Left In a Comfortable Snore
Too pageantry.
With a trained and camera ready indulgence.
There is 'more' excitement,
In watching the wind blow snow into drifts.
There...
You may be in presence.
But a forced and unnatural delivery...
Leaves you detached.
Like a pair of mismatched socks!
Worn to shock...
But,
Bores.
Too polished!
Hypnotizing one into a deep sleep.
And left in a comfortable snore.
A connection to feeling,
Has been demolished.
An attraction to silence,
Calls.
You might represent a quality of life,
You might like.
However...
That exclusive untouchable part of it,
Detached and lacking accessibility?
Doesn't work!
Not today.
Not for you.
A touching of 'soul' is missed...
By your imitation.
Whoever has done this to you...
Needs to be arrested for theft!
Since they have left you afraid,
To approach and treat your life...
As if it was yours.
Instead...
Your presentation delivered a collage.
A collection of a failed attempt,
To regain a prominence remembered.
Not by you but your advisers.
And bombarded by just too much smooze,
That could have been kazooed to add pep.
With an absence of kazaam that could have wowed!
Something to awaken the taste of the crowd.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Unattached for Docking
Being detached
Doesn't mean an attraction isn't needed,
Isn't wanted or wished.
Being detached means a hopeful encounter
Comes...
Unattached for docking!
To rejuvenate idle juices.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Forced to Rush and Turn Away
Today.
There are no roles to play.
None respected in the way they were.
No believable masquerades to convey,
The remotest concepts...
To display an innocence worn to convince,
A possibility lives to consider.
Today.
Anything cheap and easy to get is preferred.
As long as it shines.
To be sold and rhymes with gold.
Nickel plated to glimmer like rhinestone...
Worn and bold,
It is okay!
Today.
The quality of life is attached to that detached,
As far as possible from reality.
Today!
Even pointing out the truth pursued,
Is subject to being ostracized...
From those who want to believe faith and hope,
Are nasty rumors to hush!
Today.
People are forced to rush and turn away from dreams,
If not overnight expressed...
At doorsteps!
Or promised to arrive before noon.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Catastrophe Within Silence
silence as in a room with no sound
but the hard pounding drops of rain against the window
silence as in being in a crowd of people
but no one is paying any attention to you
silence as in the pain that harvests inside
but not a soul is around to help u through it
silence yet another meaning of no commotion
but leaves many oblivious to anything of mention
there is catastrophe within silence
but who are those to even realize it?
not a word against a crowd
or a cry for help
not a simple acknowledgment
or an act speaking an opinion
silence
silence may be the
fear
shock
or agitation
within our world that leaves everyone
speechless
till all that is left is
catastrophe within silence
poem by Erin Sullivan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Very Difficult to Achieve
Some folks achieve notoriety,
Based upon the quantity of their work.
Not as a result of the quality...
That can be observed.
However,
With a touch of therefore.
It is very difficult to achieve,
A sustained quality!
Well...
For some!
But after a while it really doesn't matter.
Folks will diminish one's ability,
To sustain a quality with quanity.
It happens.
Since the familiarity of it being delivered,
Becomes taken for granted.
Try maintaining substance over time.
It can be done.
But not recommended.
Folks don't associate work with it!
And sooner or later...
Whatever it is becomes disrespected.
For the uniqueness of its delivery.
And deduced as something that was done too easy.
And sleazing it becomes even easier.
Especially by those who rise in the morning...
Prepared to critique,
As part of what it is done they do...
To participate in this experience called life.
We all have a need to fulfill something we regard,
As valued by somebody, somewhere.
And so we do it.
Most times without thought at all.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Truly makign weary
It was all said and not done
Wind blew with speed and gone
Left behind deep scar and sweet memory
There is no time to feel sorry
Nothing has changed not even courtyard
Where cuckoos appear in morning with sweet melodious words
The language speak of love with no specific title
But we take it granted as appropriate and suitable
I need not look at sky
Leave under uncertainty with so much feeling of shy
That lovely memory resurfaces and makes me uneasy
Even though I pretend to be active and very busy
What do I miss even today?
His elegant style of living and beautiful way
Gentle approach and mild steps forward
I was sure of not looking backward
He will storm me in peaceful manner
I will give up my way no sooner
As it has come to me after long struggle and wait
I will not attribute it only to fate
I need rest and permanent refuge
Where no one can come and refuse
I seek all seasons with equal participation
Rainbow must represent it will lovely indication
Everything changes except very good heart
That God has given to us in the form of art
You miss a person for all the times to come
Even if missed in life still you welcome
Almighty might have not wanted all this
Only we made ground for ourselves to miss
Otherwise where is compulsion to leave and feel sad?
