I Am Not A Random Tongue Lasher
I only know what I know.
And the undoing of my experiences,
To appease another's sensitivities...
Will not with me happen.
My honesty I have earned.
And those self evaluations,
For me did not come easy.
If I have to eliminate,
Something for years I have carried on my back.
The chances of that being taken off...
Will be quicker than ears will hear me apologize,
For a comment I've made...
Someone took as a personal attack.
And 'if' I've said anything offensive to anyone?
Trust me they have done something,
Worse to me than that.
I am not a random tongue lasher!
I deliver back what is given.
If I am given garbage...
One will get from me 'that' and lots of trash!
I've learned not to play,
With 'kids' who refuse to leave...
Their outlived but revisited playgrounds.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
One Little Comment
One little comment can really change your life;
It can make you feel good or cut you like a knife.
As a result, you may now want to try something new,
Or with an aspect of life, you may now be through.
You mull the comment over and take it to heart;
The speaker of the comment, unaware they’ve played a part.
The chances are that, of the comment, the speaker has forgotten,
But you are now left feeling really encouraged or really rotten.
Some comments are just throw-a-ways,
But they can easily make or break your day.
Some comments stick forever in your mind,
Whether they’re really hurtful or really kind.
Many years later, a comment you may still be able to quote;
It could be one which made you sink or one which made you float.
You will probably still be able to recall it word for word,
And even imitate the tone in which the comment was first heard.
As the result of a comment, you may feel better or worse,
And the speaker of the comment, you’ll either love or curse.
A comment can make you give up or give you the will to succeed;
Off one little comment, our further thoughts will often feed.
They can change the way that you see yourself,
And even have a good or bad effect on your health.
A bad comment can leave us feeling rather unsure,
Whereas a good comment, can leave us wanting more.
Just one comment, which may last only a few fleeting seconds,
May result in a whole new life, which suddenly now beckons.
You may leave your old life far behind,
Or a whole new life, you may now find.
So just take a moment and think before you speak;
Of the joy you may bring or the havoc you may wreak.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Loving That Taste For The Gutter
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Or recycled garbage...
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
No matter what they call it they want it like that!
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
They love that taste for the gutter.
If they always call those they visit trash,
And on a daily basis they are around them.
What do they regard themselves?
Trash collectors?
Garbage defenders?
Whenever its suspected someone else will attack,
They will defend their trash with a coming back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Yes they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
They can't leave it,
'Cause they come right back.
Because they love that taste for the gutter.
Garbage defenders,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
Trash collectors,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont admit or quit,
Loving that taste for the gutter.
But wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
And wont quit,
That taste for the gutter.
Or admit...
A loving for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it,
A loving for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
Or...
Quit,
A taste they have for the gutter.
No they wont admit it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gone (a tribute to those who graduated)
The final days are looming, everyone's hearts are booming,
it's that time of year again,
To farewell the kids who made it through, through the old and through the new,
and survive to see it then.
It's been a long time coming,
all are looking clean and prim,
the chances of survival,
for some, are looking slim
Twelve years it took the kids,
to get to where they are,
the temperatures haved risen and fell,
and yet, they come so far
Gone are the days when they could laugh and play,
and never cause a stir,
gone are the days of playgrounds and games,
it all seems such a blur
As we farewell our seniors,
on this very night,
we wish them all the best of luck,
and share with them their delight
poem by XxAmieLee xX
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Choice Of Tone and Arrogant Demeanor
Why is it,
People solicit to get opinions...
Then wish them to be edited,
To appease their expectatons.
And those who refuse to honor their requests
Are thought to be stand-offish...
With an angering of those that stir up protests,
Against someone who attempts not to get them upset.
And yet it does,
And they do...
By trying to protect their sensitivities.
But the depth of them had not been explored,
To make known.
Why is it,
People solicit to get opinions...
Then wish them to be edited,
To appease their expectatons?
And that one who 'is' direct,
With a giving of an opinion to suggest and recommend...
Is seldom left to leave them without being disrespected.
To anger those...
Yep!
You've guessed it.
By trying to protect their sensitivities.
'It wasn't what you said that offended.
