It Took Awhile

I'm not trying to be Maya,
Or better her best being Miss Angelou.
Or digest Langston's treasures...
To outdo the views of Mister Hughes.
But poets who can show emotions,
With insights known isn't easy to pursue.

These are the ones,
Who can do it making sense.
Inspirations they are...
With a knack to pen a clarity,
Once covered and thickly dense.

I am not trying to be a James Baldwin,
Or write the way an August Wilson can.
Or Tyler Perry...
Or a Robert Frost!
But like most writers who do write well,
Some are oft times 'on'
And most times 'off'!

A Stephen King I couldn't touch...
He's too much in deep mystery!
And Imamu Baraka is so totally profound.
I remember meeting him,
When LeRoi Jones had me spellbound!

I like things that motivate.
That keeps a process strong!
I like the fact that I'm aware of Nature...
And the 'rights' of human beings,
Who have been 'wronged'.

I can sing and rejoice...
And love the sounds of other voices!
All day long,
If that is my choice.

It took me a while to read Lawrence.
I read Larry too long...
And he got in my way!
Today I say it,
With words I can only say.
And like the others mentioned here...
It is clear what was said remains,
In our minds to stay.
With messages that sustains! !

Yes...
It took awhile for me to read Lawrence.
Reading him is not as easy,
Since he reflects these times that change!
And depicting them quick before they slip...
To fade...
In a World where attentions
Are focused just for minutes..
Then in seconds drift away!

It took awhile to read Lawrence.
A task I asked for with uncertainty...
But with certainty I've stayed,
And have learned to embrace him,
With double entendres...
Ambiguously delivered.
In my aging days!

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It, Is...Not!

I am not surprised when I hear,
That many readers do not write.
Nor am I shocked,
To learn those who write...
Do that day and night.

Those who make requests,
For other writers to read their 'stuff'...
Seek approval and acceptance.
But when does that get to become too much?

I've said this so many times and I'll say it again,
When one creates from their own inspiration...
A commitment to just 'that',
Provides a lifelong motivation and a loyalty unmatched.

When one writer becomes offended,
By another who is experienced.
Has not yet comprehended the time involved,
To produce from one's mind...
That another perceives is easily invented.

It,
Is...
Not!

If I ever got a letter,
From Maya, Edgar or Langston Hughes...
I'd be shocked by that!
Believing they would have nothing else to do,
But read Shakespeare, Robert Frost, Emily Dickenson.
And...
Well,
My work too.

It,
Is...
Not easy.
This writing business.

Especially when one seeks,
To be critiqued.
And upon request.

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A Love To Read

Is it a misconception,
That writers read...
Other writers' works?

Or reads extensively at all?

Afterall...
When would a true writer,
Find time to get that done...
If one has a love to read?

And...
I am not that one to say,
A reading AND a writing done...
Is an impossibility.
Because I read what I write often.
Regularly and on a daily basis.

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My Education

At school I sometimes read a book,
And learned a lot of lessons;
Some small amount of pains I took,
And showed much acquiescence
In what my masters said, good men!
Yet after all I quite
Forgot the most of it: but then
I learned to write.

At Lincoln's Inn I'd read a brief,
Abstract a title, study
Great paper-piles, beyond belief
Inelegant and muddy:
The whole of these as time went by
I soon forgot: indeed
I tried to: yes: but by and by
I learned to read.

By help of Latin, Greek and Law
I now can write and read too:
Then perish each forgotten saw,
Each fact I do not need too:
But still whichever way I turn
At one sad task I stick:
I fear that I shall never learn
Arithmetic.

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Not a Publisher or Critic

When I am writing,
That is what I do.
I am not reading.
And those few times I read...
I read what I choose and like!
That's just a fact of my life!

Call it what you will.
But that it is the deal!

I am not a publisher or critic.
Or a teacher with a mind,
That is scientific.

If that's not accepted...
Fine!
Neither one of us,
Have to live with it.
I know I don't.
And I won't discuss,
How I spend my time.

Especially when I have the mind,
To write!
And I have obligated myself to do that,
When the time finds me constantly...
Making that obsession I have to do it right.

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Fixed Within It and Will Not Leave

The thought of it is easy to read.
That is the intent.
As if it had been concieved.
And for you meant,
To exist and breathe.

Had it not been composed...
None of it you would believe.
And that is why each word of this...
Has been selected,
For you to digest.
Think about it and re-read!

And while you are doing that...
Think of it as something you thought easy,
To read.
Then think of it as something nonexisting.
You can't can you.
Because this was given life to breathe.

And each time it is read...
It is in your head!
Fixed within it and will not leave!
And your thought of it at first was easy.
Why should that be?
When I took my time to insure you'd be pleased.