Stormy days may not end even if we feel good or bad
It was healing touch that gave excitement
Full of joy, happiness and total commitment
What we missed actually was presence of common enemy
That was taking us away and truly making weary
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sonnet- On Insurance
The modern trend's to insure everything,
Like house and house-hold articles from theft;
As unnatural events, the world can bring,
And penniless, a man can then be left.
Even our life must be insured these days,
As accidents and diseases afflict;
Our profession too must be safe always!
As losses great, life can on us inflict.
Does man insure his soul from devil's theft?
What Policy will guard his soul's good health?
What is the use of soul with grace bereft?
The purity of soul is our best wealth.
Faith is the Policy all men must take;
And preserve soul from sins for Heaven's sake.
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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However You May Lay Your 'Loo-Yahs
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts within us...
Are kept detached and private.
We are born into this 'reality'...
With a belief we jouney alone,
On a separate trip.
Alone and away from others,
Also participating in this experience...
We are taught in the process to call 'life'.
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts with us...
Are kept detached and private.
We even believe we are separate from the trees,
Birds and bees...
Are other created creatures upon thie Earth,
God, too, has made.
So given we are with beliefs,
There is something that will be achieved...
With the infliction of division, fear, hatred and greed.
There are some creatures God has blessed with life,
Who actually believe they have been certified...
As human kites.
To maneuver to heights,
And by themselves.
So given we are,
With beliefs our thoughts with us...
Are detached and kept private.
Some self righteous even perceive...
They can even deceive God!
As if God takes momentary leaves,
Of absences.
Only to discover,
When Mother Nature gets upset...
And has had it with our selfishness.
Just how fragile those who 'empower' themselves...
Are lost to fight against the true power of God,
His 'Diciples' and those messages delivered...
'Whether one is feeling blessed or cursed.
With abundance to enrich...
Or poverty experienced in cycles that are reversed.
What is here to witness on 'this' Earth...
Is 'not' one's dress rehearsal.
From birth...
Be 'yee' and those of 'thee',
Tested.'
WHEREVER!
Or...
HOWEVER you may lay your 'Loo-Yahs',
In the best of pretentious praise.
These days we now live,
Are not for the fake faith seekers...
Preaching their hollow beliefs,
To maintain their materialistic thieving.
It is time to give those corrupted ideals up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Blessed To Be Cursed
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste.
Am I cursed or blessed?
At times I feel in between.
And aging hasn't made this attraction,
Any easier for me...
It seems.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
I awaken early,
With thoughts that seem...
Already out of date.
Already out of time.
Already...
I feel I am too late.
Bombarded I am,
With images that feed.
And some I feel,
I am not yet ready to taste...
Although I enjoy,
Achieving those impossible dreams.
Am I cursed or blessed?
OR blessed to be cursed?
Is it possible to enjoy something,
And not quench that thirst?
And I think to myself...
'What am I getting out of this?
How am I benefitting,
When I am the last to think of myself first! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brokenness
They still wish to find,
A soft exit for their flaws.
With someone or somewhere...
They wish to lay the blame.
As to why they've left their foundations,
In shambles and shame.
Somehow excuses have to be found!
To explain the mess,
They have left all around!
They still wish to define,
Their deeds as just!
With a quality of life squeezed and dried.
From an economy ruined,
And busted from rust.
That have left themselves the ones criticized.
But they try to explain away,
Their absence of knowledge.
Hoping the existence of it...
Slowly drifts and fades.
With no one feeling betrayed!
Even with the credentials of those...
Who profess to have experience.
With some of them with law degrees.
And many who claim to be scholars...
Who teach their skills in college!
But none can use simplistic common sense...
To prevent a brokenness they have created.
Although 'hate' is what they seem to do best!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Show Is Over
STOP!
What are you doing over there?
'Breaking down the set!
Why? '
What on Earth are you talking about?
Breaking down what set?
'This one.
The one you're looking at!
Ooohh!
You're one of the ones who fell into a deep sleep! ?
I attempted to awaken you myself.
And nothing I could do,
Would awaken you.'
Is this some kind of hoax?
You put that setting back.
And who is that...
Breaking up that white picket fence?
Why are those people looking evil?
And will you tell them to speak English...
Nothing they are saying is making sense.
