To My Wife



To my wife, with all my love.

“Women were created from the rib of man to be beside him, not from his head to top him, nor from his feet
to be trampled by him, but from under his arm to be protected by him, near to his heart to be loved by him.”

Matthew Henry

1.  To My Wife

I wish to express my gratitude for your acceptance of me as your lifelong partner, and
To let you know that I never take such for granted, for other men are always close at hand.
And therefore, dare I treat you any less than I should, though such folly would hardly be manly,
And why I seek your best interests above my own, that I as your partner may be worthy.

Yes, may I always see you as a precious individual, I always treating you so,
And thus minding how I handle you, both emotionally and physically, I no foe,
But rather, the protector of your honour and well-being, my motives unsullied nor selfish,
I treasuring every moment together, and where I can, fulfilling any noble wish.

And along with this, I also and oft showing my love via wee surprises, (each one thoughtful),
My attitude and responses equally as considerate, charitable, amicable.
For such are the hallmarks of a husband that every wife should have, he there to look after her,
And wisdom surely knowing that via him acting so, her love for him he’ll always freshly stir.

And may it be that such is me, lest you not receive what some other man could’ve given you,
And I meaning, if he’d been your husband rather than me, and his love more selfless, pure and true.
Hence why here I acknowledge what every manly husband should be and do, and once more thank you,
For from among the potential crowd you’ve chosen me — a decision I pray you’ll never rue.

By Lance Landall

2.  Put Your Head On My Shoulder

Please put your head on my shoulder just like you used to do, because you’re still my girl,
And I aware that the petals of our twilight years are beginning to unfurl.
So may our love bloom with a deeper hue before those petals fall in quiet repose,
They clustering together with tender kisses and soft nuzzlings that life's end knows.

Oh, those precious memories of how you’d take my hand and arm and then rest your head,
My shoulder rejoicing in the pleasure of a feminine act that so much said.
And why I’m still moved when you take my hand and arm and rest your head on my shoulder,
For where there’s such love, there are some things that never change even when one gets older.

So please put your head on my shoulder and nestle closer, because you’re still my girl,
And my love for you like a protective clam that’s been nurturing a precious pearl.
And you bringing out the man in me, your head on my shoulder declaring your trust,
And may it remain so until those parting words, “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

Yes, how I love those strolls, that hand that oft moves to my chest, the pressure of your breast,
That special closeness that warms my soul, steals my quickened heart and makes me feel so blessed.
And that still delights, excites and invites, declaring our love to the beholder,
A love that treasures each moment we have — so please, Dear, put your head on my shoulde

By Lance Landall

This poem was partly inspired by the song "Put Your Head On My Shoulder" which I have always loved,
it originally sung by Paul Anka, but here by Michael Bublé:

3.  I Just Had To Say...

You’re the colours in the rainbow, you’re the oxygen in the air,
You’re my honey bun, my baby doll, my sweetie pie, cuddly bear.
You’re the spring in my step, the wind in my sails, the song in my head,
You’re the melody in my heart, and you’re the pillow on my bed.

You’re the alphabet in my soup, the twinkles in the starry sky,
You’re the tickle in a summer breeze, you’re the apple of my eye.
You’re the orchid in my garden, you’re the cherries in my fruit cake,
You’re the stamp on the envelope, and when I miss you dear, I ache.

You’re the sugar in my candy, the boysenberries in my pie,
You’re the fragrance in a perfume, and when you snuggle up, I sigh.
You’re the dressing on my salad, the dawn chorus high in the trees,
You’re the beauty in beautiful, and you’re someone I love to squeeze.

You’re the sparkle in a diamond, you’re the magic in a sunset,
You’re the bubbles in my bathtub, the harmony in a quartet.
You’re the charge in my battery, you’re the fizz in my lemonade,
You’re one of a kind, the pick of the bunch, you’re specially handmade.

You’re the tune in my whistle, the lilt in my gait, the chime in a bell,
You’re the topping on my pizza, you’re the pearl in an oyster shell.
You’re the filling in my sandwich, you’re the marmalade on my toast,
You’re the warmth in the summer sun, and you’re my wife — did I just boast?

