One Who Dares to Be The Maverick
The art of flying low...
Keeps the wings of one,
From becoming emotionally attached.
And scratches received,
Aren't cut deep to bleed.
A healing perceived...
And done,
Continues in a flight undetected.
One can land or choose to soar.
As long as the height of one's flight...
Is accepted as a temporary blindness,
That can be easily excused...
With a taste for nonconformity,
Expected.
And this is overlooked,
By those unaccustomed...
To take anyone serious enough,
To fly as high as they wish...
Without attracting attention,
To the ease of it!
Keeping such missions successfully gained.
And maintained...
With patience,
By the one who dares to be the maverick!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Seeking Confidence
I can not be around that which clings.
I am an adventurer.
Born to explore,
And to soar as if with wings.
Emotionally dependent I have been.
I had been one seeking confidence.
And the one given no empathy...
Or hints of it known to be shown to see.
I can not be around that which clings.
After healing from my own sufferings.
And doing that with minimal assistance.
Given by those who cared with love to spare.
Emotionally dependent I have been.
I had been one seeking confidence.
And the one given no empathy...
Or hints of it known to be shown to see.
But still...
I can not be around that which clings.
I am an adventurer.
Born to explore,
And to soar as if with wings.
Sometimes in flight and crying.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Am Hoping You Have Chosen To Soar
I am not out seeking,
To crush your feathers!
Nor do I wish...
With my own ambitions,
To search the sky...
To see how high you fly!
I am hoping you have chosen to soar.
And if in your flight,
Your eyes are on me...
To see whether or not,
You are ahead...
Or I may overtake your lead.
You are not flying high just to succeed!
You are hoping in your heart,
My ego is not pleased.
I am hoping you have chosen to soar.
Nothing less.
Nothing more.
I have my own sights,
On how high I choose to fly!
There is just too much sky,
To keep you blocked in my vision...
And locked in my eyes!
I am hoping you have chosen to soar.
Nothing less.
Nothing more.
Your success is yours to explore!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Home Ominous Flight
come walk we two
across flame red sky
two birds soar flying
silent solitary shadows
would clip our wings
in home ominous flight
blood red flame sunsets
bathe glorious horizons
bruised epic bleed rivers
poem by Terence George Craddock
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You Can Fly
Expanse of land that would cushion your fall
As you tumble down from the sky
Marble cakes of delicious design and
Theyre yours, you can fly
I have no wings but I wish that I had
I have dreams about it every night
And I can soar with the wind in my face
On my flight, on my flight
Wont you try and just bother
Wont you bother to care
And then somehow or other
Youll be there
Cotton clouds look like mountainous land
Covered by december snow
And I can see from my majestic view
Down below, yes I know
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Walking With Katherine
"come walk we two
across flame red sky
two birds soar flying
silent solitary shadows
would clip our wings
in home ominous flight
blood red flame sunsets
bathe glorious horizons
bruised epic bleed rivers"
"All day
the triumphant
sun with yellow banners
Warred and warred
with the earth,
and when she yielded
Stabbed her heart,
gathered her blood
in a chalice,
Spilling it over
the evening sky.
When the dark
plumaged birds
go flying, flying,
Quiet lies the earth
wrapt in her
mournful shadow,
Her sightless eyes
turned to the red sky
And the restlessly
seeking birds."
exceptionally exquisite
a vibrant emotive poem
sadly not appreciated
KM by random critics
lacking sunset visions
reverent appreciation
come walk we soar
across flame red sky
free birds soar flying
First three stanzas quotation, the poem ‘Home Ominous Flight' by Terence George Craddock.
Stanzas four to ten, quoted lines in changed format, from the exquisite poem ‘Across The Red Sky' by Katherine Mansfield.
Dedicated to Katherine Mansfield.
Copyright © Katherine Mansfield, Terence George Craddock
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Wingless Flight
Wingless Flight
I sometime sit and wonder why
There are some birds which cannot fly.
The Emu and the Ostrich too
Remain earthbound as we have to
The penguins clad in black and white,
they too have lost the power of flight.
They do their flying in the sea
I don’t know why it puzzles me.
I have no wings I cannot fly
but if I had I would rise high.
Above the land, above the sea.
Instead of sitting miserably
confined by age to my arm chair.
My aching joints are hard to bear.
Despite my disability
I have the capability
To disregard reality
Immerse my self in fantasy
and fly to where I want to be.
I don’t need wings to carry me.
I travel at the speed of thought
to where the silver dragons sport
I do not need to leave my chair
imagination takes me any where.
15-Aug-08
http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Flying lessons for M'lady Ernestine.
The swallows have successfully
raised up their fledging family.
The little ones now have to try
out their wings and learn to fly.
Although at first reluctantly.
