Messages They Get
Many get theirs delivered,
And perform actions that are quick.
Some quiver in a moaning,
Preferring to weep over it.
And others do neither,
But stubbornly sit...
After reading or listening,
To messages they get.
While awaiting for someone else,
To interpret to make it more legitimate.
Someone selected,
To bestow upon them what they wish.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Respect It Deserves
Those who are fortunate,
To heed to those messages sent...
By listening or reading to comprehend,
What has been delivered and mentioned to them...
Has purpose and reason!
Those believing a manipulation succeeds,
Eventually spend their lives...
In some form of recovery.
In an 'IF' wished.
Either a reflection is done,
On a waste of time committed.
Or a chase to catch up,
To escape from the past...
Is foolishly admitted.
In an 'IF' wished.
However one comes to interpret,
These times we live...
It is certain,
There has been an issuing...
Of duties to be done,
Based upon an alignment...
Of Cosmic assignments.
Most of which have gone ignored.
Those who are fortunate,
To heed to those messages sent...
By listening or reading to comprehend,
What has been delivered and mentioned to them...
Has purpose and reason,
Beyond the limited depths of our understanding.
And...
As long as that becomes understood,
Those frustrations we face will be erased.
As long as this place we call Earth,
Begins to receive the respect it deserves.
We serve 'It'.
Much more than 'It' needs us to serve.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Have Chosen to Mend and Heal
Even if I did have some time,
I'd make sure I had none,
For you.
Not a second would I spend,
Listening to you weep through...
Selected excuses.
While you rip apart my heart!
We're no longer kids on a swing,
Chasing each other around the playground...
After dark.
One of us refuses to grow up.
And the other is a sucker!
Trying to prevent another mothering.
Even if I did have some time,
I'd make sure I had none,
For you.
Not a second would I spend,
Listening to you weep through...
Selected excuses.
While you rip apart my heart!
What happened to your 'new' relationship?
The one you left me to start a 'serious' life with.
Isn't that what you said to me?
As both of you laughed,
To leave me pleading!
I don't have enough energy to despise you.
Nor am I the least bit curious.
Why you appear here and I am not furious.
Even if I did have some time,
I'd make sure I had none,
For you.
Not a second would I spend,
Listening to you weep through...
Selected excuses.
While you rip apart my heart!
I have chosen to mend and heal.
Not bend and kneel.
Remember how I did that and you laughed?
Those times with you,
Are in my past.
You taught me how to shiver and freeze.
And baby...
You will never see me thaw.
Even if you crawled and stopped breathing,
Instantly!
A melting would not take place.
That wouldn't happen.
What would?
A sealing of the windows and doors would be done.
And then I would turned off the lights.
With a whistling of a happy tune.
My cheeks,
Have been made raw...
From too much turning!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sent Back
Never wish something negative,
Upon someone else deserving or not.
Or keep those feelings embittered,
With a harboring to become directed.
Sometimes when messages like that,
Are sent to eventually become delivered...
Often arrive at the wrong address,
For no one there willing to accept.
Never wish something negative,
Upon someone else.
Or keep those feelings directed.
It 'is' difficult to forgive with a forgiveness given.
Yet...
Sometimes when messages like that,
Are sent to 'hopefully' become delivered...
Often undelieverable are these messages.
And sent back to create havoc upon the sender.
Where such feelings are kept anchored.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Their Accusations Made
Help me understand this.
They are angered by the messengers,
Who delivered messages they did not heed?
I realize to them this makes sense.
However...
In the real world,
In which most of us make attempts to live in...
Their accusations made,
Are as pointless as blaming the actions of Mother Nature...
On the current President.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In A Seeking Of A 'Selected' Demographic To Please
There are no intentions I make,
To create lines to find rhymes...
With the suiting done to absorbing minds,
To ease with the delivery...
Of what is deemed acceptable poetry.
In a seeking of a 'selected' demographic to please.
God has blessed me with a gift,
To interpret messages with.
Some may be offended,
With expecations to be entertained.
And I do the best I can,
To maintain that in perspective.
And there are times I wish my comments,
Were accepted and not dissected...
To reveal a hidden agenda.
And for those who do that,
I might include something provocative.
But I am just a messenger!
Delivering to others what to me has been given.
There are no intentions I make,
To create lines to find rhymes...
With the suiting done to minds,
To ease with the delivery...
