In Spaces Limited
So many are stuck in times,
Within locked minds fearing change.
Or the process that takes them...
Away to new places.
And experiences unexplained.
In spaces limited a rotation continues.
A rotation accepted with the sameness of it!
Like a rusting with dust given permission to oxidize...
Bright eyes dull,
Minimizing active lives.
Although a freedom is there to breathe and do it deeply...
Many prefer their familiar ruts.
With others who have given up.
To share and say what they would do...
If God would bless them with a stroke of good luck.
In spaces limited a rotation continues.
A rotation accepted with the sameness of it!
So many are stuck in times,
Within locked minds fearing change.
Or the process that takes them...
Away to new places.
And experiences unexplained.
Like a rusting with dust given permission to oxidize...
Bright eyes dull,
Minimizing active lives.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
With These Stories and Others to Come
With these stories and more...
A forgetting is not permitted!
With these stories and others to come...
A repeating will be committed.
Moving ahead for some is certain.
Many like to Spring clean,
And exchange all the curtains.
Some prefer to ignore the dust.
And oxidize they do...
Rusting and cursing,
The stagnant times they trust.
Others see this with wishes to move on!
With each day turning into night...
They await the coming of dawn.
But those who choose to argue about change...
Do the best they can,
To remain the same!
Claiming that yesterday,
Their lives were less insane!
With these stories and more...
A forgetting is not permitted!
With these stories and others to come...
A repeating will be committed.
And with the troubles today,
Existing unresisted.
Many believe good times will return.
If only they sit,
Reminiscing about it!
While everything around them,
Is left to crumble...
As praises of days gone,
Leaves those currently outraged...
In a blazing that comes,
To burn them all.
And standing to witness,
They do...
The approaching creep of a firestorm.
Without a prevention...
To stop an accepted ignorance,
Allowed as they debate their fate!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Process continues
All the eggs don’t hatch.
All the seeds don’t burst.
All the loves don’t spark.
Yet the process continues.
All the chicks don’t live.
All the sprouts don’t grow.
All the loves don’t bloom.
But the process continues.
Pest takes toll of the siblings.
Drought takes the toll of the seedlings.
Fate stalls many loves in making.
Still the process continues.
The process spurts the hope.
The process spurs the heart.
The process thrills the senses.
Evolution, thus, continues.
03.10.2000, Pkmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ubiquitous
Being one who observes is a benefit.
Life is to be experienced and adventured,
To gain insight.
Many express no wish to stretch.
Finding a comfort in a daily sameness.
A routine that flows in a rotation.
And this for them is the best.
Being everywhere is also ridiculous.
Is it?
Is the mind 'that' tremendous?
Is it possible to comprehend,
From ubiquitous activities that see no end?
Those who achieve knowledge and wisdom,
From travels they mention...
Seem to be aware of everything.
And this is what experiencing means and brings.
At least lives and possibilities are being explored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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New Poem for J
Poetry Still is my Love, and Song is She,
Glowing heart-bright,
Shining golden-bronze,
So close to where we started,
So long since our beginnings.
That she still loves Is my greatest wonder,
That we hold fast is my constant joy.
Sorrows and giggles,
Hugs and pains we've shared.
Dreams and fears,
Gaiety and doldrums, too.
Still we look forward,
almost always forward, never straight ;)
Times change, and Places change,
Faiths change, and Faces change,
Minds change and Lives change.
'Le plus que ca change...'
But this is unchanging: Song is my Love, and Poetry is she.
rewritten 3/27/03
poem by Gabrielle Ciarann Roniyah Baer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Were Right. I Now Take My Flight! C-YA!
My purpose is not to focus on,
What isn't.
For a minimizing of that which is in my life,
That 'is'.
Why should I continue,
To maximize the obvious.
When reactions have been unanimous,
That part of their lives they have chosen not to fix.
Arguments have been presented.
Claims of blame have defamed and shamed.
Those who have had no discipline within them,
Now voice their self righteousness!
As if they have spent a life committed,
Uplifting the minds of those dimwitted.
A rehabilitation done behind bars...
Does not a perfected society make.
Especially if those have sacrificed their lives,
Time and minds...
To have been demeaned by those,
Who have now found GOD.
After spending years wearing,
Government issued prison clothes!
'THIS 'fix' you believe should be turned around quick,
Has been a result of your involvement that created it! '
My purpose is not to focus on,
What isn't.
For a minimizing of that which is in my life,
That 'is'.
I've earned my peace of mind.
And any happiness I have found in it.
Your fear of accountability,
Has been your gift given...
To those you now want to ridicule and preach!
And I remember you telling me,
My methods were out of touch.
You were right.
I now take my flight!
