Grateful I Am I Can Radiate My Appreciation
How do I feel about getting older?
Great!
And the older I get,
It becomes obvious I have learned 'something'.
That's just one of many gifts.
And with the blessings God has bestowed upon me...
I am happy fewer of these questions I have to answer.
No longer am I a bud impatiently waiting to bloom.
That blooming,
For those who choose to see it...
Can be observed without detailed explanation.
Grateful I am I can radiate my appreciation.
Consuming life enjoyed and knowing I'm connected.
And I'll be glad to show you my knees,
Discolored from many hours spent in prayer.
That's how I got from where I was to where I am,
Now.
And wishing to be tomorrow.
With a lesson taught obtained from everyone...
And everywhere!
Until my 'light' no longer reflects.
At one time I thought I had to snap my fingers,
To get what I wanted.
Demanding,
As if I was the only tree in the forest.
With branches that grew,
And leaves needing immediate attention.
Like the new comers do!
I don't have to do that now!
I just ask.
And my desires are delivered.
Asking me if I am spoiled...
Would have been a better question!
But then again,
You would not know that.
You were not near to witness,
How I removed obstacles on my path!
Or myself from shallow whinings!
Dedicated:
To those who have discovered the aging process,
As a blessing possessed with a greater observation.
That reflects upon a journey,
One realizes has been achieved...
By acquiring 'some' success they can personally share,
With belief.
And this needs very little documentation,
As it is lived and not dictated to those left in curiosity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That Once Wished
I wanted to be that.
But I couldn't.
I had to be this...
And that would resist it!
But this 'who' I am,
Became 'me' more to 'myself'.
'That' which wasn't...
Was slow to leave.
I have only been recently pleased!
And the me I am...
No longer searches to be qualified.
I have done that with examined self reflection.
And I am overjoyed.
I have accepted a priority to be me now!
With a full existence...
That feeds and fulfills my soul!
I can say I feel my feet planted on the ground!
Without a step I question with doubt!
If and when obstacles appear on my path...
That is for me to figure out!
And realizing that,
Leaves me feeling fantastic!
I am no longer victimized by my own fears,
Or successes.
All of it...
Is on my journey I've embraced!
I wanted to be that.
But I couldn't.
I had to be this...
And 'that' once wished,
Is no longer my concern!
I've learned.
And living my life,
As right as I see it.
With this without that to nag...
Has left my faith to lead.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You've Been Spoiled
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
From the very beginning,
When I gifted you...
With my best 'anyone' could get.
And delivered that to you,
So happy you were.
And to me that was expressed.
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
I feel it each time,
When you rush to find...
What it is I've left.
Believing it easy and simple for me...
To create for you something great.
Something to leave your mind teased and pleased.
You've been spoiled and that is because of me!
And now my very best...
Gets less of your attention,
With your inquisitive curiousness.
Now you get upset with a disrespect...
If you find an undotted 'i' or an uncrossed 't',
As you closely inspect.
Yes.
You've been spoiled.
And I...
No longer guess...
I am the reason and cause of it.
I am the reason,
You now mumble your indignities...
To me,
Under your breath!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mirror mirror…
A mirror reflects all but lies.
Reflects the things
Everyone denies.
Reflects the way
You shaped yourself.
Reflects the things
Complex, simple, hidden and obvious.
Reflects the things
We have done in our lives.
Reflects the things
We don’t want to see.
But it has never reflected
Me.
In darkness and alone
I sit at the edge
Of icy cold black water.
Mirror mirror…
I sit their staring at no reflection
Thinking of the things I am,
Daughter, student, sister, lover.
But it does not define to me who I am.
I see all the things
I don’t want to see.
Perhaps than there is no “me”?
I do not exist in my reflections.
I can not find me in those titles.
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps then it is fact
Am I nothing more but that?
So should I satisfy with the things I see?
Is life’s lesson then that you should “just be”?
Is there nothing more then the endless time passing?
