En.Citatepedia^®.ro

I've Done the Best I Can So You Can Do That Better

Beneath the tree
That falling leaves descended from,
I stand.
Thinking of the changes,
I have experienced being the man I am.

'She is now called 'Mama'!
Ma! Or Ms Mimmie'.
When she's with her children...
And grandchildren too!

And I look up above me to witness the branches.
The twigs!
And the wonder of the tree...
All of this ascends from!
'Matriarch she is! ', I think with no doubt.

And the birds, squirrels and all that come to visit,
Are always welcomed

And I wonder if anyone wonders...
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
How can this be done?
And by whom?
We all can't be vacant with a disconnected fate!
'Something' is planned by the doing in all of this!
'Something' is in control and knows everything that sits...
Within and 'out' of our midst.
'Something' about this most people miss.

'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
And we are God's experiment!
And my 'sisters' were born to nourish the flourishment.
And I can see...
Looking at 'this' tree before me I inspect.
And 'It' observes...knowing!
Encouraging those after birth and going...
After growing up,
With a gentle toughness that is meant.
'I've done the best I can so you can do that better.'

Dedicated:
To my sister Andrea. Mim, Mimmie and MimmieD
'You have 'eight' grandchildren? EIGHT? How, Mimmie? '
Where was I when all of this happened?
And Tammy and Lisa? ? Naw. No way, yo?
You can 'not' be in your 'fffffffffffffaaug. Getting 'more'
mature. Geeeessshhh. HOW do you all get so much older
than me? Overnight it seems.
LOL

Love you,
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Give Me Mimmie

Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

She 'may' have a flaw.
Not too many I have seen.
She's my oldest 'and' younger sister.
And when she whips her dander up...
Watch out!
She can let off some steam.

A jewel, a star...
A bright light shining.
Never to complain,
She refrains from whining.
Wife, mother and devoted grandmother too.
She says she has retired!
But from what?
She's 'so' busy.
She's always finding something to do!

Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

She's funny when she says she is going to relax.
By preparing a meal for fifty or more people...
For some function at her church,
Where she is very active at!

She doesn't hesitate,
To express the wisdom that she has.
It's sharp and quite clear,
To whomever it is passed.
And she entertains with humor.
When she jokes,
You are going to laugh.
She's quite accomplished...
Undertaking several task!

Yes...
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

Dedicated to:
My sister Andrea Doreen 'Mimmie' Pertillar Dixon

'Love you, young lady! '
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queen of What Is Right

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

No one,
Not even me...
Can argue with Mimmie D.
She is seldom wrong!
So prepare to take a hike.

She's quite talented and gifted.
And seems to never rest.
She makes things look too easy.
Even her children, Shayla and Landry...
Often find time with her protest.
But Mimmie is quite a special person!
And yes, I can say this...
It is true,
She knows what is best.

She knows how to dress with style and grace.
When she cooks a meal,
I've witness people stuff their faces.
Everything she touches,
Has a quality to it.
And she's the first on the scene,
When family, friends and those she loves get sick!

Did I tell you she was a nurse?
When she was just a child...
Healing the 'universe' she use to rehearse.
She tried to practice her skills on me!
But I had to remind her...
I was the one born first!

'Mahhhh...
Will you tell Mimmie to leave me alone.
She's trying to tell me what to say.
When I get on the telephone! '

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

Yes, we had our arguments.
And yes we had our childish fights.

But on September 10th two thousand and nine,
My little sister will be sixty.
And it is hard to believe,
Without me...
She has done quite fine.

But sometimes I wonder about her husband AL.
After thirty six years of wedded bliss with sister Mim...
He seems to get better as he ages with her.
And not showing one sign,
He is out of his mind!
There has to be 'something' WRONG with THEM.

Two peas in the same pod.
The love they have for each other,
Today...
IS quite odd!

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

And I love her dearly with all my heart!
Since Andrea and me,
Are both alike.

'Mahhhh...
will you tell LArry to leave me alone.
And mine his own business,
When I talk on the telephone! '

Dedicated to my sister,
Andrea 'Mimmie' Doreen Pertillar Dixon.
In celebration of her 60th birthday.
September 10th 2009.

'I love you, Mimmie.'

Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Heffa

'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '

My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.

'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!

I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?

'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '

I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?

Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'

Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?

My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!

I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!

And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!

I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!

Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!

