En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Cyclic Are the Meager Years Nearing

Cyclic are the meager years nearing,
To appear and experience...
For many unfamiliar,
With being denied to feed when they wish.
As those who were witnessed,
Going through this period...
Had been quickly dismissed as disposable.
But these grotesque images made to be depicted,
Had been intended to frame those suppressed.
And not be lived by those who now protest,
The reality of their own creation.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Coming To Thirst First Upon This Earth

The Cherry Blossoms bloom from buds.
To signal the beginning of a new Spring season.
Pre-ordained to sustain a cycle that remains.
And contains within such a mysterious wonder.
That captivates a captured awe.
With a flawlessness that seems to inspire.

The shortness of lived beauty introduced,
Infuses to linger longer in one's memory...
To keep it there seduced.
With a freshness of its birth patiently anticipated.
And hesitant we are to approach its delicate appearance.
As a perfectness of this is witnessed!
Coming to thirst first upon this Earth.

The Cherry Blossoms bloom from buds.
With an animated life that lives,
To experience then to quickly be gone.
As a perfectness of this is witnessed.
Reminding those aware of what is shared,
That nothing within nature's existence is dismissed...
Coming to thirst first upon this Earth.

Although...
A growth then from a youthfulness quickened by age,
Through a process that saves not...
A glow diminished of blemishes.
With a withering done in stages...
All of us under the Sun soon forget.
As a decaying replaces the experience.

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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Too Many Have Suppressed Their Depressions

Too many have suppressed their depressions.
And had shied away from expressing they are upset.
Protesters seem to be doing their best,
To be civilized with the hiding of their regrets.
With a wish they had not let themselves,
Gather into the streets to protest a greed.
When those homeless and needing to eat,
And a place to sleep...
Should have long ago sent warnings,
How those who are obviously in need...
Could be easily ignored by those who continue,
To feast as if nothing else is noticed.

Too many have suppressed their depressions.
And no longer shy away from expressing they are upset.
Protesters seem to be doing their best,
To be civilized with the hiding of their regrets...
With a wish they had not let themselves,
Gather into the streets to protest a greed.
Believing themselves to be right.
Because they are mostly...
Well,
Fighters for fading entitlements...
That are being erased from their eyesights.

And if this was not happening to them at all,
It would be poverty as usual...
For 'those' people to experience.
You know...
The ones too lazy to get a job.
Or find a decent wage to feed themselves and families.
Under a roof they can afford.
You know...
'Those' people who had never been accepted,
By the whims of 'them' with their selected druthers.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Experience Reality Living Memories Erased

experience is life real raw felt first hand ingrains
experience witnessed is etched into landscapes
experience witnessed stretches into far horizons

disasters holocaust plagues beyond comprehensions
acceptances tolerances tested beyond pain thresholds
normality security shelter food resources possessions

experience memory disaster to told children passes
experience more distant to told grandchildren passes
experience reality legend myth fable forgotten fades
three generations fades forgotten from living memories

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sunspot Birth Surrealism

starbursts spike creativity
slay us at irregular intervals
solar radiation sunspots

activity maximum wreaks
havoc in neural pathways
frying emotive overloads

adrenaline rush surge crazy
cannot should not be denied
time to paint surreal frescoes

familiar pattern life slices
distorted disturbing weirdly
dream objects experiences

unfamiliar is surrealism depicted
echoes expunged energy images
solar maximum emotive urgency

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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There Our Senses Touch

There our senses touch.

In the fields of...
Fresh grass scented.
To glisten with dew,
Lifted,
By a dawning morning...
Clear.
Bright.
And appetizing awakening eyes.

There our senses touch.

With an open window nearby.
Where the 'is' and 'why' of life,
Breezes through fields God gives...
To make the experience of it,
Flagrant with inconsistent fragrance shifting.
From day to day.
As if to outdo each creation made.

There our senses touch.

In the fields of...
All there is to life.
And to know it can not be simply lived,
If not witnessed.

There our senses touch.
Outside of ourselves.
With none of it to be lived,
To sit on fences.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Refusing Then To Listen

There were those selected and chosen,
To represent their causes.
With a reflecting of their priorities,
And interests kept protected.

There were those denied,
And deemed not qualified.
Although they produced credentials,
To prove their experiences were essential.

Today those denied,
And deemed yesterday not qualified...
Are discovered to have experiences,
That should have never been dismissed.
But time does not allow to have those yesterdays,
Replaced with a catching up to date.

