Yours Sincerely

 

Introduction



Just to get the ball rolling.

And yes, poems that go from the amusing to the reflective, or more serious, but starting with the amusing. The reflective begining with poem number 14.

Poems on REGRET begin with poem number 26.


You know,
Ralph Waldow Emerson was so right:
"The years teach much which the days never knew."
And in modern jargon (my words) that may translate as:
"When you get older, you wish that you could do things all over again so that this time you could do them right."
Or to put it another way (my words again),
"Today's mistakes are tomorrow's regrets."
All a very good reason why one should listen to older heads; and bearing in mind that the worst
mistakes are those ones that we have to live with for the rest of our life.





1.  Yours Sincerely


I’ve kind of fibbed, I guess, having said, “Yours sincerely,” because it’s not quite true,
As I actually belong to my wife given that I once said, “I do!”
But “Yours sincerely” is common to us, we not meaning it quite so boldly,
And so, I hope that you'll forgive me, I hardly meaning, “Yours faithfully.”

Worrying over nothing, you think? Indulging in semantics, possibly?
Okay, I’ll take it on board having probably got too carried away, see.
But with political correctness on patrol, one is inclined to worry,
Though in this case, with you being so good about it, I’ll stick with, “Yours sincerely."

By Lance Landall



2.  Hi There


Nice to meet you — well, so to speak, given that I can’t see or hear you, sad to say,
But hey, you’re still there anyway, and that is what matters at the end of the day.
Yes, my name’s Lance, but I’m also known as “Him,” “He,” “I” and “Me,” and some might say, “You!”
But not that often, hopefully, though some say, “Mister,” or reply, “Mister who?”

I’m sorry I’ve made things a bit confusing, but all you need to say is, “Hi there,”
Not that I will hear you right now, but should you email me, or if we met to share.
Anyway, it’s usually I who says, “Me,” or me who says, “I," never, “You,”
Unless I’m referring to someone else, though to play it safe, I say, “Hi there,” too.

By Lance Landall




3.  Hello, World


Hello world, but to be quite frank, I really wanted to remain in bed,
’Cause I’m tired and still half a sleep, though I guess I’ll have to get up instead.
It seems you can’t do without me, and why I’m always on call, kind of thing,
But from this cosy and comfortable bed I’m really quite loathe to spring.

Say, can’t you find somebody else? I mean, does it really have to be me,
And given I did put in an appearance yesterday, obviously?
But oh no, you’re still on my case, and therefore, another day I’ll have to face,
Oh, if only I didn’t have to shave, brush my teeth and my shoes unlace.

By Lance Landall





4.  Where's Lance?


I wonder what this world would do if I expired? Grind to a halt, possibly?
Or would it simply continue on, whilst I beneath the surface, snoozed fitfully?
“Where’s Lance!?” everyone shouting, or would it be a few years before some caught on?
The world still spinning and buzzing with activity despite the fact I’d gone?

Oh, how terrible I would feel if my exit destroyed the world’s economy,
And Nature threw in the towel too, silently conveying, “The loss is too heavy.”
Oh, the guilt I’d feel, so sorry to be the cause of it all, but what can I do?
I know, I’ll update my last will and testament, and pass everything on to you.

By Lance Landall





5.  I Wonder

I wonder why I am different, could it be because I’m me,
And could you be different too, given that you’re you and not me?
And now that I have thought of it, could others be different too,
Or is it only me that is me, and only you that is you?

Say,

Could all of us be different — I mean, each one of us unique,
Or do you think that in saying so, I have really got a cheek?
Though surely if I cannot be you, and if you cannot be me,
It must only stand to reason that no one else the same could be.

Hang on. Perhaps there are exceptions to what (here) appears to be.
Yes, maybe there is someone out there who’s the same as you and me.
Or maybe it is just you, or maybe I, who isn't unique.
Oh, I wonder what we'd find if you and I were to go and seek.

Now, if we found another me, or if we found another you,
Would I in fact still be me, and would you in fact still be you?
Because after all, if there was another one of you or me,
We could hardly be considered as being uniquely you or me.

No, I really don't like the thought of there being another me,
And as far as another you goes, is that what you'd want to see?
No, it's hard enough trying to figure one’s self out, quite frankly,
Without there being another you or me to figure out, dear me!

By Lance Landall


This poem was altered 13 October 2019.




6.  Who Would Really Be Who?


Tell me, how would it go if I was you, and how would it go if you were me,
Yes, you no longer you, and I know longer me, but now you, and you now me?
I surely no longer able to say, “me,” and you unable to say, “I,”
Or is it you who’d be unable to say, “me,” and me who couldn’t say, “I?


