En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Macramé

When she would macramé,
I stayed and watched.
Taking her needles,
And attaching small knots!
Making crisp doilies...
With different patterns,
Little mats she would starch.
Amazing my curiosity,
At the speed she delivered such art!

When she would macramé,
I would ask her how it was done.
She took my hands in between hers...
Until I alone did start!
She noticed soon I got extremely bored,
And my grandmother made me stop!

'Boy...
You something else!
Why you so nosy? '

'I ain't nosy, grandma.
You got enough apples to make a pie today? '

I would ask.
And she would just shake her head.
With nothing from her to me to say...
She would hum and continue doing,
Her fast paced macramé.

Dedicated:
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
My grandmother

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Grandmother Would Drive

My grandmother could make a biscuit taste like steak.
And she did everything from 'scratch'.
Including making her own soap too.

The only thing I disliked,
That my Grandmother Clara ever did...
Was to get her driver's license.

My grandmother would drive,
And have an entire conversation...
Without looking at the road!
I had heard rumors of this...
But to witness it,
Was right out of Six Flags.
Or Disney World.

Don't ask me how she did this.
I was too busy trying to keep myself alive.
That 'imaginary' brake on the passenger side,
Of my grandmother's car...
Had worn a hole through the carpeted car floor.

And my grandmother never got a speeding ticket either.
She turned to me and asked why I had the door handle,
In my hand when speeding along the highway.
I did not realize I had pulled the handle from the door.
She frightened the 'hell' out of me.

'Grandma, I gotta use the bathroom.'

~And...? ~

'Pee.'

~You bet not be doin' that in my car, boy!
Why didn't you say somethin' when we were at the carwash? ~

'I didn't think I had to THEN, grandma.
But driving with you has proved me wrong.
I think I've got to throw up too! '

The only thing I disliked,
That my Grandmother Clara ever did...
Was to get her driver's license.

She said she didn't need to wait,
For my grandfather to take her anywhere...
She wanted to go.
And rarely did I see my grandmother,
Using the rearview mirror.
Or...
Keep her eyes on the road.

'Grandma, I gotta use the bathroom.
I'm serious.'

~And...? ~

'Pee.'

~You bet not be doin' that in my car, boy!
Why didn't you say somethin' when we were at the carwash?
You slowing me. You slowing me down. Geeesssshhh.
Precious Lord...hmmm hmmm...Lead me...hmmm.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Know 'She' Nosy

I know 'she' nosy.
She know she nosy too.
I know 'she' nosy.
She know she nosy too.

All up in my biz'ness...
Like its hers
And she aint got 'that' wit me.

Oh no...
No-no.

Everytime I see her,
She wanna stop...
To give me her 3rd degree.

She believes I'm hers,
'Cuz I was once...
And wanted to be.

But-that-was-then,
And now no time I keep...
Being under her lock
And keyed.
'Cuz I 'be' free!

I know 'she' nosy.
She know she nosy too.
I know 'she' nosy.
She know she nosy too.

She believes I'm hers,
'Cuz I was once...
And wanted to be.

But-that-was-then,
And now no time I keep...
Being under her lock
And keyed.
'Cuz I 'be' free!

Yeah yeah yeah.

Everytime I see her,
She wanna stop...
To give me her 3rd degree.

Oh no!
Don't want that no mo'.

All up in my biz'ness...
Like its hers
And she aint got 'that' wit me.

Oh no...
No-no.
No mo'.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hi

Nosy ass!
I tried to surprise you.
But nothing I do,
Gets by you.
What do you have...
Radar too?

Do I carry a 'scent' you sniff?
Whenever I'm near...
Close or present?
And where were you anyway...
When I thought I was sneaking through?
Hiding somewhere,
To see what I would do?

Hi...
Nosy ass!
Here's your gift!
The one you selected.
The one I said I would not get!
Well...
Here it is!
You are worse than the kids!

I'm glad we are still together though.
And another year God has blessed us
To see pass!

