ensuring that sometime, somewhere, things will run amuck).

As with most things, there’s always a downside, for what folk say can hurt, but that’s better than greater ill, surely,
For when folk don’t have an outlet for their pent-up feelings, they oft turn to what can hurt us more severely.
Or they take it out on society in some way, we having indirectly opened that baleful door,
For we might have prevented such had we let them have their say — and a way to deal with their beef, sought to explore.

Yes, oft the problem lies with us — it’s us at fault — or it’s our inability to take things on the chin,
We responding poorly, even adding to the problem, they then left feeling more aggrieved-cum-worse within.
Hence why we should always let folk have their say — pleasant or not — we always responding with maturity,
Remembering that such shows strength, and so does expressing yourself — saying what you think — but with integrity.

By Lance Landall


By the way: Such is another good reason why we should guard freedom of expression very jealously.




18.  But, But, But

“I’m sorry, but…” — oh yes, but, but, but — how we hate those buts, that tiring “Can’t be done,” and thus “Must accept,” reply,
Such meaning, “There’s no cure,” “Nothing that can help” — despite our but, but, but — to which they often roll their eyes and sigh.
Well, let me tell you this: If it wasn’t for those who refused to halt at a deflating but, one thing’s for sure,
Many an answer, or that which now helps folk, would never have been found such being, some clever machine or cure.

While acceptance has its place, and far too often isn’t applied by many, (thus adding to their misery),
Our but could prove invaluable where propelled by some distress or frustration, and determined energy,
Alias inventiveness, thinking outside of the box, and a strong belief that there must be something out there,
That is, in the way of an answer, solution, cure — and why despite those deflating buts, we should still persevere.

And when tempted to give up, we should persevere for the sake of others, (like we’d love them to do for us), and,
Remembering that by doing so, we might well find an answer to our own woe — and hey, wouldn’t that be grand?
But whether an answer is found or not, we'll at least be doing all that we humanly and possibly can,
And the wonderful thing about acting so, is that life tends to reward those who such thought show their fellowman.

So, where others say that we can’t, it’s often better to think in terms of can, (of the possibility),
And likewise when it comes to some cure, or that which might help — and first and foremost, not for ourselves, but humanity.
For life that’s worth living is all about giving, seeking what’s best for others, refusing to give up hope,
Which makes finding an answer much more likely, or that something that will make things easier for someone to cope.

By Lance Landall




19.  Even The Wise Can Falter

Good advice-cum-wisdom is great, but reality quite another thing, for then, words are simply words, and,
Given that those who haven’t been afflicted with the same thing, though sympathetic, can’t really understand.
The loss of a loved one being a good example, perhaps, for despite one knowing that life must carry on,
The actuality of such a loss can choke the best of intentions, for something most precious has gone.

Yes, wisdom-cum-knowing what we should do is one thing, (regarding this or that), but easier said than done,
Especially when life’s stormy clouds have blocked out the sun, and troubles have riddled us like a machine gun.
Yes, sometimes it’s one thing after another, or simply a traumatic event, one that paralyses,
For such can catch one off guard, hit where it hurts most, and at the worst time, and oft in cruel disguises.

Wisdom should always be said, and more so where one’s learnt the hard way, (so that others may benefit from such),
But this doesn’t mean that the one giving advice won’t struggle too when some painful thing has them in its clutch.
For as I said, words are all well and good, but reality quite another thing, as all is hardly well,
Thereby making putting things into practice harder, for crippling pain and distress isn’t easy to quell.

And so, midst the worst of things, one tries to make the best of things, responding responsibly and maturely,
But should one falter or fail, such is hardly surprising, and why understanding, every person should be.
And why we should realise that those who convey wisdom aren’t immune because of such wisdom, which should still be said,
For those who do put such into practice are better off, given wisdom and practice were meant to be wed.
 