Mirror mirror…
Perhaps it is why it is never said
That a mirror holds an answer.
poem by Zarina Binda
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Only The Ones Who Continually Count Their Blessings
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
But,
I've earned this.
I had to awaken to admit it!
I've EARN THIS!
Every bit of it and proud.
I have managed to do some things I dared.
With challenges and obstacles,
To prove a faith had pulled me through...
Mucho grief!
With just some of it shared.
Not all.
I don't want to scare the few people I know,
Away!
There's already been an acceptance,
Of my mentioned dysfunctions.
Why blow it on a 'show and tell' demonstration?
Some boundaries should be kept limited.
And imagined.
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
I use to fear aging before I understood it.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
And I'll keep that repeated to myself,
As a reminder.
Sometimes this self motivation business,
Does get old and tired.
But a blessing to live to get done.
You never know who's listening,
When confessions are being made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You Are 'Bestowed' the Blessings
Remember this...
To you are bestowed the blessings.
Gifts given to which through you flow.
Those blessings are for you to share.
Your presence 'is' a blessing.
However...
Your wish to be worshipped,
As if you are The Creator...
Of the light that glows.
Is not the way it works.
Or the way it goes.
To you are 'bestowed' the blessings.
The Creator provides,
Those blessings to be bestowed.
The Creator,
Provides...
Those blessings,
To be bestowed.
Remember this...
You are 'bestowed' the blessings.
To assist.
Not create to provide.
Many get this twisted.
To stir up for themselves,
Endless conflict.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Witness To This Doing
Tell them what you want.
Express this as a wish.
Tell them the obstacles on your path...
You want removed.
You choose them not to exist.
Tell your spirit guides,
Your desires.
And they will abide.
They are near you and want to hear you say...
You want your life lived in a better way.
They will obey.
If you believe and trust in them,
To clear your path!
Just ask.
And become a witness to this doing!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nothing Owed To Anyone
The only thing one may be observed doing,
May not be the only thing one can do.
That which is seen to prejudge,
May be thought to be one's only choice,
Because of an appearance of ease.
Few consider that what one chooses,
May satisfy that taster.
There may have been other things,
One has chosen to choose as well.
With other abilities accomplished and achieved.
Knowing there is nothing owed to anyone else,
To prove with a solicitation of attention sought.
The greater good is delivered to the one focused,
On a path one travels with purpose.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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For Who and Why
To those who value it...
Life becomes more precious,
When the thought of death and its permanence...
Comes to be not so distant,
In the reality of one who reflects on the years lived.
Fragile is this gift that has been given.
And those who believe,
They can do as they please at a time when they choose...
Often find themselves wishing they did not refuse,
To take that time when it came...
For themselves and no one else.
Realizing who they did that for...
Has either ignored them,
Or pushed them aside.
To show no appreciation.
As they live their own lives!
It is best to prioritize what one does...
For who and why!
Before they see their lives,
Like flashing snapshots.
Passing fast through what seems an hour glass.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Others Who Fake It
Needing less attention.
And confessing human sins.
This aging phase,
Finds many who have made it...
At such a rewarding,
Appreciative stage.
Feeling grateful to have life!
And understanding more,
Of this 'gift' that life is.
Seeing things for what they are...
And not for what they are not.
Finding it so trivial now...
To hold onto pettiness held,
To become glad and light hearted...
Knowing that 'stuff'
Has long been dropped.
I feel where I am now,
Should be the beginning.
And not near the end that comes.
Accepting reality for what it is for me.
And realizing with a maturity,
That's how life should be lived...
By each and everyone!
And that makes a happier life to live.
Knowing I am here,
To leave others who fake it...
Or however it is taken,
For their own sakes...
And making it on their own,
Alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Fixed Mindsets Have Been Focused
Common sense is not obtained,
Through an academic process.
Not any that reflects wisdom respected,
By the many earning college degrees.
If experience could be taught,
And brought to a mind fixed on 'things'...