They seem to know instinctively,
the freedom of the sky is theirs.
But only for the bird who dares
to leave the nest and try their wings.
Despite the anxious twitterings
of parent birds who have the right.
To watch their first attempt at flight.
They fly because they know they can.
All part of Mother Natures plan.
Sunday,13 June 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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If You Allow Yourself to Set High Standards
If you allow yourself to set high standards...
For yourself!
No one else.
Just yourself.
You will enjoy a higher flight.
Feeling right and certain with this decision,
Made.
With your sights gliding,
Towards an enlightenment sent...
To aid your clearing vision.
As clouds from a darkened limitation,
Fades.
And...
If you allow yourself to set high standards...
For yourself!
No one else.
Just yourself.
Who knows...
You just may influence,
Someone else...
To take flight and also soar.
Who knows who will choose with you,
To explore the soaring done you will do!
And all of those struggles you fight,
Will come from behind those doors you closed.
In a silent battle.
To expose themselves,
As obstacles you allowed to impose...
Upon your attention given.
They will know then...
To you they seem so insignificant.
And they will argue!
But from you they will eventually leave.
With a sliding right off your back.
To become detached.
Never to find you to saddle for a ride again.
As you once had welcomed them!
To harness as if a limb needed.
And there will be a peace enjoyed...
Leaving you to command your destiny!
If...
You allow yourself,
To set high standards!
Listen to your heart and learn.
Your eyes will open,
With a dismissing of the fog...
That drifts away,
To reveal your triumph.
If...
You listen to your heart and learn.
You will allow yourself,
To set high standards!
For yourself.
No one else.
Unless they too...
Have a wish for a dimissing of a fog!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Popularity Based Upon Testimony Received
Dangerous are the ones,
Uncomfortable in their own skins.
Easily influenced and absent of identity.
Personally untrustworthy.
Yet dutiful when given and assigned responsibility.
And programmed they are,
To achieve a popularity.
Based upon testimony received...
From those who are equally trained to deceive.
Successfully!
And that is reflective to the health of one's society.
Accepted to observe without comment if wished.
Or deny in one's defense which is commonly witnessed,
To make for them a conscious sense...
To what they do that's done.
For their own betterment and social standing perceived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poetical Epistle To Sir William Bennet, Bart. of Grubbat
My trembling muse your honour does address,
That it's a bold attempt most humbly I confess;
If you'll encourage her young fagging flight,
She'll upwards soar and mount Parnassus' height.
If little things with great may be compared
In Rome it so with the divine Virgil fared;
The tuneful bard Augustus did inspire,
Made his great genius flash poetic fire;
But if upon my flight your honour frowns,
The muse folds up her wings, and dying - justice owns.
poem by James Thomson
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Ecstasy
The shore-lark soars to his topmost flight,
Sings at the height where morning springs,
What though his voice be lost in the light,
The light comes dropping from his wings.
Mount, my soul, and sing at the height
Of thy clear flight in the light and the air,
Heard or unheard in the night in the light
Sing there! Sing there!
poem by Duncan Campbell Scott
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Not they who soar
Not they who soar, but they who plod
Their rugged way, unhelped, to God
Are heroes; they who higher fare,
And, flying, fan the upper air,
Miss all the toil that hugs the sod.
'Tis they whose backs have felt the rod,
Whose feet have pressed the path unshod,
May smile upon defeated care,
Not they who soar.
High up there are no thorns to prod,
Nor boulders lurking 'neath the clod
To turn the keenness of the share,
For flight is ever free and rare;
But heroes they the soil who've trod,
Not they who soar!
poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Selecting Which Ones To Fry
It has been a long time,
Since I've tested wings to fly.
Now when I choose to soar,
I feel I must spy to see who is near by...
Doing the wing clippings.
And selecting which ones to fry.
There are too many jealous wishing to pluck feathers.
It seems as if I have to waste my time,
Multi-tasking.
And I have not been asked,
To clarify a thing from my point of view.
It is assumed what I do I have done,
Without obstacles!
And watching for those have kept my flight afloat.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Free Flight
Head on down the highway
Across the county line,
Ive had my fill of small town thrills
Gonna leave it all behind.
Free flight, free flight.
Im careless in my loving,
Shameless in my style,
If I get caught by the short n curlies
Ill just hide out for awhile.
Free flight, free flight.
On an on the road goes on
Itll go on forever,
An just the same Ill live my life,
Hell bent for leather.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling inside.
Heaven knows its in my blood
As long as I try, I just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Free flight, free flight, free flight.
Head on down the highway
Suitcase in your hand,
When you get down with your feet on the ground
I know youll understand.
Free flight, free flight.
Heaven knows its driving me crazy,
Its a feeling thats driving me wild.