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Wing Pages Of The Butterfly

at the nursery
while people
are at purchase
and at transactions
a blue butterfly
comes by
and opens its pages to me
swift and quick
and it says to me:
'Read! Read!
Read my pages! '


'I can’t read, '
I say,
amused
at this brash butterfly

'Read and write!
Read and write
about me,
and all flitting butterflies
Read
and write, you silly! '
it commands

And so I read
and I copy
and these are the words
the words from those
pages
the butterfly
holds up to me

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I Would Like It Better If

If I wrote to be liked,
I would not be read.
And I do like that some read,
What I write!
But I would like it better,
If I was fed...
By what it is I've said that is written...
And read by those who read what I wrote!
Finding a nibble to afford,
Liked And nourishes...
To feed the reader something read,
Coming from this writer's head!

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Did You Understand It?

You've written something with several typographical errors.
And I question the correctness of your language usage.
Plus it had been written in mixed tenses.
I read it more than once.
And after the third reading it finally dawned on me,
You may have done this intentionally.

'Did you understand it?
What it was I tried to do? '

I'm not sure.

'How would you critique it? '

I don't know if I can.

'And you read it three times? '

At least.

'Why should I bother to correct it?
If 'you' read something I wrote...
THREE times?
And you have never expressed any interest before?
In anything I've ever done?
Why should I correct it?

This is the first time you and I have communicated,
In years.
Who knew...
All it took was a few errors,
To get you to give me what I have been wanting.

Here...
Read this! '

Your first and third lines rhyme.
But the rest of it...
Well,
I think this is a bunch of garbage.

'Thank you.
And all this time,
You had me believing...
You didn't care.'

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I Read and Reread/ The Poets I Love

I READ AND REREAD/ THE POETS I LOVE

I read and reread
The poets I love-
I seek new poets
To love poetry more with-

I write my own small poems
And read them again occasionally-
Sometimes I find in them lines
I want to return to
And remember.

If only I could be such a stranger to myself
That I in reading a poem of my own
Would know it belongs to Literature.

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That's What A Growing Does

Long before I met you,
I was introduced to myself first.
And that meeting took awhile,
Before I felt a clarity.

With a clarity noticed I wanted to know.
And to let go of that which I did not need.

Now with clarity and identity intact,
I can understand...
Why today you say I've changed.
I have learned that's what a growing does.

And I hope that growth continues to show.
With a letting go of that which my mind does not feed.

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Primary Education

Read
Reading will let you know many things
Reading is a good habit.
(Read)

Write
Writing will convey your message
Day and night.
(Write)

Paint
Painting is a way to express your thought
Paint even if you are a saint.
(Paint)

Sing
Singing is a way to express emotions
Let singing be your engagement ring.
(Sing)

Dance
Dancing will wipe out your pain
So don’t miss the chance.
(Dance)

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Letters I Didn't Write

I wish you could have read…
The Letters
that I failed to write

I wish you could have felt the touch…
Of hands that failed to
reach out at night

Would’ve liked for you
to have heard…
Words I couldn’t say

Would’ve liked to have felt
The emotions missed…
When I failed to ask you to stay

What you didn’t feel…
When you didn’t hear …
The words I didn’t say

I wish you could have
At least…Felt the love
That you didn’t feel that day

I wish you could’ve known …
The feelings
that I didn’t show

The words I couldn’t bring to light
And tell you
Long ago

I wish somehow,
you could know now
Of things you knew not then

Of words I didn’t say or write
Of touch, or love
Of things... that might have been

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Read Me Like a Book

You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You will find each piece to fit.
Very little of it will be misunderstood.

I am not a one dimensional quick read at all.
I lay it on the line.
You will find I wont allow anyone,
To sit and pick my mind.
I don't waste that kind of time.
Unless,
Of course...
You are divorced from that as well?
Hmmm...

You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
You have no idea how much I wish,
To get you hooked.
Craving to salivate.
Drooling!

Each chapter has been crafted,
With some sentiment and pain.
You will find some sorrow and regret.
And some expression of heartache left.

You will discover blemishes and flaws,
With attempts to have them corrected.
Notice I admit imperfection...
With self reflection I don't neglect.
Or regret it is you I wish to impress.

No games of tit for tat I play.
I say what I mean.
Not what you wish to hear me say.
And none of it is from mumbled lips.
I want each word read you 'read' conveyed!
I want what I say in your mind to stay.

You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
But you will never comprehend...
How long this process took.

Flip through each page,
As if you seek definition.
You will discover I am not perfect.
But freed by a peace...
To solict your complete and total admission.
Willing to show you mended scars.

You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
I knew you were coming!
That's why it is already open.
Take your time.
I want you to find me an easy read.
Hopefully to collaborate on new chapters.
Together,
You and me.

