"The selfless protecting of another's own, health and life, the vigorous defending of another's rights, liberty and freedom, and the sensitive attending to another's suffering, heartbreak or misfortune, these truly maketh a man — and remember this: That love knows nothing of wrong; and truth, nothing of accommodation."
Welcome to my reality based website
This broad-based website features light-hearted,
secular-generic, crossover and religious poetry, prose and articles, such being my
personal journey; a cathartic
collage, a kaleidoscope of thoughts, concerns, musings, views,
beliefs and experiences, and all being my own work,
except where stated otherwise.
For my light-hearted poems, go straight to my poem list page.
Website aim, via calling it as it is...
To stimulate thought; generate discussion; and facilitate change — I believing that there are certain issues that need addressing, certain things that need saying.
Poem coverage, in brief...
love; life; empathy; human rights; equality; suffering;
death; suicide; values;
health; tyranny; environmental/animal issues;
religion; politics; welfare; age; violence; wealth; war; crime; etc.
In other words, anything and everything.
One of these sample poems represents my — ALTERNATIVE — poems which don't have the usual verses.
Any one sample poem may change from time to time.
At any moment I might choose to tweak, alter, enhance, upgrade, or add verses to any existing poem,
may even remove an existing poem, and new poems are placed anywhere and everywhere.
Why make this website?
To understand the purpose of this website, and my poetry, click on the PURPOSE button. You may also like to read my poem "Poetry With A Mission" by clicking on the button to the right.
What this website is committed to...
Freedom of expression; civil-religious liberty; human rights;
peace; the search for truth; the recovery of morals, principles and
standards; and concern for creatures, the underdog and our planet.
Oh, by the way...
Please bear in mind that my journey hasn’t ended, and that as
consequence, I’m still stumbling, still making mistakes, and thus
learning and growing just like
everyone else. Therefore, if I have erred somehow, I ask your
forgiveness in advance. However, it should always be kept in mind that
both this website and its content has primarily been designed to
provoke thought that might not otherwise be forthcoming. If
disagree with something that I’ve said-cum-think I’m wrong, remember
this: How can I grow if you don’t let me know, (should it be
that I am
wrong)? And yes, I wouldn't mind the chance to reply.
won't leave unaffected — therefore, expect the unexpected; and please remember
the following: That personal expression is exactly that, and that you
chose to enter. Bravo!
No inappropriate content;
just communication that's straight, open, honest and sincere,
with no disrespect or injury intended.
who dares not offend cannot be honest."
"If love was silent, evil would have it all its own way."
"There’s no greater cost than the bearing of truth in a world that's fast forsaking it."
"Never confuse straight talk with harshness, nor pleasing words with love."
that shouts, confronts, questions, rouses, informs, pleads,
shares, inspires, encourages, heartens, empathises, weeps, sighs,
smiles and sees love as the only answer.
Poetry that takes no sides
but that of all
who’ve been wrongly accused or mistreated — in other words, poetry that
condemns wrong wherever and whoever it's coming from, and
that wrong may be.
that often behaves like prose thus making prose behave like poetry;
such being an experiment that bridges the two and frees poetry from its
somewhat rigid constraints
— the message contained
within each poem being more the focus than the poetic artistry.
poems, (a good portion of my poetry), could possibly be viewed as being
somewhat like paragraphs or a complete page in a book where
of each line happens to rhyme.
as if the way we live now determines our destiny, (eternal life in a paradise or eternal death), lest it be so — and remember this: That if we did in fact only live for three score years and ten, it would be better that those years be as bright and wholesome as possible rather than plagued by self-imposed worry, pain, strife, hardship or misery, unless, of course, any discomfort was the result of suffering for another’s sake."
“Lance Landall reporting for duty, Sir!”
“Time you got here. Okay, son, get that rhythm and rhyme flowing, be it pithy words or witty fun, and see that there’s no slowing, ya hear. And while you’re at it, son, lots of verses too, not just one or two, and share — yes, every single one. Bowl them over with poetry and prose, anything poets might dare to compose, rattle their brain cells, yank at their heart, and tickle their toes — yes, make ’em laugh, make ’em think, make ’em cry — even get them wondering why. And while you’re at it, son, throw in a little bit of this and that, and don’t stop until it’s done. Now scat."
“When it comes to freedom of expression, anything and anyone must be fair game, (not exempt from scrutiny and criticism), because any line drawn is an automatic infringement and one step always being the beginning of more; and then, who's our master? — and remember this: That religion should be big enough to cope with ridicule, and every one of us sensible enough to know that there's a time, place and way, and every one of us kind enough to show the same thought and feeling that we would like to receive from others."
Or to put it all another way:
"There's greater danger in trying to limit freedom of expression than there is in permitting its abuse."
SAMPLE POEMS, SECULAR
1. Open The Door
Open the door to love, seat it at the head of your table, place it on a throne,
And let it reign unhindered, steal the show, call the shots, save the day and set the tone.
Yes, let love direct your heart, take the wheel, circle each day on your calendar too,
That it may pave the way, heal some wound, bridge some gulf, and pursue the right avenue.
Oh yes, let love stalk the wayward, scale any wall, pull back the curtains, scent the air,
Surround each crib and farewell each casket, hover tenderly where there’s any tear.
Yes, let love choose the right time and place, even words, arrange the notes in every tune,
Thus taking you and I to greater heights via an all-embracing hot air balloon.
By Lance Landall
2. You're Not Alone
I wish I could remove your suffering, or is it heartbreak you’re going through?
But all I can do is show that I care via word or act, thus thinking of you.
For who’d ignore a fellow traveller struggling with pain or grief? — no, not I,
This world having given me many a reason to sigh, cry and question “Why?”
Yes, there’re many of us who’ve suffered too, though I’ve no desire to talk of me,
But rather, to let you know that you’re not alone, though feeling so, possibly.