By Lance Landall

4.  Hi, Honey

Hi, Honey, I just wanted to say how much I treasure our intimacy,
Those times that we alone enjoy, I referring to marital nudity.
Yes, that special and extra closeness whereby we sexually become one,
Though there’s something else that I must say, despite those deep moments or playful fun.

It’s you that I’m in love with, and therefore, though enjoying that intimacy,
I’ve no fixation with shape or size, you being my focus, and not your body.
And thus I simply enjoying that loving closeness, but not living for it,
And therefore, when it comes to sex, employing any skill for your benefit.

And therein lies the greater joy that comes my way, I living for you, not sex,
For though some might say, “Well of course,” it’s oft too oft that sexual desires flex.
And thus someone’s poor wife feeling sex being more the interest rather than her,
His far too busy eyes and hands giving him away — oh, how many men err.

Though “lovemaking” is a beautiful thing in its place, it’s spoilt when it’s misused,
Hence why many women who’re on the receiving end — such being lust — feel abused.
And thus such not only an unwelcome pressure, but chisel that chips away,
For those far too busy eyes and hands, and constant hints, “It’s you I love,” don’t say.

So, though I love those bedroom encounters, Honey — akin to a precious gift —
I know that when it comes to our marriage, that they’re not meant to lower but lift.
And lift they will, if my eyes are on you, not scrutinizing your body,
For though such pleases me, my gaze is firmly fixed on you, not your nudity.

By Lance Landall

5.  That Special Time

I love that time when we’re snuggled up under woolly blankets and linen sheets,
When the moon has droopy eyelids and only ally cats roam the empty streets.
And there, pyjama clad or skin to skin, we tell the old world that we’re not in,
And bask in the warmth of our marital love, sweet hormonal adrenaline.

Yes, be the night sky full of stars or clouded over and depositing rain,
Or the draughty wind catching its breath or icily lashing the windowpane,
Such hardly registers when we’re embraced in sleep or loving intimacy,
And why I love that tender time that draws us closer and most exquisitely.

By Lance Landall

6.  Love’s Expressions

In the middle of the night when she lies still beside me, I thank the One above,
The intimate warmth of both her body and the cosy bed adding to our love.
And on awakening from some dream, I acknowledge her presence with tender care,
Lest any pressure from my searching hand disturb her sleep with it’s, “So glad you’re near.”

You see, love’s expressions do not wait ’till dawn, but share their sentiments there and then,
Though ones partner unaware of that little message I’ve related here in pen;
Unless, of course, one’s sleepy, clumsiness wasn’t nearly as feather-like as planned,
Though hopefully such forgiven by a reciprocating, “Love you too, dear,” hand.

By Lance Landall

7.  As You Sleep

When your face is resting near my heart, and my arms are conveying, “She is mine,”
I luxuriate in that sweet, intimate closeness that draws a loving line.
For such is not for sharing with another soul, it ours alone, and always,
A width, breadth and depth that’s total and complete, which unfaithfulness would erase.


“She is mine,” I want the world to know, we as if one, your gentle breathing slow,
Your body pressed against mine, we both basking in the sensual afterglow.
Oh, how I love you, Dear, the years adding more cladding to our fortress of love,
And as you sleep, I feel humbled by that trust you show, and thank the God above.

By Lance Landall

8.  Pop-Up Girl

You’re my little pop-up girl, the toast of my life, a slice of Heaven on Earth,
My morning boost, stronger than coffee — oh crumbs, how grateful I am for your birth.
Your composition exquisite, your texture pleasing, your warmth energizing,
Hence why my initial infatuation with you was hardly surprising.

Yes, you’re my little pop-up girl, the gluten that holds my day together, and
I quick to pluck you from over exuberant elements, take you in hand.
And there you are, I savouring the moreishness of your presence each morning,
When from the inner warmth of that toasty environment you soon up and spring.

By Lance Landall

Sometimes my wife tells me that she's as warm as toast, so there you go.

