Having The Nerve to Excuse Thoughtlessness
When something treasured is given.
And it is disrespected and given back...
Do not expect warm greetings to flow,
From the one who felt slighted by that!
Children, perhaps...
Can be excused for this lapse.
However,
Those who wear grown up clothes,
Are 'suppose' to use far more tact!
And when they don't...
They are the first to pretend,
They don't know 'why' or 'what'
Has happened to them.
Proving by their actions...
They are as self centered as children.
Getting what they deserve.
And having the nerve to excuse thoughtlessness.
One mature would not accept this to dismiss.
Being an adult can be a painful process...
Especially when the playground,
Has been abandoned...
By those no longer seeking,
Childish games at recess!
There is a seriousness of life that develops...
That one should achieve to aspire and expect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Expect Your ………….You!
Expect your friend to be not better than you;
Expect your neighbor to not forgive you;
Expect your country not to goad you;
Expect your siblings to but discourage you;
Expect your children to not care for you;
Expect your spouse to rather hinder you;
Expect your love to always forget you;
Expect your home sometimes to ignore you;
Expect your native place to not honor you;
Expect the world to disregard you;
Expect your enemy to well hate you;
Expect your Maker to much love you;
Expect your God to never forsake you;
Expect your Lord and God to never abandon you.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Youth
The chair seldom rocks,
The music has been thrown away
All the toys have been broken
And the laughs have gone away.
Across an ancient playground
Where the children once did play
I no longer see or hear them laugh
The Children have all gone away.
The swings they no longer swing
The trees stand ancient and bare
And the birds they no longer sing
For the children are no longer there.
I close an attic window
As I take off a childish mask
And as I think, the tears do flow
As I wished again, youth had last.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Expect More
Expect more,
From yourself...
Before your self respect,
becomes enclosed
Behind shut doors.
Expect more,
Not less.
When your best,
Has been ignored.
Expect more,
Or you'll be next...
Left when your intentions,
Begin to bore.
Expect more,
From those awake.
But the exchange makes them snore.
Expect more,
If a game played becomes too straight.
And you must be that whore!
To gain the attention,
Some express you adore.
Expect more...
From them and yourself to win.
In this life expect more.
Don't accept what is suspected.
Don't throw tantrums and fits...
Just to keep limits explored!
Expect more!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Adolescent Deeds
Spoiled children encouraged,
To sit and witness their siblings...
Restricted from doing things,
They believe can be manipulated eventually...
Will make attempts to do anything.
If this means to them,
A getting of an attention given.
Believing with an 'innocence',
A 'cuteness' is determined.
But some children grow.
To leave behind their childishness.
With a learning not to disrespect.
Or expect child-like tantrums accepted,
Without someone rejecting their selfishness.
To then make claims of being neglected,
When left to be held accountable...
For actions that reflect,
Immaturity at its best.
And as aults who have aged,
These same 'children' become insulted.
When others too mature no longer will endure,
With a tolerance depleted and absent to feed...
Spoiled children encourage,
To perform adolescent deeds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The World Of Adulthood
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Find themselves wishing to undo...
What it is they have done they do,
Once to them it has been acknowledged...
Those remaining,
In the playing of their silly games...
In a sustained immaturity,
Have lost all credibility...
In the world of adulthood,
Where children dressed 'as' adults...
Are not allowed to impress,
With a childish foolishness to be accepted.
'Comeon!
You can't take a joke? '
~I use to accept fools with a suffering done...
Of their antics too.
At one time.
But a seriousness of my life,
And in my mind...
Seemed to have overnight,
Risen to the top of my priority list.
And adults who are mature,
Are the only folks I wish to deal with.
And they today appear difficult to find.
Call it...
A plateau of maturity reached.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Aging Excuse Making Children
Difficult and with stress it is,
To be an adult.
And live in an environment surrounded,
By old and aging excuse making children.
Difficult to know it is who is being responsible,
And who to hold accountable...
For the raising of disrespectful kids,
Found totally without initiative or discipline.
It is so hard to maintain one's patience,
And make attempts to explain...
Even to those who appear to have brains,
What the benefit of staying motivated is.
And if one should expose to show concern,
With sincere understanding and comprehension...
One has learned from experience,
This is interpreted as trying to be better than the others.
And eventually...
The one who has grown to be that mature adult leaves,
To keep a nurtured peace of mind...
