Artists of Descriptive Depictions
Picking words with syllables heard,
To sound a beat or create a mental feast.
Artists of descriptive depictions...
Choosing from within and behind,
In minds with canvassed eyes they select.
And do their best when under some kind of duress,
It seems.
To perfect,
What is envisioned with more meaning!
Like a daydream scene internally screened,
To project upon our vision.
Is a snowflake etched,
And falling to a catching ground
As fetching?
Or as profound...
As the galloping hoofs of horses,
Pulling sleighs of joyful smiles around?
When holidays are welcomed...
Dripping with seasoned sights and sounds!
Orange with yellow brightening with hints of brown,
Introducing colors of Fall on trees standing tall.
Winter mint green,
And red adorning silver streams
Of Christmas dreams...
Soon in hearts will be found!
Decorating our imaginations.
Gifted wrapped to avoid the slightest frown.
Picking words with syllables heard,
To sound a beat or create a mental feast.
Artists of descriptive depictions...
Release an increased merriment to treat.
And our minds receive them,
To dance upon memories reminisced!
In anticipation...
Impatiently waiting,
For descriptive depictions...
To come alive before our eyes
Beholding the reality of their visits!
Capturing wonder and surprise.
Dedicated:
Writers. Poets especially.
There are quite a few 'Artists of Descriptive Depictions'
that come to mind. A few like Duncan Wyllie, Ms Theo Onken
Ms Marci Made, Herbert Nehrlich...these are just a few! So
please forgive me 'IF' I did not mention you by name.
Blame that on my head and not my heart!
You all are so wonderfully inspiring with your 'gifts'!
'I thank you'...Lawrence
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Now Or Ever
You've excluded me from depictions,
Of how your perfect life should be lived.
Those depictions were inflicted.
And for years,
To me you did this.
If you were not facing unsurmountable conflicts,
I doubt seriously if a 'we together' would be heard...
Coming from your lips.
That is a fact of life that between us has existed.
Painting over a Zebra's stripes...
Doesn't diminish the sight of it!
And what makes you think a 'togetherness' is what I wish?
I'm not the one with a mind confused in conflict.
I remember your specific words...
'Why bother with someone I regard as worthless.'
You've excluded me from depictions,
Of how your perfect life should be lived.
Those depictions were inflicted.
And for years,
To me you did this.
You left me to survive alone.
And on my own you were not in the picture.
Now or ever will that be my wish.
I did not barter my soul,
Hoping for a price paid by the highest bidder.
Nor did I quit to whore...
To solicit impressions to make.
Your chose to go through that door.
You left me to survive alone.
And on my own you were not in the picture.
Now or ever will that be my wish.
You chose to whore now you handle it!
I don't think of you like the others do.
You can blitz them with bling and other meaningless things.
But someone without integrity...
Has nothing else to offer to deliver,
Or without strings attached to me bring!
If you were not facing unsurmountable conflicts,
I doubt seriously if a 'we together' would be heard...
Coming from your lips.
You've excluded me from depictions,
Of how your perfect life should be lived.
Those depictions were inflicted.
And for years,
To me you did this.
Remove your garbage from my door.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those' Images Made
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made.
People love to treasure those images made.
The ones flowered to sugar without a bitter taste.
Those images glammed up to spotlight,
On a public stage.
But behind the scenes indignities can be mean.
Yet...
People love to treasure those images made.
And their minds are affixed to them to defend...
Every blemish that is openly seen.
Since people who love their images made...
Have not been conditioned on reality to feast.
People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made,
With an excusing of detrimental flaws and pain shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perhaps I Can Change
Have I overly rhapsodized lately
On Mother Nature’s displays?
I’ve become rather forgetful
With the passing of so many days
Have I bored you lately
With labored, descriptive words
Droned on incessantly
of iridescent hummingbirds?
Of Spring fields of sunflowers
Of the morn’s nascent glow
Of the dragonfly’s rustle
Of the stream’s tinkling flow?