9.  I Missed You Last Night

Yes, I missed you last night, and that’s the trouble with sleep, one snoozing fitfully,
And why I couldn’t wait to wake up and once again enjoy your company.
Sure you were right next to me, your body not only warming the bed but me,
And that’s great, but I lost in dreams and unable to enjoy reality.

In other words — you, dear! — my cuddly little bear, who doesn’t snooze half as loud,
But should you, and I awaken, there you’d be again, and I’d whisper out loud,
“I missed you!”, and as for what would be left of the night, I would lose that as well,
Given that I’d no doubt fall asleep again until that early morning bell.

Yes dear, you’re often in my dreams, though I had better not mention too much here,
For some things are best kept between couples, and someone might read this poem, I fear.
But dreams are just dreams, and sleep taking up far too much time, and why I oft cry,
“I missed you last night!,” and as we kiss and cuddle, wipe all that sleep from my eye.

By Lance Landall

10.  I Do My Best, Dear

When we’re snuggled up and lying in, and it’s six o'clock in the morning, say,
There’s a particular smoochie, and also hungry, cat that wants its own way.
I do my best to fend him off and prevent his wet nose from bothering you,
But he just doesn’t understand plain English, and licks at my flailing hand too.

His brother’s also a botheration, though certainly not as determined,
Ones body stomped on, ones protective hand needed elsewhere — oh, how I must have sinned!
But hey, I do my best, Dear, albeit a tired knight in shiny pyjamas,
Who wishes he could send those two cats on a holiday to the Bahamas.

By Lance Landall

11.  Man, How Did You Do That?

You’ve clearly perfected the art of getting in and out of bed by stealth, and
Spooking me, for one minute you’re there and one minute you’re not, going by hand.
And why I sometimes find myself talking to myself, you not there as I thought,
But busy in the toilet, not abducted by those of the alien sort.

It’s really quite disturbing, an ability that’s rather foreign to me,
Toilet visits more a stumble, and restless cats a trap for the unwary.
Yes, I not having perfected the same art — so, sorry to disturb you, Dear —
But please, could you bump the bed a little for my sake, thereby easing some fear.

By Lance Landall

12.  Fifty Shades Of Blue

Yes, fifty shades of blue, not grey, ’cause it’s porn whichever way one looks at it,
A book or movie, so folk can take their pick, but not me, not one little bit.
It all about lust, self, addiction and fantasy, that fallen-ness of man,
And why I wont read or watch it, Dear, it more something society should ban.

But certainly others are reading it, flocking to see it, tragically,
Because it’s degrading and destructive, injurious to humanity.
A perversion, Dear, which takes what’s beautiful and makes it ugly and dirty,
And thus ones bedroom more devilish than godly, goodbye love and purity.

But that’s how many want it now, and such writers with nothing better to do,
Filmmakers too, folk so easily influenced, dying to try it out too.
It much like a pop-up brothel in a home, an imposition, to be frank,
The act of a ravenous beast and not a man, and how many a marriage sank.

And so, Dear, I’m grateful for what’s natural and normal, not that Playboy ill,
Which once embraced, seldom sees one satisfied, and how ones mind becomes unwell.
Porn nothing but an insult, something that shouts that ones partner isn’t enough,
Hence that mental adultery, that paraphernalia that’s wed to rough.

No, Dear, I don’t need fifty shades of blue, but just you, nothing more, nothing less,
And thus I not having something hurtful, shameful or disturbing to confess.
So I’m not about to dishonour our marital bed, nor that ring that conveys:
This is the woman I’ve chosen — you, Dear — I not interested in those greys."

By Lance Landall

13.  Dessert

I love your cooking, Dear, and vegetables are fine, ’cause there’s a time and place,
But I’m rather fond of puddings, you know, and in my tummy there’s still a space.
Yes, I know you mean well, and those vegetables do get eaten, but oh dear,
That little spot in my tummy is hoping a scrumptious dessert will appear.