And if so, understandably so, for this world can be very harsh and cold,
Or so it seems until the cheer of a caring rosebud is seen to unfold.
Perhaps it’s just a hug you need, or arm around the shoulder, such no mere token,
For sometimes greater thoughtfulness is shown via an act where words aren’t spoken.
In fact, words oft getting in the way, some folk kind of clumsy with what they say,
But meaning well, though who among us never errs, isn’t seen to wrongly weigh?
Yes, be it physical or emotional, some things are very hard to bear,
And why it’s reassuring to know that folk who truly love and care are near.
For though they can’t wave a magic wand, they can seek or pray on our behalf, and
In the meantime, via word or act, show that they really feel for us, understand.
By Lance Landall
3. Born To Be Heard And Seen
Deep within each of us there’s a light that is waiting to be shone,
A longing voice that’s wanting to be heard before we’re dead and gone.
A certain something that doesn’t want us forgotten, not noticed,
And that despite how much we may hold it back is sure to persist.
Thus we’re not born to quickly pass like those hillside shadows one sees,
But to shine like the sun and stir the air around us like a breeze.
And why there’s that something within that mourns when it’s not heard or seen,
And why as much as our arrival we want folk to know we’ve been.
Deep within that soul that is us there shouldn’t be chains that bind,
Our precious hearts and minds being the centrality of humankind.
And thus each of us individual expressions heard and seen,
This desire and creativeness hardwired and linking every gene.
So may it never be that anyone is hampered or ignored,
But seated at the same piano where their notes add to some chord.
One within a symphony that’s richer for every expression,
And played by an all embracing orchestra always in session.
By Lance Landall
4. They're All The Same
I don’t care whether someone is rich or poor, black or white, a waiter or a surgeon, a Muslim, Jew, atheist or Christian,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and as far as my life and circle go, not out but in,
For all have a place in this world, and no one's less worthy, no higher or lower, and thus I always there should they call on me,
Such being how I believe things should be, and just how I would like them to treat me, and given that we’re all one big family.
And therefore, I won't betray anyone, won't kick them when they're down, gossip behind their back, stab them in the back, nor hold them back,
And nor will I lay a hand on them, fool them, rob them, mock, rubbish, threaten or manipulate them, nor somehow get my own back,
For what would such say of me? — and all it would do in fact, is just drag me down to a level that would hardly benefit me,
A level I choose not to sink to, for it’s a dead-end street, something that works against rather than for, injuriously.
Yes, I don’t care where people are from, what their past was like, whether they’re short, tall, slim, fat, bald, cross-eyed, missing a limb or ugly,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, worthy of my time, effort, thought, wealth, love, care and mercy,
And on their behalf I will speak or stand, hoping that they would do the same for me; and if they didn’t, it still wouldn’t stop me,
For I must be true to myself, my conscience clear, my actions transparent, impartial and fair, and I thus acting honourably.
And I’ll decide for myself what someone’s like, not what I’m told is so, allowing them to defend them self and overtime grow,
Bearing in mind that we all make mistakes and deserve another chance, and that when it comes to others, what do we really know?
And hence why I refuse to label or pigeonhole people, or misjudge them, and why I don’t care if they’re three or ninety three,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters, and all deserving of the same freedom and liberty.
Yes, I don’t care whether someone's a liberal or conservative, a meat-eater or vegan, a prostitute or a tramp,
As they’re all the same to me — humanity — my brothers and sisters — yes, despite whether they’re in this camp, that camp, (or are camp),
As every human is precious, and why the greater their need, the greater my response, for the litmus test of our decency
Is how we treat those who’re different, the less understood, the disadvantaged, vulnerable, suffering and minority.
By Lance Landall
The poem above, one that I've upgraded, is referring to that love that we should have for all, (terrorism and heinousness aside), and yet, fall so far short of.
5. It's So Easy
It’s so easy to look at others, (and sound evaluations must oft be made),
But clearly we all have our own sad flaws and failings, and some price for wrong have paid.
Yes, most of us needing more than just a cut and polish, and yet, pointing harshly,
And this, when many are struggling with who knows what; or they clinging perilously.
Yes, insensitive words and acts can act like boots on fingers, and down many go,
Cutting stones and rocks showering them as they plummet; other R.I.Ps below.
And we with all the excuses as to why they have only got themselves to blame —
Well, one way or another — and self-righteousness too often adding to our shame.
Yes, it’s true that many have caused their own dilemma having acted foolishly,
But it’s better to give them a helping hand and not leave some folk feeling angry.
For anger that's fuelled by frustration or desperation can kick back at us all —
Well, one way or another — and why it pays to show heart-cum-make the better call.
But hey, where’s our humanity, that milk of human kindness-cum-selfless love, and,
That mercy that's also long-suffering, that attempt to try and understand?
After all, friend, what if the boot was on the other foot, and thus we in their place?
For life has a habit of toppling thrones and rebuking any who don’t show grace.
By Lance Landall
6. Come The Revolution
Yes, come the revolution — that love revolt — folk refusing to argue or fight,
Such an underground movement that’s warmth would replace all the darkness and gloom with light.
Yes, a joining of hands or linking of arms, kindness and compassion on a roll,
A desire for all that’s good, honourable and worthy soon reigning in each soul.
Imagine it! Handshakes, cuddles and even kisses greeting people every day,
They unable to escape the wave of love and benevolence coming their way.
Oh, how exciting to even think of such, for what a difference it would make,
And why I yearn for such a revolution, peace and harmony left in its wake.
Yes, no destructive riots, just winning ways and smiles, happiness and joy seizing hearts,
Everyone making the best of everything, helping out where there’s spilt apple carts.
A revolution where there’s no turning back, all negative bridges burnt behind,
And when it came to coldness, thoughtlessness and oversight, such one hard-pressed to find.