In fact, I’d be saying “Hello” to me, and you’d be saying “Hello” to you,
Rather than you saying “Hello” to me, and I thus saying “Hello” to you.
Oh dear me!
And all this being why I’m very glad that you are you, and that I'm still me,

Because if I were you and you were me, what a right old mix-up there would be.

By Lance Landall




7.  I'll Not Say Sorry


No, I’ll not say sorry for being myself,  ’cause it’s hardly my fault, okay,
I kind of suspecting my parents had something to do with it, by the way.
But whoever may’ve been responsible, there’s simply nothing I can do,
So please mind when you point the finger given that the blame is pointing at who?

Okay, so you think I’m being funny, and funny, I could be being too,
But at the end of the day — now, actually — I’m simply saying what’s true.
I’m not responsible for being myself, am simply a product of life,
Which, as I said, may will have had something to do with my father and his wife.


By Lance Landall




8.  Imagine Being Me


I’d like you to stop and consider how you would feel if you were me,
Especially given that who I am — myself — I can only be.
In other words, there’s nothing that can be done to change me into you,
And therefore, regarding me, please mind whatever you might say or do.

In fact, deep within my heart, I might even wish that I could be like you,
But just accepting who I am is something that I must learn to do.
And you’ll make it so much easier if you will just accept me too,
Thus allowing me to be myself, and I, the same allowing you.

Yes, I’m just simply who I am — ME — and while some changes could be made,
Any wrongful expectations here, will only see us both dismayed.
’Cause certain things that work for you, even certain things that you can do,
Mightn’t be the things that I can do, or things that’ll work for me too.

You’re so used to being you that you just can’t imagine being me,
But should you sincerely try, there may well be a possibility.
However, should you try, friend, and an understanding still allude you,
Remember it could be just as hard for me to understand you too.


By Lance Landall


This poem was upgraded on 9 January 2020.




9.  Why Aren't We Warned?


My parents never informed me what life would be like, but heartlessly went ahead and had me,
And hence why I’m feeling rather sore, for had I known, I would’ve protested very strongly.
And to add insult to injury, somebody smacked me on the bottom when I slid on out,
And even scissored my lifeline, and hence why, “What do you think you’re doing!” I wanted to shout.

But how could I shout such given I didn’t even speak their language, not that I had been taught,
So I have no idea why they bothered to chat to me, not that I aren’t the friendly sort.
Therefore, all I could do was amuse them with smiles, though to be honest, most were the cause of wind,
But in response, all they did was pull more funny faces, thus it’s just as well that I’m thick-skinned.

And that wasn’t all that I had to endure, 'cause they passed me around like a hot potato,
Visitors cooing and ahhing, saying I looked like him or her, not that I knew any though.
Well, how could I, given that I hadn’t been around for long, not that my vision was that great,
And half the time I couldn’t see them due to feed time, which my vocalizing would lubricate.

Yes, I wasn’t told a thing, and had to discover this all on my own, which took some working out,
And why I thought I would warn you, not that I’ve ever truly figured out what’s it’s all about.
But at least you'll have some idea, 'cause one minute you’re cosy and warm, then, “What’s that blinding light!”
And that’s after they have yanked on your head, whereupon they proceed to scrub — not a pretty sight.

By Lance Landall





10.  A Head Scratcher


“Hello, it’s Me here.”

“It can’t be, because I’m Me.”

“No, you’re You. It’s Me who’s Me.”

“No, no, no. How can I be You when I’m Me?”

“You’re not Me, You’re You!”

"Look, I’m hardly You, so therefore, I can only be Me.”

"Well, you’re certainly You to Me.”

“And you’re You to Me.”

“Okay, if all you’re going to do is argue, I'll hang up;
And another thing too: I’m also I.”

"No, I'm I."

"How can You possibly be when I'm I?"

"Oh no, there You go again,
"Men! And as I said before, I'm Me, not You,
bye."

"My, bye to you too."

By Lance Landall


This (kind of) poem was altered 13 October 2019.




11.  And I'm Thinking...


Yes, I’m thinking — well, there’s always something that I’m thinking. Haven’t you noticed that burning smell?
Seriously though, I can’t seem to put my brain to bed — yes, that old mental carousel.
And in case you’re thinking too, and thinking, “What a random poem,” I’m afraid I must agree,
So don’t go sharing it with anyone, because I’m thinking, “Who knows what they’ll think of me.”