And those perceptions aging children keep to believe,
Alone for them to condone.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Squeaky Clean and/or Bleeped
Why do folks play childish games to pest?
Those older ones play them,
And should give them a rest.
You would think by the time some one is 55,
They are more interested in being 'real',
Than handing out a bunch of old tired 'jive'.
No wonder the kids have lost all respect.
There are adults who still think,
'They' are the ones breasting feeding home in nests!
There are more mature children than there are grown 'peeps,
These days.
And maybe that's why those accused of being molesters,
Aren't!
When the 'children' are the ones stalking older folks...
And they are the ones who should be charged,
For being the sleazy, sneaking creeps!
The 'real' old people are home alone and jealous...
Seeking ways to get reality,
Squeaky clean and/or bleeped!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Going to Have Fun
I am going to have fun.
Even if it is done at your expense.
I had been the one,
Seeking sense when there was none.
And feeling betrayed,
As I withessed thoughtlessness displayed.
Oh, I am going to have fun.
You can consider that activity,
One already welcomed!
Yes...
I am going to have fun.
Even if it is done at your expense.
I had been the one,
Seeking sense when there was none.
And in these days lived,
I do not expect any to come.
Call it what you wish.
But I don't dish out negativity.
Nor do I accept it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Expect An Apology
I have not been a child for so long.
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with.
Don't be stunned.
Or run away in tears!
With a nose you sniff.
Perhaps you should leave the playground,
Of scraped knees, sandboxes
And petty childish gossip.
I have not been a child for so long.
My adventures have been aged on paths...
That have shown me a life,
To live as it is!
And to find myself alone,
Being accountable for my steps!
Sometimes I have experienced regret.
But like all things I have accepted...
I am blessed not to stay in one spot,
To complain of rain that got me wet!
Nor do I get upset...
If thunder, lightening and clouds,
Are temporarily above my head!
I have felt sunshine too many times...
To find a moment of whining as a means,
That have ever attracted my happiness!
A maturity with learning,
Has come to me it seems!
So if my offensive demeanor,
Comes from an adult mind...
Free to express itself from a hiding,
You have yet dealt with?
Don't expect an apology.
I only give those when they are meant!
And I feel that one should be given.
And 'that' no one else gives to me,
To determine!
I'm in this life to live it!
Not to split from it...
When my feelings are hurt!
Or to dig up dirt to spread.
Don't expect an apology!
You 'aint' gettin' one of those.
Not from me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Visuals Betray
Sometimes it becomes a task...
To determine and separate those,
Who are innocently ignorant...
From those who are professional.
This is almost as difficult,
As determining one's maturity...
Based upon age and presence.
Today...
Visuals betray.
If one's intelligence is in question.
There are more children in grown up skins,
Then at any other time.
Even those one would think to ne mature,
Disappoints with a childish reaction.
And some of the most profound comments...
Can be heard coming out of the mouths,
Of pre-school children.
With a matter-of-factness AND eye contact.
Something adults either lost through the process...
Or thought it useless to develop.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How Can I Give That
Thank you for helping me,
Protect my steps.
Happy I am that my seriousness,
Has convinced you...
My footprints made,
Were placed in a direction...
To be respected as I thought,
You too wanted kept.
And now that I know,
My best efforts...
You prove you wish not to neglect,
I am happy you now see...
It is about maintaining one's integrity.
And IF you express a giving of this to me...
I have nothing but that,
From me to you to show I can and will do.
You deserve the best.
But how can I give that,
If you take for granted my seriousness?
And my seriousness to deliver...
You should always expect.
In fact...
I would not mind if you demanded it.
Since this will tell me our feelings are mutual.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Becoming More Difficult To Achieve
When an immature mentality,
Becomes an accepted part of one's personality...
It stunts a growth process,
Observed in an environment...
Fed on the advantages of being irresponsible.
Where childish attitudes are fed and meant,
To circumvent adult behavior.
A behavior once accepted to respect,
But...
Becoming more difficult to achieve,
With not too many today willing to experience...
The affects of expressing a maturity,
From that point of view!
And 'who' but a few today...
Would admit to being 'that' accountable for their actions.
There is a difference in the doing of things,
Interpreted by others to be foolish.
And to know what is done.
Than to do childish things...
And have few notice,
That the age of the 'childish' doer...
Has no comprehension to mention.