By Lance Landall



20.  My Jigsaw Puzzle

Welcome to my jigsaw puzzle — my life — where even I can’t put all the pieces together, though I’ve tried,
And then there’s that frustration, that inability to convey thoughts and feelings that I have deep inside.
I’m sure that I manage to convey a degree, though even then, perhaps not always that successfully,
But it’s only a portion of what’s within, and probably confusing, for it’s not the whole picture of Me.

Yes, there’s so much I’d like to say — oh, if only I were an artist — for a picture’s worth a thousand words,
But then, some artist I’d need to be, one who could paint that Me within, not just landscapes and the likes of birds.
I have turned to pen and paper, the standard form of expression outside of attempting such verbally,
But oh, how oft words fail to come, and when they do, they simply scratch the surface, and hardly speak masterly.

I've even wished that I could project my inner self onto a screen, one where chapters of my life could be seen,
And thus I much better understood, the agonies and desires within my heart and mind filling each scene.
And midst it all, the creativeness within me, those abilities not yet tapped, and talent not yet seen,
All crying out for release and fulfilment — I not wanting to lament what could’ve been, or should’ve been.

Sometimes I feel like a painting that someone’s lost interest in, the canvas cracked and peeling, the brushes dry,
Or perhaps a sketch that has been smudged, one where the likeness is amateurish, and there’s no rubber nearby.
And I almost cry, feel like I am being passed by, when all I desire is to be valued and understood-
Cum-wanted as much as anyone else, but in such low times thinking to myself, “What’s the likelihood?”

Yes, welcome to my jigsaw puzzle, pieces scattered here and there, and some possibly never to be found,
My life a mixture of this and that, good and bad things, fair and unfair things, influences, genes and background.
I’ve no desire to harm, but rather to love and care, and be the best that I can, but often I despair,
For those thoughts and feelings within, and whatever else — need expression — which I struggle to convey and share.

And there are things that I’ve done that I can’t understand, things I wouldn’t do now, not that I’m beyond mistakes,
For though I’ve learnt and grown much, I’m still battling with things within, things that hamper — and more time is what such takes.
And hence I guess I’m an unfinished book, one too often judged by its cover, many not wanting to wait,
And other folk merely scanning the odd page, taking things out of context, and failing to rightly translate.

Oh yes, how I wish that I could convey more of what’s within me, and thereby, a truer picture of Me,
Not one that’s glossed over, but simply more accurate, one that would soon see others thinking differently —
Well, hopefully, that is — for the more pieces that are found by both others and me, both in their lives and mine,
The much better things will be, for frustration, depression, confusion, falsehood, indifference….will decline.

By Lance Landall



21.  The Weeping Heart

Oh, the weeping heart — how it bleeds — tortured by pain that robs of joy, its invisible tears pooling within,
And there, cruelly saturating, stressing, hampering, the pumping and beating laboured in their discipline.
Oh, how the weeping heart aches, and often midst a shattering loneliness, a melancholy solitude,
Where no healing visitation is paid, but just those tears that are never welcome, and that thereby intrude.

And oh, how they intrude indeed, their dampness sombre, gloomy, wretched and chilly, depressingly clammy,
And they, too often leaving streaks that twinge, reminding of their callous entrance — yes, well after surgery —
That being, when healing balm has somehow entered those precious chambers that sustain life, and signals that all’s well,
Hope and happiness drying from the inside out, peace wiping those outer tears that an inner story tell.

Yes, the weeping heart, too often bleeding from wounds neither fair nor necessary; pain that clutches cruelly,
It’s miserable fingers gripping one viciously, squeezing both emotionally and physically.
Oh, how such distresses and impairs, the besieged heart sobbing and throbbing, drowning in a pool of sorrow,
Though longing for some lifeline, something that will release pain’s brutal shackles, usher in a new tomorrow.

And new tomorrows do come for many, the weeping heart freed of its torturer, pain’s shackles forced apart,
A gentle, soothing holistic medicine in the form of something special having healed the weeping heart.
Yes, even when things seem at their worst, and the weeping heart is feeling crushed, a joyous answer can appear,
Creatively relieving or removing that pain within, the weeping heart well, the tears gone, the way clear.