Yes, it’s quite ridiculous, but that’s what can happen when you’re thinking, or is it thinking,
 ’Cause it could just be the mind doing its own thing, random like — no, I haven’t been drinking.
And I’m thinking, “Why does the old brain keep going when you want it to quit? Doesn’t it hear?”
And once again I’m thinking, and thinking, “Possibly not, or should one simply persevere?”

Well, such hasn’t got me far, ’cause it’s still just doing its own thing, has a mind of its own,
And now I’m thinking, “There’s a thought, a mind with a mind of its own. Am I really alone?
“Don’t be silly,” I hear you say, “You’re just thinking ridiculously,” but hey, is it me?
And I’m thinking, “Well, maybe not, or could it be that I’m simply exhausted mentally?”

Now, this might seem odd too, but I sometimes see pictures when my eyes are closed, and I’m thinking,
“There must be someone there, so why on Earth can’t they hear me?” Okay, I saw you all winking.
You can giggle all you like, but I might have the last laugh, ’cause don’t you sometimes see pictures too?
Now that’s got you thinking, which has also got me thinking, “Perhaps I’m just as strange as you.”

By Lance Landall


This poem was upgraded 20 January 2020.




12.  Could It Be Alzheimer's?


Dear Me (yes, dear me is right), I’m quite concerned about you, though I meaning me,
’Cause I shouldn’t be penning a letter to myself, it quite strange, quite frankly.
After all, I’m reading it as I’m writing it, so what’s the point, one might say,
And how could I argue with that? I know, I know, senility on the way.

Oh dear, just like me to spoil my own fun, talk myself out of it, and therefore,
I’d better make this letter very short, one only creating mirth with more.
Not that I’m laughing, but someone could be watching over my shoulder, you see,
And what on earth would they make of it? — okay, okay, thus Yours sincerely.

By Lance Landall




13.  Patience Is A Virtue


I don’t seem destined to have my name in lights, or a Sir before it, like some,
And I’ve not written some bestseller, nor some breaking news heroic act done.
No, my name hardly known amongst the gentry, gracing some designer bag,
Or nicely chromed and back and front of some posh car, and thus a Jag still a Jag,

And a Rolls still a Rolls.

Yes, my name just simply isn’t out there, I as common as common can be,
Just that guy you may’ve passed and not even noticed, I no celebrity.
But wait, I see a light at the end of the tunnel — oh, forgive my wee dance,
’Cause that light’s getting closer, that noisy siren too — yes, it’s an ambu-Lance!


By Lance Landall






Okay, now the reflective:




14.  Of Me


Of me I tell and teach my children, "I’m just a man, not a god, nor a saint,
No better or greater than anyone else, and in some crisis may well faint.
And so, it folly to esteem me higher than one should, my flaws and faults clear,
And therefore, I only able to do my best, a crown hardly mine to wear.

So love me do, for all should be loved, but mind those expectations bound to fail,
’Cause fathers, and even husbands, belong to the real world, not some fairytale.
And though mistakes I regret, mistakes there will be, but love and care in my heart,
I knowing that it’s not about perfection, but all about that course we chart."

By Lance Landall




15.  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 perhaps confusing, 'cause 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, 'cause 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 I could project my inner self onto a screen, one where chapters of my life could be seen,
And thus I 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, 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 deeply sigh, feel like I'm being passed by, when all I desire is to be valued, understood,
Thought of as much as anyone else, but in such low times, I thinking to myself, “What is 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 oft I despair,
'Cause those thoughts and feelings within, and whatever else, need expressing, 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,
'Cause 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 thus 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, or failing to rightly translate,

Or perhaps they've read a chapter (who knows which one); but that being the most time they were willing to allocate.

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 — 'cause the more pieces that are found by both me and others, both in their lives and mine,
The much better things will be, 'cause those negative things that just work against rather than for, will decline.

By Lance Landall


This poem was upgraded 2 October 2019.




16.  That Easier I Might Rest


I try to avoid repeating any mistakes that I may’ve made yesterday,
But as is the way with so many of us, not always succeeding, sad to say.
Our yesterdays too oft marred, and with them, tomorrows too, regret coming with pain,
And thus our journey made all the harder — and on our calendar, another stain.

How I wish that my mistakes were few, how I wish I wasn’t so flawed, but you know,
The way’s beset with traps and stumbling blocks, and therefore, cracks in ones resolve soon show.
I saying or doing what I never wanted to, and hence those two sides of me,
The good and bad, the bright and sad, confusing pictures that hang in my gallery.

But press on one must, and with hopeful intent, seizing each day come rain or come shine,
And this being what I do, some days a straight path, and some days a tiring incline.
But I knowing that I did my best, and at the end of the day having confessed,
My errors admitted and apologies given, that easier I might rest.