It was your choice of tone and arrogant demeanor.
And we are not accustomed,
To anyone who disregards what we accept.'
~What do you prefer?
Deception? ~
'YES!
We thought to 'you' this would be obvious.
Aren't we charading with the best of our pretentions?
How are you ever going to be one of 'us'? '
~Uh...
I'm clueless.~
'And apparently raw, out of the box and not trained, either! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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With A Finding Of More Life To Live
If I sat back and thought,
About those battles I fought to win...
I would never have come to appreciate,
The ability to clear my mind...
To say what was on it to get it out,
With a finding of more life to live.
And to leave if for what it is,
Without carrying the weight...
Of who became offended by my honesty.
I've learned not to burden myself,
With judgements made by others...
On my shoulders.
I've learned to acknowledge,
My back and shoulders aren't meant for that.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Play It Safe
Play it safe.
If you don't want things too complicated,
By words you speak that may escalate...
To offend naysayers waiting to berate,
Every move or decision you make...
Play it safe.
Play it safe.
And if you choose to do this,
Don't hesitate.
Or let anything you happen to hear,
Appear to irritate you into needless debate
Just to lure you to expose impatience.
Play it safe.
Refuse to use excuses to indicate,
To those detractors...
It's okay to re-route your path.
And direction of your fate.
Play it safe.
If you must correct with a slower pace...
By coming face-to-face to eliminate,
Accusations made...
With a breaking away.
Do it...
Before you find the time is late.
Play it safe!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Let's Keep It Between Us
by Bob Dylan
Let's keep it between us.
These people meddlin' in our affairs, they're not our friends.
Let's keep it between us
Before doors close and our togetherness comes to an end.
They'll turn you against me and me against you 'til we don't know who to trust.
Oh, darlin', can we keep it between us?
Let's keep it between us.
We've been through too much tough times that they never shared.
They've had nothing to say to us before,
Now all of a sudden it's as if they've always cared.
All we need is honesty, a little humility and trust.
Oh, darlin', can we keep it between us?
I know we're not perfect
Then again, neither are they
They act like we got to live for them as if there just ain't no other way
And it's makin' me kind of tired.
Can we just lay back for a moment
Before we wake up and find ourselves in a daze that's got us out of our minds?
There must be something we're overlooking here,
We better drop down now and get back behind the lines.
There's some things not fit for human ears, some things don't need to be discussed.
Oh, darlin', can we keep it between us?
They'll tell you one thing and me another
'Til we don't know who to trust.
Oh, darlin', can we keep it between us?
Let's keep it between us
Before it all snaps and goes too far.
If we can't deal with this by ourselves,
Tell me we ain't worse off than they think we are.
Backseat drivers don't know the feel of the wheel, but they sure know how to make a fuss.
Oh, darlin', can we keep it between us?
Can we keep it between us?
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is No Escaping From The Garbage We Leave
At the end of any day,
A trash collector...
And someone else,
Who may have a Doctorate's degree...
Have the same thing in common!
Both have a lifetime association...
With the creation of garbage.
Whether that garbage is recycled or not!
Dropped on the street...
Or rolled up to put into one's pocket.
Regardless of 'who' is paid,
To pick their trash up...
Both can be observed,
Leaving something to forget...
To be hauled away from a curb.
And those perceptions of who we are,
With or without daily impressions to make...
Who we impress or charades we fake,
There is no escaping from the garbage we leave.
It's all over the place.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Idiosyncrasy and Inferiority Complex
* Vanishing table manners of a deprived loner
I see you have 1212 poems (currently) on PH. I also see you comment regularly on other members' work (though I don't think you have commented on my own) . I wonder why you have sent this to me without any idea of what you want me to do about it. If you could explain what you want (just my thoughts on this piece of writing?) I might be able to help. Most people wanting a comment on a poem post it on the site and invite others to read it.
Paul Hansford
I belong to the small Island Sri Lanka
Once a British colony, I gathered few words from your mother tongue
And my vocabulary is too small, Sorry Sir and I try to improve myself.
A painter either famous or not his brush strikes on the canvas
And the bristles never refuse to absorb the different colors.