C-YA!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem Composed On The Toilet
what great gifts may come
from but a brief sit down
ideas illuminating are not
bound in time and space
limited to places of import
or limited to auspicious occasions
ideas are conceived even in
stolen moments insignificant spaces
no this poem was got you not
composed on the needed toilet
process of attending to details
dots required mental facilities
a classical statute the thinker
an example of muddled thought
boxing through aged difficulties
toilet was red herring time out
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Some Things Done And Delivered
I am sure I have not been the only contributor,
To neither conceive a receiving of flattery...
From contributions presented,
Will obtain a following blissed by this.
Hopefully there is a comprehension established,
By those mature of mind understanding what it takes...
To develop this process they of a consciousness embrace.
But there will always be the ones with beliefs,
Some with a focused determination...
Are not serious in the production of their creativity.
And they will find a way to waste lots of time,
With a choosing to introduce a game playing of minds.
To manipulate attitudes to prove themselves...
Judge and jury of one's thought process too!
However...
A messenger only delivers a message.
And this may be confusing,
To those who take matters in their limited hands.
Perceiving messengers are at their disposal,
To abuse them as if to pursue an undoing.
And from them command with a demanding.
But needless to say,
Some things done and delivered as they come...
Should be accepted and not chased away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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An Exchanging Of Footsteps
Could it still be a possibility,
That one's life lived exclusively...
Running away from responsibility,
Can learn after many years spent...
Ignoring the benefits obtained,
In acquiring skills in arithmetic.
Or the process it takes to comprehend,
What has been read to broaden a limitation...
Accepted in one's head instead,
To begin to attach those pieces that fit.
And they eventually could sit patiently,
With a doing of this?
Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!
Many dismissing the discipline it takes,
To quietly absorb a practice in listening...
Actually wait until it's too late,
To find someone desiring to teach an adult...
To undo those childish stunts in a mind done.
Even children in their fifties can learn!
Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!
A willingness to waste another's time,
Is okay.
Until it has become decided,
Someone's seriousness is ready to be displayed.
And...
Is reason enough to give away,
Those experiences acquired by someone else.
And we all can participate in the joys of life.
Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!
There are people all over the place,
Willing to sacrifice their time, minds and efforts...
With their experiences suffered alone to condone,
In an exchanging of footsteps!
All it takes...
Is just for 'one' of us to let this be known.
Let us not be quick,
To lift with a raising up of our right eyebrows!
Let us, you and me...and Mother Love,
Just for a few moments abandon realities!
And...
Use our minds to perceive of this,
Idealistically.
'Yep!
Didn't I tell you?
They were doing much more,
Than the changing of test scores...
In the teacher's lounge.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Vast Times And Vast Spaces
VAST TIMES AND VAST SPACES
Vast times and vast spaces
Preceded our being here
Vast times and vast spaces
Will be should we disappear-
Yet our hearts tell us
A revelation from God we be-
And wherever the Universe takes us
We’ll go on for Infinity.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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All That Is Regarded Foolishness
With experiences lived.
And an aging process accepted,
One realizes upon reflection...
How much easier it is to judge.
Than it is to self-examine.
Not many are fortunate to survive,
Through life threatening diseases.
To then step aside with their eyes open wide,
With a freeing of themselves from insecurities left...
Hidden deep inside to confront and rid.
With experiences lived.
And an aging process accepted,
One realizes upon reflection...
How much easier it is to judge.
Than it is to self-examine.
But when that moment in time comes,
An accepting of one's flaws and blemishes are done.
With a leaving behind trivial nonsense.
And all that is regarded as foolishness,
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
Yesterday and those mistakes made,
And all that is regarded as foolishness...
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
Wishing for excuses and alibis to create,
Becomes less tolerated to quickly dismiss.
And all that is regarded as foolishness disappears.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Fearing The Honesty
Endorsing the enforcement of safe stereotypes,
On the minds of those between identities...
Often appeases the ones,
Seeking acceptance and approval.
And others who are comfortable,
Being stuck as if glued to their given places.
To prove themselves worthy of the labels given.
And preferring to stay oppressed.
Fearing the honesty to be who they are.
With a wish of this to remain quietly unaddressed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Gate
(m.cretu.)
.
Closest approach to earth
34,600,000 miles
Mean distance from the sun
141,600,000 miles
Period of rotation around the sun
1.88089 years
Sidereal rotation period
24 hours,37 minutes, 22.66 seconds
Mean surface atmospheric temperature
-23 degrees
Visual albedo
0.159
Pole star bd 52
Degrees 2880
Official magnitude at opposition
-2.01
Mass
0.01017
Density
3.5
Latin
O fortuna
Velut luna
Statu variabilis,
(translation:
O fortune
Like the moon
You are changeable, )
Diameter
0.532
Inclination for equator
24.936 degrees
Gravitational escape velocity
3121 miles per hour
Inclination from equator
Notes: the lyrics corrected by sean c shepard
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Preferring Nostalgic Glances
Trapped to rehearse and perfect practices,
To satisfy a doing with a purpose unclear.