By Lance Landall




17.  Let Me Be


All I want is to live a good life, and peaceably so, for I would never think to hurt another,
But rather, I desire what is best for all, and consider each one as being a sister and brother.
Thus, I have no agenda, no desire to break the law, no desire to harm, lie, deceive, cheat or steal,
But rather, where there’s sufferers and unfairness, I desire to protect, defend, help, support and heal.

Yes, all I want is to be left alone to enjoy my life, to pursue my own interests and dreams,
Thus free from any wrongful interference, and well away from any person who evilly schemes.
I’ve no malice in my heart, no desire to avenge, nor will I trample on others to get ahead,
Because I believe that one should just be very grateful if healthy, housed, clothed, helped, loved and well fed.

All I want too, is to be able to practice my faith, to express my views, written or verbally,
Protected by laws that strongly guard and enshrine freedom of speech, civil and religious liberty.
For without any of these, I could never fully be me, and therefore would hardly be left alone,
Which, at the end of the day, I must say, would effectively mean that my life wasn’t really my own.

And nor that of my spouse, family or friends, who I just want to be able to quietly enjoy,
That is, without some persecutor, plotter, tyrant, zealot or bigot stealing both theirs and my joy.
And they being, those not content to leave others alone, but who seek to harm, force, control or buttonhole,
Such being the way of the selfish, cold, callous, misguided, deluded, deceived, who're the bane of one's soul.

By Lance Landall





18.  Such I Had To Say

I don’t believe in breaking hearts, shattering dreams, nor in making promises I can’t deliver,
I don’t believe in treading all over folk, and rather than a taker, seek to be a giver.
I don’t believe in stealing, cheating or lying, nor in profiting from anyone’s misfortune,
Nor in making someone’s lot harder, ignoring their plight, withholding some sorely needed spoon.

And you know, I have a problem with 'huge cathedrals and poor parishioners,' those faith healers too,
For not only is the evidence of their healings scant and dubious, but they, oft well-to-do.
And I also have a problem with 'wealthy politicians and struggling citizens,' for somehow,
Something doesn’t gel, legislation oft draining leaner pockets, and the future sold for the now.

I don’t believe in class distinctions, snobbery or cliques, nor those jobs for the boys (cronyism),
And nor do I believe in some ecumenical power block, Church and State opportunism.
Yes, I don’t believe in anything that empowers an elite to lord it over the many,
Nor in anything that gives some pious majority a strong throat hold on the minority.

And you know, I have a problem with hospital waiting lists, that health care that so many can’t get,
And yet, look how much is spent on big shots, celebrations and the likes, never mind the country’s debt.
And hence why I have a problem with anybody who misuses their wealth most indulgently,
For so much suffering could be alleviated if the rich acted far more generously.

No, I don’t believe in wealth or power in the hands of a few, nor in those pedestals for some,
Nor in making all march to the beat of a universal tune, and some order then bound to come.
I don’t believe in shiny boulevards for some, and potholed ghetto streets for others (hence food banks),
Nor in the misuse of position or authority; that passing the buck further down the ranks.

Yes, I’ve a problem with phoneys, manipulators of the masses, those who mislead or use force,
They so often using some Trojan horse, saying one thing whilst plotting a very different course.
And be they Christians or atheists, they have one thing in common, they aren’t thinking of you and me,
But rather, themselves or their agenda, (though there are the deluded), but all causing injury.

No, I don’t believe in, but have a serious problem with, any act against humanity,
Anything and everything that somehow endangers human rights-cum-one’s freedom and liberty.
Yes, anything that interferes with justice, one’s conscience, one’s non-violent path, heart, mind and soul,
For when it comes to others — no one, absolutely no one — has the rights to such evil control.

By Lance Landall


See my poem They're All The Same To Me which is on my page Racism And Bigotry.




19.  A Work In Progress


I don’t believe in enemies, just others who’ve unfortunate issues too,
And I no holder of grudges, would rather reconcile, or move on, thank you.
Yes, I’m not into hitting back, or revenge, ’cause what goes around comes around,
Though how could I retain my dignity if relinquishing the higher ground.

And nor do I wish to indulge in character assassinations, ’cause they
Take people down rather than help them up, and who am I, such ill to relay?
A saint, I don’t think, having done my share, and of my own flaws, am well aware,
Humanity but a work in progress, and why I’m hoping you’ll meet me there.

By Lance Landall




20.  And Surely You Too


I’m all for a world where all are free, where folk go to this church or that church, or an atheist choose to be,
A world that’s free of prejudice and bigotry, and where another’s point of view we always try to see.
And where we fail to, that we accord them the same rights as us, thereby acting tolerantly,
Appreciating the uniqueness and individuality of each member of humanity.