And,
What could have been of benefit and useful to them,
Those refusing then to listen...
Would have been paths freed of debris with clarity.
But a patience gone from those dismissed...
Has been distanced from the ones,
Caught up in lives lived in chaos and conflicts.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Obedient To Subservience

Obedient to subservience,
Was not intended for all to experience...
To enslave with materialistic wishes dreamed.
A subservience inflicted had been intended to restrict,
Those teased although strickly limited.

And yet today,
The ones who stood in the way to delay and prevent...
Opportunities meant for everyone,
To taste...
Have been from them taken away.

Obedient to subservience,
Was not intended for all to experience...
To enslave with materialistic wishes dreamed.
But those who insisted to exclusively greed,
Have discovered they regret such a selfish need to feed.

Obedient to subservience,
Has come to open the eyes of those self serving...
With an overwhelming permanance,
That exposes a blindness hindsight can not remove.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Beautiful Are These Days For Some

Beautiful are these days for some.
When the dawn is appreciated when it comes.
And attention is given to the birds that sing.
With a lifting of those troublesome burdens...
Are finally freed from the need to feed upon hardships.
Realizing this is no kinship to happiness.
When confronted and dismissed,
As quickly as fresh dew disappears!

Conflicts and battles,
Can easily drift away as unwelcomed foes.
When identified and decided,
A unity is missed and wished.
And this is allowed to grow...from within!
Isn't that where all decisions take hold and begin?
Once denial inside dies.
And life lived starts from the bright side.

If one can let go...
Of the emptiness of things.
And a value that has been placed upon them.
All that is loved...
Is not found hoarded and locked behind closed doors.
Or parked to collect dust,
Under carports to wash, wax or reflect a gladness.
To sparkle greater than the Sun!

And...
So beautiful are these days for some.
When the dawn is appreciated when it comes.
And attention is given to the birds that sing.
With a lifting of those troublesome burdens...
Are finally freed from the need to feed upon hardships.
Realizing this is no kinship to happiness.
When confronted and dismissed,
As quickly as fresh dew disappears!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Disparities Seen

If one grows accustomed to a joke,
And lives it as if...
That's the only reality lived they know.
And it is.
By what they show and choose to believe.
And surrounding themselves they do,
With jesters!
To uphold such valued standards!

It is a life felt that feels most comfortable.

Those opposing 'this' reality,
Are the ones oppressed and made to fear.
Made to become subservient.
Although they are the ones,
Closer to the truth...
Of all creation!
And their lives are despised.
Otherwise there would be no disparities seen.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Histrionics

Histrionics...
Considered theatrical and deliberate.
May seem that way,
To those unaccustomed to emotions shown...
By those depicted overacting with flare.
Although a reality spoken is dismissed,
Yet declared...
Too real for some to deal with.
And too much for them to hear.
Especially when it has been made clear,
They have no idea of the connection!
Or if there is an expectation for them to feel,
And give feedback.
Should they applaud?
Or clap in approval?
Or what is it one should do...
Beside stare wide eyed?

Inspired By:
Maurice D. Robertson
Hartford, Connecticut

'Thank you, Maurice.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Images Presented

The image that's presented,
Determines how impressive...
Those pretentious rush to protect.
And the image that's presented,
Has less to do with intellect.
Or competence and its effect,
Upon those expecting...
Much more than an image projected to accept.

Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!

Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented,
Do not feed!
Those images presented,
No one needs now!

Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.

Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.

Those images presented,
Represent times gone.
Those images presented,
Have been rusted so long.
Those images presented do not feed.
Those images presented no one needs,
Now.

Those images presented represent a decadence.
And they represent with evidence pretentions that are meant.
Images old have molded.
Although repeatedly they have been sold!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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SpringTides

Several years ago
the purity of our youth
made it okay for us not to know.
The ambience of innocence
and the seasons moods,
perfected our mundane reality
of suppressed deludes.

poem by Jacob Yusufov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Has Been Denied

One of the main reasons,
People don't know who they are...
Or can respect others to accept,
Is their approach to life.
And a valued place on false pretensions.

People have been made to believe,
And are convinced...
That reality is to be pretended,
And the more pretentious they are...
The more they reflect a 'version' of reality.
Blindly accepted.

And...
Those who are themselves,
And have lived reality...
From an experiencing of it,
Are perceived as being phony.
Although everything they have done...
Is based upon truth as it is,
And have attempted to deliver it.
But are criticized for being nonconformists.

One of the main reasons,
People don't know who they are...
Or can respect others to accept,
Is their approach to life.

One is taught how to live,
And how to act.
What beliefs to accept,
From those created...
And followed 'faithfully'.

And those who live not accepting,
Those beliefs to follow 'faithfully'...
Seem to live freer lives,
Without having lies to follow.