'Right, fellas'?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Competition

Competition?
I don't like it,
When no one else is involved!
And opponents?
They are becoming rare these days!
Myself?
I'm my worse competitor!
I am never satisfied,
Unless I'm looking for challenges!
My sisters...
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
They did this to me!
They make me 'sick' with their brilliance!
But,
I will never let them know that.
They will want to raise the bar!
As if this is some contest of some kind.
And it ain't!
I am too grown for that!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We Prefer 'Butter' Beans

What do I contribute to my being tenacious?
A dislike for lima beans.
It seems as if my sister, Mimmie, and I...
Ate them everyday.
And my mother would say to us...
'Be thankful for what you've got.
Some people aren't even eating that.'
To say to us...
Times then were 'meager'.
'So eat and shut up.'

Well,
That was many years ago.
Long before my younger sisters, Tammy and Lisa...
Acquired a craving for those weekly 'Grinder' sandwiches,
Our dad would buy for them.
And they would cling onto them as if they possessed,
Fort Knox.
And Tammy would look at me,
As 'if' I had better not...
Ask for a piece to taste.
She's the one most opionated.

To this very day,
My sister, Mim and I can not stand lima beans!
But...
For some reason,
We prefer 'butter' beans.
And...
You can not tell us,
They are the same thing as those 'limas'.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All Alone

SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
HER CHILDREN GROWN
WITH FAMILY OF THEIR OWN
SHE WONDERS WHAT HAPPEN
CHILDREN ALL OF THREE
THEY HAVE GROWN LIKE FRUIT UPON THE TREES
GRANDCHILDREN SHE HAS SIX
GETTING HARDER TO REMEMBER THEIR NAMES
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
NO ONE COMES TO VISIT
HER GRANDCHILDREN DOESN, T KNOW HER
HER CHILDREN HAS FORSAKEN HER
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE LOVED HER CHILDREN DEARLY
WANTED NOTHING BUT THE BEST
WORKED HARD AND WENT WITHOUT
HER CHILDREN SHE WOULD DIE FOR
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE AROUND HER
LIKE ALL MOTHERS DO
GET TOGETHERS ON SUNDAYS
SEE A MOVIE OR TWO
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE REEKS HER BRAIN
WONDERS WHAT DID SHE EVER DO
TO GET SUCH COLD TREATMENT
FROM THE BABIES SHE ONCE KNEW
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
THE ANGELS CAME AND CARRIED HER HOME

poem by Verna Ralph
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Where's Daddy?

My mother and I were close.
And had a unique relationship.
People thought I was a mama's boy.
And I didn't mind.
Since both my mother and I,
Would laugh when we discussed this.

I remember talking before I could walk.
And when we were out together publicly,
She would say to me...
'Please Larry, do not say one word.
I don't want anyone staring at you.'
~You mean like daddy does? ~
'Exactly.'

And when I got older,
When my sister Mimmie was born...
I use to ask my mother,
~Why is she so quiet? ~
'Give her time.
She's only a few months old.'

And...
When she did get older,
And we'd all be out in public...
My mother not once told her,
To be quiet.
I tried.
But she never listened to me.
And my father?
He would just stare at us in disbelief.

~Ma?
Where's daddy? ~
'Who knows? '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moments of Their Mourning

The biggest honor you can bestow,
On someone deceased.
Is to participate,
If asked to speak...
During their homegoing service.

You may not believe,
You have this skill or ability!
But someone saw it in you.
That's why you were approached...
To deliver inspiration.
Only in the way that you can do.

Bringing somewhat of a closure,
To those in heartbreak exposing grief.
Your words will lift them up and away...
And relieve them from their agony.

With an effectiveness,
That can and will assist...
To bring them in memory,
Of those happy times that existed.
And it was felt,
That only you would be able to do this...
To ease them during this period,
In which loved ones are certain to mourn.

And you need to be there...
Aware and sharing,
In moments of their mourning.

Dedicated to...
My sister Andrea (Mimmie) D. Pertillar Dixon.

These words were spoken to her daughter Shayla,
My niece.
Who felt she could not speak,
During a funeral in 'celebrating' the life...
And not the death of a close friend.

'Mimmie? What can I say?
I 'had' to lift this conversation.
I hope you realize how great your comments made
to Shayla, inspired me as well.
I may be biased!
However...
You are one terrific person.
I may be one of the writers in the family.
But...
You sure know how to deliver the right words.
And at the right time and place.'

Love you,
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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One and Of All

Thank You,
Almighty!
I've come to give You
The Praise!
I've come to You focused...
Dear God.
Quiet and subdued,
To ask of You
For a complete release.
From the craving that has crazed,
Those of the flesh...
And of wicked ways.