And will you tell that guy,
To stop pointing that prop at me!
I am in no mood for jokes.
And who are these folks surrounding me?
Looking as if they are homeless.
And needing something to eat.
Who let them come into this neighborhood?
'We'll take you back to your room,
Now.
It will be okay.
Maybe it was wrong to bring you outside today!
You will soon be back inside.
Medicated with the others...
Who like you have denied...
Reality! '
What do you mean?
That was real enough for me!
I saw my quality of life reflected.
I felt comfortable with it.
And it was accepted!
'Yeah...
I see.
Whatever you saw...
Doesn't relate to me.
This show is over!
Bring him back inside before he panics.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dig Deep
Looking Through Blood Shot Eyes Watching The Sunrise. Feeling So Tired, Just So Sick Of It. Pictures So Dead And Gone. Burnt Up In Flames. Still Trying To Keep Things The Same. But Its The Devils Game. And He Wins Again. Another Lost Friend. A Name Carved In Stone. Don't Tell Me Were Not All Alone. Cause I Know Better Then Anyone. I Live It Every Day. And It Doesn't Get Any Easier, Even When Pray. No More Faith, All My Desperate Attempts Have Left A Stale Taste. Just Wake Up Now. Hold Your Head Up High Even If You Don't Feels So Proud. Put The Smiling Face On. Come On Just Come On. Like It Even Matters. Let Me Rest My Head. Let Death Come Quick. Let The Misery Die With One Little Prick. An Invasion Of The Mind. Through Layers We Go. And Still It Doesn't Help. I'm Just As Confused. Another Game I Lose. In Life Memories Are For The Old. In Life The Heart Is For The Cold. In Life Perfection Is A Goal That Cant Be Reached. But Still We Try. We Have To So Everything We Do Can Be Justified. But My Soul Has Been Compromised. In Limbo With No Notion Of Where Im Even Going. But Still I Feel Must. Steady My Self, Ready My Self, Another Unconscious Transgression. Distant An Unchecked. No Sight Of Reality Yet. Just Where Did It Go. Its Got To Be Here Somewhere. So Dig Deep.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Gear
It is easy for some to move in one gear.
To play it safe and cosmetic.
For purposes not to stir up dust.
Or attract attention...
To early forms of deception.
While enhancing a well maneuvered advancement.
To smolder and smooze,
With an unknown hoodwinking set to entrance.
The slicker and sly the plot...
The better.
Creative theft is not original.
Theft is theft!
But those who move in this low gear,
Can not produce and deceive at the same time.
The quality and lustre of their lies,
Leaves nothing creative about their input!
They are in one gear.
And it takes a while to notice it.
However...
Those who have?
Have been quickly dismissed.
And slandered to keep them from profit.
They were of genuine deeds,
That could not be plagiarized by those shallow!
So those who remain shallow...
Remain shallow.
And it shows that is all they know.
Moving slow in one gear.
To prove...?
To prove something insignificant,
To someone who was foolish enough to pay the price....
To observe the redundancy,
In its stagnant commitment achieved.
Giving people what they accept.
Not what they want or can get...
In this,
One gear delivered.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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This Introduction of Truth
They can not stand it anymore...
The confrontation with reality.
It is much too big for them to ignore.
And many lay awake restless,
Without a bit of sleep...
Deep in an unconscious snore!
A valued lifestyle for them has ended.
A blocking of delusions,
From them has been suspended.
The 'rumors' of truth has affected their minds.
They wish to pursue a tranquil existence.
And leave the 'presentation'
Of this 'interpretation' of such a rawness...
Behind.
It is driving them out of their fantasized minds!
This introduction of truth...
They did not select or choose!
They can not stand it anymore...
The confrontation with reality.
It is much too big for them to ignore.
And many lay awake restless,
Without a bit of sleep...
Deep in an unconscious snore!
And afraid they are...
Of what comes next,
To knock on their doors.
So they peek to see...
Even in 'safe' neighborhoods,
They've lost their ability...
To secure a safety with stability.
It is driving them out of their fantasized minds!
And they wish for some relief...
That would enhance their fading beliefs.
But none comes and they become stunned!
And left to defend...
In a civil unrest for them that begins!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Winds Of Wyoming
Have you ever heard the wind
blowing across the plains?
Moving and stacking snow
in drifts across the lane
Have you heard the wind howling
like a wolf baying at the moon?
It's an eerie and unnerving feeling
making up its melodious tune
Have you ever watched the trees
bending to and fro in the wind?