I do ramble on too much
But I love description so
So perhaps I’ll not describe so much
Tho’ tis the only way I know
So you’ll hear much less of stardust…
Less of butterflies and angel wings
Of icy glaze…of snowy crust
Or the way the Zephyr sings
At least I’ll try, to keep it dry
If I fail… I’ll try again
Though God knows…descriptive prose
Has always been my friend
Perhaps I’ll also try to address
Another problem of mine
And that’s my annoying addiction
To my profuse, use of rhyme
There’s another frequent fault I foolishly fall for
That’s the equivalent of mental masturbation
And that’s my inappropriate, incomprehensible,
Overly insane….unabashed, use of alliteration
poem by David Whalen
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Hopelessly Fantasized
People are hopelessly fantasized.
Agreeably deceived.
Fearful of truth.
And stubbornly in denial.
What is for them is not a reality as is,
Until it has been sweetened.
With words to encourage...
The hiding of any hints of sacrifice.
And aided by animated and colorized depictions,
Of a suffering done.
Or a movement to denounce,
Any evidence of honesty.
With dancing flowers under a smiling Sun!
Perferrably touched,
By the passing of puffed pink floating clouds.
These are the only visions some minds will allow...
To endure the onslaught of rapid change.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Minutes After The Stroke Of Midnight
Either mystical doom or an acceptance of evil.
People are obsessed,
With an ending to their lives...
That entertains their imaginations.
And caught up with depictions,
As to how this is going to happen.
With those taking both sides...
To traumatize the ones innocent.
While showing with a knowing,
How they can victimize themselves...
In movies or on widescreen TV's,
To capture the full effect...
Of how a martyr does it in 3D.
And caught up with depictions,
As to how this is going to happen...
With instructions.
Giving purpose to their reason,
To terrorize the lives of others.
With the pocketing of some fast cash,
From creations that promote the doing of it.
Either mystical doom or an acceptance of evil.
People are obsessed,
With an ending to their lives...
That entertains their imaginations.
And...
Satisfies with predictions made,
They hope The Creator of 'this' reality approves.
Just before the white knight dressed in shining armor,
Comes to save humanity with a new soaring soundtrack...
Played for survivors to hear minutes after the stroke of midnight.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dance
Dance!
When you get the chance.
It's okay to pat your feet.
And sway as you move,
To the rhythmic beat.
Dance!
Enhance your prancing,
By letting loose.
Get up and shake that butt.
Give all those excuses up!
Wave your hands and feel free to do it.
Remove those restrictions with thoughts deluded.
What is there to prove if you don't or do?
Improve your health and state of mind too!
Tighten up those muscles in that sagging behind...
And,
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
And...
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Wave your hands and feel free to do it.
Remove those restrictions with thoughts deluded.
What is there to prove if you don't or do?
Improve your health and state of mind too!
Tighten up those muscles in that sagging behind...
And dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance!
From your head down to your feet.
Dance!
Get rid of those excuses you keep.
And...
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
Dance!
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Treat it like a mental release!
Dance.
Dance.
Dance.
And keep on dancing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lifted From Descriptive Restrictions
What is this thing called poetry?
Is it depictions...
Of vignettes connected.
Bridged between something said profound.
Recited as a sonnet...
With emotions sat upon it.
Exciting enough to be passed around?
Many try to describe poetry,
With an intellect approach...
Hoping to dull
Diverse interpretations,
With meters, tempo, rhyme
And lines counted!
Learned by rote and blurted.
Regurgitated from memory!
Can true poetry be defined without rhyme?
Can thoughts unconnected but colorized,
And flavored to moisten
Be the choice...
Of those who prefer their poetry moist?
Even though uncomprehending,
The meaning or intention of clues planted.
Seeded by the writer
Delighted to tease with mystery, sex
Or emotional pain aimed at the reader!
Can true poetry be defined,
As heartfelt expressions
Written to describe what then
Is in one's mind.
And who is to say there is a correct way
To reveal what one has to say with or without rhyme.
When those times come to pour a flow
That arrives and awaits the rush.
And thrusting that wish to be expressed as is!
