Enjoying the Solitude
There is so much more to life,
Than the gathering of stones to throw
Or marathon talks about blues and strife.
Do people like that...
Ever step out of their 'box' and grow?
That's just a thought I'm composing,
Not a sleep aid to see you dozing!
When I walk alone on busy streets,
I observe others qualify some
When their eyes come to meet!
Secrets that are kept
Are not as discreet as many believe.
When lives become routine...
And conversations overheard,
Are those of defeat.
I watch pigeons fly nearby.
Workers from skyscapers...
Grabbing lunch and back inside buildings
They hide.
I observe students laughing in cliques with glee,
Reminding me once how I felt that free!
And all that I desire from all that is viewed...
Is just one to understand what this man goes through.
It's not that I haven't had that in my life.
I've had wonderful friends and two ex-wives.
I've had failures and successes...
And paid my dues many times it seems.
But it is days like this I reminisce those I miss,
And wish to be held and sincerely kissed!
There is so much more to life...
Much more than quick fixes!
Or being pulled down to the ground,
By those playing games and dirty tricks.
Why folks don't get tired of that...
Sometimes makes me sick!
'eeeewww...(sic) ick! '
So I spend my time to find a twig in the park.
Enjoying the solitude as I pick the twig of its bark!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
I miss my little girl
I miss my little girl
who came into my world
so tiny and so small.
I still remember fondly
the very day you're born
and being so afraid
to hold you in my arms
scared to drop you down.
I miss you being little,
playing hide and seek.
I miss going to the park,
pushing your swing away,
or playing together in the sand.
I miss carrying you on my back,
running thru the house,
giggling and laughing away.
I miss so much those little big things...
But time flies fast...
You are a teenager now,
not little anymore,
not playing any games
with your old dad,
not going to the park,
and playing in the sand,
or swinging in the swing,
and no more hide and seek.
Now you are a little rebel
in your own little world,
with your teenagers friends,
socializing on Tik Tok
or talking on the phone away,
Dad still missing his little girl
remembering the fun old days
when you were little and innocent...
But no matter how old you will be,
or wherever you will go,
I will always stick by you.
You will never grow big enough
to outgrow your daddy’s heart!
There will always be someone,
who needs you and love you
and that someone is - Dad!
poem by Viorel Vintila
Submitted by Viorel Vintila
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Sees With A Desire Sought
Like my father.
And his father before him...
I was the eldest.
And made quick to grow.
With a teaching of life early.
And many times angry,
I had to let my childhood go.
Used to set examples.
And enforced to do chores I had to do...
Did not sit well with me at all,
As I saw other children playing games...
With a loving to do it too!
But as I grew older with skills I had been taught,
I still observe those 'children'...
Playing the same games with those teachings.
The very same games they have handed to their children...
With beliefs a maturity comes to one automatically.
Yet...
One does not achieve the meaning of responsibility,
Unless there is an influence one sees with a desire sought.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Playthings
Child, how happy you are sitting in the dust, playing with a broken twig all the morning.
I smile at your play with that little bit of a broken twig.
I am busy with my accounts, adding up figures by the hour.
Perhaps you glance at me and think, "What a stupid game to spoil your morning with!"
Child, I have forgotten the art of being absorbed in sticks and mud-pies.
I seek out costly playthings, and gather lumps of gold and silver.
With whatever you find you create your glad games, I spend both my time and my strength over things I never can obtain.
In my frail canoe I struggle to cross the sea of desire, and forget that I too am playing a game.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Jumper
standing
the cars look like ants
the wind is harsh up here
it bites through my clothes
chilling me to the bone
rock
hello
i kick you with my toe
falling i loose sight of you
before you hit the ground
thinking back
to why i am up here?
to jump thats right
i am not sad
mearly observant
note
i take you from my pocket
and set you down
so they will read
but they will not understand
sigh
this is where
i should have second thoughts
but i do not
i am not sad
stepping off
i begin to drop
so many things
to observe so
quickly
faces
shocked
confused
most do not see
they watch their tv
lights
become a blur
so beautiful
the stars
and cars
life
goes by before my eyes
but i do not
watch it
i am not sad
but what is this
a tear?
no time to observe
the ground is near
the end is here
rock
hello
yes i kicked you
but i am not sad
for my life is finally over
poem by Zachery Wilcoxson
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People Experience
It’s so much fun to observe people
As you travel all around
They make life so interesting
A fun experience I have found
A man who knows his candy
And shares the tastes with you
A gal who enjoys watermelon
The taste so fresh and true
A lovely sales lady in Russia
A gardener in Oklahoma
A lady making Crepe Suzettes
Some of the many folks I saw
Folks that we see everyday
Just out doing their jobs
But it’s fun if we can stop
To meet and maybe hob nob
The lady atop an elephant
At a circus nearby your home
Folks who work here an there
Oh, it’s so much fun to roam
Whether you study these folks
Or just see them at a glance
It makes your life much richer
To have a people experience!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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Quick to Flee From Evil
I've got my past dues paid.
