In Attempts To Alter The Presentation
The years one lives,
Have a tendency to sneak to creep...
With a speeding up,
To become eventually noticed.
Once one admits,
There is an aging process that exists...
Confirmed to be personally validated.
Caught up in looks and personal appearances,
Gets to be a bit tragic...
For the ones seen demeaning themselves,
With a doing of their best...
To maintain a grip slipping,
From a fading youth pursued out of breath.
And those who have experienced life,
To embrace it gracefully at each and every stage...
Are unafraid to accept this blessing,
We all have been given to express with a gratefulness.
Without tampering with it in attempts,
To alter the presentation of it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dust Collector
Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.
'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '
~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~
A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.
'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '
~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~
Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!
'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'
~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~
'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lacking In the Package
Being stripped naked.
And inspected for those blemishes,
Or flaws...
I accept!
I am not one to pretend they do not exist.
Or am I one to wish them away.
Not as eager as I am to be naked.
Just like this!
So please...
You will not embarrass me,
If you believe there is something I need to know...
That I have mistaken as a gift!
And you have viewed 'something'
That is lacking in the package!
I will admit over the years...
That parts of me aren't so quick to lift!
Or satisfy the beholder,
Who believes I should at least address it.
That,
And/or my nakedness.
Or my willingness to completely strip,
To bare all!
Even though my grip,
On my narcissistic days...
Do seem to be slipping,
Into a fading aging phase.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Being Direct
I don't know if it was aging,
Or its process...
That increased my desire,
To ensure a peace of mind I found...
Stayed in place.
Or if it began creating itself,
Over time.
And I sought ways to prioritize,
Its importance.
But I will admit this,
The finding of it found...
Has today with me lived to exist.
And being direct is an added bonus,
That allows me to use my age...
To guarantee any nonsense from me stays away.
And this I have noticed...
Without one word from me to say,
I can raise just 'one' eyebrow...
To get my point across.
Either with a frown or a smile,
It does not seem to matter.
Only those who have experienced this,
Can appreciate the value and the benefits...
Of aging with a peace of mind.
And being direct to protect what one has,
To classify it as valued...
Seems to get more respect when one has clearly aged.
However,
There are some exceptions!
Those who do not seem to age gracefully,
Do appear to attract and nag with exurberance.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In The Shade of Fading Misrepresentation
Hey...
You can not still be there aging,
In the shade of fading misrepresentation?
That presentation has nowhere to go.
Even coverups are being unmasked.
Those tasks have been witnessed,
To be quite relentless.
There are no rainbows,
Thay will be forthcoming from those shadows.
Hey...
You can not still be there aging,
In the shade of fading misrepresentation?
If I can see you clearly...
You must realize how much of this life,
You are missing!
If I can see you...
Believe me when I say I have seen much change!
And you,
Obviously have not done either!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unintending To Be Perceived As Offensive
I accept with appreciation,
Compliments from others.
Who become aware of my attempts.
Sometimes I wish,
I could express more enthusiasm.
To show such thankfulness for such gifts.
And this I've done for many years in my routines.
With a doing done I do,
In a process that of my creation sees.
I accept with appreciation,
Compliments from others.
Who become aware of my attempts.
Sometimes I wish,
I could express more enthusiasm.
To show such thankfulness for such gifts.
And I do say, 'Thank you.'
Since I am grateful for the attention my gifts get.
Although I consider myself an 'elf' sometimes,
Just doing my part as God's work in progress.
With a doing at times God knows,
Can be a bit mischievous with a willingness unintending.
To be perceived as offensive when that deed I do gets done.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Easier to Accept
As painful as this experience may be...
For some.
There is nothing like having it come,
Unannounced!
If preparations were made...
Decisions to change it,
Would have prevented a growth process.
And not one person came to this life,
Without causing someone pain.
To eventually gain 'something' from it!
Some kind of a learning process occurred.
Unless they were unconscious?
And that might explain,
Why so many choose to remain medicated.
It is easier to accept something,
When it is not personally felt!
Or mandated as someone else's sacrifice.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Dust Up
As a learning experience,
It is much more difficult...
To expect anyone to listen,
Than it is to teach them...
The difference between how and why,
A listening done will affect their time.
And the taking of it for granted...
Is something no one should do.
And one's expectations that the wasting of it,
Is going to gain empathy...
From those who had patience to sit with a listening,
No matter how bored one gets going through the process...
Is going to prevent a slipping of time,
To rush through their fingers.
With opportunities set aside waiting for anyone's decision,
To be made and done with a seletive picking to come.
Once an aging process starts and is noticed,
There is no playing of hide and seek with it...
To disregard those believing they have hidden in safe places.
Since in most cases everyone will be found.
Either forgotten to eventually dismiss.
Or stored away on top awaiting somewhere,
To be lowered into the ground...
With eyes and ears shut to dust up...that's it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Over Medicating With A Self Importance
We can't imitate the living of life.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Nor can we insist what is not visible exists.
But so much of life lived is not visible...
To expose to anyone to prove it being done.
Most of life lived when given,
Is based on sheer faith and confidence.
Patience and the giving of sacrificial time.
With the knowing in one's mind.
Something divine is keeping track of the mess,
Human beings have made in attempts to perfect nonsense.
We can't imitate the living of life.
Once one has been blessed with it.
There is something genuine and real,
About the feelings one has.
We can,
However.
Prevent others from doing so.
To leave them to live their own lives.
And allow others to learn and grow,
For the sharing of those experiences.
But many don't get this!
Without that interdependence.
We limit eventually,
Our own growth process.
And the evidence of that,
Does not need a tour guide.
We would rather destroy other lives,
With the enforcement of values and standards...
We perceive with beliefs are best for others,
When in fact.
