Frequently I've Wished
Very frequently I’ve wished that I were someone wealthy,
Yes, a multi-millionaire whose income remained healthy.
However, not for my sake, for there’re many folk out there
Whose burdens could be lifted if I had such wealth to share.
Such wealth I wouldn’t parade like many well-off folk do,
For I think that’s rather cruel, given what some are going through.
’Though a home I do not have, just a humble one I’d buy,
Lest the mansion I purchased, someone’s prayer request deny.
I would buy my family needy things they’ve gone without,
And some pleasures they’ve not known, my family I’d shout.
But ’midst all I’d do for them, I certainly wouldn’t forget
Others far less fortunate, fighting hardship, ill health or debt.
I’d seek out those who’re burdened with hardship or failing health,
And dispense unanimously, and generously, my wealth.
I’d live a humble lifestyle to ensure more people got
Whatever solved their problem, or at least helped them a lot.
Each week I’d withdraw money for my family and I,
But just enough for our needs, or what we could truly justify.
By acting in this manner I’d have even more to give
Any who are needy, like the starving, who’ve a right to live.
Personally, I think it’s sad that money’s wrongly spent
On things that are not needed, while others their lot lament.
Many folk are suffering, and through no fault of their own,
While others live palatially like some king upon a throne.
Very frequently I’ve wished that I were someone wealthy,
Yes, a multi-millionaire whose income remained healthy.
For then I would have the chance to help thousands via my wealth,
Who each day throughout the year suffer hardship or ill health.
By Lance Landall
When Profit's Injurious To All
Wise employers know that happy staff lead to higher profits — in other words, more incoming money,
And that happy staff lead to a well regarded company, less accidents, sickness and jealousy,
And that along with this, happy staff lead to a more productive and far happier community,
Which, at the end of the day, is once again in the best interests of any local company.
Yes, a company where whines, groans, arguments and complaints are fewer, and where there is less wastage too,
For happy staff take more care, show more thought, and less grudgingly some menial or unpleasant task do.
All of which is why an employer should treat his staff well, thus putting humanity before money,
For we don’t live to work, but work to live, though for the lucky few, their work is looked forward to daily.
At the end of the day, life’s all about people — others — not about me, greed, or piling up money,
Which, too often is learnt too late by those who’re acting selfishly rather than self-sacrificially.
And many of them employers who’re already more than comfortable, and yet still raking it in,
That is, at the wrongful expense of their staff, who though good employees, unfairness have to bear and grin.
So many employers encroach on their employee’s family time — that is, via staff meetings and so on,
Which could be accommodated during work hours, and then there’re other demands, which soon see more time gone.
And hence those problems that occur outside of work hours too, courtesy of such employers' thoughtlessness,
That is, their quest for higher profits, (more filthy lucre), when the truth is, they’d still do well with far less.
By Lance Landall
Note:
The following poem is the secular version of my Christian poem "Such
Love." Should you wish to use this poem, the following statement must
be placed under and near my name: Secular version of the Christian poem "Such Love" by the same poet.
A Tragic Tale
(Inspired by a story I once read)
A sad and tragic story has been passed down throughout the years,
One
about an only child, a story that is cause for tears.
Oh, how his father
loved him, and how his mother loved him too,
But they were very poor people,
and this life had struggled through.
They worried about their son, and a
college education,
So they scrimped and saved for years, dreaming of his
graduation.
Both were getting on in years, and thus their health was not the
best,
But until they had saved enough, they toiled on without a
rest.
When they had saved all the money that was needed for their
son,
They sent him off to college, thrilled that this they’d finally
done.
Thus, tears flowed as they waved goodbye to the son that they held
dear,
For they could not be sure when their much loved son would next
appear.
Whenever they could do so, a few more dollars they would
send,
Tucked inside an envelope with a loving note that they’d
penned.
They knew that the money they’d sent might not pay for all he’d
need,
So every day on bended knee, with the Lord above they’d plead.