You wish to read me like a book?
Good.
Take me with your eyes.
Hold me in your hands.
And bring me close to your heart!

There we are.
Touching!
That's how I like it.
Do you?

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The New World

The gift and the curse
With this I'm spreading all my messages to the world.
One then the next
Another new pretext.
A systematic absorption through what I read.
Ideas all my own
A conversation with whole world at the same time.
Intriguing this must be to great minds
Imagine Edgar Allan Poe was living today
What would he write about?
Who would he talk too?
Would it be you?
Would it me?
Are you starting to see?
The great minds of the time stand before you.
People all over the world sharing in intellect.
Conversation with people twenty messages long.
This is the new world of the great poets, writers, and authors all rolled into one.

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When You Read Me

When you read me...
Look into my eyes.
There you will find my heart.
And my soul...
You will discover,
Exposed!
When you read me.

When you read me...
Feel me deep and come closer.
I want my breath,
To heat upon your neck.
I want to lick the nape of it.
And I wish my lips for you to possess.

And when you read me,
Trembling in my arms to hold.
You would know then,
I am...
To be taken quite seriously.
When you read me...
Your hunger and desire,
Will be fed to throb for more and more.
In an approval,
That will bait to keep you hooked!

When you read me,
You will know...
I am like no other!

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Before the Rage Is Craved

It is not with content,
One of notoriety first succeeds.
It is with a marketing of popularity,
That is achieved.
Most times after a presence leaves.

There are some like The Beatles,
Who arrived with a look.
Elvis swiveled his hips!
And Michael did that...
With dance steps and music hooks.

A few poets like Maya and Langston Hughes,
Are gifted in ways other writers attempt to display.
Plagiarize and abuse.

But content alone is not comprehended and known.
Until time allows those to digest...
What at first had been rejected.
And acceptance sometimes,
Occurs through negligence.
Before the rage is craved!
And people are amazed what they discover,
Under their noses.

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To Read And Read Again

TO READ AND READ AGAIN

To read and to read again
And to be left empty
By the abundance of words
Whose meanings multiplication
Erases all sense
Of their coherence
And our understanding.

To read and read again
As if in this pretence of learning
Salvation will come
To read and read again
And be forever dumb.


.

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Read A Book

Und wenn ich einen Wunsch frei htte
Ich wnschte wrden wir verstehen
Alle Schatten hinter uns lassen
nur weies Licht vor uns zu sehen
No hate, no fight hearts killing
I wish no trouble anymore
There's nothing more to tell about
There's nothing left to be decided
Just read a book
So, read a book about love (reaching love)
Read a book, read a book about love
Und wenn du einen Wunsch frei httest
Ich wnschte, wrdest du verstehen
Nur weies Licht vor uns zu sehen
And if we just should be together
oh, we could feel so warm an tight
All we need is only two of us
to show the world that we've decided to
read a book
to read a book about love (reaching love) ...
Take a look about yesterday
I guess you know
that you're here to stay
Read a book, ...
Read a book, read a book about love (rep many times)
Read a book, ... (rep till fade)

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Law Of Diminishing Return

in this new on line age
interconnected
interlinked sites
networks websites age

in this new on line age
computer talk talk
click click open read
on line easy accesses means

a new poem a budding poet
only a quick click click away
anywhere in the world in fast
moving computer based world

feedback can be instantaneous
log on site read reply comment
even score the poem grade easy
seek fellow poet comment reply

favour reciprocated communal
friendships established interests
alined stress mutual point of view
new pet poet often read in entirety

yet new law of diminishing return
exists; easily read one or two even
twenty or thirty but not sixty ninety
two hundred to four hundred more?

now your in serious reading well past
short story territory; your in novella; to
novel range; a whole new landscape a
country of vast dimensions not a quick

read; traditional poetry pleasure; swiftly
scanned lines; read at fast leisure pace;
even some poets; lack stamina; for long
insightful complex read; less read works

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If I Offend, So Be It

If I offend...
So be it!

I am not here,
To be the 'next' James Baldwin.
Or follow in the footsteps,
Of Langston Hughes.
The shoes I wear are quite comfortable.
And the path I walk upon,
Has not already been paved.
That is the task that has be laid before me.
To do that myself!

If I offend...
So be it!

I am not living my life intending to be anyone else,
Than who I am.
I am the first Lawrence S. Pertillar.
And make no mistake about it...
I will be acknowledged,
For the life I've lived.

If I offend...
So be it!

I just know who it is I am.
And I am not who I am because I seek to get paid for it!
Like most folks lost and deluded,
By the meaning of 'identity'.
I've been blessed and I am grateful...
To have a dignity as well.

And 'if' I offend...
So be it!
There's so many others,
Who have minds associated with making a quick buck.
And people like that...
Are indoctrinated with corrupted agendas!

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