From streets well seasoned.
My life,
Has found a new release!
Got off a high horse dead!
Beaten down to relieve me.
I didn't understand it then...
But now I walk free,
Without pity handouts teased!
It hasn't been an easy breeze,
To know the taste of defeat.
It 'has' been a struggle,
Just to keep my faith.
Decreasing stored grief...
Prepared to dropp my tears,
With frowns
Down on saddened cheeks!
And within me,
Was a strength concrete
Held onto...
With my beliefs!
Healing.
This fresh outlook I took that appeals,
With a brightness felt!
That began to show and reveal...
A growth within me,
I could nolonger conceal.
And there I was...
As I am today!
Quick to flee from evil!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Well, listen, you know, the Czech saying is, you know, when you are drowning you are grabbing even a little twig. That's what all Czechs were doing, grabbing for... with the hope for this little twig.
quote by Milos Forman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Beyond the Horizon!
Every Day there are some same things that go on
Monday to Friday, Busy as a bee from Morning to Noon
Noon to Evening work is in progress, time moves on
No time for all the friends wanting to meet you soon
Just slow down a bit, take a walk on grassy ground
See the flowers, people and trees that you never knew
Look at the beautiful smiles that are floating around
Everything makes you smile, you feel calm and anew
As you are way too busy and occupied with work everyday
Holiday means spending time with your family and friends
Relaxing and Enjoying is how you spend Saturday and Sunday
Mostly, routines to holidays is just one journey that never ends
Life is truly all about gazing at the Horizon
For none knows what lies Beyond the Horizon.
poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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The Weekend Blues Session
Three days and three nights
playing the guitar blues of life
my mind and body taken back
I can see
the old streets and the seats
where the blues players of old
used to meet
They'd sing of the pain
and the hate
and we'd respect what they
had to say
All these memories coming back
as we played for the times
when blues was our life
We played for the joy
we played for our minds
we played for our souls
we played until the monday morning blues
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Such As a Bad Habit
I've been on my own and alone for too long,
To know a few things about patience and life!
And those who have not had that experience...
Know very little about sacrificing their likes,
To endure putting up with unwelcomed dislikes.
There has been many things done I did,
That I disliked but tolerated.
In fact I hated going through the process.
And when I had the opportunity,
To do those things enjoyed and liked...
Not a moment did I waste in indecision.
I might have been confused...
But not crazed.
People who spend time whining,
Get on my nerves.
And I am quick to split away from them.
In mid-sentence,
If I have to do it!
I am not attracted to 'whoa-is-me' people.
My father use to tell me,
How as a child...
He had his teeth pulled,
Without novocain.
He told me this frequently...
Whenever I thought he was just around,
To make my life easier.
'Come on, Daddy!
It's just ten dollars! '
I am one of the fortunate ones,
I will admit that!
And with obstacles and setbacks...
I crawled back to get myself on track!
I wasn't about to spend my life,
Traumaticized by emotional ties!
Or gossip and lies...
Folks entertain themselves to tell!
My relationship with God...
Is close.
And we communicate very well!
God is there...
And delivers!
I don't give advice,
Or recommend what others do!
I use to...
Do that,
Often!
And ended up being screwed.
Figuratively speaking!
Even though it is still just as painful.
I've learned many lessons in my life.
And the hardest one was to forgive and forget.
At times I am visited,
With an embitterness that sits.
it takes a while to get over it.
But I am not going to soon let go of my peace of mind,
Or happiness.
Because someone wants to show and display,
Every bit of their ignorance.
With attitude seeking acceptance.
And those folks,
In some places...
Travel around in cliques.
As if what they do is fashionable.
And after one obtains a degree of consciousness...
Folks like that become easier to identify.
Such as a bad habit,
One has to end to quit...
And quick!
Like a fad that has been outdated.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Are Best Friends, Brothers, and a Family
Once our eyes meet,
We confront each other and speak for the first time.
At this moment,
We knew we were meant to be friends.
We walk into the same path to the future,
Where we will spend time together.
We keep going farther.
Always playing and foolish with each other,
Always be there for each other,
Always supporting each other,
Always talking about the problems each other,
Always understanding each other,
Although, we fight infrequently, and
Had a doubt about each other,
Not enough to put faith in each other,
Hesitate to trust each other,
Our despair times,
We went through together.
That's all it matters, not being alone to go through all these I had,
but having someone stood next to me,
And penetrate through all these tough times we had.
It makes our friendship even stronger ever than before.
We are now best friends.
We keep going farther even more.
We grow old together.
Our trust, faith, hope, and friendship grow stronger.