I’m well aware of that sugar content, but I’m used to sweet things, ’cause I’ve you,
Hence why I call you "Honey," and just in case, brush my teeth after kissing you.
Okay, so I’m only joking, but not about that dessert I’d like, nor you,
’Cause I couldn’t find anyone sweeter, and I’ve finished my nourishing stew.

By Lance Landall

14.  Dear Love Of My Life

There can be so much goodness in a man, but that goodness too oft marred, sadly,
And hence those fathers and husbands who err, though who doesn’t? — speaking sincerely.
But good men bemoaning their failings, kicking themselves, and they wondering why,
Struggling to understand that devil within — hurting too, should they see their wife cry.

And so, dear love of my life, how deeply I regret any sad word or act
That might’ve had you think less of me, hurt, harmed, or that sensitivity lacked.
I never wanting any less than the best for you, but flaws and faults have I,
And why when it comes to treating you just like I should, all I can do is try.

Oh, how I wish and dream of things that I could do, (you oft having gone without),
Things that would deliver surprise and delight — and thereby, more love for you shout.
Many men erring early, thus depriving their wives and kids of better things,
And later attempts difficult, even beyond one, which greater hardship brings.

Yes, so many women deserve better, but their man letting them down, sadly,
Hampered by his background, that testosterone that goes with masculinity.
But whatever it be, there’s hardly an excuse, and it plain cruel and folly
To mar the life of a darn good wife, emotionally or physically.

And so, dear love of my life, I wishing that I could do things all over again,
An older, wiser head having come rather late — and too late, for many men.
But better late than not at all, and one so regretful of less happy years,
Where only smiles should’ve graced the face of one’s wife, and never frowns or tears.

By Lance Landall

The following song (Husbands and Wives) sung by Neil Diamond, and originally by Roger Miller,
is one that has remained in my mind over the years, and which I thought I would share:

And kind of in this vein, here's another song I really like (From Here To Eternity) but this time sung by
Engelbert Humperdink, the singer of singers:

15.  I'm Truly Sorry, Dear

I drove the sedan in silence, my thoughts sombre, fretful and deep,
My hands tightly on the steering wheel, eyes fixed, glazed, in need of sleep.
In fact, we both were silent, and hurting very deeply inside,
But even more so my darling wife whose distress was justified.


We can suffer nasty blows in this world, a world that’s full of pain,
Misfortune that can physically and emotionally drain.
And amidst those hard knock-down punches and our struggle to arise,
Even feelings for fellow sufferers we’re prone to anaesthetize.

“Would you like an ice-cream?” she asked me, meaning she desired one.
“No,” I replied, so absorbed in self, blind to what I had just done.
Continuing to drive I glanced at my wife, she silent once more,
And the tear that I noticed trickle broke my heart, and at it tore.

Such I have never forgotten — yes, it still haunts me to this day,
To think that I had acted in such a callous, unfeeling way.
It had seemed such a little thing, but to her it had meant so much,
Because I had just denied her what she’d needed, a tender touch.

Sure I was hurting too, locked in grief that kind of paralyzed,
But just how thoughtless I had been, I only later realized,
I cruelly adding to her pain, and hence that solitary tear,
That had slowly trickled and fallen, and shouted, “Oh, callous ear!”

You see, no ice-cream was bought that day, as I’d just continued on,
And thus that opportunity that I’d had to cheer her was gone.
A fleeting moment when love required that there and then I act;
Oh, how deeply I wish now that my “No” I could somehow retract.

It wasn’t just an ice-cream — oh no — it was so much more than that,
Something that she’d sorely needed at that moment where she was at.
And so, I had hurt the one I loved, my own pain making me blind;
Oh, thoughtless heart, how I curse thee, for you’re the blight of humankind.

By Lance Landall

This older poem (which was previously titled I'm So Sorry) was upgraded 20 January 2018.

16.  Love That Neck!

It’s naughty I trick you by saying, “What’s that?” and pointing to something not there,
Whilst planting a kiss on your neck that’s conveniently exposed to such flare.
Such very clever of me (if I do say so myself) but you on to it,
All why I don’t always get away with it, my poor face caught in a tight fit.

