Maintaining Of A Maintenance To Do
A tilting of a cart allowed,
By those too busy...
Hobnobbing and riding inside of it,
Until this means of reliable transportation...
Becomes unfit for those familiar,
And it one day quits.
This can also be applied to relationships,
Too many have come to take for granted.
With the valuing more of 'appearances'.
When anyone or anything has been left neglected,
And a maintaining of a maintenance to do...
Has gone to become disrespected,
Expect the familiar to one day NOT provide...
That giving and showing of accustomed support.
Ignored warning signs will suddenly come to abort,
That which has come to be 'assumed'.
Leaving those who should have been conscious of this,
Wondering what they did or could have done much too late.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seldom Asked
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
Or is in need to have details of scenes,
Described by those riding in the cart...
As the horse pulls.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart,
Doesn't have to be taught...
What that experience is like.
A horse familiar with pulling a cart...
Is seldom asked,
About anything the horse knows and has seen...
On a path that is daily traveled.
Those in the cart,
Seldom repeat the ride.
And few, if any...
Know what it is like to pull their own weight,
And others.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Old Familiar Faces
I HAVE had playmates, I have had companions,
In my days of childhood, in my joyful school-days--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have been laughing, I have been carousing,
Drinking late, sitting late, with my bosom cronies--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I loved a Love once, fairest among women:
Closed are her doors on me, I must not see her--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
I have a friend, a kinder friend has no man:
Like an ingrate, I left my friend abruptly;
Left him, to muse on the old familiar faces.
Ghost-like I paced round the haunts of my childhood,
Earth seem'd a desert I was bound to traverse,
Seeking to find the old familiar faces.
Friend of my bosom, thou more than a brother,
Why wert not thou born in my father's dwelling?
So might we talk of the old familiar faces--
How some they have died, and some they have left me,
And some are taken from me; all are departed--
All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.
poem by Charles Lamb
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Sunrise
a routine
the most familiar
taken for granted
and sometimes
not admired
neglected by
the mind
for those who
chase time
running a dog
eat dog world
for one who stops
a while
and ponder upon
this event
of sun reappearing
as the night
fades giving
way to day
i say' what a miracle of
all miracles! '
first sunrise
after so many rainy days
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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It Implies Not Looking Back
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
So many have been comforted,
By schedules made and keeping set dates.
With a scratching off from a menu decided,
To replace or hesitate to eventually procrastinate.
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
Even Mother Nature comes to assist with this movement.
With a shifting of Earth and turbulent winds.
Spinning storms called hurricanes,
From the shores of Africa that begin...
In vast waters referred to as the Atlantic Ocean.
And still there are those demanding entitlements,
With preferences prayed in a daily devotion.
As if they have rights to insist a life liked to live.
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
But...
Unfortunate are those who believe,
A moving back in time...
Is a choice to make as to who will lead,
Them away from truth...
To produce more delusions and fantasies!
What a word...
Forward.
It implies not looking back.
Or getting too accustomed,
To that which is familiar and intact.
And leaving behind many detached,
Who will never become attached to reality.
Moving forward is the change everyone will believe in,
Whether to embrace, accept or not.
We live to experience, grow to then distance,
From aged beliefs to advance to other adventures.
With a wisdom kept to keep to be reminisced but not lived,
Repeatedly to comfort our insecurities.
'I hate change.'
Me too.
I wish I had more dollars.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Standing On The Other Side
Whatever it was you thought you had time to do.
And with a familiar procrastination...
You would do what pleases you.
And...
With a comprehension missed,
Along with an attention span...
You pawned for something quicker,
With an ease you believed...
You could control and demand?
Well,
Attached your ears to this...
Those days are gone!
And those that have moved on...
Have left you,
Behind.
Standing on the other side of that mental divide.
Standing and waiting,
For an acknowledgement you had grown accustomed...
That others would provide.
But you missed them!
Standing as the winds of changed,
Pushed you aside.
And they were there...
Giving you a long wave goodbye.
Like in...
Do whatever you please,
'Cause that day has come...
For most to ignore,
What it is you have not yet done!
What you could not believe,
Has arrived to make you convinced.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Startling Is The Sharpness Of Its Shocking Knock
Sugar-coating realities,
Has left mentalities...
Desperately searching,
For alternatives to provide...
A familiar taste upon which to feed.
And the high cost in maintaining delusions,
Is getting closer everyday to losing an effectiveness.
A delivery of unwrapped packaged facts comes,
On those doorsteps unfamiliar with truth.
And startling is the sharpness of its shocking knock.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Accustomed
Sometimes we see things
day in and day out
that we get so accustomed
to them always being there,
that when they go missing
we still think they are there.
It is only when something else happens,
that we suddenly realise,
that it is not there,
leaving us scratching our heads
wondering where and when
it had disappeared.
