Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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When It's Too Late

It doesn’t hit you at first. You close the door, calling out.
Silence. Then you notice something, as you cast your eyes about.
There’s a photo missing. Something else too. Now it hits you.
Something’s wrong. You can feel it. But what though? Something’s askew.

You race up the stairs. Go from room to room. Head back down again.
It’s then you spot it. That note. One that’s greeted many men.
Your heart sinks. Your stomach knots. Emotion wells up inside.
Your spouse has gone. “Won’t be back,” she said. You’re stunned, horrified.

Yes, it’s a terrible nightmare, one you’re not dreaming though.
You didn’t expect this. Thought she’d stay. But she chose to go.
You should have seen this coming, given wrong you’ve said and done.
But it’s too late now. Your turn to suffer. Your pain has begun —

For you loved her, didn’t you? Yes, you really did. How sad.
She’s gone for good now. Won’t change her mind. No, things were that bad.
She tried hard to make things work, despite the treatment she got.
And now, she’s emotionally scarred, yes, mentally shot.

I realize you’re sorry. But it’s too late. Can’t be undone.
You’ve caused too much damage. So now she’s left you. Cut and run.
It’s a lesson learned too late. But one I hope you have learned,
For you’ll be a better man — and wiser, where love’s concerned.

Yes, you don’t treat women like that. They’re not objects, you know.
You’re meant to protect them. Not harm them — for that’s acting low.
So, mind thoughtless words. Any selfishness. That macho thing too.
Treat them tenderly. Cherish them. And only what’s right do.

That way, you’ll find no note, no empty home, no missing bride,
And never experience that gut wrenching pain inside.
For women don’t leave good men, unless like you, they blunder too,
And some greener pasture that isn’t so green, foolishly pursue.

By Lance Landall




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