But a rascal I am, and such opportunities am prone to seek, you see,
That bare neck rather tempting, and on a good day, I striking successfully.
I could say I’m sorry, but that wouldn’t be truthful, and why that kiss you get
When I can get away with it; I hoping that last time I did, you’ll forget.

By Lance Landall

17.  Trust Me

I’m looking for a cuddle, one where there’s no strings attached, and time not an issue,
Because I don’t want to hurry it, but savour it — oh, excuse my wet tissue.
I’ve not had one since the last one, and so addicted I’ve become, so please be quick,
And while I’m in your warm embrace, my lips might take a little nosy ’round your neck.

You might have guessed, huh? Well, I’d still like that cuddle, so don’t be too concerned, my Dear,
Your neck a mere afterthought, another place where my affection I love to share.
Cuddles suiting me fine, and an hour’s such a long time, so please hurry, Dear,
And if your lips are on mine, your neck will be fine, ’till from behind I soon appear.

By Lance Landall

18.  Can't Help It

What’s that, my Dear? You’ve found another romantic note? Under your pillow was it?
A secret admirer, I guess, who under certain pressure his guilt might admit.
You’ll have to grab him though, because he’s playing innocent when he knows jolly well
That you know that it’s him, and he is waiting for that cuddle that those beans will spill.

Seems you’re finding them everywhere. Well, that’s what you get for being a honey,
And he having good taste, his initial evaluation right on the money.
Yes, he wanting you to know that, and hence those inky little noughts and crosses too,
That just like those exclamation marks at the end of those notes, hollers “I Love You!”

By Lance Landall

19.  The Gentler Sex

Oh, how I love your softer ways, dear, and why I call women the gentler sex,
Childhood memories coming to mind of how a mother’s kiss so much could fix.
And such I’ve noticed with you, dear, those kisses easing our children’s scratches too,
And all those emotional bumps, scrapes and bruises that I myself have been through.

Oh yes, there’s nothing like a woman’s touch, that difference that coos who she is,
And that comes wrapped in an oestrogen package that’s softer and sweeter than his.
All why I feel so protective of you, and drawn to you, dear love of my life,
Your tender loving ways and more thoughtful touch why I’m proud to call you my wife.

Yes, that feminine thing’s such a blessing, it truly beguiling to be hold,
It balancing the testosterone in me, infusing warmth where there might be cold.
And it reflected in everything you say and do, even in your dress,
And I guess that’s why where men sometimes fail, women (like you, dear) have more success,

And why, dear, you oft impress.

By Lance Landall

20.  Valentine's Day

It’s Valentine’s day, and why I just wanted to say, you’re the pick of the bunch,
The most gorgeous rose of all, so grab your glad rags, I’m taking you out to lunch.
Yes, a table for two, just you and I, you never too old to romance, and,
Not just worth a big bunch of flowers, but anything else that I might have planned.

However, I really don’t need Valentine’s day at all, ’cause come any day,
I can hide another surprise, or leave more notes that the same love will convey.
Yes, I not taking you for granted, but appreciating you even more,
’Cause as I said, you’re the pick of the bunch, so awfully darn hard to ignore.

By Lance Landall

21.  No Regrets

No, no regrets, my dear, I would marry you again in a heartbeat, say “I do!”
I camped out in the church well beforehand, catching my breath as you came into view.
That ring on your finger like sleight-of-hand, I one step ahead of the pastor, then
Down the aisle faster than Usain Bolt, and as for our honeymoon, simply say when.

You wouldn’t have to ask me, because I’d say “Yes” before you even thought of it,
That ring in my pocket already, it sparking with excitement and made to fit.
I well aware of the prize you are, and wouldn’t let the opportunity go,
But rather, I’d seize the moment and holler my devotion, knowing what I know.

By Lance Landall

22.  Sir Lancelot's Inspiration

I’m a man, you’re a woman, the other half that makes me whole, the helper I need,
That I, as a worthy husband and pillar of society, may thus succeed.
Your part proving invaluable, your support and belief blessing us both, and,
Ensuring that whatever storm or assault comes our way, together we will stand.

