Chances Missed
With promises of a greatness awaiting,
How can one depend on a satisfaction...
That will give comfort that comes from it?
With a wish that a spotlight,
Soothes an ego needing to feed and please.
Feasting on philosophies,
May treat with a benefit...
Those nourishing on a composite,
Of strict diets mixed with myths.
Squeezing the adventure out of any of this,
When no advantage is recognized...
As one anticipates with a fading contemplation,
The satiating taste of what fades away.
Especially,
If days and months and years are spent...
Hoping that unexpected luck,
Comes before the passing of nightfall.
And many a night have fallen upon those,
Giving new meanings...
To their interpretation of procrastination.
And gone is the daring done,
When one begins to witness...
Both the effects and process of a noticeable aging.
With the signs of youth diminishing in exuberant flair.
'Oh my!
What are 'these' around my eyes? '
~Traces of crows feet.
Don't worry.
They will be back to finish the dance.~
And those dreams eagerly pursued at one time,
Become subdued with a reminiscing...
Of those 'what ifs' wished and chances missed.
'That wasn't a very nice thing to say.'
~Here...
Put on your glasses.
Do I have a look as if I seek your vote?
I am not a politician.
You're getting old.
Get over it.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Choice Days To Live
Pending are,
Those choice days to live.
None to repeat.
None wished to relive...
Just for the benefit of it!
And I sit reminiscing,
All that I've missed.
When happiness had,
I let slip away to dismiss.
Pending are,
Days of joy to return.
Holidays I spent...
With those who shared their sentiments.
Remembering days of youth,
Like a flash of light that has passed.
Now I'm left to wonder...
How many choice days I get to pick,
Do I really have...
To treasure and choose as I wish.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An IF Wished
Tomorrow comes too often,
To one listening to promises unfulfilled.
Today thoughts are delayed,
For decisions that aren't made.
And yesterday takes the blame,
When an IF wished...
Is replayed!
Aborted are actions,
Awaiting satisfactions...
As distractions take centerstage,
For delusions.
Conclusions never come,
To do the right thing that should be done.
Leaving happiness a myth,
For those bewildered...
By opportunities missed sent adrift!
Tomorrow comes too often,
To one listening to promises unfulfilled.
Today thoughts are delayed,
For decisions that aren't made.
And yesterday takes the blame,
When an IF wished...
Is replayed!
Like someone stuck in the pursuit of youth,
Applying denials diminished of truth...
Baiting as they wait,
To marinate in compliments,
Aging as time fades.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Treasured To Live
A life treasured to live,
Moves much too fast...
When a satisfaction of having it,
Means more than sitting to watch sand...
Pass ever so quickly,
Through an hour glass.
And those believing they have time on their hands,
To seek an attention from others...
Hoping someone will stop to listen and understand,
Why anyone would hesitate to live in a procrastination...
Is someone awaiting for an approval,
To celebrate without contemplation.
A life treasured to live,
Moves much too fast...
When a satisfaction of having it,
Means more than sitting to watch sand...
Pass ever so quickly,
Through an hour glass.
And there are those who sit doing this,
With excuses to make about not finding the time...
A procrastination has found easily!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It Had to Come to Us This Way
It had to come to us this way.
Unexpected love.
It had to find us unprepared.
Unexpected love.
We did not know it had us picked.
When unexpected love,
Came to visit.
It had to come to us this way.
Unexpected love.
It had to find us unprepared.
Willing to accept,
How it crept upon us.
When all we felt was tried.
Staring in clear skies,
Sometimes for that 'one'.
That someone special to us to come.
And when it is done...
We become stunned.
It is familiar.
As if it begins where it 'had' begun!
It had to come to us this way.
Unexpected love.
Expecting it returned.
As it is to feed what is yearned.
Connecting two hearts burning!
When all we felt was tried,
Unexpected love...
Comes out of hiding!
It had to come to us this way.
If it had not...
We would find reasons,
To chase it away!
And that is why,
It had to come to us
This way...
Finding us in a receptive display,
And giving without thought to run.
Hoping love like this did come,
To stay!
It had to come to us this way,
Unexpected love...
Seldom drifts or fades!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sub-Standard Is The Giving Of My Love
Sub-standard to you is the giving of my love.
Do you remember when it see-sawed,
Between excellent and moderate?
Before below sub-par it went.
And your nagging sent me away quite a bit.
For days at a time!
And I returned looking and feeling exuberant.
With no explanation how my joyous time was spent.
Sub-standard to you is the giving of my love.