Our brain gets accustomed to seeing things
and it takes a while for it to register
when some things have gone.
poem by David Harris
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I like to compare the holiday season with the way a child listens to a favorite story. The pleasure is in the familiar way the story begins, the anticipation of familiar turns it takes, the familiar moments of suspense, and the familiar climax and ending.
quote by Fred Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Like an Unused Expletive
When folks stop showing they care,
With expected responses
Others had grown accustomed,
To be shown reliably there.
And it has gone?
Something has turned around,
Something has gone wrong!
To expose a cold shoulder...
Never before thought could be found!
Like a familiar ride on a merry-go-round.
It may be there to provide a service.
Like an unused expletive!
Someone has chosen not to dignify,
To sting the atmosphere.
Or believe would satisfy a benefit,
To anyone overhearing it!
And with those warnings tossed aside,
An explanation tried in the past...
Dies.
A purpose seems to have come to a close.
With an attempt to save a repeated waste of time.
To halt before the repetition begins.
'What is being accomplished?
And for whose understanding...
Should I appear to be the idiot? '
Someone involved has taken another for granted.
And like an 'ex' of anything experienced...
An ax has been used to sever a close tie abused!
A determination has been made,
To move on!
Demonstrating...
A decay that has become addicting to some,
For one...
Who has had enough of that 'funky' stuff...
That is the one,
Who no longer has to tolerate a self infliction of BS.
It stinks and reeks.
And it can be removed.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Going Through Of Motions
Someone is not accustomed,
To the minding of their own business.
And that seems to be the root,
As to the reason relationships...
Between two people,
Often find it difficult to survive petty meddling.
Leaving two people who should be together,
Questioning the choices they alone have made.
While parading in masqueraded charades,
The going through of motions...
As adopting to adapt to roleplay.
With the keeping up of appearances.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Maintaining A Maintenance Of One's Sanity
Maintaining a maintenance of one's sanity,
Requires constant discipline.
And the benefits of rest one gets...
Not outdated 'yet' or considered obsolete.
These times we live press forward,
With lightening fast speed.
So quick some noses may even bleed.
Swift are the thoughts required to think.
Leaving decisions made,
Before clouded eyes are seen to blink.
Technology driven are electronic inventions.
And a mental nimbleness...
Is required to live a life in the midst of this.
And those believing they can live without PC's...
Will be left behind conversing with robots.
Once referred to as human beings.
Swift are the thoughts required to think.
Leaving decisions made,
Before clouded eyes are seen to blink.
Maintaining a maintenance of one's sanity,
Requires constant discipline.
And the benefits of rest one gets...
Not outdated 'yet' or considered obsolete.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In the Giving There's A Benefit
To have awakened is a good thing to be!
And I have learned,
In the many years it has taken me to do it...
That the being there for someone else,
Will not automatically be interpretated...
As an appreciation to be shown one day,
With a reciprocation known that's received.
I have learned,
There will be many taking others for granted...
With a doing which is believed,
A duty to misuse someone dependable.
Until a reality hits and a doing this is missed.
And a waiting to sit by a telephone,
Wishing to hear it ring is a familiar sound gone.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
To have awakened is a good thing to be.
And I have learned,
Those who give are not desperate.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to misuse.
I have learned,
In the giving there's a benefit.
And I have learned...
Those who give are not desperate.
Oh yes I've learned...
To leave alone,
Those who take for granted...
Someone giving up their time to abuse.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Standing Up To Be Heard
While you were chasing rainbows...
And playing hopscotch throughout your life.
There were those committed,
To doing things to get done.
Some in relationships and some with none.
And the degree of sacrifice,
Only those who chose to do it...
Seem to be free of complaint.
But you...
Have grown to become a nuisance!
And that apparently is your choice.
Since in the background I hear your voice spoken.
To distract and add to division.
Standing up to be heard...
Instead from behind a herd of sheep,
As if your life depended on that decision...
Is an accustomed experience you have had!
And until you have stood in the face of opposition,
You have nothing to say about anyone...
Who has a track record of doing that!
And deserving of your respect and silence.
Or at least your familiar disappearing act.
Either way...
If you have something to say,
You must first establish a value placed...
Upon yourself.
That's if you have one worthy,
Of giving it your own respect!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is Nothing Here to Keep You
There is nothing here to keep you.
Nothing I do to sustain your interest.
In the beginning it was new.
But now you are familiar.
And accustomed to it too.
There is nothing here to keep you.
There is nothing here to keep you.
And I know that's true!
Since now what is done,
Seems to agitate you before I am through.
And I remember impressing you,
With the little things I use to do.
But there is nothing here to keep you.
Have we spent too many yesterdays together?
Too many Sunsets and far too few dawns.
Have I slept through the process,
Of trying to do my best.
And all you wanted from me,
Was a shoulder to lean on.
And I was unaware...
Thinking of myself with you there but uncaring?