Yes, help me be the knight I should be, my horse at the ready, and my armour too,
So that midst any battle, I’ll draw strength from your trust in me, and know what to do.
We making it together, but all the accolades really belonging to you,
My success revealing the woman that’s behind me, faithful, loving, kind and true.

By Lance Landall

23.  Those Celtic Eyes

Those green eyes of yours aren’t the eyes of your early years, but later years, my Dear,
Because though they’re still just as beautiful, there’s a deeper maturity there.
Something that I wasn’t aware I would notice, but notice I have, my Dear,
There clearly being more to the eyes than we realise, which same emotions share.

Yes, they reflecting ones inner soul, all that we are, and hence that change I see,
Because over the years, each Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring you’ve spent with me.
Life teaching us both, we growing together, no longer as young or naïve,
The eyes revealing it all, until the breath of life decides to take its leave.

By Lance Landall

24.  Unashamedly Proud

I don’t like to boast, but I reckon I’m pretty smart, ’cause look who I married, YOU!
Hence my collecting every trophy, though the biggest one of all being, YOU!
So I've given you pride of place, have put you at the forefront, yes, first and foremost,
And am sitting here observing, taking you all in, deliriously engrossed.

Oh yes, I’ve got to hand it to myself, ’cause I really excelled here, got the best,
Not that I mean to disparage other beauties out there, but hey, I’m so impressed.
Yes, I can’t see past you, don’t ever want to, ’cause in my eyes you’re unbeatable,
And I bewitched, bothered and bewildered, completely and utterly under your spell.

By Lance Landall


The following is simply a muse.

"I was just thinking, Honey, give me a kiss and I’ll do the dishes for you,
And then, if you give me another one, I’ll also do the knives and forks too.
And when I get to the pots and pans, a third kiss will soon see them squeaky clean,
And as for what’s left, well, another kiss, and they too will go in the machine."

Christian poem.

25.  Very Tenderly

My dear wife,

Christ, via His Word, has told me to love you just like He loves me, and not to harm,
And He meaning, in any shape or form —- His love for you, also on each palm.
For you belong to Him, not me, and thus I having been charged with minding you,
A soul He views as very precious, and why I must mind what I say and do.


If I’m to love you just like He loves me, that means acting very tenderly,
And thereby, never assaulting you physically or emotionally.
But rather, displaying the utmost affection, loving you with all my heart,
And at the foot of the cross, where self is surrendered, I have been called to start.

Yes, my thoughts for you to be pure and noble, free of whatever soils or mars,
And thus on His return, Christ finding you well cared for, no man-inflicted scars.
You all the better for my care and keeping, not shackled, nor bruised or bleeding,
And I thus earning Christ’s approval, and every wish of His here, exceeding.

By Lance Landall

What's Wrong With The Traditional Wedding Vows?

"...for better or worse"
during good times and tough times, in joy and in sorrow
"for richer or poorer"
despite financial misfortune, in plenty and in want
"in sickness and health"
despite any spoilers, midst good health and bad health
"to love and to cherish"
what marriage is all about
"till death do us part"
through all the years, midst the boring and exciting
"according to God's holy ordinance"
do appreciate the specialness, naturalness and solemness of this intimate union that no one else is to share, and that begets children who need the security of a permanent relationship
"and thereto I pledge thee my troth"
am totally committed, have every intention of standing by my promise to be faithful, loyal and honest

As for, “to love, honour and obey," which is no longer used:

Love goes without saying (hence why it has been retained);
Honour could be seen as simply referring to him not being ridiculed, belittled, because such is very destructive to ones manhood. Likewise any disloyalty;
And yes, obey definitely best gone, though even here, such could be seen as not giving him any grief, not thwarting his protective, manly attempts to do what’s best and right for his family as a whole.