Of what is deemed acceptable poetry.
In a seeking of a 'selected' demographic to please.
That would be too easy!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I See Them On The Weekends
Who selected what you wear...
And helped you dress this morning?
'What kind of question is that?
I make those decisions myself! '
Who selected where you shop?
Dine and entertain your whims?
When you have them?
'What are you getting at?
Is there a point to be made here? '
Sooo...
You will agree,
If you are influenced to do anything...
It will be a choice you make?
'Sure...
Everyone does that.'
Then why are so many people,
Blaming others for their problems?
IF they are making their own decisions.
And where they are in life by choice!
'Well...
Some folks have legitimate gripes.'
I know!
I see them on the weekends,
Packing the malls...
And spreading their girth on the sidewalks.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Listening
Listening.
And being there for someone loved...
To do just that!
With a mind willing,
To be receptive and clear...
Of opinions sitting,
On the tip of one's tongue.
With a giving of attention,
And staying mum.
Listening to someone.
Listening is not easily done.
For those who have experienced...
A life in which peace of mind has come.
When a listening ear,
Had not been volunteered by no one.
And some who know this...
Do their best to sit with patience.
Listening with no other reason...
But to be there as is wished.
For someone who has selected you,
Just for this.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Free People
Some may admit they wish another lover.
Although they've suffered and have since recovered.
Some may admit they wish another lover.
And many underestimate the cost,
The feeling of a loss.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.
Some may admit they wish another lover,
But they really don't.
They miss the suffering and being smothered,
By somebody known.
And just to have another troubled lover,
There to condone...
Isn't worth the heartache or the tears that are shown.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held.
Free people weep alone when they discover,
Moaning known too well.
Free people weep alone when undercovers,
Wanting to be held...
Inside when they hide alone,
And there all by themselves.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Three Fishers
1 Three fishers went sailing away to the west,
2 Away to the west as the sun went down;
3 Each thought on the woman who loved him the best,
4 And the children stood watching them out of the town;
5 For men must work, and women must weep,
6 And there's little to earn, and many to keep,
7 Though the harbour bar be moaning.
8 Three wives sat up in the lighthouse tower,
9 And they trimmed the lamps as the sun went down;
10 They looked at the squall, and they looked at the shower,
11 And the night-rack came rolling up ragged and brown.
12 But men must work, and women must weep,
13 Though storms be sudden, and waters deep,
14 And the harbour bar be moaning.
15 Three corpses lay out on the shining sands
16 In the morning gleam as the tide went down,
17 And the women are weeping and wringing their hands
18 For those who will never come home to the town;
19 For men must work, and women must weep,
20 And the sooner it's over, the sooner to sleep;
21 And good-bye to the bar and its moaning.
poem by Charles Kingsley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Born to Do
All my life I've been told,
What I could and could not do.
As if these messages were directly delivered.
Just to test that maverick in me.
To see if I committed myself,
To the speaking of falsities.
I was born to do what I've been doing.
Although I have been interviewed,
To qualify myself to chase someone else's dollar.
And to have my multi-faceted cultural identity used.
You know,
As window dressing!
All my life I've been told,
What I could and could not do.
As if these messages were directly delivered.
Just to test that maverick in me.
To see if I committed myself,
To the speaking of falsities.
And I have never been one,
To fake the scope of my realities...
For the purpose to charade.
Or hide them behind drapes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mixed Messages
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Your messages are sending me a meaning.
I interpret most of them as being mixed.
I think you know it.
And that's intented.
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Is there something here we should be investing?
With some time given,
To digest!
If we conversated to replace the guessing.
I'm not the one to be confused about a message.
I'm the kind that likes it more direct.
If you've got some feelings for me confessed them.
Help me out here,
Let's not start a mess.
Eliminate the guessing,
And put this at rest.
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Is there something here we should be investing?
Let's eliminate the guessing,
And put this at rest.
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Help me out here,
Let's not start a mess.
The less guess work will put my mind at rest.
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Less guess work will eliminate a mess.
Help me out here,
Let's not start a mess.
Less guess work will eliminate to put this mess at rest.
Do you know,
What I think I do?
Your messages are sending me a meaning.
I interpret most of them as being mixed.
I think you know it.
And that's intented.
I think you know it.
And that's intented.
But mixed messages are not the kind,
I think are the best.