Give me a kiss!
Nosy ass.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ban The Void

Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.

Grandma stopped baking cakes.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Brought me my first heartbreak.
Tch.
Ban the void.
I told her I couldn't take it.
She 'had' to bake another cake for me!
Tch.
Ban the void.

She said she was going on strike!
Tch.
Ban the void.
And even though I didn't like it!
Tch.
Ban the void.
She's not gonna cook in the kitchen,
She's itching to do something else to please!
Tch
Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.

She brought herself a brand new car.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
And drove to wherever she wanted.
Tch.
Ban the void.
She said she had her own special needs.
And will come and go whenever that need pleases!
Tch.
Ban the void.

I got so annoyed...
And I tried to stop that void deep down in me!
Oh...
Ban the void!

I couldn't go to sleep!
I dreamt of grandma's baking,
And it teased me!

I even cried my eyes.
But grandma's sweet potato pie kept creepin'.
Oh...
Ban the void!
Ban the void!
Oh...
Ban the void.

Grandma loved her brand new car.
And never got one ticket,
For her speedin'!

Ban the void.
Tch.
Ban the void.
Tch, tch.
Ban the void.
Oh...

Dedicated To:
In loving memory...
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar

'Miss you, grandma! '

Love,
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Anybody caught selling macrame in public should be dyed a natural color and hung out to dry.

quote by Calvin Trillin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A long macramé
Plant holder in cream white cord;
A knotty affair...

haiku by Mamta Agarwal
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Aunts and Uncles

Ladies and gentlemen...
My daddy Lawrence, Sr.
Is the eldest of twenty-one.
YES...21!
Born to Clara and Charles Pertillar.
And I remember the times
We would have great fun!
There is:
Jesse
Charles (Bey) , Jr.
Catherine
Clara, Jr.
Albert
Edward
Donald
Julius
Is abel
Emily
Edna Mae
Cecil
Leola Jean
Sandra
Gayhall
Overton
Virginia
Lorraine
And...
Anna

'Hey...
That's only 19!
Did you miss anyone,
In between? '

Well...
My grandmother said she had 21.
And my grandfather is proud...
He even remembered the names of everyone!
And I soon will be 61 myself.
Feeling blessed,
I was produced from this nest!
And we 'all' had nicknames too.
Some of us had more than one!
Many of us had quite a few.
And grandma made sure,
She fed her 'crew'!

Dedicated:
To my wonderful Aunts and Uncles.
Love you...nephew 'Larry'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Alzheimer's Disease

Twice,
There would be goodbyes...
Spoken.
With hearts broken.
And words uncertain,
If heard and understood.

~As an essence known,
Would flow to go.~

Twice,
A familiar light of life...
Would flicker to slowly dim.
As those loved ones and friends,
Stood by to witness...
Without a defense to what commenced.

~As an essence known,
Would flow to go.~

And...
Just once,
In the end...
Alzheimer's Disease,
Would finally win...
This long and emotional battle.

~As an essence known,
Would flow to go...
Away.~

Dedicated To:
Those who knew and suffered through,
The losing of close family members and friends...
To Alzheimer's Disease.

'You are loved and missed,
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar...
By all who knew and loved you too.'
My wonderful Grandmother.

~lsp~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Short Term Gossip And The Gossip Hounds

Are people really so bored
with their own lives
especially in small rural towns
that other people's lives
must become common
run away gossip oh so much
more interesting than
theirs own off limits lives?

Nosy people are basically
exactly that just nosy
nosy people need
little provocation
little scent incentive
bait bloodhound
encouragement
to engage actively in
their favourite pass time.

But secretly
most people
are short term gossip
really they do not
care that much
most people
are rapid ready
to move on to
choice fresh gossip.

Thus it does not
leave many gossips
too worry about
the real blooded hound
an aristocratic sleuth
has a nose for trouble
prepared ever ready
to dig into choice dirt.