And the fault is found to lay on the back,
Of one who 'portrays' to be a fool...
To fit into such a dysfunctional environment.
To be laughed at but has achieved...
Peace of mind others can't seem to find as accessible.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Children On Parade
All the girls and boys have gone away
They never really had much to say
They took off all their clothes and their shoes
Politely asked to be excused
Theyre the children on parade
They have a secret they can share
Theyre the children on parade
And nobody knows
And nobody knows
All the broken toys lie on the floor
Theres no more laughter from down the hall
Mirror, mirror, mirror on the wall
Whatever could have happened to them all
Theyre the children on parade
They have a secret that they share
Theyre the children on parade
And nobody knows
And nobody knows
All across the world just yesterday
All the boys and girls just went away
They left without their clothes or their shoes
Id love to someday hear all the news
About the children on parade
And all the secrets that they share
Now theyre the children on parade
And nobody knows...
song performed by by Men At Work
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those of Childish Minds
Those of childish minds,
I had to sever and leave behind.
They no longer fed my views of life.
I had been hatched from adolescence,
Many years ago...
With an expanding insight.
Rehashing redundant deeds done I did...
I could no longer validate,
Those actions of adults that reminded me of kids!
I began to feel imprisoned,
By this useless activity for me I could not envision.
That began to smother my mental growth...
And its clarity,
Beginning to feel remote and provoked.
I had to sever and leave behind,
Those of childish minds.
They found routine attractive to them.
And within me routine was not meant to be.
I am an adult!
And others who are...
Is a rare find today by far.
Leaving me to wonder,
As my aging process flows...
How gracefully can those grow old?
And where do those of childish minds go,
When an age upon them obviously shows!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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People Expect Too Much From Me
aug,11,2010
people expect me to be perfect,
because i'm smart,
people expect me to get good grades,
because of all the hard work i put in,
people expect me to have my own business,
because i can be talented and creative,
people expect me to be a push over,
rather than a girl who speaks her mind,
people expect me to be something i'm not,
but all i can be is only myself,
people expect me to deal with life,
i can only deal with it the best i can,
people expect me to handle more than i can,
but who is it really for or what do i have to prove?
people expect me to be who they want,
but did they ever stop to think of what i wanted?
poem by Mona Martinez
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Us Oldies
It is that time of the year,
when my birthday is looming in the air
and I begin to feel quite ancient.
I felt old when my children
presented me with their children
and made me a grandparent,
but when their children
started having children of their own
and stuck a great in front of grandparent
you really begin to feel ancient,
especially when you haven’t retired yet.
When we were young,
oh, those lovely blessed days
when the summers seem to last forever
and the sun always shone.
Life was much more laid back then.
Oh where have they all gone?
Then came the teenage years
opening up all our dreams
of being some kind of superstar.
Yes, I remember them so well,
the music and the romance in the air.
Sometimes I hark back
to those days way back then.
Next, you are an adult
with responsibilities and children of your own.
From there you are on a downward slope
at least that is what some people say.
Well, don’t you believe it;
you’re always as young as you feel.
You can still go out and play
those young kids games.
Personally, I never grew up,
as my friends will testify.
I still have my Peter Pan persona,
Hip Hip Hooray.
I may not drink,
but I can act as crazy as if I do
and that makes life much more fun
being like me a kind old fool.
Kid think they are the only ones
who can have fun,
don’t you believe it,
us oldies can have fun too.
13 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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I find many adults are put off when young children pose scientific questions. Why is the Moon round? the children ask. Why is grass green? What is a dream? How deep can you dig a hole? When is the world’s birthday? Why do we have toes? Too many teachers and parents answer with irritation or ridicule, or quickly move on to something else: ‘What did you expect the Moon to be, square?’ Children soon recognize that somehow this kind of questions annoys the grown-ups. A few more experiences like it, and another child has been lost to science. Why adults should pretend to omniscience before 6-year-olds, I can’t for the life of me understand. What’s wrong with admitting that we don’t know something? Is our self-esteem so fragile?
Carl Sagan in The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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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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Seeking Attention of That Kind Has Been Fed
I don't expect your praise.
In fact...
I don't expect you to acknowleged anything I do.
I am not on that mission.
Seeking attention of that kind has been fed.
However...
What I do expect,
Is a clue you know something about self respect.
And so far I suspect,
We both have become disappointed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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