Wow, wouldn’t it be grand, so come the revolution, I say, that Tsunami of love,
And above the door of each home and workplace those fitting symbols, a heart and dove.
Yes, no more selfishness, but a never-ending fountain of everything that’s best,
All thanks to that people changing revolution — the best cause in which to invest.
By Lance Landall
7. 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 shoulder.
By Lance Landall
8. My Dear Friend
My dear friend, and because I truly love you so — in other words, truly care —
I’ll always tell you what you need to know, not just say what you might like to hear.
And therefore certain things may hurt, and this, no matter how carefully I tread,
As truth often reveals the unpleasant, those things that sometimes need to be said.
And that’s love, for love puts another’s best interests first, even withholds praise —
In other words, doesn’t say you’re good at something when you’re not, nor false hopes raise —
Otherwise, you might well make a fool of yourself, perhaps reaching for a mike,
And those in the audience laughing at your voice, wishing you’d be on your bike.
No, love has far more sense than that, for had I foolishly said that you sing well,
You’d be slow to trust my judgment again given how “Get off the stage!” can chill.
But enough about singing, for that’s just one example, and why truth’s best said,
And lest due to such folly you join the ranks of those who’ve nonsense in their head.
Yes, the world is full of inflated egos, balloons that are about to burst,
Folk who’ve been set up for a fall via misplaced warm fuzzies of which they’ve a thirst;
And why criticism’s hardly popular despite it oft being a good friend,
And the way of fools soon leading to their own or someone else’s sticky end.
And this, dear friend, why I’ll always be honest with you, share what it’s best you know,
And thus I at peace with myself, my conscience clear and my heart shouting, “Bravo!”
For stating the truth and calling things as they are is not just a caring act,
But a courageous one given how so many now prefer fantasy to fact.
By Lance Landall
9. Don't Doubt Your Worth
Sometimes we can feel like a nobody, lost within the great sea of humanity,
A grain of sand pushed and pulled by life’s tides, or shoved by waves of insensitivity.
Or perhaps a leaf, one that’s detached and floating aimlessly, adrift on a cool breeze,
One caught in some melancholy Autumn, concerned that fate’s careless rake might cruelly seize.
Yes, sometimes life can leave us feeling left out, that we don’t fit in, and we feel alone,
Lost in caverns of introspection, where we wrestle fretfully, and inwardly groan.
Or we struggle to find our way through the maze of past mistakes, regret nipping our heels,
And we wonder — yes, we oft wonder — is there anyone else who the same as us feels?
A nobody, a grain of sand, a leaf, an after thought possibly, or last resort,
Someone who hardly figures in the mind of others, a vessel that’s without a port.
Yes, somebody just like us, aching inside, wanting to be noticed, or even heard,
Who’s seemingly destined to go it alone, others nodding but not saying a word.
And yet, our value is just as great, and our place on this earth just as necessary,
Thus, regardless of how we may feel, we have an important place in humanity,
For every beach relies on every grain of sand, and each leaf has its place on each tree,
Thus, should our time on earth expire, so much the worse for our absence this world would be.
By Lance Landall
10. Don't Doubt Your Place
Don’t be fazed by film stars, pop stars, presidents, kings, queens or popes, nor consider yourself any less,
For they’re just as human as you are, and no greater, despite their position, power or success.
Yes, they too, have to attend that little room where one is humbled, and they too, become elderly,
For they’re just as mortal as you, simply have a different function, are known far more publicly.
And hence why I’d never pay homage to one who’s as earthly as me, though I’d still act politely,
Aware that some have a certain role to play, a certain authority, responsibility.
But though such be so, I also knowing that they don't have a different body or brain to me,
And hence are thus my equal, and there to serve too, not to lord it over me, or humanity.
History’s littered with ambitious, deluded fools, propelled by delusions of grandeur — their own —
They wanting to make their mark, and boy, they sure do, terribly so, dictating from their self made throne.
Others strut like egotistic peacocks, lapping up the attention, basking in their own glory,
Only to suffer the same fate as anyone else — lost looks, old age, a plot in a cemetery.
Meantime, amidst their power play, or love affair with the limelight, they act as if they’re more worthy,
When in fact they’re often less so, given that their acts or behaviour work more injuriously.
And those who could be deemed as worthy, and even greater, are humbly lost within society,
Where they quietly leave behind a better legacy — selflessly, and even unconsciously.
By Lance Landall
11. Catch On?
Even when life has dealt us blows, left us with hurt and pain, it’s better to remain loving,
And midst the fog of broken dreams, heartache and loss, to seek out others with whom we can sing.
By that I mean, to lose ourselves in selfless acts and gentle ways, and words that warm and heal,
For responding any differently, even more joy, peace, hope and happiness will steal.
Yes, such is how we make our heart smile again, how we still move forward, and find our way through,
Searching for any little thing that will brighten, found in those things that for others we do.
For as we lift another’s spirit, ease their lot, and via those loving acts of kindness share,
Our own load is lightened, our season soothed, and possibilities are oft seen to appear.
We shouldn’t dwell on what we’re missing, on what might’ve been, or even on what should’ve been,
But rather, make the most of the present and what we have, for things will always intervene.
Hence why life’s really in the living, the being, our sight, our hearing, even our sense of smell,
And not so much in grandiose plans, nor romantic dreams, for many betray, kiss and tell.
Better to thrive on little, for little disappoints less, given expectations are low,
And given that acceptance and contentment are the two greatest friends that any can know.
For we all arrived with nothing, and will leave with nothing, given living is in the being,
And why we’ll never experience true peace until this little gem of truth we’re seeing.
By Lance Landall
12. 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
13. How Does One Treat A Woman — Ones Wife?
“How does one treat a woman?” he asked me. “As if she’s an endangered species,”
I replied with a smile, which only an honourable man desires and sees.
Never that man who can’t see past his food, loins, mates and beer, and who’s seldom there,
Or having a compartmentalised adulterous night, even long term affair.