At this point where people no longer understand our friendship,
We only understand each other.
Our bonds are unique and undefinable that nobody has like ours.
We only know what our bonds are.
We are best friends, brothers, and a family.
poem by Bryan Pxxx
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sick Of Their Tricks
I've had it with demons and sick of their tricks.
I've witnessed their tactics...
To identify them quick.
My need to observe them with curiosity,
Has diminished my giving any attention.
With an unleashed disbelief.
I've had it with demons and sick of their tricks.
I've witnessed their tactics...
To identify them quick.
Donating my time to be further manipulated,
To have my focus by them castrated.
Has left them behind to tempt or bait my mind.
My need to observe them with curiosity,
Has diminished my giving any attention to them.
With an unleashing of disbelief.
To wonder in a pondering as they increase their misdeeds.
I've had it with demons and sick of their tricks.
I've witnessed their tactics...
To identify them quick.
Not even to pause to peep what they seek.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Are No Returns
As children, we shared each other’s games,
and grew up thinking we would never change.
At eighteen duty called to go to a far off place,
we said we’d always wait for each other,
no matter how long, we would have to wait.
The year turned into five, before I came home.
Things had changed, someone else you had found,
while my life was moulded to, and I saw a different you.
The carefree life we both had,
disappeared as the years came round,
our goals were now different bound,
and too many things had passed before our eyes.
I smiled sweetly when I saw you;
your smile back was just as sweet.
He stood at your arm to let the world know,
you were spoken for, not free anymore.
I just nodded as I passed on by,
and you could not see the tears leak from my eyes.
War is not a beautiful thing,
with heroes in a Hollywood show.
It makes men age each day,
their eyes will testify, how I know.
The youthful zest no longer smiles,
only the old man’s sorrowing soul.
They come back a broken person,
whose lives have been altered so.
They come home only to find,
the old life has been robbed as well,
that old torches they used to carry,
are gone from them as well.
I moved on hoping never to return,
saying I’ll keep in touch, but will never do.
Like a nomad, I begin my endless trek,
as I want to get away from here and you.
More years pass on the way;
I find someone and settle down.
Then comes a letter to say you are free,
will I come and see,
but I look around at all I’ve got,
my life that on a solid rock stands,
but the calling is so great,
I have to go back to where I’ve been.
At the station, I see your face,
time has hurt you so,
worse that the war hurt me,
but I just had to know.
I smile, but it is only a courtesy call,
I’ve got a new life elsewhere.
We talk about the old times,
long before I went away.
You know it’s not the same between us,
that soon I’ll be on my way.
You’ve been hurt the way I was once,
but you also know, that I can’t stay.
The day goes on and we reminisce,
we smile and laugh about the days we miss.
Soon the train is in the station;
our hands linger to the touch.
I have a new life now; we will never be the same.
She stands there with our son,
with open beckoning arms;
we rush to meet each other,
our bodies held in an embrace.
She asks how things went;
I smile and simply say, there are no returns.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For a Life to Live They Like
It shows on the faces of those that don't grow...
How difficult it is for them,
To let things go!
And how some are restricted,
To values and myths that do not exist...
With permission consciously given,
To daily pick up their struggles from sleep...
As if to meet schedules they keep.
It shows in the places one goes in routine.
To discuss in conversation,
The same revelations...
Gone from them to never again be seen.
Creatures of habits from themselves they can not break!
No matter if the ground around them rumbles and shakes...
They will not awaken.
And no progress do they make.
With a holding on to their yesterdays...
As they chase away a happiness for heartbreak that stays.
To say someday they pray for those days to come their way...
For a life to live they like!
It shows on the faces of those that don't grow...
How difficult it is for them,
To let things go!
For a life to live they like!
But too busy to find the time to do it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Taken For Granted
No!
I am not berries to pick,
On your visits to the forest.
Nor am I a twig to pluck.
To deleaf and strip of bark.
What I am is flesh.
Deep with emotions.
I've learned I must protect.
Especially when my feelings
Are taken for granted.
And the more I give...
The less respect I get!
No!
I am not berries to pick,
On your visits to the forest.
Nor am I a twig to pluck.
To deleaf and strip of bark.
And this is what you do.
Like many who are clueless.
About that which has life.
Or about those feelings others have too!
'Why are you so sensitive?
Oooow!
Why did you pinch me? '
Isn't that strange?
I didn't feel a thing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Within Cliques of Gossips
There are those programmed and convinced...
People they assumed they knew,
With conversations had with others...
Family, friends and a collection of a chosen few,
Were people that they knew.
But when asked, none had close talks...
With the one claimed known.
And the one claimed known...
Had not a clue as to what was going on.
Other than the usual assumptions that take place,
Within cliques of gossips.
There are those who have created,
Lifestyles of others in their minds.
With sexual preferences believed known discussed.