And I agree the taste of it has been irregular.
With a flavor leftover,
Even the cat turns away.
Sour it is and sits in decay.
Yet when I gave it you thought it to be mixed,
With foolish gift giving and childish nonsense.
Close I came to dipping your chocolate mints in cement.
And today you demand why I express not interest?
I get a better response when I shake an empty paper bag,
While sitting alone on a park bench.
Surrounded by squirrels giving me at least 'some' attention.
And all I have to do is to pretend I am there to give.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In the Giving There's A Benefit
To have awakened is a good thing to be!
And I have learned,
In the many years it has taken me to do it...
That the being there for someone else,
Will not automatically be interpretated...
As an appreciation to be shown one day,
With a reciprocation known that's received.
I have learned,
There will be many taking others for granted...
With a doing which is believed,
A duty to misuse someone dependable.
Until a reality hits and a doing this is missed.
And a waiting to sit by a telephone,
Wishing to hear it ring is a familiar sound gone.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
To have awakened is a good thing to be.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to misuse.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
Those who give are not desperate.
Oh yes I've learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to abuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Work!
Work or no luck
If you don't have work
You get killed sitting still
Work or no luck
If you have too much work
You get killed struggling still
Work or no luck
If you finish fast
You get killed killing time
Work or no luck
If you don't finish on time
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you do well
You get recognized well
Work or no luck
If you do not do well
You get the pink paper wall
Work or no luck
If you are organized
You finish it on time
Work or no luck
If you are disorganized
You get finished on time
Work or no luck
If you are interested
Toughest becomes easy
Work or no luck
If you are not interested
Easiest thing becomes toughest
Work or no luck
If you are carving
You keep doing it great
Work or no luck
If you are not carving
You keep doing it a trait
Work or no luck
If you have work
You have luck
Work or no luck
If you have work
Still nothing to do
You have no luck
That's the fate of
Work or luck! ! ! !
poem by Umasree Raghunath
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How it begins
Two opposites meet
Is a pity I am not accurate biologically
My aim is to inspire logically
Infancy is where it all begins
Childhood is mandatory
Formal education is compulsory
How it begins?
It‘s start with a dream
Manifestos into a vision
Requires a little bit of passion
Typically the primary years are similar
Avoid cold, do your homework sounds familiar
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
Explore life explore nature get fascinated by pears
Eventually graduate if you put effort to your aptitude
Old adage about your attitude determining your altitude
How it begins?
You move to next stage called adulthood
Big dreams you want to elevate out of the hood
Get a nice job, statistically classified with those who can afford
Discover you not complete on your own
Get a spouse. Go all romantic than comes the up and down
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
Explore life explore nature get fascinated by pears
Eventually have kids then; squeeze them into your budget
How it begins?
You discover there is more to offer the world
Conflict, disappointment becomes part of you
Days pass-by, weeks pass-by, months and years
You not fond of mirrors any more
All the lessons you learned become your reality
Change in colour of your hair
Nostalgic attacks!
You only worry about your off-springs future
How it begins?
Time to look back and say wow
Pity I cannot define life
You be lucky if you die with your wife
poem by Magodi Khutso Makaleng
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My Mind Has More of a Youthfulness
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed.
Some agitate their way through it.
Reminding themselves,
Nothing about this process
For them is welcomed!
And they are not pleased,
By anything it leaves.
And as I reflect,
Doing my best to accept this process...
I must admit,
Some of it I am not in total agreement with myself.
Although I go through the motions,
I am doing it with much ease!
Okay! I must say...
Sometimes I do get a bit perturbed and upset.
Especially when someone yells, 'Hey, grandpa.
Do you need assistance to cross the street? '
I grit my teeth with a fake smile I release.
Hmmm...
Is it noticeable,
My gait appears to be slower and more noble?
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed!
And I sit on a nearby bench,
To gather my breath and gently breathe.
Wishing the aches and pains that come with aging...
I could put to rest.
Knowing my mind has more of a youthfulness,
That my body, on certain days...
Could care less what my mind forgets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Experiencing a Welcomed Self Defeat?
Did you ever think to give someone a compliment?
Without needing an incentive to do it?
Or to say something kind,
Behind one's back.
Instead of finding a fault.
Or picking upon something they lack?
Have you ever taken an opportunity,
To say hello?
To anyone passing on the street.
Someone you did not know,
But just happened to meet and greet.
Or...
Are you like so many,
Experiencing a welcomed self defeat?
Perceiving your challenges are greater than others.