These specimens
of active inquiry
may be bothersome
when out about
on preferred case
when their nose
is out of joint
two strains truth
black and white
may be spiced
with imaginative
shades of grey.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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My Mama Didn't Raise No Punk

Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
Not when she would slam dunk me,
Away from public view.

Or dared me not to do those things,
She told me to.
Or take my time!
Mama came from the old school.
And she didn't hesitate,
To strike fire to my behind.

Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
She knew exactly what she was doing with me.
She raised me to become independent.
Not a chump.

I was raised to use my mind.
And defend my thoughts!
And any gift I got from mama,
Is was bought for me because it was earned!
Like those whippings for my backtalk.
My mama didn't have easy lessons taught.
None that I remember were for me quickly learned.

But over time I did.
Since I didn't like to sit...
On a burned butt after getting whipped!

Eventually they sunk in...
Those lessons.
Deep.
To stay.

If I was ever to become a punk...
It was going to be done mama's way.
With a tormenting whipping,
As she held me,
Screaming...
'I've got it, if you want it.
And you're going to get it good.
What's my name? '

Mama.

'What is it? '

Mama.

'And don't you forget it!
Who's your mama? '

You're my mama, mama!

'That's right!
And don't you forget it,
Not one bit.
Or I'll be back to give you more...
Of some of this.
Don't play with me, boy! '

Dedicated:
My Mother, Edna Pearl Roberts (Prudhomme) Pertillar
And my paternal Grandmother, Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar

'Thank you! '

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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You See...There Was Just Too Many Of Us!

I smell my grandmother's molasses cookies.
Deep dish apple and peach pies.
And grape preserves she would make.
And my own mother's beautiful hair,
Before she grayed.
And 'overnight'...
Seemed to have aged.

As I sit and reminisce.
About so many things I miss!

I see my grandfather,
Working in the backyard.
In the shed.
Where he 'diagnosed' the engine...
Of an old truck.
With every part of it laid in pieces.
Each of them,
Carefully spread to keep them near.

'Don't...
Move,
A thing!
Or pick it up...
Because you're curious!
I got my eye on ya! '

I hear my father say...
'It is time to get your haircut, boy.
And when you sit in that barber's chair...
You bet not make a fuss!
And don't say nothing to annoy! '

I remember my aunts and uncles...
Rushing to pick apples, grapes and pears.
From an old pig farm,
Where Chappelle Gardens now sits.
In a neighborhood in Hartford, Connecticut.

I remember this as if yesterday!
And the whippings we all shared.
Regardless...
Of who or who was not actually there!
No one was spared.

'I don't care who did what!
All of you are getting it! '
My grandmother would say!

I remember rolling my eyes...
With wishes I could run away!

~Grandma, I didn't do anything.
It was her! ~

*No it wasn't it was him! *

**No it wasn't it was them! **

You see...
There was just too many of us!
And my grandmother didn't really care.
She just wanted all of us to know...
The punishment she dealt,
Would be quick.
Honest.
And fair!

Note:
Dedicated to my wonderful family.
When we (many of us) all lived in either Stowe Village,
And/or Bellevue Square.
Tenement projects.
In separate buildings AND apartments.
Back in 'the day'.

Love you!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Grandmother Told Me So

The declaration has been spoken,
For Grandmother told me so.
The darkeys have got their fetlocks broken,
For Grandmother told me so.
Oh, won't they have a lot of iron on hand!
And when the news travels,
Oh, won't it be grand!
'Twill sweep like a sugarcane over the land,
For Grandmother told me so.

American Eagle! hysterical bird!
Oh, flap your wing and crow!
The slaves are embellished--yes, that's the word,
For Grandmother told me so!

There's curious times in that ur section,
For Grandmother told me so.
They think they will have a resurrection,
For Grandmother told me so.
The penholders raving like persons insane --
The darkeys in exodus, raising cane,
And singing like martingales after a rain,
For Grandmother told me so.