He himself has the freedom of choice.
But a poet? Why all these restrictions of adjectives and grammar?
If he tells of his mother tongue very few understand
But his slang English some try to realize?
Let him scribble as the trash bins never refuse him.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Personal
Anything you want from me
Ill do
But first
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Lets get personal
Personal
Personal
Personal
Personal with you
Were sittin havin dinner at your parents home
Some of the finest food Ive ever known
But I need some sweetness on my tongue
And it aint a type of sugar oh no
So maybe we can go somewhere
Neighbour room girl I dont care
Wheres the bedroom
(its upstairs)
Ill meet you there in a minute
Girl so we can get
Lets get personal (ooh yeah)
Personal (tight baby)
Personal (maybe we can get)
Personal (just a little, just a little bit)
Lets get personal (ooh yay)
Personal (I wanna get personal)
Personal (come on baby, just trust me)
Personal (I wanna get)
Personal with you
Im behind you in your bedroom with your hands against the wall
But keeping one eye on the door
Got your t-shirt and your panties on
Ooh I feel so right, cant be wrong, no
I know you like it when I touch you there
Girl just keep it quiet or theyll hear
Feel the tremblin all down your leg
Id love to head to your bed
So that we can get
Personal
Shhh
Should I take off my clothes (no)
Put the lock on the door
Let go of your deepest inhibitions
Let me fulfil your fantasies girl
Like me touching you there (yeah)
The way that I play with your hair
Emotions running wild until we stop
Yeah
Lets get personal (ooh baby)
Personal (I wanna get personal with you)
Personal (we can do anything you wanna do)
Personal (whoah)
Lets get personal (when you rub and youre close to me)
Personal (feel the fire just like ecstasy)
Personal (girl and the way that youre touching me I want it baby all the time)
Personal
Personal with you
Oh I want to
Make love to you
So lets
Get personal
Let me be
Your fantasy
Youre all
I need oh girl
Lets get personal
Personal (with every little thing you do)
Personal (its like ecstasy baby)
Personal (when Im right when Im back next to you)
Personal (girl I dont give a damn about)
Personal (whos that saw, go downstairs)
Personal (I just wanna get personal baby)
Personal (so bad makes me wanna say)
Oh whoa whoa whoa
It makes me wanna say
Oh whoa whoa whoa
All of my people say
Oh oh oh oh
Oh oh oh oh
song performed by by Craig David
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eight Years Old
SUN, whom the faltering snow-cloud fears,
Rise, let the time of year be May,
Speak now the word that April hears,
Let March have all his royal way;
Bid all spring raise in winter’s ears
All tunes her children hear or play,
Because the crown of eight glad years
On one bright head is set to-day.
II.
What matters cloud or sun to-day
To him who wears the wreath of years
So many, and all like flowers at play
With wind and sunshine, while his ears
Hear only song on every way?
More sweet than spring triumphant hears
Ring through the revel-rout of May
Are these, the notes that winter fears.
III.
Strong-hearted winter knows and fears
The music made of love at play,
Or haply loves the tune he hears
From hearts fulfilled with flowering May,
Whose molten music thaws his ears
Late frozen, deaf but yesterday
To sounds of dying and dawning years,
Now quickened on his deathward way.
IV.
For deathward now lies winter’s way
Down the green vestibule of years
That each year brightens day by day
With flower and shower till hope scarce fears
And fear grows wholly hope of May.
But we—the music in our ears
Made of love’s pulses as they play
The heart alone that makes it hears.
V.
The heart it is that plays and hears
High salutation of to-day.
Tongue falters, hand shrinks back, song fears
Its own unworthiness to play
Fit music for those eight sweet years,
Or sing their blithe accomplished way.
No song quite worth a young child’s ears
Broke ever even from birds in May.
VI.
There beats not in the heart of May,
When summer hopes and springtide fears,
There falls not from the height of day,
When sunlight speaks and silence hears,
So sweet a psalm as children play
And sing, each hour of all their years,
Each moment of their lovely way,
And know not how it thrills our ears.
VII.