All of life and the quality of it,
Would have had witnessed the benefits of this.
But too busy are those in mental modes,
Driven to succeed and address their greed.
And when fixed mindsets have been focused,
On acquiring attention freed of comprehension...
There is no peace or rest to get if not earned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Giving Tree
Once there was a tree....
and she loved a little boy.
And everyday the boy would come
and he would gather her leaves
and make them into crowns
and play king of the forest.
He would climb up her trunk
and swing from her branches
and eat apples.
And they would play hide-and-go-seek.
And when he was tired,
he would sleep in her shade.
And the boy loved the tree....
very much.
And the tree was happy.
But time went by.
And the boy grew older.
And the tree was often alone.
Then one day the boy came to the tree
and the tree said, 'Come, Boy, come and
climb up my trunk and swing from my
branches and eat apples and play in my
shade and be happy.'
'I am too big to climb and play' said
the boy.
'I want to buy things and have fun.
I want some money?'
'I'm sorry,' said the tree, 'but I
have no money.
I have only leaves and apples.
Take my apples, Boy, and sell them in
the city. Then you will have money and
you will be happy.'
And so the boy climbed up the
tree and gathered her apples
and carried them away.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time....
and the tree was sad.
And then one day the boy came back
and the tree shook with joy
and she said, 'Come, Boy, climb up my trunk
and swing from my branches and be happy.'
'I am too busy to climb trees,' said the boy.
'I want a house to keep me warm,' he said.
'I want a wife and I want children,
and so I need a house.
Can you give me a house ?'
' I have no house,' said the tree.
'The forest is my house,
but you may cut off
my branches and build a
house. Then you will be happy.'
And so the boy cut off her branches
and carried them away
to build his house.
And the tree was happy.
But the boy stayed away for a long time.
And when he came back,
the tree was so happy
she could hardly speak.
'Come, Boy,' she whispered,
'come and play.'
'I am too old and sad to play,'
said the boy.
'I want a boat that will
take me far away from here.
Can you give me a boat?'
'Cut down my trunk
and make a boat,' said the tree.
'Then you can sail away...
and be happy.'
And so the boy cut down her trunk
and made a boat and sailed away.
And the tree was happy
... but not really.
And after a long time
the boy came back again.
'I am sorry, Boy,'
said the tree,' but I have nothing
left to give you -
My apples are gone.'
'My teeth are too weak
for apples,' said the boy.
'My branches are gone,'
said the tree. ' You
cannot swing on them - '
'I am too old to swing
on branches,' said the boy.
'My trunk is gone, ' said the tree.
'You cannot climb - '
'I am too tired to climb' said the boy.
'I am sorry,' sighed the tree.
'I wish that I could give you something....
but I have nothing left.
I am just an old stump.
I am sorry....'
'I don't need very much now,' said the boy.
'just a quiet place to sit and rest.
I am very tired.'
'Well,' said the tree, straightening
herself up as much as she could,
'well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting
Come, Boy, sit down. Sit down and rest.'
And the boy did.
And the tree was happy.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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Do And Be You
Going through the motions,
As if programmed to impress...
With nothing left but an emptiness,
Only a felt loneliness can address...
Is less than living one's life,
Confessing a happiness lived.
Do what is loved.
Do what is liked.
Do and be you!
Sleep nights.
And have no regrets,
Of having to stretch that last dollar.
Think about it.
There are those wishing they had peace of mind.
And they have surrounded themselves with things.
With the hope that these 'things' will bring them,
A feeling of a sense of accomplishment!
And nothing done reflects anything that came,
From their own creativity to express.
And things will never bring one contentment.
Only a documentation to prove time spent,
Doing something for someone else paid the rent.
Do what is loved.
Do what is liked.
Do and be you!
Sleep nights.
And have no regrets,
Of having to stretch that last dollar.
Your worth is invaluable.
And if that is known...
Your abundance will always be obtained.
Since priceless is your presence.
And someone is always going to want...