But President Abe forgot Kentucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
And Geneses, too -- and that's unlucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
Malicious champagne will be open'd in vain,
Until we shall break the last ox-yoke and chain --
Till through the Benighted States freedom shall reign,
For Grandmother told me so.

poem by Henry Clay Work
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Memories of Eighty-Five

I. ‘A macramé plant hangs close to her bed

A macramé plant hangs close to her bed
on the eiderdown she lays stretched out,
at times as in deep thought or prayer
when the swimming pool draws you through the window
with dull blue water covering it,
inside lays burned brown a sun goddess
and her eyes swallow me alive
when she understands, knows me for whom I am,
loving me with passion from the start,
loving me through light and darkness.

II. The summer sun hangs white and hot over the sea

The summer sun hangs white and hot over the sea,
the sand is white and soft where the sea washes out
her smile and conversations carries me off
when I am caught in her beauty
and later the water is lovely cool
before a big wave knocks off her bikini top,
I have got to hurry to the beach
to get her a big towel,
later it’s a big joke for us both,
far too quickly summer sweeps past.

III. At sunrise we drive past Chapman’s peak

At sunrise we drive past Chapman’s peak,
along the sea on a twisting road
and she’s very much in love with me,
far away a ship is only a small dot
and her smile and her face sparkles
when we stop to look at nature,
with her light blue blouse clinging tight fitting on to her
and I kiss her above the emerald sea,
holding her for moments tightly against me,
and she enchants my heart, are doing things to me.

IV. At Hout Bay we sail out of the harbour

At Hout Bay we sail out of the harbour
and the wind is blowing her auburn hair around,
the sea lays stretched out from the boat,
on rocks an otter snorts like a dog,
others swarm wild around him,
when the boat rocks to and fro we get nauseas,
wish for the trip to be over,
see a big shark circling,
are happy when we are sailing away,
with the small boat dropping us at the shore.

V. In Kirstenbosh we were really lost

In Kirstenbosh we were really lost,
still I wonder about her gleaming lips,
her green-brown eyes descending into my heart,
feelings creeping deeper into me,
that is still living as a spectre,
as if forever she is part of me,
I am not really able to free me from her,
she still calls me unexpectedly,
I do not want it to end
and forever I am yearning for her.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Increased Crescendo

The 'ifs' have passed...
As some from the 'old school'
Hold memory contests in bravado!

Remaining stifled, unproductive
And bonding into stupors of delusion...
They are in harmony and greet themselves,
As pioneers of some lost mission they survived.
Neighborhood jive, small talk and booze
Can do that!

I chose to take a nose dive...
And plunged myself right into the unknown.
With my faith in tow!
I discovered how to do that...
After riding along with my grandmother,
Who had recently gotten her driver's license
AND a new car!
I was stunned by both revelations.

Buckled in and scared for my life!
She sang hymns and loved to speed!

My grandmother taught me many lessons,
In a unique and adventurous ways!
She taught me how to deal with challenges...
And the myths of 'ifs'!

Once I was determined...
Not to bury myself
With each heartbreak.
Each emotional slam dunk.
Each stumble into and away from
A failed attempt I made...
Receiving rejection and disapproving looks!
My grandmama taught me,
With prayer there is fast action!

'As long as you keep your foot to the pedal,
You can do whatever you want!
With faith and prayer...
You will learn how to pass obstacles!
Honk your horn...
If anybody dares to get in you way.
And keep it clean and legal!
Just don't get hit by oncoming traffic! '

Of course I knew what grandma meant!
And I was glad she never had one accident,
OR a ticket!

And the 'ifs' have long passed.
That has been validated for me!
On several of grandma's trips!
And as I look out the window on some days...
Reviewing my journeys on grandma's drives,
I can still see the blurring country side
Whiz by
As grandma drove...
And I was frozen to the car door,
Listening to her sing in increased crescendo!
Knowing I was safe,
Whatever the decision I chose.
Whenever I chose to do it!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Silver

Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone

song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Women

Two women in my life,
Left impressions deep on me.
These two women did for others,
Unselfishly...
And did good deeds.