I’m all for a world that’s full of love, where folk never resort to violence or war, nor settle some score,
But rather, forgive and forget, choosing to move on and upward, they never desiring to close the door.
A world where only what’s right is sought, our thoughts and actions noble, and we, always seeking what’s best to say,
Whether such be a word in due season that shows that we care, or something that cheers another on their way.

I’m all for a world where burdens are shared, and where charity’s the order of the day — and thus warm, each heart,
Every breast beating with tender regard for both creature and man, and our care for the Earth state-of-the-art.
A world where only selfless acts-cum-beneficial deeds and loving affection are employed, and much not seen,
We not seeking reward, recognition, or the limelight — our conscience, heart and mind active, lofty, clear and clean.

I’m all for a world where hate has been abandoned, and deceit, bias, oppression and persecution too,
A world where everyone’s input is valued, where no one’s thought of as lower or higher, nor help overdue.
Yes, a world where reconciliation is on everybody’s mind, a fair world, where all are seen as one,
And yet, are enjoyed for their difference — sense, peace and harmony having put an end to both sword and gun.

By Lance Landall




Alternative poem.

21.  Now That I'm Older


Now that I’m older — and by that I mean, much older — and having learnt, seen and experienced much, there’s much that I feel I can share, and this with an occasional tear, but all in order to benefit others, particularly my younger sisters and brothers, for the years teach much that the days never know, and why all should mind any seeds that they sow.
So what are some things I could share? Well, life’s too short to waste on the petty, even the unfair; that good and bad is the lot of all; that it’s better to laugh than gripe or bawl, though there is a place for righteous anger and sympathetic tears, even healthy anxiety and prudent fears, for our sixth sense isn’t imaginary, and dangers and risks oft ensnare or snatch the unwary, those who’re either young, naive, uninformed or foolhardy.
Yes, I’ve learnt that one shouldn’t aid misfortune, nor compound mistakes, and that a little inattention or impatience is all that it takes, not to mention complacency or stupidity, for it’s true that we reap what we sow, and why it’s wise to listen to those who know, and worth bearing in mind that contentment and acceptance are our best friends, and oft how one mends, for there’re things we cannot change, nor exchange, but you know, trials are how we grow, even get there in the end, though life’s in the living and not the arriving, and why many just waste their life striving.
Oh yes, I’ve learnt that there’s no fool like an old fool; that fighting, annoying, destroying, graffiti and showing off aren’t cool, and that jealousy and revenge are a waste of time, and the latter, a sure to kick back at us crime, and why it’s best to make friends of our enemies, thus living in peace and without unease, we cleaning up Earth and planting more trees, giving and sharing, loving and caring, not just doing as we please.
And I’ve learnt that a marriage seldom fails where a selfless spirit prevails, where a woman’s treated well and where respect is seen to dwell; that children and creatures should never be harmed; that hugs and cuddles are how anxiety’s calmed; that love, order and discipline steer and protect one’s family; that we should never take for granted freedom and liberty; that crime never pays and that jail simply wastes precious days; that one shouldn’t foul their own nest; that the vulnerable, needy and afflicted are a test; that true heroes are more often a mum or dad; that those ahead of their time are oft thought of as mad; that many are right who others think wrong; that sorry’s a word more oft uttered by the strong; that there’s certainly a time and place, more need of forgiveness and grace; and lastly, that bridges weren't meant for burning; that one never stops learning; and that life's a gift that's oft squandered so easily, treated too casually.
No, I can’t deny what I’ve learnt, for apart from reality’s lessons, one can also get burnt, and why I’ve learnt that what I’ve learnt is better not re-learnt if what's been learnt has come from being burnt, and which re-learnt, just sees one twice burnt.

By Lance Landall





22.  I Can't Talk?

Yes, I’m no better than you, mess up too, even get scared, you know,
Don’t want to be disliked, struggle with things, and often ebb and flow.
And I too, can put my big foot in it, act rather wrongfully,
All of which concerns me, given what I’m expressing via poetry.

However, not just I, but all, have a duty to express things
That from a healthy inner realization, and disquiet, duly springs.
For should those things not be mentioned, even more remiss one would be,
Aiding and abetting via silence wrongs within society.

We can’t wait until we’re perfect examples to speak, obviously,
For such we’ll never be (though we should try to be, naturally).
Thus, we’ve got to speak out now, do what we can, despite all our flaws,
Lest, in the meantime, things get far worse, and we’re faced with closing doors.