We are hard pressed to show any evidence,
To convince within our own minds.
Of that working for ourselves.
But an over medicating with a self importance?
We can do with the right prescription.
Not to take but to test.
With the observing of the affects on others.
To arrive at a feeling of perfection.
And that,
As of yet.
Can not be found.
However.
We can always say,
What we believe has been achieved.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Slipping Away
Guess it's just another dream
That's slipping away
Each time I fall asleep
It seems I'm just drifting away
Just as yo have touched my heart
Babe I wake and we're apart
Yeah and it's slipping away
Here comes just another day
That's drifting away
Every time I draw a breath
It's dying away
First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be around soon
Slipping away
Slipping away
Drifting away
Slipping away
Just as you have touched my heart
I wake up babe and we're apart
It seems we're slipping away
Slipping away
Slipping away
All I want is ecstasy
But I ain't getting much
Just getting off on misery
It seems I've lost my touch
Well it's just another song
But it's slipping away
We we didn't sing it long
'Cos it's fading away
First the sun and then the moon
One of them will be round soon
Slipping away
Slipping away
Slipping away
song performed by by Rolling Stones from Steel Wheels
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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River of Life, The
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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The River of Life
The more we live, more brief appear
Our life's succeeding stages;
A day to childhood seems a year,
And years like passing ages.
The gladsome current of our youth,
Ere passion yet disorders,
Steals lingering like a river smooth
Along its grassy borders.
But as the careworn cheek grows wan,
And sorrow's shafts fly thicker,
Ye stars, that measure life to man,
Why seem your courses quicker?
When joys have lost their bloom and breath,
And life itself is vapid,
Why, as we reach the Falls of Death
Feel we its tide more rapid?
It may be strange—yet who would change
Time's course to slower speeding,
When one by one our friends have gone,
And left our bosoms bleeding?
Heaven gives our years of fading strength
Indemnifying fleetness;
And those of youth, a seeming length,
Proportion'd to their sweetness.
poem by Thomas Campbell
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My Mind Has More of a Youthfulness
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed.
Some agitate their way through it.
Reminding themselves,
Nothing about this process
For them is welcomed!
And they are not pleased,
By anything it leaves.
And as I reflect,
Doing my best to accept this process...
I must admit,
Some of it I am not in total agreement with myself.
Although I go through the motions,
I am doing it with much ease!
Okay! I must say...
Sometimes I do get a bit perturbed and upset.
Especially when someone yells, 'Hey, grandpa.
Do you need assistance to cross the street? '
I grit my teeth with a fake smile I release.
Hmmm...
Is it noticeable,
My gait appears to be slower and more noble?
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed!
And I sit on a nearby bench,
To gather my breath and gently breathe.
Wishing the aches and pains that come with aging...
I could put to rest.
Knowing my mind has more of a youthfulness,
That my body, on certain days...
Could care less what my mind forgets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Simple Award
I was informed just lately
That I am among those to be called
Who will be rewarded a service pin?
For having served for twenty five years
An accolade for doing public service
Is quite an honor for being recognized
But like five years ago when I did not
Come up to the stage to receive such
For me it is not important
To receive with any award
For what I do is simply my job
To perform what I was trained for
It makes me sad to learn now
After twenty five years of working
I will be called in front of the public
To accept the fact that soon I have to go
Retirement is a bonus phase in life
Forced to give up work for becoming old
Aging marks that sooner one's life will end
My youth used up for service is my sole bliss
poem by Marvin Brato Sr
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Age considers, youth ventures
Age considers, youth ventures
Age visualizes, youth dreams
Age makes theories, youth experiments
Age loves, youth longs
Age sees people, youth sees places
Age knows belongings, youth discovers them
Age pains to gain, youth gains to others' pain
Age has heart, youth has mind
Age is thoughtful, youth is tactful
Age ponders, youth wonders
Age recounts, youth counts
Age is experienced, youth is in experience
Age is cautious, youth dashes
Age floats, youth swims
Age lives, youth still making a living
Age is in touch with termination, youth with determination
Age is confident, youth is competent
Age adds years to living, youth adds life to living
Age is lost in past, youth is drowned in future
Age is grown, youth is crown
Ageless is youth, youthless is age
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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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
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With Opportunities Given
Some have found it comforting,
To sit and mourn the passing of time.
With wishes to have lived their lives,
More effectively.
After realizing time from them flys by.
And those making contributions,
Are doing their best to express gratefulness.
Knowing each day that comes to them is a blessing.
With opportunities given,
To do something other than to sit wishing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Attached To A Retro-Fitness
Attached to a retro-fitness...
Like a face that has been lifted.
Prepared and equipped,
To manufacture again anything...
Resembling one's comfort with it,
Is a wish for many to pretend their lives...
Do not with an aging process exist.
With a reality now speeding ahead as it is...
Ushered quickly away from their minds,
That will erase to take the place...
All signs of the times now lived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Chose With This Prose To Share
I could,
With this prose...
Ramble on,
Nonsensical.
And in doing so,
Seek content.
In a way I believe,
Would have intention meant.
But for some living foolishly,
Whatever another observes and perceives...
Would be for them a waste of print.
And that would be,
Their message sent.
Yet there come those days,
That separate themselves...
From events experienced,
Like none that have before been felt.
And with aging comes an acknowledgement...
Of an acceptance done,
As one awakens to enjoy each moment.
To appreciate with gratefulness...
An opportunity to address,
A growing enlightenment...
Arriving to inspire within one's consciousness.
I could,
With this prose...
Ramble on,
Nonsensical.
However...
It seems that in the making of sense,
Only those who have the time to do it...
Are the ones caring less,
To make attempts to convince!
And I chose with this prose,
To share a part of me I willfully expose.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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