A
number of years went by, and the letters sent home decreased,
Which greater
concern and longing in each parent’s heart increased.
And when another year
went by, and no news had come their way,
The husband bade his wife goodbye,
and set off on horse and dray.
For many long days he travelled, his head
shaded from the sun,
And he, lost in pleasant memories, hoping soon to see
his son.
Travelling over winding tracks with an aching deep in his
heart,
He bemoaned the past few years that they had had to spend
apart.
And he thought about the college where his much-loved son now
went,
One where more wealthy parents their more privileged children
sent.
He had wanted the very best for his disadvantaged son,
But as he
neared the college, he wondered, “Was the right thing done?”
His son
would have changed, of course, and a young man he would now be,
Mixing with
those wealthy ones, who viewed poor folk disdainfully.
Would he want his new
friends to know that his mum and dad were poor;
And what might he have told
them? — yes, such thoughts he couldn’t ignore.
Soon two large stately
college gates appeared clearly within view,
And a tired but excited father,
those stately gates passed through.
Looking somewhat dishevelled, and in
clothes that were second-hand,
He halted in the driveway, where anxiously,
the grounds were scanned.
Lofty old buildings drew the gaze of this
humble working man,
Astounded at their grandeur, and how they all for acres
ran.
His squinting eyes searched out the grounds with intense
concentration,
And soon he was rewarded with much cause for
jubilation.
For with unbelievable joy, he caught sight of his dear
son,
And the thin wheels of the old dray on the shingle driveway spun.
His
voice rang with excitement as he called out his dear son’s name,
But the face
of his startled son portrayed embarrassment and shame.
Surrounded by all
his classmates, (whose surprise was also
clear),
His words tore at his father’s heart, fouled the sultry summer
air.
“Shove off, old man. You’re not my dad. I’ve never seen you
before.
Just go back where you came from, before somebody calls the
law.”
And quickly turning on his heels, his son briskly strode
away,
As his classmates mocked and jeered his dad on the old horse and
dray.
Tears flowed down the father’s face as horse and dray were turned
around,
And his aged body shook with sobs, as hooves beat upon the
ground.
Back out through the large college gates went a broken-hearted
man,
Whose red, smarting, tear-filled eyes now no longer sought to
scan.
One lost to his surroundings, and in a fog of crippling pain,
A
thousand hammers hammering deep inside his tortured brain.
Off down the
old winding track, the father slowly made his way,
The trip home seeming much
longer, for deep pain now ruled the day.
And even the old faithful mare,
hauling the old battered dray,
Seemed to sense her master’s deep pain, as
they homeward made their way.
As the father neared his home, his darling
wife waved from the gate,
Unaware that the son she’d borne had just sealed
her husband’s fate.
But no corresponding wave came from the man that she had
missed,
For it seemed that the horse’s reins were embedded in his
fist.
Unable to say a word, he stepped down from the battered
dray,
And towards the open house door, his wife helped him make his
way.
And anxious about her husband’s state, she led him to a chair
Where
beside the fireplace, his thoughts he would regularly share.
After giving
him a gentle hug, she turned to close the door,
When suddenly, her husband
groaned and then crumpled to the floor.
Horrified, she clutched at him, but
not a word could he impart,
For this man she now cradled, had just died of a
broken heart.
Oh, what a tragic tale, one seemingly hard to comprehend,
But tell me, dear friend...
Would you hurt your mother or father, turn your back on them too?
Perhaps not. Well, what about your spouse who's put their trust in you?
Would you break their heart via disloyalty, betray a loved one?
Or one who's mentally or physically impaired cruelly shun?
Would you avoid a vagrant, a beggar begging in the street,
Are there any other ones that you might reject or mistreat?
For I'd truly hate to think so, lest it be you parallel
This tale that I've presented here, upon which I hope you'll dwell.
By Lance Landall