With the goings on in the privacy of their homes,
And with whom they lust.
There are those programmed and self convinced...
People they assumed they knew,
With conversations had with others...
Family, friends and a collection of a chosen few,
Were people that they knew.
Until they got the opportunity to meet them.
And then became quite upset...
That those they met,
Were quite different...
Than the people they had kept in their minds.
Only to find themselves,
Living too confined and behind fast times.
To leave a narrow perception of life,
Left to go unaddressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Running Out Of Time
Just looked at my watch and I'm running out of time.
Best to attend to pertinent issues and forget the five and dime.
I'm usually so busy with routine chores of the day
That what really counts I miss or feel it's just in my way.
After work I was too tired for family with no strength to move on.
Now I sit with time on my hands, but with family long gone.
I spent my time gathering material possessions for all to see.
Now that time is running out I realize they mean nothing to me.
The two sided coin of time has helped me truly understand
That life is like a veritable desert of sand.
One side is love which will provide protection every hour.
The other is desire for material things sands of time will devour.
poem by Gregory Huyette
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Hold Hands and Blow Bubbles
Tomorrow I will wake to see you lying next to me and I will watch you sleep.
I will gently touch your face to wake you and cover you with kisses.
Tomorrow will be the first time we truly get to spend time alone together.
We can stay in bed as long as we want and watch the birds outside eat and play.
Tomorrow we will go for a walk in the park, hold hands and blow bubbles.
We will wash the car in the driveway and end up covered in soap and water.
Tomorrow you will hide the remote while I make your morning coffee.
We will make a dozen sack lunches and go down town and hand them out.
Tomorrow we will kiss every time one of us says ‘Um'.
We will have pie for lunch and skip dessert.
Tomorrow in the morning we will tell every person we meet what the current time is, in Afghanistan.
In the evening we will thank everyone we meet.
Tomorrow we will save water and take a bath together, with extra bubbles, planes and boats.
We will lie on a blanket and stare at the stars and tell one another stories.
Tomorrow night we will thumb wrestle to see who will be the outside spoon.
I will whisper in your ear, kiss your neck and caress you until you fall sleep.
Tomorrow night while you dream I will whisper all of my plans, desires and secrets to you while you sleep.
It be the first of the greatest days of our lives.
Today, I will search for you.
poem by Ronald Ragan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Oh Childhood, Where Art Thou?
Oh childhood, where art thou?
Oh please, oh please,
Can you return to me now?
I miss the innocence,
I miss the games;
Hell, I even miss the bullies
Calling everybody bad names.
I miss the times where you'd watch childish TV
And none of your friends found it an embarrassment.
Now, every time I'm caught watching young kids' channels,
I feel like I'm suffering constant harassment.
Where did the days go when my body
Was as small and fit as a fiddle?
Those who grow and choose to be mature
To me shall always be a riddle.
What happened to those chasing games I used to play?
Now I spend my decent mornings needing to shave.
I cannot comprehend why all people must grow old
And why they can't live in the world of fairy-tales told.
Where's my squeaky voice gone?
Why have my chubby cheeks disappeared?
My puberty and hormones have overtaken me
Precisely how I've always feared.
I must now work and slave
For very little wage
In contrast to the freedom and toys I had
From the moment I was released from my baby-cage.
Oh childhood, where art thou?
You should know how much I miss you so.
Sadly, there is no turning the clock back now
As I am forced to perform for the adult-life show.
poem by Stephen Cahill Furlong
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Darkness Can Satisfy This Need
I'm looking at the bright side.
I need to taste fresh flavors wasting.
Nobody can really do the blues like I do.
I want to dance to rhythms waiting.
Ones I chose to leave.
That sun is shining and smiling on me!
Today.
I'm depleted of defeat I greeted.
Had to sit and let it ride my back!
There is nothing about a sorrow sweeted...
With attacks I welcome to meet!
To keep and feed.
I'm looking at the bright side
I need to taste fresh flavors wasting.
Nobody can really do the blues like I do.
I'm pleased to free from shadows.
Shared by comfort givers.
Not one of them offering good chemistry!
Felt deep to pleasure.
With a measuring desire...
To apply to my eyes that grieved.
There is a fire burning in me...
Darkness can't satisfy.
I'm tired of skipping over my needs!
I'm looking at the bright side
I need to taste fresh flavors wasting.
Nobody can really do the blues like I do.
I want to dance to rhythms waiting.
Ones I chose to leave.
That sun is shining and smiling on me!
Today...
My dues are all paid!
I'm depleted of defeat I greeted.
Had to sit and let it ride my back!
There is nothing about a sorrow that's sweeted...
With attacks I welcome to meet!
To keep and feed.
Today I see me!
The me I'm free to be!
And no darkness can satisfy this need,
Since my grieving eyes have been released.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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