Ah child, what are we, that our ears
Should hear you singing on your way,
Should have this happiness? The years
Whose hurrying wings about us play
Are not like yours, whose flower-time fears
Nought worse than sunlit showers in May,
Being sinless as the spring, that hears
Her own heart praise her every day.
VIII.
Yet we too triumph in the day
That bare, to entrance our eyes and ears,
To lighten daylight, and to play
Such notes as darkness knows and fears,
The child whose face illumes our way,
Whose voice lifts up the heart that hears,
Whose hand is as the hand of May
To bring us flowers from eight full years.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trust
After all I been through with you
I lost
Trust
In people, my family, and myself
I feel so afraid
I can't tell people the truth about anything
I'm hiding in my shell for safety
There are good people you can
Trust
There are people you can't
Trust
People you hang with is who you can
Trust
There are other people not in your group you can't
You share secrets, replied on that person and won't backstab you is people you can
Trust
Eventually they do it without you knowing
Trust
I feel like deep in my heart I lost my
Trust
I hide everything and give simple answers that is not truth
To those people and the one I love
I can't even share what I really think to them
I have the
Trust
In myself to know better
After two days ago I realized I can trust people
I need to give them one more chance
I can be me still and be strong person
Trust
Is what I need to get back in guys too because
I want to date and see what happen
I'm not holding back
I just need to give guys chances
It's right to do and experience
I won't forget, or regret anymore, or cry about it
Trust
Is what I'm trying to get back and I be ok one day
I won't take guy I like for granted or people I like
Trust
poem by Christina Phan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet: Material Things Are Not Permanent
Whatever wealth I’ve accrued in this world,
Whether hard-earned or by the easy route;
Whether in kind or currency wads, curled,
I must leave back to someone else like loot.
However much wealth I have earned on earth,
By sweat of brow or by my playing dice,
It will not help me gain an extra-breath,
Except a coffin made of teak wood nice.
Whatever treasures, I had to my name,
As gems or diamonds, silver or gold-form,
I leave them back intact in life's earth game,
In known or unknown places as per norm.
Then why this haste and frenzy for more wealth,
And that too at the cost of one’s own health?
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Allowing Us To Clear Our Heads
What I have done,
Personally...
To ensure the new neighbors,
Adhere to policies that have been in effect...
For many years,
Is to suggest and recommend...
Their children not smoke pot in the front yard.
Or put their trash on the curb,
For the garbage men to pick up the next day.
What I have done personally,
Is to show them how to put their trash...
In garbage bags FIRST.
And even though it has been slow for them to catch on,
The rest of the neighbors and myself...
Have agreed to meet the new residents,
In their backyard after midnight behind a closed and locked fence...
When all of the kids have been safely tied to their beds.
Allowing us to clear our heads and live together in peace.
'And you say you have a prescription for this? '
~I begged my doctor to find a medical need.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gordon Back Step (Fun Poem 102)
Lets all do the Gordon back step.
We will make a decision
and when that falls flat
we will all step back
and apologize for that
and do the Gordon back step
like our Prime Minister likes to do.
I am sure it would make
a great dance to do.
First, make a decision
as daft as the last one you made.
Step forward with a proposal
and watch out for the no’s to the left.
Then step back and apologize for that
and do the Gordon back step.
It is so easy to do
or at least our Prime Minister
makes it look that way.
1May 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Hard To Trust Some1 U Love
Why is it so hard to trust some one you love?
Is it the fear of being hurt again?
You been hurt so many times
Just when you think they are trustworthy
they go right around and lie at your face
You feel hurt and confused
You start to think love is not to be trusted
Your heart has implanted the idea that love is not to be trusted no mater how real it seem
Now your heart became used to not trusting
Even if you want to trust them you just cant
You don't want be made a fool again
When you hear the words 'please baby trust me'
You start to think do they want me to trust them so that I wont have no clue what they doing behind my back?