I've come to You wishing,
And wanting an uplift in consciousness.
To raise higher in my mind...
A rising devotion,
And happiness that is mine!

Knowing without You,
Inside of me stirring my soul...
My life has no dropp of wholesomeness.
None 'that' I should maintain.
None 'that' must remain I should hold!
Without You!

And...
I thank You,
Almighty,
For 'all' and everything.
From the appearance of dew...
Misting the dawning of morning Sun.
To the glistening of those rays,
Reflected...
On the surface of the Moon,
When night comes.
To enhance Your stay,
Father.

And the stars twinkling in the Heavens,
Sparkling from Cosmic light!
This is what I witness.
This delights my appetite.

And I thank You Almighty!
For this life...
This life given.
To adventure and explore this 'gift'
Only You have manifested...
And allowed me to feel blessed with!

Thank You,
Almighty!
Keeper and Giver of 'this' experience!
The One and of All.
And 'here' in me to express...
Such gratefulness,
I wish to give!
Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall!

And so honored I am to confess,
I recognize Your Angels sent...
To ensure that I do for You,
Always pursuing I will,
My best!

Thank You,
Almighty!
I've come to give You
The Praise!
I come and welcome this bliss with You.
Knowing someday,
Eternity with You...
I will come to stay!

Dedicated:
To my wonderful sister...
Mrs. Andrea Doreen ('Mimmie') Pertillar Dixon
Wife, Mother, Grandmother and Friend!
Gifted. Wise. And...'Stubborn'...LOL

'Love you, Mimmie'
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Three Sisters

I have three sisters.
Each I adore.
With seperate aggressions,
Too tiring to explore.

Dynamic they are.
With a creative genius.
Brilliant and humorous...
They truly represent Venus.

Me?
I am Mars.
I know I am 'out there'.
My dad was too!
But his attention,
Was on them like glue.
And 'stuck' he was.
Like a bee caught in a jar.

To be dehoneyed!

Especially the younger two.
Who got him to do anything.
And this I observed...
When learning how women can 'sting'.
Especially when expectations,
Were limiting.

Sometimes my mom and I,
Would look at each other and smile.
She knew too well I was an outsider.
When my sisters decided,
To inflict their 'styles'.
And each of them were respectfully different.

I have three sisters.
Each I adore.
With seperate aggressions,
Too tiring to explore.

And if I had a brother,
I know he'd run away.
Since I tried that myself.
But I am hooked to their 'allure'.
And that's how it has been,
To this very day.

I have three sisters,
Very wise...
And quick with wit.
So proud I am they are who they are.
I have no choice.
Since I'm sure they wouldn't have it,
Any other way.

'Women!
To love them is to...
Well,
Love them.'

Dedicated to:
Mimmie 'D', Tammy and Lisa

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I have never experienced being madly in love the way most people seem to have been, although it is not something I would miss. Instead I have had an enormous ability to love my children and my grandchildren and my great grandchildren.

quote by Astrid Lindgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Almond Tree

This snowy cold December morning
the pen
is full of almond branches, leaves
and black gnarled twigs covered
with white blossoms
the scent of that tree is intoxicating
for here on the real earth,
such trees do not ripen,
nor bear the fruit of that tree.

As children our first movement is to sing joyous songs,
innocent voices, filling mountains and dales with arias.
As adults our first movement is toward joy,
yet we give it away, venting full expression
to a gloomy tho not unfamiliar view of life.
once delighted with the world as children
now the world is in a tangle,
for opened eyes have seen only the glow of fires,
massacres, injustices, humiliations,
and the unrelenting shame
of braggarts and despots.

I look at the pen, it's branches, twigs, leaves
now covered, with cherry blossoms
and breathe in the intoxicating scent of that tree
knowing full well such a tree does not grow in dirt
nor can humanity cut down that tree.

That tree does not desire to save
nations or people
heal the sick,
raise the dead,
connive with politicians,
nor change drunkards and fools
with songs of hope...

The only goal is this, only this
that I see and smell the almond tree,
learn to look with love,
heal this heart,
without knowing from various ills-
for that almond tree says to me: Friend
stand in the glow of ripeness with me
not knowing what purpose served.