If you want some answers,
You're the one that must confess.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Performing new actions
I am a human being
I can perform new actions
And in performing new actions
I can reap the fruits of deeds
Of earlier lives.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Coming Season Of Dry Humour
perhaps this is why
God stubbornly kept
body alive across
shadow years
awaiting what?
season of dry
humour
when smile lights
up eyes
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Men are not made religious by performing certain actions which are externally good, but they must first have righteous principles, and then they will not fail to perform virtuous actions.
quote by Martin Luther
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Without Going Through a Messy Process
...and speaking of experiences?
How many can say they achieved experience,
By listening to the sound of another's voice?
Or reading directions on how that is done?
Has anyone been 'shown' how to acquire it?
And how much of it comes to one that sits?
Especially if it can not be ordered...
Or delivered after purchase.
And even if that 'was' a possibility,
Haven't we all 'experienced' buyer's remorse?
Wishing we could quickly divorce from it!
Without going through a messy process.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Certain Preference On Early Mornings...
sometimes forgive me
but i do not like to hear bird chirping by my window
on early mornings for honestly i prefer
the silent sounds of the wind
from the sea,
and so when i hear those chirping birds
perching on the tree
those still feeding their fledgelings
i exercise that right of having to close my
glass windows
preferring once again
the privacy of my room and the exclusion of the
outside world
by the curtains and then i begin to sip my coffee
reading a poem
listening to the words seeping like rain to the
hair of my own soul.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
This Is the Kind of Life
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
We are born to believe,
What is fed to us.
This 'feeding' is received...
And what is perceived,
We with others retrieve with like minds!
Preferring to find those of the same kind,
With like 'experiences' shared without fear!
And fear keeps us all indoctrinated to accept doubt!
Isn't that what marketing peace is about?
With the realization it will never be found...
As we rely on the production of conflict and confusion,
To always be identified!
Knowing that as well as we do.
And hoping this in our lives stays around!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
And is kept alive to thrive...
In comfort zones,
Until the day we die!
Leaving those who defy these 'truths'...
Spilling their guts out in confession booths.
Or squeezing themselves to sit in pews...
As they listen to hypocrites from pulpits preach,
To leech on minds already screwed and confused!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
Listening to teachings,
That 'demons' from hell have no wings...
Allowing to be demoralized on Sunday,
Learning more about the devil...
As we hear these 'disciples' sing!
And this is the kind of life,
We all have come to love!
We all interpret life,
On our own terms.
What is accepted...
Rejected and neglected,
Is a process that is taught.
This 'show and tell' conditioning,
Is learned and consciously sought!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
They Call People Like That Comedians
There are those with insecurities,
Who believe them to be less noticeable...
If they are quick to point out the flaws,
And blemishes of others in public.
And with loud disrespecting remarks.
To ensure an attention to them is given.
In the hopes that someone will find them humorous.
Although at the expense of degrading another.
'They call people like that,
Legitimate comedians.'
People like that who do what they do,
And not get paid...
Offstage too?
Are people who can not perceive to believe,
Those who hear and see what they do to others...
Do not think of them as humorous.
As much as they witness publicly,
Someone proving with a doing to be a legitimate fool.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Content Sent
No one can manipulate,
A fate that awaits.
Whispered actions...
Fall on ears of some.
To alert and enlighten.
Although messages delivered,
Aren't always welcomed by everyone.
But that does not delay...
The content sent,
When it comes.
Or attempt to convince,
Those who would like to prevent the outcome.
By choosing not to believe what appears.
Fearing and weeping their useless tears.
And finding themselves exposed.
With no where to run from what is disclosed.
Unbelieving what is seen...
They scream!
To cover eyes and ears...
With wishes to escape,
From the tremendous magnificence...
Of what appears!
'What in the...? '
Don't ask!
There are no words to created,
To describe it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Banana Bread-Baked and Buttered
I recently discovered,
I was quick banana fed.
Having one sliced in cereal.
One in a milkshake.
And a few to make banana bread.
I guess the potassium agrees with me.
When I eat one on the street.
Preferring that treat over candied sweets.
And a vitamin I need...
Like C, D, E and the B's.
While trying to avoid the calories,
As I strip one and dip it...
Into creamy chocolate.
I recently discovered,
I was quick banana fed.
Having one sliced in cereal.
One in a milkshake.
And a few to make banana bread.
Baked and buttered,
With no crumbs spared!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!