I don’t know where kneeling to propose originated, but such is something that I personally have a problem with.
Such kneeling seems like a servant, ruler thing, as if one’s approaching a throne, a superiour being.
Such kneeling hardly seems in keeping with that natural and manly protector, provider role.
Such an act also seems to fly in the face of both of them being on an equal footing — equality, some call it. After all, whoever the woman is, she’s not some goddess, nor he a mere knave, servant.
Are men so unworthy (and women so above them) that men have to plead on their knees?
And isn’t kneeling something that’s more in keeping with asking forgiveness, more in keeping with approaching divinity?

The following is Henry Ford's reply when he was asked what was the secret of his marital success:

"The formula is the same as I used to make a successful car: Stick to one model."

Lyrics from Camelot:

"How to handle a woman?
There's a way," said the wise old man.
"A way known by every woman
Since the whole rigmarole began”

Do I flatter her? I begged him answer.
Do I threaten or cajole or plead?
Do I brood or play the gay romancer?
Said he, smiling, "No indeed.”

“How to handle a woman?
Mark me well, I will tell you, sir
The way to handle a woman
Is to love her, simply love her,
Merely love her, love her, love her."

1.  Ten Commandments For Husbands

Don’t put any other person before your wife, and don’t put yourself above her; nor in the role of protector, provider and lover err via domination, stinginess or roughness.
Don’t create any images of her in the form of artistic or photographic representations that degrade and reduce her to an object of lust and that could end up in anyone else’s hands but hers; nor put things before your relationship.
Don’t soil or destroy her very name or reputation, nor embarrass her, via public put downs, negative home truths, private details, or inappropriate intimacy.
Remember and respect her period of menstrual rest; that time out and time alone that she needs for personal reflection — spiritual, mental, emotional and physical restoration.
Set aside quality time each week for just the two of you thus showing how much importance you attach to the relationship, just how committed you are to it.
Respect and show due thought and care for her parents who you owe a debt of gratitude to, given that you wouldn’t have her if it hadn’t been for them, and they having every right to be concerned about her welfare.
Under no circumstances act in a way that could lead to her death, either via premeditation, recklessness or thoughtlessness, nor injure her somehow via either physical or emotional abuse.
Don’t betray her by leaving her for another woman, nor act unfaithfully via inappropriate affection or intimate relations with some other woman.
Don’t remove from her life, nor deprive her of, any confidence, happiness, joy and peace that’s the right of everyone. And don't unduly deprive her of your time and presence.
Don’t imply or say anything that’s not true, unverified or unfair regarding those who’re part of her life, be they her parents, brothers, sisters, or general relations. And never lie to her, full stop.
Be content with your choice of partner, and the life you both have, lest you add to any discomfort life might have already imposed on her, or lest you discourage and disappoint her.

By Lance Landall

Upgraded: 1 December 2017

Would you mind telling me if you like my Ten Commandments For Husbands, and whether you think this article could be improved.

26.  By Fate Or Daring

She has accepted you as her man, given her life and soul to you, so please,
Treat her well, love her to the moon and back, every opportunity seize.
Shower her with affection, tell her you love her over and over again,
So that she won’t regret having chosen you out of all the admiring men.

Yes, do your best to make her happy, fill her life with laughter, call her, “Honey,”
And always be very generous with your time, abilities and money.
Treat her like a queen, listen like you’re mesmerised — yes, woo her every day,
Lest from your arms she’s wrenched by fate or daring, and so she’ll be there ’till you’re grey.

By Lance Landall

You know, there’s no better protection for women than:
1) Modest clothing.
2) Virtuous behaviour.
3) A level head.
4) A selfless, noble husband.
How so, you ask?
1) Though men are naturally attracted to the female form, modest clothing helps lessen the unwelcome advances of users, abusers and predators who almost always prefer the immodest because it appeals to their lust; and modest clothing lessens any concern over whether it's ones body that's attracting some suitor or ones personality.
2) Virtuous behaviour spares women from those unwanted pregnancies that go hand in hand with that solo-parent syndrome; and those sexual diseases that follow promiscuity around.
3) A level head is more likely to lead to the right choices, and thereby, the right man.
4) A selfless man is not a demanding man, and a noble man doesn’t mistreat women, but rather, protects their honour and well-being.

With this in mind, check out my page Time To Face Things.