And a bitterness expressed,
Is what you'd rather leave others to treat.
Some have no where to live.
And nothing to eat.
Yet...
They seem to be giving more of themselves,
Than others who seek a self centeredness to feed.
Exploring opportunities,
That does not rely on one's own need...
May uplift another,
That provides in a sharing...
One had not considered to receive.
To be left astonished,
And in total disbelief!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Investigating Improprieties
Investigating Improprieties,
Promises to undo
A way of life historically pursued.
And had been based upon them,
With a flair that flourished affairs.
Those with outcries,
To expose and uncover lies denied...
Have placed their own existence,
In a jeopardy that threatens a pretense...
That had molded together,
Thieving dignities.
And foundations comprised,
On tweaked claims and alibis...
Unravels a society fantasized!
As truth concealed reveals...
An undoing of shattered myths,
Given life to breathe!
Leaving the purpose of taxation,
The core to finance an ending greed.
The seed that fed,
Their need to seek a greatness!
Will this acknowledgement cease their probe?
And advance them with this self assessment.
Or will they stay frozen...
In an accepted ignorance they chose!
A truth pursued can be cruel and crude.
And...
Connected to released freedoms.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's The Simplisticness Of It
There is something uncommon,
About a feeling one suspects...
Is a love that connects.
Undeniable is a chemistry felt.
And unexpected it comes,
With a stunning done.
And difficult it is to admit this.
When two are drawn to each other...
Like the lighting of a flame to a candle wick.
Giving such a brightness to illuminate it quick.
And there it sits...
Unresisting the naturalness of it.
There is something uncommon,
About a feeling one suspects...
Is a love that connects.
It's...
The simplisticness of it.
Needing no elaborate fabrics...
Of smooth satin or silk.
Or a proof of feasting eyes,
To witness true love cemented.
Nor ceremonialized,
With the giving of expensive wedding gifts...
After legalizing with a permanent 'I Do' of promises.
It's...
The simplisticness of it,
That needs none of this to know the feeling that fits.
A heartfelt loyalty devoted feels the presence of commitment.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Either Now...Or Later!
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
You have a song and dance routine,
I've seen and heard consistently unchanged...
For years.
Your ears remain closed to suggestions,
I propose.
And you say my life lived is delusional.
Since I choose to be uplifted and positive.
I find it incredible that someone like you,
Who quotes from scriptures.
And speaks in tongues with such fortitude...
That God would not listen with the utmost attention!
And your life would then have less,
Of a negative judgemental attitude...
Needing you to address.
Unless God and what I have to you to mention,
Isn't returning to you what your ears wish to hear.
The messages sent to you are ignored.
And your understanding of God,
Is a comprehension for you that isn't near.
However...
One thing I know is absolutely certain!
I am not as nearly as patient as God.
I have yet to be gifted with that kind of time to waste.
Or chase you in games of hide and seek,
While you take notes as to which quotes to provoke.
You are correct.
I could not agree with you more.
I have not been in touch with you.
Nor have I bother to call,
In a few months.
And right now a dialtone given to you,
From the bottom of my giving heart...
Is the only 'thing' I can see useful to you I can offer.
At least in my generous giving of it to you...
You can choose to quickly call someone else?
Either now...or later.
Or elect to sit...
In your own undisturbed quietness!
To you I hope a peace of mind comes.
Either now...
To appreciate.
Or later...
When only God knows,
Whether of not...
If this has been to your advantage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Southern Comfort
Right next door to the airport,
an hour from baton rouge.
There's a City on the Delta
where they love to sing the blues.
A lady there I'm certain
she can make a man of you. Yeah.
There's a pretty little crucifix
that hangs above her bed.
The bottle she holds sacred
cause it helps her to forget
But Jesus saves and liquor knows
that don't pay the rent.
She knows what you're lookin' for
And she can give to you.
And the mirror is an enemy.
It never tells the truth.
It used to be a good friend
that she never thought she'd lose.
Till it captured all over her innocence
and stole away her youth. Yeah.
All right.
She knows what you're lookin' for
and she can give it to you.
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort.
Oh, you'll be back for more
and with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free.
A little southern comfort's all you need.
Oh its all you need.
And a thousand people have walked your stairs
to knock upon your door
each one brand new cross to bare
each one harder than the one before
and I, bet you wished for something else
I bet you wished for a whole lot more
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort,
Ooh you'll be back for more, and
with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free
a little southern comfort's all you need.
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Southern Comfort
Right next door to the airport,
an hour from baton rouge.
There's a City on the Delta
where they love to sing the blues.