Something deemed and thought of as precious.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Creation That I Am Is Yours
I feel such a ray within me radiating.
Each time You and I are alone.
And I am comforted in the quietness of peace.
I feel so blessed and grateful,
To have this ease You have bestowed upon me!
Was it hours away in a yesterday gone...
I had questioned my faith,
With a false face I had put on.
But today I know I was all wrong.
You were there protecting me.
And those obstacles that challenged...
Were placed on my path,
So I would realize with You...
I am and can be strong!
I am the 'me' You have made me to be!
I feel so blessed and grateful,
Yes!
I feel such a ray within me radiating.
To this I confess.
To You I am grateful to this blessing,
That has gifted me with happiness.
I had questioned my faith,
With a false face I once had put on!
But I have since removed those disguises.
I want it known You alone own my soul!
And in my mind and heart...
What need do I have to feel forelorn?
I am Your warrior,
My Father.
By Your command...
My actions remain forever bold.
And under Your control...
I stand each day,
To become a better man.
As You alone understand,
This creation that I am...
Is Yours!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Disgarded Garden
Their once was a young man who wanted to become a Gardner. There once was a young Rose Tree that wanted a Gardener. They met each other one summer day and began what seemed to be a beautiful relationship. The Gardner was attentive of his garden along with his Rose Tree and the Rose Tree was so happy that its tender branches grew and it bloomed continuously for the Gardner so he’d always be happy.
As time went by the Rose Tree noticed that Gardner wouldn’t tend to her as much as he once did. And when he did he would cut away harshly at the Rose Tree. The Rose Tree being a simple plant who did not need much attention still bloomed for the Gardner. It seemed the more she tried, the more the Gardner would cut away and the tree was now nestled in the ground. Why could this be? He had a bountiful garden that any Gardner would have loved to have. What more could anyone want thought the Rose Tree.
Now in an abandoned garden the Rose Tree grows back its branches, with very thick thorn’s to protect it self. As time goes by one day, out of nowhere appears a Gardener who has silently admired the Rose Tree from outside the garden gates and begins to nurture the Rose Tree in her garden. He tenderly and sympathetically pulls away all the weeds and brush from the Rose Tree so the air, rain & sunshine can reach her again. Allowing her the opportunity to grow back as she once was; vibrant, strong, colorful and to be simply, herself.
This is something the Rose Tree had long forgotten and is very grateful for the loving words of encouragement and kindness that her new Gardner has shown. She longingly awaits for his visits and when the Gardner comes to see her she bloom’s for him and relaxes underneath his beautifully kind smile. My darling Gardner, I am glad fate has brought you to walk along the path leading to the once lost garden and Rose Tree.
poem by Sarah Barron
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Mirrors…..
Take a look in the mirror and realize what you see..
Is it really you or someone you cannot be..
What you say in the mirror, is what the mirror tells..
Then why your own mirror, reflects some one else..
Every mirror has a story, it does tell a tale..
It reflects joy of success, and your tears when you fail..
The mirror never lies, it reflects what is true..
If you yourself dont know who you are, how can it reflect you..? ?
You may look perfect in the mirror, but take a look inside..
There are things unsaid, untold, now your eyes fail to hide..
Watch right through your soul, make sure it's not haunting..
Never realized who you are, your self-esteem still taunting..? ?
The mirror reflects a question mark, that is it really fair..? ?
You failed to live for others, for yourself only you care..
Look in the reflective gaze of glass, try finding your mistake..
Move close, Gaze into the lie and realize that it's fake...
Ask the mirror to reflect the facts, and to show the truth..
Wrongs you did in your life, right from childhood to youth..
Stop wishing for more, the mirrages will never be true..
It may be close to perfection, but it is just not you..
Make your soul your mirror, one that doesn't lie..
Make it pure and crystal clear, say a prayer up high..
Your heart reflects the person you are, so there's nothing to hide..
No mirror reflects you better then the one inside..
poem by Abhijit Surve
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But I Was Never Alone
I had to grow up,
Early.