So, how does one treat a woman, getting to the nuts and bolts of it all, and,
Bearing in mind those differences that neither sex will fully understand?
Well, you treat her like a female first and foremost, rough hands having no place here,
And you never giving her any reason for disappointment, doubts or fear.
In other words, you treat her like a lady, thus opening doors before her,
And when it comes to a clash of desires, you doing that which she would prefer,
And that way you’re surely bound to please, and how your tender care for her she sees,
For once you defend your wants, she’s likely to feel a cooling, self-centred breeze.
And yes, usher her cross busy roads with a gentle, watchful, protective hand,
And you then taking the curb side lest some driver make a move they hadn’t planned.
For she needs to know what length and depth you’d go to for her, should some threat arise;
Though such should be the way of any man the moment he hears a woman’s cries.
And yes, treat her kids well too, for how you do says so much too, they of her womb,
And thus when it comes to certain behaviour or acts, you giving such no room.
And such being to your benefit too, as your wife and kids will reciprocate,
For what goes around comes around, it's said, which so many find out far too late.
But you know, (and not to mention that example that fathers set-cum-show)...
A man’s not a man — well, hardly manly — if he treats any woman poorly,
And why a man should treat his partner well, love and cherish her, actually.
Yes, he delivering on his promises, or what he leads her to believe,
For there’s nothing worse than a spouse who’s seen to strike, renege, betray or deceive.
So, how does one treat a woman? Via all the above and more, that she may bloom,
And never have cause to regret whom she married, that younger sweet-talking groom.
He older now, but still treating her as affectionately, sensitively,
For a woman’s heart is never to be won but romanced continually.
Yes, that's how you treat a woman — your wife — though all women should be treated well,
For what does it say of men when women aren't? Hence those tales many have to tell.
And all why every husband should always seek to do what is best for his wife,
Who, when it comes to their relationship, has every right to a happy life.
By Lance Landall
A number of my poems cover this same subject and those which are related to it. For example: Love The Girl, You're Fine The Way You Are, This Woman Who's In Your Life. In consideration of men, you might like to read my poems When Women Should Consider Forgiveness, and, Women Who're Guilty Too, secular poems section. There's also an article of mine entitled Are Women Blameless? which is found on my Bits 'n' Bobs page.
14. For Men, Though Woman May Peek
It’s my belief,
That men and women have been designed to compliment each other in every way,
And even a few differing roles being part of that magic equation, I say.
For the greater those differences between them, the stronger the attraction, and
Every enhancement producing more satisfaction-cum-lending a helping hand.
So don’t apologize for being a man but be proud of your masculinity,
Just like any woman should delight in her male capturing femininity.
Yes, she not shackled by feminist agitations often born of injury,
But a woman in every way who’s in touch with Nature-cum-plain reality.
All why men should act like men, they enjoying their man cave, rugby or muscle car,
Not succumbing to New Age wimpiness just as a woman shouldn’t burn her bra.
For men were clearly made to be men just as women were made to be women, and
Nestle their sweet head in the bosom of a love that takes in the lie of the land.
Yes, it’s so strange how we’re living in a time where the genders are becoming blurred,
It oft hard to tell the difference at a glance, the situation quite absurd,
Women dressing and acting like men, and men mimicking women, and why we see,
Some men bending over backwards to apologize where there’s no necessity,
And thus it plain stupidity.
So rejoice in your manhood, men, only flexing any muscle protectively,
And thereby using your brains, no macho nonsense marring your masculinity.
And as for exchanging what you shouldn’t, I wouldn’t, thus retaining dignity,
Though never discarding selflessness, thoughtfulness, a certain sensitivity.
Seems ads on TV are hell-bent on portraying men as jerks, and as for females,
They’re oft portrayed as just as aggressive and raunchy as renegade lustful males.
And why one can’t help thinking at times that there is some kind of twisted agenda,
And why men and women should denounce such ill and do more to preserve their gender.
So never apologize for being a man but act like a man in every way,
Tenderly looking after your little lady while burning rubber on the way,
If you catch my drift.
In other words, treat her like a women but live like a man, for boys should be boys,
And girls should be girls, as anything that says otherwise just distorts and destroys.
By Lance Landall
15. For Crying Out Loud
You may not approve of same-sex sexual acts, Gay marriages, pornography or abortion,
Cults, certain religious beliefs and practices, door knockers, dope smoking or prostitution
— And that’s your right —
But for crying out loud, don’t ever mentally or physically abuse anybody,
For hate filled words, cruel acts and violence are not only moronic, but weak and cowardly.
Okay, so someone hurt you — so what? — for you don’t have to retaliate, thus acting like them,
For how can you stand tall and protest when indulging in the very same thing that you condemn?
No, striking back is a mug’s game, and who wants to emulate the behaviour of fools and bullies?
For all who treat others badly are partakers in evil, suffering from the same disease.
Yes, you’ve a right to your view, freedom of expression precious, and rightful avenues of protest,
But for crying out loud, never lay hands on anybody, nor in abusiveness invest.
For sad rhetoric and callous behaviour are good friends of bigotry and persecution,
And thus always add to humanity’s problems rather than joining hands in any solution.
You may not be happy with some who’ve authority, their introductions or audacity,
Or you may have a problem with some organisation, and some underhand things that you see.
But whatever or whoever, you get to choose your response, for that response doesn’t choose you,
And whatever that response, it’ll paint you as bad or better, as one’s words and acts always do.
So for crying out loud anyone, stifle those words, unclench those fists, and shun any weaponry,
For though you’ve a right to think and feel differently, you’ve no right to mistreat humanity.
And should someone hurt you, don’t jump on the same merry-go-round, but rather, help pull on the brakes,
For the one who doesn’t becomes a party to the crime, and love, wisdom and foresight forsakes.
By Lance Landall
The poem above is referring to our general treatment of others.