What is this?
That has to find,
Poetic lines.
Requested or not!
When all it wants to do,
Is be delivered for what it is!
Searching for an accepted way...
In a style one owns,
Like none other conveys...
And lifted from descriptive restrictions,
To expand the demands of understanding!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bestowers Of Transformative Vision
pathos suffering passion
ripe within bodily experience
pathos of culture artistic expression
artists the 'I give birth to'
shape shifters people creators
bestowers of transformative vision
sentence seen is life vibration alteration
passionate in artistic creation expression
enrichers of web strand seekers beholders
artists hung upon vision quests
artists hung upon life beat heart beats
artists hung upon eyes burning in soul flame
artists historical now you see them now you don’t
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Guess Who Will Find THAT Offensive?
My comments offend?
Your skin must be very thin.
If my depictions are available,
To be observed...
And your eyes have been fixed on sweets.
While you couldn't get enough,
Of those delusions fed...
To quickly eat of that 'funky stuff'.
My comments once made,
Freely and unafraid...
Will eventually be all up in your head,
To repeat back to me.
And guess who will find THAT offensive?
People like you who now wish,
They had listened and not passed judgement.
Have you ever heard the term,
'It Is Never Too Late? '
Look around you.
What time have you been waiting for to arrive?
That has long been sitting to visit.
And right before your eyes undisguised.
I didn't welcome that.
You did!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Disputes Next Door
My callous neighbour feeds
I crawl to the foreground
To protect my interests in fear
Inside me creeps disaster
Deafening cries of panic are heard
Many times the size of quakes
Like a body of deep distress
I see cluttered sounds and sights
Over the fence
On the other side
Internal worries are fought
May descriptive words tell of us
Fighting and crafting the words
Full of love and hate love and hate
poem by Naveed Akram
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Protected
Your depictions sit and haunt,
Vividly.
Although I am not physically there,
To witness any of it...
The anguish you are feeling,
Grips my heart.
Ripping it into bits.
If I had not understood this,
My tears would flow...
And not quit!
Just know whatever you are going through,
Ask of God...
To handle all of it!
And observe yourself,
Becoming protected with a mental lift!
But...
This does not happen,
If you are not prepared to pray!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Post-Mortem Life
Need necessitates not
learning reading absorbing
boring facts inflating trivia.
Retrack life highlighted
story. In surrealistic detailed...
distorted disjointed gloss segments.
Choreographed descriptive insignia.
Pieces presented
pervert logical coherent order...
meaning read
within doctored words
spells meaning
lacking missing pieces.
Forged jigsaw puzzle
force fitted incomplete.
Time wasted equals life’s
opportune moments flushed.
Fresh down sewer drain.
Post-mortem life story
holds no credit gain?
Lights’ journey void
violates inspired thought.
Is hollow shell husk.
A meaningless play?
Life’s purpose
wasn’t destined.
To dissolve effaced
on fragmented stage.
Words of power hold
meaning suspended.
Old venerated artists gone
beyond tearful curtain rain.
Vulnerable
newborn artists need
wakeful tears.
To block heightened pain.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Infinity Beauty
I keep gazing relentlessly
At the infinity of your immaculate beauty
Through the windows of a past
That waits patiently
To be remembered
Infinite beauty you are
Too beautiful to be compared
With past present and future
Indeed, there is no descriptive value
There is not even one parable
To adorn your presence
There is no degree of imaginations
When it comes to your personification
You are like words waiting to be spoken and written
For future generations
Whose anticipation is simply the view
Of your smile!
poem by Irenio Irenaeus Bero
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Wearing Necklaces Made From Rhinestones
Many times over the years,
After I have submitted my depictions...
In poetic description to be critiqued,
A few with their feathers plucked...
Would ask with their thumbs sucked,
From where do I get my 'sing-song' delusions.
And these comments always seem to come from those,
Swinging back and forth with their eyes and minds closed...
Inside the comfort of their gilded cages.
Where they feel free,
To flutter with a flittering around gleefully...