Through worm filled tufts
in that sweet garden
that almond tree raises it's eyes
and every blossom
enjoys the air it breathes

poem by Liberatore Suffoletta
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Under The Laburnum Tree

(A simple tale)

Under the Laburnum tree
She saw his gentle face
Under the Laburnum tree
She knew their first embrace

Under the Laburnum tree
She gave to him her love
Under the Laburnum tree
Beneath the stars above

Under the Laburnum tree
He left her there to cry
Under the Laburnum tree
That`s where she chose to die

(Under the Laburnum tree
Were scattered all its seeds
Under the Laburnum tree
Amongst the growing weeds)

Under the Laburnum tree
The moon was shining bright
Under the Laburnum tree
Her silv`ry soul took flight

Under the Laburnum tree
At last she was set free
Under the Laburnum tree
She found eternity

poem by Valerie Dohren
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Sonnet – Don’t Be

Don't be the fallen leaves, so young and green;
Don't be the buds that never can flower;
Don't be the twigs that always remain lean;
Don't be the flow'rs that dropp with each shower.

Don't be the branches growing very long;
Don't be the tree that never blooms at all;
Don’t be the nests that disallow Bird-song;
Don't be the fruits that hit the Earth by Fall.

Don't be the trunk hollowed by Birds, white-Ants;
Don't be the crown that can't get Sun or Rain;
Don't be the tree that grows not straight but slants;
Don't be the roots that prop the tree in vain.

Don't be the tree that grows on marshy-land;
Just be a tree secure in Maker's Hand.

poem by John Celes
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)

i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,

it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people

inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses

she says
these are all for her children

and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren

what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due

to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible

but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see

perhaps

forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed

and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all

her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren

...and then justice shall reign

but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy

>>>ii

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Banyan Tree

Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.

Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.

Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.

A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?

God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved

poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano

As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!

'I told you to sweep this floor.'

I did!

'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'

My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!

I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.

Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.

Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!

Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.

I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.

Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.

How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Giddy Tree' by David Hart

'The Giddy Tree' by David Hart

Giddy tree, oh giddy tree
You tickle my funny bones
You see

Your branches swirl and twirl
And you look all gnarled and
Ready to unfurl

You creak and swing with
Ease
In a sweet swirling and
Affectionate breeze

Feisty tree, oh feisty tree
Butterflies dance
And fall in a frenzy
At your knees

Silly tree, oh silly tree
Ladybugs sunbath and linger
Giddy on your leaves

Limber tree, oh limber tree
You give and you live
A delight to the
Sight
and always you please

Dreamy tree, oh dreamy tree
Love birds surround you
and like adventurous ships sailing on
Sprite and dazzling seas

Charming tree, oh charming tree
Little children squeal and tickle
and swing on your arms in
the breeze oh so fickle

Mysterious tree, oh mysterious tree
The sparrows adore you
The squirrels they implore you
The owls ever asking you,
Who, who, who
The stars with certainty
Know you are no fool

You are a funny and twisty and
dreamy and mysterious and
wonderful and charming
tree, you.

poem by David Hart
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How We Learned Our Lessons

Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.

And we understood each one of them.
With our minds, eyes and ears opened.
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.

Through the acceptance and loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the giving of respect,
We ourselves sometimes did not get!
That's how we learned our lessons.

And even though our steps made forward...
Were made to believe by others as limited.
And sometimes we wept and knew this was negative.
It was through the acceptance of who we were,
And loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.

And the parents we loved and had,
Did not brag about their college degrees!
Or 'things' with them we could buy to achieve...
To succeed in the repossessing of our minds,
Some permit an entry for this to be done!

They were with us all the time,
Telling us we could accomplish anything!
And could prove that too to ourselves and anyone.
'Whatever' it was we chose in our lives to do.
And working hard we did...
To pursue.

Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.

Dedicated to:
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
My sisters.

'Love you for your 'gifts' given...
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar
And Lawrence Pertillar, Sr.'
Our Parents.

~lsp~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Willow tree by the lake

Willow tree by the lake standing tall since the day one
Home for birds and squirrels, place of fun
Breeze will come and play with her branches
Whistle at them before they move on
Any time, at mid day, at night or at the crack of dawn
Humming bird feeder and bird house hanging all over the tree
They swing back and forth and hang free
All summer it is a fun house as the birds come and go
Rabbits will hop around on the ground below.
Ducks will sit idle or sleep under her shade
Squirrels will carry food up the trunk, not afraid
During winter when nature sleeps no life around
Willow tree will shelter the birds, the squirrels
and even the worms under it's ground.
Many yrs ago I planted the tree, saw it grow day by day
Sat under it, wrote poems, it made me happy and gay
I know one day my time will be up and I will be gone
But my willow tree will still be here, singing with the wind at each dawn.

poem by Syed Karim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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