16. TeardropsOnly little teardrops, maybe, but not so little that pain that many have inside,
Pain that seems loath to go, it a very tiring foe, pain that's too difficult to hide.
Teardrops that trickle, and possibly tickle, tears that well up and invariably slide,
Tears that despite any efforts made, still have their way, their say, and resolve override.
Tears on the faces of children, friends and strangers, brothers and sisters, husbands and wives,
Tears that too often are seen, even foreseen — yes, featuring in far too many lives.
Tears that can last for ages, chapters or pages, tears that sometimes simply come and go,
Weeping that disturbs, sobbing that perturbs, tears that impatiently burst and overflow.
Yes, only little teardrops, they salty to the taste, they smudged, dabbed at, or brushed away,
Tears that are destined to fall, tears that momentarily stall, tears that much hurt convey.
Teardrops that flow, rapidly or slow, tears that gush, rush, and pride reluctantly forgo,
A single tear, a stream, such a very common theme, one that too many people know.
Tears that cross the genders, each race or caste, tears on the faces of rich and poor alike,
Tears that respect no position, nor any condition, tears that can suddenly strike.
Tears that lie in waiting, they seemingly anticipating, tears that appear on cue,
Tears that are caused by others, or over others, and those things that one cannot undo.
Yes, only little teardrops, maybe, but not so little that sadness that’s deep within,
Pain bubbling from an inner well, tears that one really can’t quell, they moist upon one’s skin.
Tears that coyly peek, then softly and quietly sneak, or hurriedly roll down one’s cheek,
They pain's outward expression, sorrowful confession — yes, teardrops, with their telling streak.
By Lance Landall
17. 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
18. The Bridge
Father and son stood staring into the stream as they leaned on the old wooden rail,
The son deep in thought, and sometimes fidgeting with the head of a protruding nail.
Many times both father and son had stood there together, watching the movements below,
Sometimes deep in conversation, sometimes silent, the time passing quickly or slow.
Geoff turned his head in the direction of his dad, his words questioning purposely.
“Why do some folk take their life, Dad?” And after pausing, “Seems like such a tragedy.”
“Well, son, that’s a very good question, but somewhat hard to answer, actually,
Given that sometimes there’s no apparent reason — that is, as far as one can see.”
The old wooden bridge creaked as he shifted his weight, his gaze now fixed upon his son,
The surrounding trees and foliage filtering out the rays of the noon day sun.
Ducks and ducklings paddled their way up stream, their beaks stabbing periodically,
And numerous birds and insects went about their daily routine just as busily.
“Have I ever told you about John Lock, son?” “Not that I recall, Dad.” “Oh, okay,
Well, John Lock had everything going for him, and everything seemed to go his way.
His wife was not only very beautiful, but she had a lovely personality,
And his children were lovely too — well behaved, talented, helping out willingly.”
“Yes, John appeared to be the luckiest man on earth, pretty much envied by all;
A stable of cars, a sound business, huge mansion, expensive paintings on each wall.
But to everyone’s amazement, or perhaps I should say shock, he took his own life,
Leaving behind what most of us can only dream of; plus his shattered kids and wife.”
“What do you make of folk like that, Dad? I mean, fancy taking your life so pointlessly.”
“Well, son, I guess it’s easy to think this or that, perhaps acting judgmentally,
But we really don’t know what’s going on in another’s mind, or what’s amiss, do we?
And who of us can say we’d never do such, for one’s life can change unexpectedly?”
“Now, I’m not condoning such, son, for suicide’s not something we should contemplate,
But how we feel today could change in time, should things in our life deteriorate.
I’m reminded of those who fall in love and say the proverbial, “We won’t part!”
Only to end up divorced a few years later, and even malice in their heart.”
“Yes, it’s a brave person who says I wont do this or that, for oft folk eat their words,
And when in love, or life’s going great, heads are oft in the clouds, folk away with the birds.
And you know, son, it’s all very well for some folk to condemn those who take their life,
But what about those who pointlessly risk their life, and when they’ve children and a wife?”
“Yes, how many risk their life attempting to break some record, or just for a thrill,
Effectively acting just as suicidal, given such pointless risks can kill.
In fact, one could say they’re worse, for they’re not suffering in some way, nor wanting to die,
And very irresponsibly are risking everything, which begs the question, “Why?”
“Surely if anyone’s worthy of condemnation, it’s such as these, in my view,
And yet, they’re oft applauded, lauded, are even given trophies for what they do.
Thus, as I see it, if anyone is selfish and thoughtless, it’s far more so these,
For the one who’s ill, confused, or distraught, neither clearly nor rationally sees.”
“What do you think, son?” “Well, now that you mention such, Dad, I can’t help agreeing with you,
And I guess you’re glad I’m not one of those risk takers, nor suicide would pursue?”
“Indeed, son, even though you’ve had some rough years, reason to consider such,
But please know this, son: I would miss you terribly, for I love you so very much.”
“Thank you, Dad. I’ve always enjoyed our chats on the bridge, and it’s so peaceful down here.”
“Yes, me too, son. There’re times when we bottle things up, when such we really need to air.
Life has its rugged patches, but that’s all they are, son — that is, in the scheme of things,
For just as there’s sun after rain, there’s dawn after night, and that little bird that sings.”
“Well, son, I guess we’d better head back, ay?” “I guess so, Dad, but first I’ll grab a stick.”
Okay, son, I’ll saunter ahead — and if you’re as hungry as I am, you’d best be quick.
Knowing your sweet mother, son, she will probably have the table set already.”
“Sure, Dad, I won’t be long.” And so saying, he was lost in foliage immediately.
And there, he reached inside his jacket and withdrew a handgun — both loaded and deadly,
His pocket now free of the offending object, and his hands moving purposely.
The bullets removed, he flung all into the deeper water upstream, much more concealed,
Where there in the murky shadows, hopefully his secret would never be revealed.