Since the doing in an atmosphere,
Has made such practices...
Scrutinized to be questioned,
By those unsure of a reason that fades.
Yet a fearing to let them go,
To welcome an unknown left unexplained...
Makes for the necessity of changes,
A process of growth...
Too foreign to fathom.
And too complex,
For those preferring nostalgic glances,
With demands for them to come alive...
Repeatedly before their accepting eyes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grim and Stuck On Their Knees
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Too many people with weak souls.
They are the ones claiming to know...
How others should go about their days,
And pray.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
Seekers wishing to be equal.
But complain about their troubles,
And evils they face all day.
Seen running to be hidden in shadows.
Running from realities they choose not to believe.
Desperate are the lives of these people.
Sharing as seen their half filled cups...
With others they seek,
Like them who have given up!
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
Grim...
And stuck on their knees.
They see themselves with bad luck.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
Afraid to get out of ruts.
They want their boats re-ruddered.
Grim and stuck on their knees.
They want them sugar buttered.
Grim and stuck on their knees...
They seek a life that's other than the one 'not' cookie cutter.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I've learned over the years that it doesn't matter where you pitch in the rotation. For me, preparation is everything.
quote by Cory Lidle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Ever
We are not strangers
Could we have met some place before
Am I in danger of myself
You're like a magnet
You pull me right across the room
It's like were thinking out loud
I can feel an unexplained connection
I can feel your undivided attention
I know that you're with somebody else
But I do
Feel like I have loved you
In another place and time
If it's true
Then I'll be waiting for you
If you ever change your mind
Let me change your mind
You leave me breathless
While sweet seduction takes a hold
You lied to everybody else
I can feel an unexplained connection
I can feel your undivided attention
I know that we have to say good bye
But I do
Feel like I have loved you
In another place and time
If it's true
Then I'll be waiting for you
If you ever change your mind
If you ever change your mind
If you ever realise
That it's me you want in your life
You know where to find me
If you ever change your mind
Yeah
song performed by by Tina Arena from Just Me
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Spending Of Their Time
People who do not appreciate,
Their blessed lives.
Or those equally blessed,
God places into their lives.
Hopefully,
They will come to eventually realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In the spending of their time.
Hopefully,
They will come to realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In their blinded minds.
No one can be all-knowing,
If one has never been alone.
Or have been on their own...
To know the true meaning of self-evaluation.
Or value emotional devastation.
If one has not,
Opened up that lock.
If no one takes the time to stop,
To take 'inventory' of their stock...
That seems for them to never come,
With a dropping of a blocking...
That stuns and shocks.
They will never know,
How this affects and hurts one so!
Those me-me, I-I activities...
Isolates the mind.
Sickens the body.
And darkens a lost soul.
People who do not appreciate,
Their blessed lives.
Or those equally blessed,
God places into their lives...
Hopefully,
They will come to eventually realize...
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In the spending of their time.
There is an ungrateful self-centeredness,
In their blinded minds.
And...
In time,
When they are left confined...
Behind.
With no one concerned...
What it is in their lives,
Or on their minds.
They will come to learn to yearn!
In the spending of,
Their time.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The rotation of the polarization plane is extraordinarily small in all gases, thus also in sodium vapour.
quote by Pieter Zeeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those...Inequities!
There is a rush...
To correct, silence and hush,
Those...inequities!
Those injustices left to leave,
The ones thought and believed...
To be dispensible.
The ones who displayed,
No apparent influence.
Those who are now seen...
To have had appropriate insight.
But disregarded and demeaned.
There is a rush...
To correct, silence and hush,
Those...inequities!
And yet...
The power to do that effectively,
Would entail the power...
To change the rotation of the Earth.
To rename the Sun and the Moon.
And the time of one's birth.
With a claiming that all misdeeds done...
Were not planted to ruin anyone's life.
What a wasted intention...
If this was meant,
As a means to undermine one's sacrifice.
But these acts directed,
Were merely enacted...
To invite them to have more fun!
And this...
Was a miscalculation,
Of an understanding.
Left to go misunderstood and unexplained.
But 'hopefully'...
Now,
Comprehended!
With a forgiveness that can be given.
With a forgetting that is transcended.
And those hidden crossed fingers...
One hides,
But yet to be discovered.
To be painfully broken or bent!
Or...
Severed in acts of revenge.
If that is one's druthers to ensure the other...
Comprehension for all can now begin!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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