Hence why I’m doing what I can, while I can, midst my own mistakes,
And despite any affliction that my little world rattles and shakes.
For how could I not do so, given what could happen to you and I,
And given that this planet we’re on is sadly going awry?

I can’t talk? No, but I must, and so must you, 'cause it's foolish not to.

By Lance Landall


"To go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people you see every day, is perhaps
the most difficult act of heroism you can perform."

Theodore H. White (1915-1986)





23.  I'm No Hero

When I was a youngster, I somewhat lived in a world of my own,
Playing on a grassy river bank for hours on end, and alone.
And there, I lived adventures, acting out things that I'd read and seen,
Quietly creeping through bushes and trees, ears and eyes sharp and keen.

Oh yes, I was a cowboy, a sheriff, Colt 45 in hand,
Or nose down in its leather holster — just a toy, you understand.
And I was on the lookout for anyone with evil intent;
Yes, a crack shot, upholding law and order, hot on someone's scent.

With growing stealth, I daily patrolled my bushy territory
That is, as a defender of right, facing dangers fearlessly.
Yes, there beside the flowing river, locked in childish fantasies,
I battled forces of evil, displaying daring, skill and ease.

Well, dear friend, time has since moved on, and I’m no hero, believe me,
And I’m a hater of guns now, for I’ve met with reality.
Thus, it’s just a pen that I wield now, though still doing what I can,
For defending that which is right, is what truly makes one a man.

Now, I’m just the same as anyone, and could fail, ultimately,
But meantime, while I am able, I will make a stand, openly.
That is, I will not be silent, but will use my voice or my pen
In order to warn of folly, danger, those evil schemes of men.

Or simply to enlighten, for wisdom’s getting lost, being rejected,
And as a result, ignorance is rampant, as would be expected.
And trouble is hot on its heels, along with much heartache and pain,
Which I and others are trying to halt, reverse, somehow contain.

Yes, just like many others, I’m doing what I can, while I can,
Trying to act unselfishly, showing thought for my fellowman.
For to not speak out when I'm able, would be far more cowardly
Than failing sometime in the future due to greater threats, should such be.

However, I hope and pray that I won't fail, when push comes to shove, and,
That in the meantime, wherever it's needed, I will make a stand.
For silence where silence shouldn’t be, is simply cowardice, and,
Such will not build muscles, that later on, give one the strength to stand.

Oh yes, times have changed since I was a young boy (playing on that bank),
And behaviour and attitudes have changed as well, to be quite frank.
Most people appear caught up in a shameful self-preservation,
That once, friend, would have received the very strongest condemnation.

Thus, due to such selfishness, peer pressure, indifference or fear,
There are far fewer voices speaking out, less folk that seem to care.
And should those strong voices become even fewer, where will things end?
And who of us will share in the blame? So, please think it through, dear friend.

As I said, I’m no hero, I’m simply just a man made of clay,
But having said that, what exactly is a hero anyway?
Could heroes simply be those people who are doing what they can
On behalf of, and out of loving concern for, their fellowman?

In other words, just an everyday person who has a good heart,
One who's making a stand, speaking out, and thereby, playing their part.
Yes, not remaining silent, despite the deep frowns and jeers of men,
And doing so amidst their own struggles, via their voice or their pen.

By Lance Landall




24.  Far Better I Be Honest

Hi there. I could say all those things that you’d like to hear, and thereby, would have you really like me,
No criticism passing my lips, not a frown on my face, I choosing my words carefully.
Yes, I avoiding saying anything that would displease you, and always agreeing with you,
Warm fuzzies-cum-praise coming thick and fast, you a prince or princess who’s found a snug fitting shoe.

But you know, such would make me a liar and deceiver, someone who wouldn’t be a good friend,
Despite my appearing to be a good friend initially, but certainly not in the end.
For my comments would have you thinking things that weren’t so, things you’d discover eventually,
And meantime, you having made a fool of yourself (for example), and I left looking sickly.

Yes, far better I be honest, for though such mightn't appeal, at least it would be the truth, and I,
A person far more in tune with reality, and therefore, someone on whom you could rely.
And via such honesty you would grow, for praise that’s not due, and things said that aren’t true, don’t strengthen,
But leave one reliant on props that in time just give way, enter the proverbial violin.

It’s even possible that I might anger you, but anything else would be a lie and snare,
For any words I chose to withhold, dress up or make up, could bring greater pain and weight to bear.
Best we face up to things, acceptance and contentment our best friends, and so too those who’re honest,
For at the end of the day, they’re the ones who’re truly concerned about what’s in our best interest.