Leaves blow off and scatter around
it's mother nature who has sinned
Have you heard the windows rattle
as the wind blows through the cracks?
The draft blows under each of the doors
it's coming in from the back
The wind is part of our landscape
and it's with us most everyday
But we love Wyoming wind that's true
it's ours and we're here to stay
poem by Louise Davis
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An Old Pair Of Shoes
Verse 1:
Ive walked a million miles across this floor
But I never have quite made it to the door
I never thought the time would come
Id ever see this day
When you could make me feel so thrown away
Chorus:
Im feeling like an old pair of shoes
All worn out from walking through these blues
Theres a hole in my soul
And Im really feeling used
Im just like an old pair of shoes
Verse 2:
Youve always been my one and only, love
It aint no easy thing to give you up
Looking back Im feeling like
Theres nothing left to lose
This time I may just walk out on you cause
Repeat chorus:
Tagg:
Theres a hole in my soul
And Im really feeling used
Im just like an old pair of shoes
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Although It's Wrong
Part of me feels like it's torn.
Battered and gone.
And for too long,
I've beem missing that connection.
Although it's wrong,
I've determined it would be...
To reconnect to that kind of misery.
That part of me,
That's gone...
I don't need back,
But I feel something detached.
Although it's wrong,
I've determined it would be...
To reconnect to that kind of misery.
That part of me,
That's gone...
I don't need back,
But I feel something detached.
Part of me feels like it's torn.
Battered and gone.
And for too long,
I've beem missing that connection...
Carried on my back.
Although it's wrong,
I've determined it would be...
To reconnect to that kind of misery.
What's wrong?
If I'm missing a connection,
That brings me misery.
What's wrong?
If I'm missing a connection,
That brings me misery.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To Seem Detached From Stress
I admit to feeling honored.
And also repeatedly blessed.
To have someone like you,
Make comments...
About those confessions I profess,
And express with an openness...
To seem detached from stress.
I am not always as secure,
As I seem when attempting to impress.
I just feel what I say comes from an honesty.
And being true to myself,
Sometimes has created my own loneliness...
That has left me with moments of distressed.
I admit to feeling honored.
And also repeatedly blessed.
To have someone like you,
Make comments...
About those confessions I profess,
That expresses an openness...
To seem detached from stress.
But I am not that different,
From those wishing more...
And not less,
Of those moments I regret...
To have a happiness,
That will leave me to be...
Feeling free to be at my best.
Without experiencing an aloneness,
Through what is felt at times...
An unwinding road confined,
To a wilderness...
That sits inside,
Of an inquisitive mind.
Traveling as it does without any sign of rest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nocturne [Nocturnă]
That night the moon resembled a skull that through a blow
By guillotine was cut, then dumped into the Sea –
A head, which the dark billows, with a malicious glee
Towards the beacon rolled, which in the port did glow.
That night the moon resembled a ball of shining twine
Which fell from the right hand of God, who in this life
Ties and unties all people, forgives their sin and strife
And makes them leave the winter to meet the spring divine.
That night the moon resembled an amber nice to see
Detached from the Christ's belt, who died as a meek sheep
To rise again and banish the deep and dreamless sleep
And sanctify His cross left on the Calvary!...
poem by Ion Minulescu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
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Those Once Outraged Are Amongst Those Crazed
The only time familiar faces become missed,
Is when words spoken thought ridiculous...
Were from them direct and sugar free.
To have outraged those to a frenzy.
And today?
Those once outraged are amongst those crazed.
Now...
Those very same honest and direct people,
Are remembered to be reminisced...
As those who spoke with words wished to hear again.
Since time has past to make what had been said 'then'...
More meaningful than ever to those comprehending.
Compared to the nonsense many accept today...
As a way to communicate their sanity,
From wherever it was purchased...
To label it as such!
The minds today are detached!
And to never come back from where they are.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praises
When you awaken one morning,
And feeling the absence of B.S.
Don't stop to wonder where it is...
Or quickly get dressed,
Expecting your usual day of stress.
Thank God for the moment!
And address this happiness.
Do your best to keep this feeling!
And express your thankfulness...
With praises you are willing to give,
Accept and share!
Hold onto it with a firm grip!
And pray to keep it there.
When you awaken one morning,
And feeling the absence of B.S.
Don't rush to the window as the sunrise lifts!
Forget that it ever came to visit.
And forgive yourself 'if' it is missed!
Sit...
With praises you are willing to give!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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