'Why is there so much conflict in the world.
Why are so many people unhappy? '

That's a good question.
And they are the ones who follow,
Taught beliefs.
Without seeking to live life,
To discover it on their own.
They follow and protest yet accept.

'But,
How can you say that? '

I've learned to stand back,
And observe that which has been denied.
My eyes have been open most of my life,
To see things as they are.
Not what I wish them to be.
With eyes open wide.

And apparently my 'version' has offered me,
A more peaceful co-existence.
And that for me is not phony at all.
I only have one face that I've shown.
Have you ever seen me wearing a mask?
To appease others doing it?

'No.'

You should take yours off.
You'll see exactly what I mean.
When you begin to experience life,
So many become offended.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Experience Reality Disaster Horrific

experience is lived life real raw felt first hand
community family individually shared endured
wounds physical emotional trauma mourned
disaster horrific impact wounds life seasoned
salt tears shed bitter loss stuns season afflicted

experience witnessed is etched into landscapes
experience witnessed stretches to far horizons
disasters holocaust plague beyond comprehensions
acceptances tolerances tested beyond pain thresholds
normality security shelter food resources possessions

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Condition of Traditions

How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.

How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.

How will we handle the right 'not' to fight,
In needless struggle.
Or clinched our teeth upon a bullet...
As tormenting pain surrounds,
To black and whiten...
Dimming colorized sights.

How will we handle scandle,
And revelations disbelieved.

How many awakened from deep and peaceful sleep,
Will move forward and aware they are seeking outreach.
And...
Just how many will be amused,
By thoughts of being used and abused by slick trickers!
Soliciting more of their conflicts,
In daylight and on city streets.

How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected.

And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.

How will we handle,
The complete absence of fading values.
And the dismissing of those messages,
Through the years.
Those messages missed and blocked,
By closed ears.

How will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.
And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.
Grim and down and out dreamers,
With selfish lives.

And ammunition is deficient for the ones who are depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
Depicted as the:
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!

Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!
Grim and down and out dreamers.
With-selfish-lives!

Just how will we handle the loss of standards,
And our way of self righteous life.

'How can any of this be handled,
While being fixed quickly...
In the midst of this mix!
If...
Conditions of traditions are still disrespected.
Ignored and neglected? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Hope To Revive Its Glittering Glow

Take and keep your faith placed high,
On your agenda that is prioritized.
It is the only thing you will come to treasure,
As having tremendous value...
When everything else you saved and praised,
Loses its effectiveness...
In diminishing measures.

When that which was prized,
You now come to realize was not true to you.
But was kept to impress,
Others' eyes...
Who themselves are witnessed now,
To cry and sigh because they've been denied...
The keeping of their pretentions polished with a gloss.
One that has lost its influence meant to keep you teased.

Something people like these only lived to breathe.
And today find themselves,
Suffocating and pleading on their knees.
The same people who faked reality!
That same reality now exposed as worthless.
But having many making attempts to resuscitate,
Its vanishing purpose.
With a hope to revive its glittering glow.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I have lived in a flurry of images, but I will go out in a freeze frame.

quote by Anthony Quinn
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Truths Dismissed

Chasing impossibilities.
Like a change to redo,
And replace yesterdays' activities.
Has come to be embraced,
By those retrieving memories...
With hopes to see them,
'Specifically' retraced...
To have the times from them now lived,
Erased!

Chasing impossibilities,
Are those in grief with disbelief...
Each moment existing,
Had approval as they witnessed...
The unfolding of reality.

And it is the reality many wish to change.
Many can not accept,
Expressions of indifference...
Delivers consequences.
No matter what is claimed.

That which is observed,
And passes an acceptance by silent lips...
Is not going to suddenly vanish,
Because some find a tolerance...
Over a time that has allowed its growth,
People then indifferent...
Now whine it upsets and makes them sick.

Chasing impossibilities.
Like a change to redo,
And replace yesterdays' activities.
Has come to be embraced,
By those retrieving memories...
With hopes to see them,
'Specifically' retraced...
To have the times from them now lived,
Erased!

Goodluck to those now awakening,
To truths dismissed.
And finding themselves upset by this.
Wanting answers to questions...
And more time to reminisce,
Those times gone never again for them to exist.

Goodluck to those now awakening,
To truths dismissed.
And finding themselves upset by this.
Wanting answers to questions...
And more time to reminisce,
Those times gone never again for them to exist.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The desired one is not desired.

Those days’ actresses whose images once
Captivated you, will fail to do now.
The frame in the brain holding those images
Had changed to hold the images of new ones.’.
25.02.2010

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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