By Lance Landall
Note: Names mentioned are fictitious.
19. When Love Will Have The Final Say
When I see love in action — love that’s genuine and true — I just know that there must be a plan for man,
One with the best of intentions, one that’s been awaiting its time — that is, since evil somehow began.
And I’ll keep on believing so, for there’s one thing I’m sure of — LOVE WILL TRIUMPH SOON — and permanently,
But not before we’ve seen the worst of evil, its final push to ensnare all, albeit temporarily.
Yes, I’ll take love’s side any day, for I have seen its fruitage, and thus know of its possibilities,
Unlike evil — a dead-end street — which, when it’s reigning within folk, just acts like a terminal disease,
One that’s contagious, though there is a cure for those who wish to be free of its poisonous infamy,
And that cure is love — pure, unadulterated love — for I have seen the results of its potency.
Oh yes, nothing works like love, nothing satisfies more — for love, unlike hate, is balanced and in harmony,
A beautiful holistic tree, bursting with bountiful promises — yes, cheery growth that one can see.
A tree that keeps on giving, no thought for itself, but nourished and fed by its own generosity,
Each one of its flowers leaving a lasting sweetness in the air, one rich in selfless ancestry.
And why I just know that love’s the answer, and that in due season it will deliver, not disappoint,
Unlike evil, which leaves a bitter taste, a cruel legacy — not a home, but some sleazy rundown joint.
Yes, only love knows the way, only love provides hope, purpose and light, a coming solution filled day,
And why I won’t stop believing until that time when love will have the final say, and thus evil slay.
By Lance Landall
20. The Heart Of The Matter
If I were the ruler of Earth — God, say — and had to judge everyone-cum-their fate,
I’d be focussing on their heart; and over its condition, long deliberate.
For there I’d find the key to their reward or penalty, whatever such might be,
Given that within each heart there lies the truth-cum-transparency or secrecy.
Yes, one’s heart is the heart of the matter, it compelling us to do this or that,
We either acting rightly or wrongly; love for our fellowman being where it’s at.
And why I would want to study its course, its past, present-cum-future tendencies,
Whether it thought beyond itself, or whether it’s riddled with some callous disease.
And thus my gaze looking for selflessness, beauty and light, a love beating strongly,
As I would be hoping to find its machinery working rightly, not wrongly.
For why reward a toxic heart? — its hardened vessels hardly beating lovingly,
But rather, they narrowed due to a selfish cholesterol, sad propensity.
No, such a heart wouldn’t please me, my scrutiny not leaving any stone unturned,
I checking to see whether from that errant path it had veered, and now, with love burned.
For though it once pumped with the self-serving, its change of direction would have me pause,
And thus stamp reward instead of penalty — and by the way, what’s the state of yours?
By Lance Landall
21. It's Our World
Dear fellow traveller, amidst the billions on this Earth — I’ve a message I wish to share, given your inheritance by birth, and your existing presence here.
This planet is yours and mine, it doesn’t belong solely to kings or queens, popes or presidents, prime ministers in residence, nor any government; even power or society behind the scenes, but rather, to us, the people — yes, not someone on a throne, behind an official desk, or ecclesiastically ensconced under some steeple.
No disrespect is intended here, but only the clear recognition, that this Earth belongs to humanity, you and I — in other words, us, we — not solely to those in power, regardless of their position, regardless of their authority, and including any majority, for humanity is also the minority, given that we’re all linked genetically, historically, and universally, and given that such is acting humanely, quite honestly.
Though rightful laws and order have their place, no one should seek to conquer and rule the human race, and all who would seek to do so, by stealth, legislation or might, wouldn’t have justification, would be lovers of darkness rather than light, who though pretending otherwise, would ultimately catch by surprise, thus displaying their true face.
Yes, this planet belongs to you and I, who likewise, pressure or force cannot justify, (despite how much we might try), for the birthright of all is freedom and liberty, (be that civil or religiously), the right to be left alone to live in peace and harmony, to be free from the evil plots, plans and tentacles of tyranny, and not to mention, the right to have access to every necessity.
Yes, we weren’t meant to be controlled, bought or sold, trampled on, sneeringly looked upon, coldly mistreated, shackled, persecuted or defeated, somehow abused, indifferently used, played with like marionettes, gathered together in plotter’s nets, nor considered as if just a clone, for we’ve a brain, a heart, a dream, a path, a life and purpose of our own, and were born to love not hate, and to goodness, mercy and kindness radiate, for such always works for the best, ensuring that all are blest, whereas hate just destroys, and all manner of evil employs, for it’s tied to lust and power, seeks to overthrow not empower, and all the while, oft hiding behind a smile, (which given time, quickly turns sour).
Though we’re humanity, we’re not some herd to be rounded up, processed and programmed physically, mentally or emotionally, nor were we meant to be serfs at the beck and call of bureaucracy, but rather, are individuals in our own right, little worlds of our own, with corresponding patents and copyright.
Yes, it’s our world, not the possession of a group, a majority, nor some man, who, were these given control — that is, of the world as a whole — would prove a threat to all, and eventually, flames of trouble just fan.
By Lance Landall
"Violence and murder are never the way of the enlightened but those who’ve diseased hearts and minds, those who’ve taken leave of their senses, those who’ve been wrongly fed or brainwashed, and all of them misusing their liberty — and remember this: That our true character is revealed by the way we treat
SAMPLE POEMS, CROSSOVER
22. Right In Front Of
Looking for answers, hope, love, a hero, one who could even rescue mankind?
Well, you’ll never beat that God who died to save us — and thus in blood, His love signed.
Oh, He’s real alright, eyewitnesses having seen and recorded such, and why
A cruel cross has become transformed, and a merciful advocate sits on high.
And hey, He not the one who’s responsible for all the pain and misery,
But a devil called Satan who thought he was riding high until Calvary.