The work they did was hard,
But they never gave up!
No matter what was on their path,
I never heard them fuss or cuss.

And Clara,
And Edna...
Still have me awestruck!

My grandma,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!

The work they did was hard,
But they never gave up!
No matter what was on their path,
I never heard them fuss or cuss.

And Clara,
And Edna...
Still have me awestruck!

My grandmama,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!

Two women in my life...
Left impressions deep on me.
These two women did for others,
Unselfishly...
And did good deeds.

Clara and Edna,
Still have me awestruck!

My grandmama,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!

Dedicated:
In Loving Memory
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar,
My father's mother.
And...
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar,
My mother.

'Thank you! '
~LP, Jr.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Grandmother Used to Say

My grandmother used to say
you can't threaten
a poor man with poverty
a loveless soul with loneliness
a hard heart with pitilessness
because all these
lacks
are never noticed by those
already far gone.

You don't bring coals to Newcastle
bride an honest man
teach character-
that is something which must be lived-
Never try she would say
to be young past your age
kiss evil on the mouth
break the golden rule

Never kick a person when they are down
take victory laps
brag over small successes
Never tell your truth and ignore
the truth of others
think that you are the smartest person in the room
at all times;

My grandmother used to say.

Understand
she would say
that when you die
your only chance to live forever
is to spend you life
loving others.
My Grandmother used to say.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Poopey PooPoo

My grandmother,
Was not into calling her children
By nicknames.
In fact she once said to my sister...
'I gave my children the names they have!
Each was given with a special meaning.
To identify and dignify that which has been given.'
I often wondered...
Had my sister and I been,
The only ones listening?
With comprehension?
Over the years...
It just appears that way!

Today...
Grown folks are known better by their nicknames.
Than those names given.
Poopey PooPoo. BeBop. Slice and Dice...
BooBoo and Drooper!
What 'energies' have they called upon themselves?

And their children have no idea who their parents are.
Their real names.
Or their purposes.

I remembered when I began calling myself Lawrence...
My birth name.
Lawrence, Junior in fact.
Named after my father.
We were both called Larry at one time.
I decided I would become Lawrence S.
After discovering on my father's birth certificate,
His name was listed as Lawrence A.
And I wanted to be 'AS' much as Lawrence as possible!

Can you guess...
I am between poeticness.
As I share a bit of 'personal-ness'.

Folks got upset!
Guess who smiled?
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar.
She was very strong and dynamic.
She was pleased to know I was daring!

And the leaves upon the trees,
Begin to bloom in Spring.
As I reminisce those things I miss.
Taking trips back through time.
Those things impressed upon my mind.
And finding me feeling blessed!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Saints

In our family, there were two saints,
my aunt and my grandmother.
But their lives were different.

My grandmother's was tranquil, even at the end.
She was like a person walking in calm water;
for some reason
the sea couldn't bring itself to hurt her.
When my aunt took the same path,
the waves broke over her, they attacked her,
which is how the Fates respond
to a true spiritual nature.

My grandmother was cautious, conservative:
that's why she escaped suffering.
My aunt's escaped nothing;
each time the sea retreats, someone she loves is taken away.

Still she won't experience
the sea as evil. To her, it is what it is:
where it touches land, it must turn to violence.

poem by Louise Gluck
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Poem for my Grandmother

By the time
I knew grandmother
She was no more
It took sisteen-years
To know
Of her pains
On that sick bed,
My sisteen-year-old
Knowingness was shocked
To hear mum narrate her past
Grandmother as indeed a great
Woman n her life time.
Each time I go to her grave
I break down and cried for her,
I wish grandmother saw
The best of me
Before she was taken to the beyond
I know she would be proud of me
Let this poem of mine
Be for her,
My great grandmother.

poem by Efe Benjamin
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