By Lance Landall




25.  Count On Me

With the world in which we live in trouble, humanity at risk, and so many beset with misery,
How can I keep silent, how can I remain inactive? Unless of course, I’m only interested in me.
Yes, how can I not put pen to paper, express my concerns, educate and warn? Unless I don’t care,
And if I don’t care, and am only interested in me, then my presence is of little value here.

And I, only adding to all the problems that are plaguing this Earth, even worsening things, selfishly,
For we’re clearly meant to be operating as one big family, both thoughtfully and attentively.
And in the process, growing together, finding answers, alleviating whatever distress we can,
For just looking after number one, and hardly lifting a finger, is how most of our troubles began.

Hence why I can’t and won’t do nothing, but rather, all that I can, speaking and writing whilst lending a hand,
For the trials and ills of others, and everywhere that we’re going wrong, I wish to ease, solve and understand.
Well, as much as I am able to as an individual, for such demands the same of everyone,
And thus we best all pulling together as one, society in unison, nothing being left undone.

Yes, no head in the sand for me, or timidity, nor the callousness of acting indifferently,
For when we fail to think and work on behalf of others, we only worsen things for ourselves, ultimately.
And this being because we’re all intricately connected in various ways, which so many fail to see,
And as a consequence, (and as said), they not only hurting themselves in the long run, but humanity.

By Lance Landall






REGRET





26.  It's Not Until Later


Some of us have done crazy and regretful things that we can’t believe we did do,
That is, now that many years have passed by, and that via wiser eyes we see anew.
Perhaps having grown up, perhaps having sorted ourselves out, and learnt the hard way,
But now, wishing it was all a bad dream, rather than the folly of yesterday.

It seems that when we’re in our youth (even a little older) we’re somewhat blind,
And that it’s not until many years later that twenty twenty vision we find —
Figuratively speaking, that is — and then, like someone who has regained their sight,
We see what we didn’t before, and where there was darkness, now there’s revealing light.

Yes, light that shows the true nature and painful consequences of those self-centred deeds,
And oh, how we regret our foolishness, how our more pure and sensitive heart bleeds,
For not just we are left suffering, but whoever was on the receiving end,
Be they a spouse, a son or daughter, a family member, a stranger or a friend.

If only younger bodies had older heads, far less cause for regret there would be,
But no, it seems that it’s not until later that we finally or clearer see.
And when we do, it’s sometimes with utter disbelief, and terrible pangs of pain,
For certain things we did before, we wouldn’t dream of doing now, and can’t explain.

By Lance Landall





27.  Mind What You Say and Do


It’s sad that it can take almost a life-time before we’ve learnt, and then it’s often too late,
For the damage is done, our energy waning, and troubles and poor health lying in wait,
And we, very regretful, our back against the wall, and old father time ticking away,
All of which then seems to conspire against us, as if wanting to make us suffer and pay.

When all is said and done, it’s all about treating other folk well, and not causing them ill,
For come those twilight hours of our life, and amidst deep reflection, past wrongs may haunt and chill,
Yes, rather than the warmth of much happier memories, and deeds more noble and worthy,
We may feel cold draughts of restlessness and anxiety, and sleep may not come easily.

And we may also be forced to live with the baleful results of our callousness and folly,
Be that via personal scars, or scars we’ve inflicted on others that shout at us daily,
For all that we do and say results in something, be it minor or major, good or bad,
Which, amidst our final years, will leave past years looking beautifully or shamefully clad.

Or to put it another way, such will leave us selflessly clothed or selfishly exposed,
Our conscience clear or pricking, and we, thus either agitated or serenely composed,
For all that we leave behind, either remains behind, or catches up, eventually,
A fact that has borne the test of time — one that rather than later, is better learnt early.

By Lance Landall





28.  And How About You?


I can’t believe the things that I’ve done, it’s as if I’ve been somebody else, and,
Why I’m so full of regret and looking at sorrow that’s always close at hand.
And yes, guilty as charged, my repentance unable to erase or reverse,
For when it comes to ill or foolishness, both are accompanied by a curse.

And so is selfishness, those destructive issues we have that can boil and spill,
And as with selfishness, they returning to bite us after we have shunned ill.
For the moment we err, wheels are set in motion that don’t always come with brakes,
And why we need to mind what we say and do, even those genuine mistakes.

Yes, we may change our direction, become a different person, but oh dear,
How those wheels can keep on rolling in the lives of others pierced by any spear.
For wounds can be deep, and scars cruel and ugly, and they in sight and oft in mind,
And hence why even when we’ve changed for the better, we can’t leave some things behind.