By Lance Landall




22.  Dear Afflicted One

I believe with all my heart, that those who destroy the lives of others, or who make them suffer terribly,
Will one day get their comeuppance, and that their punishment will be appropriate — and they, then cease to be.
And though I base this on the Bible, something inside of me hollers that such simply could not fail to be,
So please take heart, dear afflicted one, for those who carry out such evil, will surely pay, ultimately.

For as much as there’s an evil force, one that’s bathed in darkness, there’s also a loving force that’s bathed in light,
And such isn’t just my opinion, but a fact, one that’s clear for all to see, for all know there is wrong and right.
And I cannot believe that good will not triumph in the future, but that it’s letting evil have its day,
So that the entire universe will soon see its ultimate plan, and never again, think to go astray.

For after all, the kind of loving force I see, would hardly try to make robots out of humanity,
Unlike the evil force, to whom absolute control is no doubt paramount, and such seeking actively.
For how else could it enforce its will, knowing that there are those who’d never willingly accept its dictates,
For such a force, despite any candy coated disguises, just chains, troubles, deceives, scares, harms, lies and hates.

So, no matter what this force may do, (or what the future brings), don’t succumb to its allures, nor buy its plans,
For should you do so, you’ll sell your soul to the devil, alias vile men, and greatly suffer at their hands.
And then, may even suffer the same fate as they, for rest assured, dear afflicted one, that there’ll come a day,
When the loving force that’s bathed in light, alias truth, will finally and rightly so, have the final say.

By Lance Landall




23.  Try, Try Again

In this sad and rough old world where so much thwarts our best intentions, it’s so easy to give up and give in,
And why those who get back up again, and keep on trying, (despite their setbacks), are a true hero or heroine.
And the reason why is, because so many heroes or heroines are simply momentarily so,
And that meaning, just heroes and heroines of a particular moment, who only that moment know.

Yes, it’s amazing what folk do on the spur of the moment, and when a surge of adrenaline kicks in,
But it’s really that getting back up again, and again, that determines a real hero or heroin.
For were those momentary heroes or heroines given more time to think before they act as they do,
Many of them wouldn’t be heroes or heroines at all, they thus saving their own skin, not me or you.

So take heart, for our setbacks and trials give us the chance to be a hero or heroine every day,
And all such takes is that we try and try again, rise from any fall, and this, each time something goes astray.
For these everyday vexations — tests — are the hardest battles to fight, the truest test of inner strength, and,
Who doesn't applaud the tryer, the get back up type, who valiantly deals with setbacks, trials, or the unplanned?

Sometimes everything seems to come at once, or stormy clouds threaten to engulf us, but they’re our chance, you see,
For should we rise to the occasion, and not give in to defeat, a hero or heroine we would be.
And a true one, or more so a hero or heroine, and we’d remain one if such were our response each time,
Hence why we should always try and try again, or if we’ve tumbled, grasp hold of hope's rungs and then upward climb.

I know such isn’t easy, and many are disadvantaged to begin with, hence kind and thoughtful we should be,
Always seeking to encourage the struggler, the one who’s tumbled or stalled, or wringing their hands anxiously.
For it’s amazing what a comforting and cheery word can do, as opposed to criticism and frowns,
As we never help folk when we rub their noses in their failures, or piously flap our self-righteous gowns.

And you know, sometimes we handle something major well, but not some smaller thing though, and unsurprisingly,
For something smaller can prove more aggravating and stubborn, and hence that little saw that fells a large tree.
And by that I mean, we letting those smaller upsets and trials cut away at our resolve and good intentions,
And why greater and longer effort is oft required, lest those smaller things take on far greater dimensions.

But that’s what makes a true hero or heroine, they toughing out the smaller things, prepared for some rougher sea,
They rising when they fall, they bravely trying again and again, come any setback or adversity.
And when hit by a wave of tsunami proportions, they float rather than sink, eventually reach land,
And there, having endured and overcome, having gained greater strength, they rebuild and victoriously stand.