Is that the reason why you would sometimes stare?
There is nothing here to keep you.
Nothing I do to sustain your interest.
In the beginning it was new.
But now you are familiar.
And accustomed to it too.
There is nothing here to keep you.
There is nothing here to keep you.
And I know that's true!
Since now what is done,
Seems to agitate you before I am through.
And I remember impressing you,
With the little things I use to do.
But there is nothing here to keep you.
And even if I could...
You would still think I thought it was all about me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Equipped With One's 'A' Game
The road most traveled,
And one that is familiar on a daily basis...
Is the one that creates,
The biggest challenge few are left to debate.
It is too easy to take for granted,
That which one believes is well known.
And to stay awake and remaining equipped
With one's 'A' game...
Is something one accustomed to obstacles,
Has shown time and time again.
It only takes one mistake,
To ruin the flavor of an expected taste...
Of one's favorite cake and that's all it takes,
For one to regard a whole day a major catastrophe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lost
Searching in the crowd
For a resemblance
To no avail
No familiar faces
I once loved
A forbidden love
Oceans separated you from me
Virtually all familiar faces gone
I roam the dessert of life
Feeling all alone
Like a blind man searching
For a familiar face
The sound of your voice
The ringing of laughter shared
Of familiar faces
Barren, empty bossom
Swallowed by the dessert of life
All familiar faces
Passed with time...
06.07.2012
poem by Persian Khushi
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Leaving
Words and music emily saliers
Jet fuel and traffic lines
Pulling up to the delta signs
Distant shape of my hometown
Black stain where the wheels touch down
I pick up the morning news
I pass the man whos never shined my shoes
Through security and to the train
That will take me to the airplane
Count the miles on the highway
(count the miles on the highway)
The sum of all my days
(the sum of all my days)
Theres a postcard theres a call
(theres a call)
And theres a picture for your bedroom wall
(bedroom wall)
But do you ever wonder through and through
Whos that person standing next to you
(whos that person standing next to you)
And after all the nights apart
Is there a home for a travelling heart
But if I werent leaving you
(if I werent leaving, if I werent leaving you)
I dont know what I would do
(I would do)
But the more I go the less I know
Will the fire still burn on my return
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
Honey all I know to do is go
A cup of coffee and my bags are packed
(coffee and my bags are packed)
The same vow not to look back
(same vow not to look back)
(if I werent leaving)
Familiar emptiness inside
(familiar emptiness inside)
As the distances grow wide
(if I werent leaving)
And though I vow to memorize
(I vow to memorize)
The last look in your loving eyes
(the last look in your loving eyes)
Its here dusk and there dawn
Oh its like a curtain getting slowly drawn
But if I werent leaving you
(if I werent leaving, if I werent leaving you)
I dont know what I would do
(I would do)
But the more I go the less I know
Will the fire still burn on my return
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
Honey all I know to do is go
But if I werent leaving you
(if I werent leaving, if I werent leaving you)
I dont know what I would do
(I would do)
(leaving you)
But the more I go it seems the less I know
(but the more I go the less I know)
Will the fire still burn on my return
(will the fire still burn on my return)
Keep the path lit on the only road I know
(keep the path lit on the only road I know)
Honey all I know to do is go
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Take
Take.
To leave nothing...
If you will.
I am not afraid to go without.
I am not in doubt,
I can create more.
Take.
That's what you do.
That's how it has been,
Between me and you.
I am accustomed to it!
Going through that before.
Each time you call.
Or knock on my door.
I know what your presence means.
I know what you've come for.
It is a familiar scene done you do too well.
Take.
No need to tell me to go to hell.
Each time you come,
You bring it with you.
And leave.
Take.
That's what you do.
That's how it has been,
Between me and you.
I am accustomed to it!
Going through that before.
Each time you call.
Or knock on my door...
I hide my peace.
That's mine.
I'm not ready to give that away.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Complex & Complicated (Life Poem)
Sophistication is the refuge of the complicated,
High maintenance, it's someone else's fault,
Infecting everyone with their little paranoias,
A black hole, taking all and giving nothing back.
Simple pleasures are the friends of the complex,
User-friendly, reliable and rather iPod-like,
Touching everyone with their magical dreams,
A desert oasis, giving all but getting even more.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Narrow Is This Kind of Mind
Narrow is this kind of mind,
Who 'assumes' its own behind...
Can be placed in one's view easily.
And observed to be significant,
When there is a hint of a sodom sleazed.
One is assumed to have done to please.
The only thing that is projected,
Are thoughts of neglected hygiene.
Filthy and unclean.
Especially if one's underwear...
Is prioritized and seen,
As an appealing 'asset'.
Appearing in public scenes.
If pants can slip and dropp quickly...
What respect is left to pride?
When none is obviously kept inside!
Can one expect to receive what's not accepted.
Especially when one condones self neglect.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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