And yes, he the one who has folk running after anything and everything,
Rather than the One who created us, a loving God who’ll deal with death’s sting.
So don’t let doubts or some evolution theory have you thinking otherwise,
For God is a God of truth, Earth’s creator, and Satan the father of lies,
Who, by the way, and right from the beginning, has challenged God’s authority,
Viscously attacked His Word, and via this avenue or that, sought His glory.
Yes, everything right in front of our noses, there all along, and yet folk stray
Away from the arms of a soon returning Saviour, and for what doesn't pay.
But isn’t that the way, we reaping what we sow, even finding out too late,
But God is gracious, and therefore, He slow to close Earth’s apocalyptic gate.
So if you’re looking for answers, hope, love, a super hero that you can trust,
Look no further than Jesus Christ, He faithful, all powerful, righteous and just.
And when the time is right, He’ll deal with that devil who tempts, afflicts and destroys,
And who in order to achieve his evil ends, disguised men on Earth employs.
Yes, there’s only one super hero, and it’s not Batman, this man or that man,
But a God that much evidence points to; and the impossible? — yes, He can!
For it was He who hung the stars in space, set this Earth spinning, and precisely,
He being a God of order and beauty who responds to folk personally.
And He not only left a paradise behind to save us, but risked it all,
And even died saying, “Forgive them, Father,” and, “Mind My mum, John,” I recall.
Now that’s Someone worth following, He suffering then and still suffering now,
Not just from more sinful nails, but from what He sees us suffer, yet must allow.
Oh, how He would’ve loved to have wrapped things up long ago, but the scene's not set
Whereby Satan gains total control of Earth via men who’ll aid and abet.
And then, (with Satan's ultimate intention seen), Christ will bring an end to it all,
And finally, and right here, His kingdom of peace, love and harmony install.
By Lance Landall
SAMPLE POEMS, CHRISTIAN
23. Dear Grieving One
Oh, how we await that day when the sting of death we’ll feel no more, that heartbreak,
Yes, that pain that only those who grieve know, that loneliness-cum-that gnawing ache.
And come that day will, for Christ has promised such relief, and hears each griever’s cry,
He meantime seeking to comfort with expressions of love till those tears He’ll dry.
So take heart, dear grieving one, for Christ is grieving too, He well knowing your pain,
For your loved one’s loved even greater by Him, and hence why those nail prints remain.
And why you can be assured of His love too, and more so at such a sad time,
For Christ will be holding the ladder when from those grieving depths you seek to climb.
Yes, no one’s had cause to grieve more than Christ, the wounded comforter, healer too,
Who delights in delivering healing balm, helping grievers find their way through.
And you will, despite those dark days, dark days that Christ has known too, hence that light,
Those heavenly rays of sunshine that cut through clouds of grief, and say, “Hope’s in sight.”
And indeed it is, for Christ will soon return, and such grieving will be no more,
All being why we have an eternity of unbridled happiness in store.
Yes, death’s sting finally gone, no more heartbreak, gnawing ache, loneliness or tears,
Christ having dealt with such once and for all — a Saviour who truly loves and cares.
By Lance Landall
In memory of a friend — John Matsis — who passed away on the 29 May, 2013, (and who often
helped me by checking my grammar and playing the devil's advocate).
24. Welcome To The Family Of God
Yes, welcome to the family of God, those who now have hope beyond the grave,
For the very God who created mankind came to Earth in order to save.
So never doubt your decision, nor go back on it, as Satan wants you lost,
And hence why you should always stand firm for Jesus Christ no matter what the cost.
Oh, how He loves you, and how happy you’ve made Him, He who can’t wait to return,
And then He’ll take you in His outstretched arms and far more about His love you’ll learn.
For God is all about goodness, not that cruel picture that Satan paints, sadly,
Which sees many giving up or spurning the path that leads to eternity.
Yes, Satan will certainly put your new found faith to the test, but hang in there,
For God has promised He’ll always be with you and that one day He’ll soon appear.
And meantime He has also promised that He’ll give you all the strength that you’ll need,
For no one can make it on their own, and why daily on His Word you should feed.
Oh yes, you can trust Him alright, as He’ll be there through thick or thin, good or bad,
For He’s the best friend you could ever have, the finest example of a dad.
And He having sent the Holy Spirit to guide and not just empower you,
Given that discernment and His truths will serve you well, and staying near Him too.
So let me commend you on His behalf, for He’s so chuffed that you’ve chosen Him,
His way being the path to joy and peace, the devil’s path both deceptive and grim.
And why I’m so glad you’ve joined the family of God, chosen the One who cares,
And this more than proven by those ugly scars that each hand and foot of His bears.
Now that’s love! Pure, unadulterated, boundless, everlasting love, true love,
Love like you’ll never find on Earth, for it’s Divine — yes, no mere likeness above —
But everything you could wish for, it looking to the present and future, and,
It all courtesy of a God who’s suffered too, hence how He can understand.
And this why He’ll bear long with you, forgive your faltering but repentant steps,
Carry you when you’re tired and weary, be with you no matter how tough it gets.
And yes, there’ll be more expressions of His love within each day, within each year,
And an eternity of them when He finally arrives and shouts, “I’m here!”
By Lance Landall
Inspired by a special day, (a baptism), 6 December 2014
25. Lest We Forget
(Courtesy of Christian hymns)
Yes, tell me the story of Jesus, tell me all about His amazing grace,
Oh, the wonder of it all, and hence why I can’t wait to see Him face to face.
And joy to the world, for Jesus is coming again — yes, the Rock of Ages —
So give me the Bible, that sweet hour of prayer where one divinely engages.
And hence why I cry, “Jesus, Saviour, pilot me, be Thou my vision, my all,
For great is Thy faithfulness, and why moment by moment it’s on You I call.”