By Lance Landall





24.  Regarding Truth


Never assume that what you hear and read is true, as so many perilously do, for this world is full of error and lies, that far too easily, and far too many, satisfies, and that when embraced, and in the mind encased, falsehood simply multiplies, and way too frequently.
No, never assume that what you hear and read is true, for that which we hear or read can often be untrue — yes, a tale simply spun for fun, (one perhaps naively begun); something taken out of context, (very often a statement or text); an outright lie; something that innocently went awry; or a deliberate attempt to mislead, all of which, and upon which, many all too often feed, and foolishly so, for surely we all know, that there are those who have agendas, oft behind the scene offenders, (collectively or individually); those who’ve bowed to popularity, peer pressure, desire, ease; those who everyone wish to please; those too afraid to say what they should, (thus consenting to evil rather than good); those who have their head in the sand, (simply disinterested or too off-hand); those who’re dancing to another’s tune, or to that which is opportune, and who thereby, or therefore, truth twist, dilute, or cut to suit, and effectively, out the door boot, whilst incoming error they salute — self being at the core — and whose flawed comments, or untruths, we’re best to ignore.
Yes, never assume that what you hear and read is true, for packaging falsehood to look like truth is something many do — thus, truth, (or even error), is only found when one’s thinking and approach are sound — that is, when self interest is laid to one side; when the true source of that which is heard or read is identified; when commonsense, willingness and wisdom are applied; when others are given a fair hearing, an impartial platform for sharing; when bias or prejudice are rejected; and when that which is heard or read is open-mindedly and thoroughly inspected — in other words, conscientiously researched, for often it has only been those who’ve seriously searched, who, great danger and folly uncovered, and even lost truth recovered, or for that matter, truth simply discovered, thus steering a straight and worthy path, and not having perilously lurched.

By Lance Landall




25.  Those Little Things


Too often amidst our woes and cares, and those oh so quickly passing years, we overlook those precious little things from which true joy springs, and tend to forget that life’s in the living, the sharing and the giving, and not so much in our dreams and plans, so oft demolished by shifting sands, those folk who our love for them betray, or who with our life wrongfully play, leaving us disappointed, disillusioned, and sad, rather than hopeful, content, and cheerfully clad.
Hence why those little things should receive more attention, rather than the usual, casual inattention, for those little things aren’t so little but where the answer lies, one that awaits the seeing eye that such identifies, and having done so, delights in and shares throughout the coming days and years, for by doing so, such opens another window, whereby, a better, brighter and richer life appears.


By Lance Landall




26.  Something That's Never Ever, "ME"


Though love’s a very tiny word, it’s pleasing to the ear, and very regularly heard, but sadly, it's oft tainted by association, a mistaken and unworthy relation — yes, it’s either confused with infatuation or physical attraction, or used in connection with sullied affection, an introverted and oft perverted collection — yes, backstreet Sally, silicon alley, censored material, the bare it all serial, promiscuity and pornography, those one night stands, those lusty weekend plans, and out of which, devoid of a stitch, arises nothing but self gratification — in other words, an aberration, for here, there’s no association, other than in the mind of those more out than in their clothes, who, completely mistaken, and sense having forsaken, thus muddy and taint love’s good name, for sex and love are not the same, and love knows nothing of self, for self is but its selfish self
another’s best interest is not its aim.
So, what exactly is love then, so oft expressed by voice and pen, (those very flawed efforts of women and men), but the loosing of oneself in another’s good, not thinking of some return, allowing lust to burn, and nor love should, for love when pure and true, not only right and good seeks to do, but forgoes its own desires, and to more noble heights aspires, where on behalf of others, (our fellow sisters and brothers), it selflessly proceeds, seeks to fill another’s needs, and on their behalf, willingly pleads or intercedes, even bleeds, for genuine love’s not some feeling, some mutual wheeling and dealing, nor some shared physical revealing, but rather, a choice and action, unsullied by some chemical attraction, and completely devoid of any adulteration or degradation — in other words, something that’s tied to honour and dignity, and yes, chosen and carried out lovingly and feelingly — and at the core of it all, (the hardest call of all), love's something that’s never ever, “ME.”