So you don't take no chances and you keep track of every thing they say to see if the story changes
The very fear of being hurt again hunts you in your dreams
It becomes the shadows that stalk you everywhere you go
Now trust had become you enemy
You start to think that honesty between love ones is just a lie
One after the other
Every time you want to trust someone you love
A voice in your head start to tell you not to trust no one
The closer you get to trust them the louder that voice get
It screams in your
You just want that sound to leave so you do what it said
You trust no one except that voice
Your forced to think everyone is untrustworthy
You wished you had someone you could trust but it has become harder and harder for you
Now trust in someone you love has become merely just a long gone memory
Just a mystery you don't want to waist you time in solving
Now love has become harder and harder for you
All the times you been hurt has become your nightmares that only comes out when your in love
It waits, lies dormant until love comes your way
When it does, all you fears of getting hurt again just floods in your head
None stop
You just want to break down and cry because any little thing could lead the way to a broken heart………………………………..............................
poem by Stephen Merced
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Unfamiliar Knocking
Overnight a growth process does not begin,
To become uncontrollable.
A control loses its hold,
When people pretend...
The hearing of them is negatively mentioned.
And those unafraid to make bold sentiments,
Are ignored as being pessimist...
Who are nonconformists.
And overnight troubles are not planted to manifest.
It just seems that way,
To those bumping against them with their eyes closed.
Only to open them...
When unfamiliar knocking is heard,
On both the front and back doors.
And a peeking through them,
Doesn't prevent bricks being thrown through the windows.
'NEVER! ...
In my wildest hallucinating dreams,
Could I be convinced something like this...
Would remotely happen in 'this' part of town.
Since all of us HERE do our utmost best,
To protect those 'standards' we treasure and value.'
~Did you happen to get a glimpse,
Of who might have thrown those bricks? ~
'Yes.
Those adorable children living across the street.'
~And...
Just how old are these children?
Would you happen to know that? ~
'Of course.
One is 27 and the other 33.
I happen to know that because they still come over,
To play with my kids.
That's why I am at my wits end to comprehend,
Any of this.'
~And...ah...where are your...'kids'? ~
'You know...
My children are very civic minded.
They are out making deliveries,
To those poor and needy in the inner city.
They said they had packages to dropp off.
Usually they are back no later than 2am.
I am so very proud of their efforts.
And the tremendous chances they take,
For such a worthy cause.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You and I Have Yet to Cross Those Paths
You can not know what mood I am in.
You don't know me like that.
You base your opinions on what you hear.
Like others you know sharing gossip,
Customized for listening ears.
For years you've expressed what my attitudes are.
And visits to my home you believe,
Are excursions to pass judgement.
You can not know what mood I am in.
You don't know me like that.
I know I am hospitable,
Until my integrity is attacked.
And if that should happen,
It is not from a mood that I respond back.
I do not sit with wishes,
That others be put in their places quick.
And...
When I am the topic of a deceit that is falsified...
A mood from me is not what someone gets!
I am not into mood shifting.
Nor am I confrontational but I am direct.
What someone gets,
Is a regret they misinterpreted my persona.
And I ensure they get it corrected.
And 'that' I deliver not from a mood...
But necessity that comes to them,
With an understanding taught.
And a lesson learned I teach not to forget.
'Comprehension unmistaken,
Is best to get direct...
From the one who is the subject! '
You can not know what mood I am in.
You don't know me like that.
Since you and I have yet to cross those paths.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Creative Types Are So Tempermental
You want me to apologize?
OKAY...
I apologize.
'What level of sincerity,
Was that apology? '
I would say...
Right between where I would put my foot.
And the words your ears would hear,
As they rolled off my tongue.
'I accept your apology.'
I am glad of that!
Because you would find my foot painful.
And those words rolling off my tongue...
Would be created just for you.
'But then again...
That doesn't sound too bad of an offer.
Do you mind if I returned your apology?
What did I say now?
Who cares!
Walk away.
You creative types are so tempermental.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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From The Window
Am I not to know or feel the pain,
You went out of your way to inflict upon me?
Am I not to know the sneakiness by which you did it?
Or were you hoping I would dropp to my knees...
To plead for mercy to appease your taste for sleaze?
Who in the hell do you think you are dealing with here?
I've learned to fight my battles on playgrounds.
With mommy and daddy...
Looking on,
From the window!
And I might have left with scars.
But I was not about to leave,
Feeling defeated.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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