There was no sheltered path,
Protecting steps...
I was made to correct.
By a sibling older...
I knew as I grew.
I had to grow up,
Early.
With a consciousness,
Of what to do.
And to face those consequences,
I lived to go through.
There were days of resentment.
There were days I spent alone.
There were days I wished,
For a childhood that was childish.
And today I am grateful,
For all of those experiences.
I learned through mistakes made,
And heartaches too.
I learned to listen,
With introspective comprehension.
My battles I fought.
And with time I recognized,
Those blessings to me God has brought!
I had to grow up,
Early.
With a consciousness,
Of what to do.
And to face those consequences,
I lived to go through.
But I was...
Never alone,
To be alone on my own.
And this to me,
God has shown.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Older They Grow But Not Up
Older they grow,
But not up!
Many never experience a maturity.
Raised on entertaining limited thoughts.
And few have abilities,
To comprehend little of what they read.
Or take the responsibility,
To hold themselves accountable...
For actions begun and those they leave.
Older they grow,
But not up!
And demands they make,
To satisfy their spoiled ways.
Since no one around them wants to hear them fuss.
Realizing not one of those fussers who also cuss,
Wants to take a position,
To make a decisive decision.
Since accusations are prioritized in their lives lived,
As a must.
And expectations are less for them.
For those exposed to them growing older...
Knowing these minds have no time left.
For them to show a growing up,
With a thoughtfulness.
Older they may grow...
But for them it sure is not up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Your Visit With Aging
I don't know why,
You believed I was older than you.
I use to be.
But you and aging have become much closer.
And it seems as if you have been convinced,
To interpret every year you have lived as a struggle.
I'm not trying to interpret my life that way at all.
When aging came to visit me,
I told it to make itself at home.
And if I choose to do what I please...
I'm not making an effort to be rude.
But neither am I going to sit with it to reminisced,
The good old days.
Too much everyday for me is new!
And...
I didn't feel I had to excuse myself from it to explore.
I just do.
You on the other hand...
Seem to want to impress aging,
As a depiction you believe is an acceptable process.
Hey,
We all have our interpretations.
However...
Yours appears to be a bit exaggerated.
But I aint mad at you!
What your visit with aging is like.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Destiny
People tell me my life was predestined
From my life others shall learn a lesson
Born a leader with the world on my shoulder
Age is young but my mind is much older
Living up to everyone's expectation
Condemned me to a world of damnation
I gotta clear these voices from my head
All these opinionated noises
Listen to the voice of my creator
Opens door to a path much greater
On this path the days draw nearer
When I can be happy, finally happy yeah
1 - Searching for my destiny
I'll search for what makes me happy
??? what others thought of me
I gotta be happy, finally happy
Searching for my destiny
I'll search for what makes me happy
??? what others thought of me
I gotta be happy, finally happy
Time to broaden my horizons
Come out from the dark and opened up my eyes and
Started to define my destiny
Experience what life can really be
No longer concerned with your opinion
Over my life I have dominion
I'm stronger now than before
I'm sure I can be so much more
Not what you thought I would be
Cuz I'm gonna be happy yeah
I'm gonna be happy
Finally you see, oh
Repeat 1 until fade
song performed by by Mary J Blige
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always Asking Questions
We all want peace we dont want misery
So many of us wont let us be these things
But we only are confused
We feel stronger as we grow older
But still we feel bemused
Always asking questions
Were always asking questions
And the temptation is to just step back
Well we give what we lack
We will always be asking questions
Why rich?
Why poor?
Always asking questions
Were always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Were always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Always asking
Dont stop asking
Dont stop asking questions
Always asking questions
In answer to this question is just shut up
You dont know
I dont know
Nobody knows
This is an answer to every question
This is a place to begin
Always asking questions
Always asking questions
Why this?
Why that?
Why this?
Why that?
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Always asking questions
(why this why that? )
Words: william bryant
Music: howard jones
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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