And why I also utter, “Take the world but give me Jesus" — oh, love divine —
So please, Go, tell it on the mountain, for blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
Oh, how I love Jesus and the old rugged cross, for there’s power in the blood,
And why I’m standing on the promises, hope bursting forth like a sweet spring bud.
Oh, wonderful words of life, and why I sigh, “How great Thou art, draw me nearer,”
For what a friend we have in Jesus — and each day, His love becoming clearer.
Yes, ’tis so sweet to trust in Jesus — and you know, I’ve found a friend, one who’s true —
And why I say to others I meet, “You should turn your eyes upon Jesus too,
For softly and tenderly Jesus is calling — yes, the Saviour is waiting —
And when He cometh, you will soon see joy and happiness accelerating.”
And why I holler, “All hail the power of Jesus’ name! Praise Him! Praise Him!” and
Also let ring out, “Stand up! Stand up for Jesus! To God be the glory!” and,
“Onward Christian soldiers!” For we’ve been redeemed! Redeemed by the blood of the lamb,
The immortal, invisible, God only wise, the Holy, Holy, Holy,
So open my eyes that I may see deeper insights coming from Calvary,
And grant me the faith of our fathers — and daily, just a closer walk with Thee.
And may I and others oft be found singing, “Joyful, joyful, we adore Thee,”
And I, “O love that wilt not let me go,” and so glad You’ve said, “Abide with Me.”
All why I cry, “Come Thou fount of every blessing, for my faith looks up to Thee,”
I leaning on the everlasting arms, and often whistling, “Jesus loves me.”
And so glad that He’s got the whole world in His hands, for God will take care of you,
And me, and why I'll never stop repeating, “Please tell me the old, old story.”
By Lance Landall
Another poem in this vein can be seen on my page Answers From God's Word, which can be
accessed via a link on my poem list page, Christian section. It poem # 43 on that page.
26. The God Of Emotions
Oh yes, Jesus has feelings too, hence that tragic setting at Gethsemane,
For there Christ was witnessed sweating drops of blood at the prospect of Calvary.
Oh, the weight of what He had to face, and failure being a possibility,
Hence why He fell with His face to the ground overwhelmed at the enormity,
And prayed: “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me,”
And thrice He prayed such, though adding, “Yet not as I will, but as You will,” and then,
There He was at the tomb of Lazarus where He wept, touched by the sorrows of men.
Oh yes, Christ sure has feelings, has known rejection, grief and pain, (such is clear),
And therefore, how terribly unkind it would be to think that He doesn’t care.
Yes, many times He was moved by the plight of someone’s suffering, and still is,
For via His creating of Adam and Eve, every person on this Earth is His.
And oh, how He cares, hates the sad entrance of sin-cum-that great controversy,
Which, in order that He be vindicated, must reach its telling finale.
And why I holler, “What a great God of love He is!,” and I will tell you why:
At any time He could’ve easily and completely destroyed humanity,
And with every right given our rebelliousness, ungrateful insanity.
Yes, that sad lack of trust, that disbelief, as if we just found our own way here,
When it was He who created everything, design and not chance crystal clear.
So listen, friend, for when you’re down and out, backed in a corner or nursing pain,
There’s a Saviour who’s deeply moved by your distress and with keys to every chain.
And all you have to do is turn to Him, for everyone’s plight tugs at His heart,
And oh, how He longs for that day when both you and Him will never be apart.
The God of emotions who feared eternal separation from His Father,
And sweated drops of blood while His disciples slept, (we too, doing what we’d rather).
Yes, a God who wept at the tomb of Lazarus, mortality’s cold domain,
And whose heart wells up with the same deep emotion when we too cry out in pain.
And be that pain emotional or physical, Christ suffering from both too,
His hands and feet marred by ugly nails, His heart pierced by sin and words that weren’t true.
Oh, how He suffered, for He’s the God of emotions, emotions placed in you,
For we’ve been made in His image and thus were created with same feelings too.
By Lance Landall
27. The Mystery Of God's Love
Oh, the mystery of God’s love given how we wander from His side-cum-stray,
Given how we even turn our back on Him and foolishly go our own way,
And yet, there His love is, it unchanged and sure, it vigilant and unfailing,
But oh, off we go having forgotten those thorns, that cruel flogging and nailing.
Yes, our sleeping bag stashed behind God’s couch, as it were, we coming and going,
Our roving eyes paining our waiting Bridegroom who is all seeing and knowing,
And yet, though He could turn His back and has a right to, He still keeps wooing us,
For no one else’s love is as deep and forgiving as that displayed by Jesus.
Oh, how merciful and longsuffering He is — yes, such love a mystery,
Our one night stands and long term affairs constantly provoking His jealousy,
And yet, there He is, seeking, calling, even pleading, and where on Earth are we,
But seated in Satan’s playpen or coming and going indifferently.
Yes, the mystery of God’s love, we so undeserving of its warmth and grace,
And oh, how oft we take it for granted and our own crazy, selfish things chase,
And yet, God still persevering with us, hoping that we’ll be faithful and true,
For all that He has in store for us outshines those things we’re so prone to pursue.
And this why God is up all night, He pacing back and forth, His lantern glowing,
He peering into the darkness where ill winds are busy chilling and blowing.
Oh, how our Saviour yearns for our eternal company, our greatest well-being,
Which, once at home, and via the mystery of His love, we’ll never stop seeing.
By Lance Landall
BEST INTERESTS MY PERSONAL MISSION.
to see what we need
to see than be forced
to see what pains more
we regard every human as a precious and sacred creation, (never to be
violated in any way), and the well-being of creatures and this Earth as
our duty, we’ll never progress beyond where we are, except in mere
outward appearance perhaps.
website only endorses rightful, non-destructive-cum-non-violent
My poems began around 2002, my website was founded in 2005, and 1000 poems were penned by May 2012 — that figure having become a goal. Now to potter.