By Lance Landall




27.  Believe It!


Some folk say that we all evolved, thinking that they’ve got it solved — well, forgive my exuberant mirth, even following fun — for such a subject should be taken most seriously, considering for one, the miracle of birth, but thinking we evolved, isn’t thinking logically, and hey, what about DNA? — now there’s a tricky one, for when all is said and done, we’re designed so intricately, and then there’s our anatomy, an amazing work of art, and then there’s our beating heart, an even greater work of art, for deep within that beat machine, and often felt as well as seen, is love in all its glory, which debunks that monkey story, and so does our clever brain, another thing that’s very plain, for I haven’t seen apes proposing, nor music scores composing, and I might add, very fashionably clad, and driving a car they’ve engineered, or eating a fruit-cake that they’ve prepared, and nor will I see such, for I clearly know this much, that we certainly didn’t evolve, so there’s no mystery to solve, for the evidence is clear, that the reason for our being here, is, we’ve been designed with a purpose in mind, most evident where folk are loving and kind, and in so many other things, for no other creature laughs and sings, debates the merits of psychology, nor pens amusing poetry, which all declares to me, that Someone very creatively, not to mention rather graciously, thought us up, worked us out, made us a reality, and very ingeniously — yes, some supernatural Mastermind, who clearly in His likeness, created humankind — yes, one great big family, tied by origin and destiny, and whose lengthy family tree, isn’t complete without you and me, the crowning glory of creation, and a reason for celebration, for life is a gift, and we not adrift, but anchored to a purpose and reason in time, one that clearly has a rhythm and rhyme, unlike that monkey theory, decidedly shady and hairy, for we’re no sophisticated chimpanzee, but totally and uniquely human, thankfully.
Believe it!


By Lance Landall




28.  A Simple Truth


Our lives are largely made up of what we read, see and hear, and hence why on our journey through life, midst joy or strife, we should take great care — that is, we should mind what we take in, for what we allow to reside within, effectively becomes our heart and mind, and why we inevitably find, that we’ve acted according to what we’ve read, seen and heard, and why we’ve either done what’s right or erred, either done what’s best or failed the test, either done what we should’ve or what we preferred, and all because of what we read, saw or heard — yes, for it’s all about choices based on what we’ve taken in, and why when it comes to what we allow within, we should only accept what is best and blessed, and make what is right our personal quest, and bearing in mind that whatever's within, inevitably shows, and onto others unkindly or kindly flows, thus adding to their blessings or woes, for that’s how it goes — yes, it’s as simple as that, and where it’s all at, and why what you allow within, shouldn’t be fit for the bin, but rather, only what will improve and bless, for therein lies the path to happiness and success.

By Lance Landall




29.  The Eagle


“Enlighten me brave eagle, your appearance so regal, and backdrop the bright blue sky: How do you soar so high and the elements defy?”
“Well,” said he, as he patiently peered at me, “It’s all to do with positivity, for it’s attitude that governs altitude, a belief that sneers at defeat, (or gets back up on its feet), and challenge is prepared to meet, which carries one higher and higher, for life, dear enquirer, rewards the determined tryer — yes, that confident, constructive embarkation, that daring — I CAN DO IT! — proclamation.”
And as if to give an illustration, he raised his head and his strong wings spread, and soared to his habitation, a lofty ledge that inspired, (and thus aided the desired), one distanced from negative sways and pessimistic delays, where he duly watched and waited, learning assimilated and wisdom accumulated, till he finally reached his goal, thus he and not fate in control — yes, an eagle in every sense of the word, one very focussed, committed and disciplined bird.
Are you an eagle?


By Lance Landall




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