A lady there I'm certain
she can make a man of you. Yeah.
There's a pretty little crucifix
that hangs above her bed.
The bottle she holds sacred
cause it helps her to forget
But Jesus saves and liquor knows
that don't pay the rent.
She knows what you're lookin' for
And she can give to you.
And the mirror is an enemy.
It never tells the truth.
It used to be a good friend
that she never thought she'd lose.
Till it captured all over her innocence
and stole away her youth. Yeah.
All right.
She knows what you're lookin' for
and she can give it to you.
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort.
Oh, you'll be back for more
and with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free.
A little southern comfort's all you need.
Oh its all you need.
And a thousand people have walked your stairs
to knock upon your door
each one brand new cross to bare
each one harder than the one before
and I, bet you wished for something else
I bet you wished for a whole lot more
So if you want some southern comfort,
come and get it boy, yeah.
Once you taste of southern comfort,
Ooh you'll be back for more, and
with her lovin' touch
it wont take too much time to set you free
a little southern comfort's all you need.
song performed by by Warrant
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twice Becomes a Habit
Doing what we please.
With the selling of our embellishments.
Has come under much scrutiny.
And a call to be precise...
Does not sit too comfortably,
With those irresponsible.
And others n'er do well.
Seeking a laziness to entice.
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
Some may see this as discrimination.
Not a justification...
To do away with incompetence.
And those who half accomplish...
What their intentions find difficult to finish.
These days a mediocrity,
Is being ushered from the spotlight.
Success comes with applied effort.
Not from those accepted as nice.
But aren't up to the challenge...
To get things done,
With sacrifice.
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
Gone are those days of going through the motions.
And adopting the notion,
Procrastination fascinates those with patience waiting.
Time is not a blind date...
Hoping to approve who shows and comes,
Out of breath with expressed excuses.
And annoying the diligent ones.
That tick-tocking on those clocks have stopped!
To abuse this twice becomes a habit.
To keep it fed becomes routine.
And refusing people like this,
From addressed strict agendas...
Keeps a purpose with direction flourished.
As long as it is understood...
They will always be kept in minds respected.
But their absence is welcomed,
When they are far away from strategic scenes.
Not to demean.
But to accomplish.
'No offense.
But we are here to get things done.
You understand that,
Don't you? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The sum of all his days
Lord, is this what life is really all about?
We get to You all wrinkled and so worn out
Is life what we have become on our last day?
All weakened and plagued by senile decay
My child, this is not so, I'm pleased to tell you
That I don't see your loved one the way you do
His life before me in panorama displays
And I see him as the sum of all his days
From his final sigh right back to his first breath
All is seen by me when he passed through death
I see the babe giving his parents delight
And the small boy growing up so fair and bright
The young lad entering his turbulent teens
Coming to terms with his inherited genes
All through his adulthood I see him going
Forming new friendships and life overflowing
You see the aging process making him old
But before me I see his whole life unfold
Each second and each moment of the years
I can see his exuberant joys and tears
Then on that final day as in death he lay
I see one who has walked with me all the way
The sum of all his days is what I can see
In your loved one who is standing before Me
And now with Me as his new life he begins
One that is not marred by the effect of sins
Sicknesses and sorrows shall no longer be
For he is now living in heaven with Me
Dust Collector
Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.
'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '
~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~
A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.
'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '
~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~
Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!
'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'
~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~
'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tight Thigh Holders Strapped to Stomach Wraps
One 'chronologically' aging,
In years that clearly appear.
With a slow pacing done.
And the carrying of aches and pains...
As the usual 'identifying' suspects.
Reveals no aspects of an acceptance yet.
And the effects of this...
Has not yet affected a reflected maturity.
None to speak of nor that is obvious.
An awaiting presence of it will not surprise...
In an overnight appearance.
Or come in disguise as an adult,
With wisdom seen in experienced eyes.
Experience, adulthood and maturity...
Sometimes are in conflict.
Many on the threshold of chronologically aging,
With that rapid sagging muscle look...
Are in denial about the process.
And seek to have time stand still...
By displays of irresponsibility.
With needs of centerstage attention.
And praise accompanied by accolades.
'Don't you like attention,
No matter how old you are? '
~Sure.
But I don't crave it.
I just know how and when to get it.
That's the difference.
Some folks 'whine'.
But I don't need to do that to get mine.
I like to think my tactics have been refined.
Without the need for ointments, braces...
Or tight thigh holders strapped to stomach wraps.
Thank God I am still naturally attractive! !
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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