While wearing necklaces made from rhinestones.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Other Job Descriptions Dished
Whatever it is that you do,
In your pursuit to avoid obstacles...
Do not assume I am also seeking,
Confusion.
I am not!
Or that I should have the patience,
Whenever you have decided...
To dance to another tune,
As often as you wish!
That kind of patience none I've got.
Dealing with indecision,
And those with mixed emotions...
May be depictions of other job descriptions dished!
But I have no agreement made to keep with you,
I would be the one to settle for anything you do.
In fact,
Your latest oral contract that places me on call...
As a default to your nonsense,
I advise you never to me repeat it.
Assume from my mind it has been deleted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Up For The Challenge
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.
Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge.
I've got something to prove!
If I win or lose.
Someone others thought a fool,
Maybe one who someday rules!
Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats...
And,
Be petty like that.
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!
Up for the challenge,
And wearing brand new boots.
Up for the challenge,
'Cause I've got something to prove.
Depictions make no sense.
Whether intended,
Or made by accident.
But I admit I get incensed,
When no one but me pays my rent!
'Oh? '
No 'Oh'.
Some have no purpose but to fly at night like bats.
And...
Some have no purpose but to chitter chat in packs.
And...
Some have no purpose but to stir up tit for tats.
And...
Be petty like that,
'Cause...
That is where their minds are at!
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it!
'Oh? '
Up for the challenge.
And I know that I can manage it.
Up for the challenge,
And no doubts are taking space up...
In my mind!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The general statement that the mental faculties are class concepts, belonging to descriptive psychology, relieves us of the necessity of discussing them and their significance at the present stage of our inquiry.
quote by Wilhelm Wundt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Those I Have Not Met or Seen
To those I have not met or seen...
But feel in my heart I know.
To those whose words
I have read closely.
And have embraced them,
Wherever I may with them go!
How can I rate...
An appreciation of such gifts?
How can I do that,
With a higher understanding...
They have given to me,
That brightens and uplifts!
I wish we could sit together,
And enjoy our happiness.
I wish we could strip away,
From these limiting boundaries.
That is what I wish...
After reading your depictions,
And the lives you live that exist!
I wish to be in your presence.
And hear your words spoken.
As I close my eyes...
To visualize,
Those images from your lips!
Dedicated:
'To Those I Have Not Met or Seen'
My friends in:
India
England
Australia
Africa
Ja pan
Philippines
Hawaii
Ireland
Iran and Iraq
Saudia Arabia
United Arab Emirates
And...right 'here' in the United States of America.
'I thank you and The Almighty...
For providing this outlet to keep us united
through our collective writings we share,
discuss. And rate...ugh! lol
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Abstract and Eccentric Depictions Given
Abstract and eccentric depictions given,
Prior to meeting someone with anticipation
Are often more detailed,
Than the one portraying an image
That is perceive will be accepted upon one's arrival.
Yet conflicts with what is seen to surprise,
Those with widened eyes.
Disappointing the host,
Who has been told what to expect.
Confusing whether to welcome one as a guest,
Or a tolerated curiosity.
Some people uncomfortable with themselves,
In unfamiliar environments
Seem to socialize with others,
Prepared and premeditated for any deviations.
Hoping to address all one who has met,
With a leaving of good first impressions.
Or at best a kept safety net gone undetected.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fragile (Wounded)
She shines
In a world full of ugliness
She matters
When everything is meaningless
Fragile
She doesn't see her beauty
She tries to get away
Sometimes
It's just that nothing seems worth saving
I can't watch her slip away
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
She reads the minds of all the people as they pass her by
Hoping someone can see
If I could fix myself i'd -
but it's too late for me
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
I won't let you fall apart
We'll find the perfect place to go where we can run and hide
I'll build a wall and we can keep them on the other side
...but they keep waiting
...and picking and picking and picking and picking...
It's something I have to do
I won't let you fall apart
I was there, too
I won't let you fall apart
Before everything else
I won't let you fall apart
I was like you
I won't let you fall apart
song performed by by Nine Inch Nails
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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