And yes, our distress all the greater given our new found sensitivity,
But better that than remaining where we were and just repeating history.
And why I can’t believe the things I’ve done, I not that fool that I was before,
Though still far from perfect, and thus a work in progress, a boat closer to shore.

And how about you?

By Lance Landall





29.  A Certain Regret


I’ve met some lovely people in my life who I thought were great, but didn’t fully appreciate,
And oh, how I regret such, for now, having matured more, I’m better able to evaluate.
After all, how many truly lovely people come our way? — and this why we should treasure them so,
'Cause while many people are nice, less are really lovely people, who truly care and real love show.

And I’ve let a few of them down — wish I hadn’t — 'cause I wish they were still around given I’ve grown,
So regretful of the foolish mistakes I’ve made on my journey, and unfortunate seeds I’ve sown.
Some of us taking much longer to mature, issues and selfishness getting in the way, sadly,
Or that failure to see what we would’ve been better to see, and now do, thanks to maturity.

Not that we ever reach a state that’s free of mistakes, but growth counts for a lot, and helps us to see,
And oh, how much more we need to, 'cause it’s that failure to see — youthful blindness — that mars our journey.
And which can also mar someone else’s, leave an unpleasant snapshot, best forgotten memory,
All of which doesn't serve us well, and a budding relationship can kill, hence why we need to see.

Such is the way it's been for many, who, just like me, didn’t appreciate some who came their way,
Well, not as much as they should’ve, or who jiggered a friendship, which on both sides duly caused dismay.
All why I hope that in the years I've left, and in theirs too, more really lovely people will come along,
'Cause such I’m now able to appreciate more, and will respond accordingly, lest things go wrong.

By Lance Landall


This poem was upgraded 31 January 2020.





30.  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.

Yes,

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.





Alternative poem.

31.  To All Who May Cross My Path


Quite clearly, a journey is a journey, mine having begun many years ago, or so, and much I’ve had to unlearn and relearn, which is often how it’s seen to go.
And sadly, as it often goes too, unfortunately, mistakes I have made, and wrong I have done, which has cost me quite a degree of sun, because regretful and sorrowful clouds have followed me (along with any necessary apology), but my attitudes and outlook so different now, and hence why to self I’m less inclined to bow.
However, my journey hasn’t ended yet, and hence why I’m still growing, don’t forget, and even erring too, though not so deliberately, mind you, but simply because perfection’s beyond me (and such having less to do with a lifetime and more to do with an eternity).
Therefore, you’ll need to bear with me, and certain things ignore, kindly, but don’t forget that how I once was may not be the same, I having changed somewhat (a lot, I hope), but still keeping my name, though not my looks, maybe, age no respecter of beauty, you see, not that I’m saying beauty visited me, though I don’t mind if you say it had, actually, and has sounding even better, but no, I think I’ve reason to pass on vanity.
Anyway, given all this, if you see me in the same way, or treat me in the same way, it could hinder and discourage me, and I’m not wanting to stall, slip or fall, nor return to that earlier me, and why on patience and understanding for me and others, I wish to call.

By Lance Landall





Are You With Me?


I,
as a citizen of the world,
who wishes to live in peace and harmony,
who believes in freedom of expression and civil-religious liberty,
who champions human rights and respects the right of all to chose their own path according to their conscience,
who lauds, supports and encourages all that’s good, worthy, noble, prudent, harmonious, right, decent, beneficial, restorative, holistic, kind, considerate, fair, uplifting and inspiring,
hereby condemn and disown crimes against humanity,
and call on all to renounce the likes of:
terrorism,
persecution,
torture,
oppression,
tyranny,
cronyism,
deception,
secrecy,
warring,
violence in general,
destructiveness,
recklessness,
corruption,
hatred,
racism,
bigotry,
indifference,
human trafficking,
the degrading of women,
the belittling of men,
the abusing of children,
the mistreatment of the elderly,
the harming of our planet,
cruelty to, and exploitation of, animals,
and therefore call on all to improve and ease the lot of others,
foster greater understanding and communication,
be instrumental in effecting reconciliation,
teach, preach and practice, love, truth and virtue,
be more open-minded, tolerant and flexible,
demand accountability, transparency and equality,
protect the vulnerable, show fairness to minorities,
oppose what’s wrong and defend what’s right,
act lawfully, peacefully, compassionately and thoughtfully,
be positive, reliable and upstanding role models,
be productive, charitable, impartial and humble,
be kind to strangers and beggars,
treat all life as precious and sacrosanct,
respect the rights of others,
act responsibly as caretakers of Earth,
and show foresight.

Yours sincerely,
Lance Landall