Heaven knows its in my blood,
Fool if you try, you just cant deny.
Free flight, come tomorrow dawn youll find me gone.
Free flight, make no bones about it, Im moving on.
(solo)
Free flight, free flight, free flight...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Flight
When the sacred kingfisher is flying,
It is frantically flapping its wings to
The sand of the sea,
In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.
Its flight is most like a deep, steady wing beat
To fly higher and higher.
Its wing seemingly bites the air.
So skilled at flying
Is the sacred kingfisher
And so naturally suited to the sky
That it can frantically flap its wings to
The sand of the sea.
In a form of a deep curve as a rainbow.
From that deep curve comes its screaming
And the white bleeding rain,
While the bird is frantically flapping its wings to
The sea water
To eat its silent prey
And to become a broken winged bird,
That cannot fly
Any longer.
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Choose To Fly
Choose to fly!
Choose to soar...
Above the clouds,
And touch the sky.
Choose to spread your wings.
And with praises choose to sing...
To end limitations.
And what to you those limits bring.
Choose to fly.
Energize with the Sun.
Have fun.
Begin what is wished.
Do not undo that which has begun.
Choose to fly.
Look up.
Around and down!
Can accustomed conflict mixed with confusion...
Be heard from anyone?
Can it be found?
As you lift your disconnectedness,
Higher off the ground?
Can you feel a peace?
As you release...
From tensions that decrease.
Choose to fly.
Let go of that madness...
Grabbing to entrap.
To have you slapped with unhappiness.
Choose to fly.
Declare your fresh air...
Is absent of dispair.
And all boundaries have cleared for your arrival.
Choose to fly!
Choose to soar...
Above the clouds,
And touch the sky.
Let go...
And take hold of the atmosphere there.
Choose to fly.
Choose to soar.
Choose to live the life you adore,
Even more!
Choose to fly.
And break free to live your dreams.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poet To His Love
ALL the flight of thoughts here, shy, bold, scared, intrusive,
Fluttering in the sun, between the green and blue,
Wheeling, whirling, poising, lovely and elusive,
How to cage the flying thoughts, my winged delight, for you?
Set a springe of rhyme, and hope to catch them in it?
Strew my love as grain to lure them to the snare?
Watch the hours built up, slow minute piled on minute?
Still the wide sky guards their flight, and still the cage is bare.
Gleam of hovering feathers, brushing me to flout me!
Wings, be weary! Rest! Who loves you more than I?
Caught? Oh fluttering pinions whitening air about me!
Rustling wings, and distant flight, and empty cage and sky!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Not To Temporary Borrow
What is it you are here to prove?
A truth...
That I borrowed?
And,
What is it you're here to prove and to who?
A truth...
Untold?
With a telling of a version,
You hope gets sold.
The truth I know is in me and it is maintained.
And...
Not to temporary borrow,
No!
The truth I know is in me and it is maintained.
And...
Not to temporary borrow,
No!
What is it you're here to prove and to who?
A truth...
That I borrowed?
Well...
The truth I know is in me and it is maintained.
And...
Not to temporary borrow,
No!
The truth I know is in me and it is sustained.
And...
Not to temporary borrow,
No!
The truth I know is in me and remains unchanged.
And...
Not to temporary borrow,
No!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Soon Be To Nothing
Kelly mountain road
Saw a heavy load
With a sagging heart
And a break apart
Voices in me
Stood as thick as thieves
With no sympathy
For the beggars art
I have passed these pines
bout a million times
Effortlessly
(effortlessly)
Now I grip the wheel
Fear is what I feel
At the slow unraveling of
(slow unraveling of)
Me
(me)
(ah)
(ah)
But you tell me its temporary
(tell me its temporary)
Its a matter of time
(its a matter of time)
By god
Dont you think I know its in my mind
(in my mind)
And its right over left
(right over left)
And healing the then
(healing the then)
Ill soon be to nothing
But I dont know when
Well the way I flee
(daylight)
On my crooked feet
Barn happy horse
(fading)
On a one-track course
Then I self despise
(daylight)
Cryin out my eyes
cause the happy trail
(fading)
Led me to remorse,
But the road is long
(but the road is long)
And the song is gone
I blow empty
In my cicada shell
If I saw my choice
(if I saw my choice)
I might find my voice
But I dont know when
(dont know when)
And I just cant tell
(just cant tell)
(ah)
(ah)
You tell me its temporary
(tell me its temporary)
Its a matter of time
(its a matter of time)
By god
Dont you think I know its in my mind
(in my mind)
Its right over left
(right over left)
And healing the then
(and healing the then)
Ill soon be to nothing
But I dont know when
Deep behind my face
Is a safer place
But old gears are hitched tight
To the gate
Its a daily grind
Waiting to unwind
Till I hear that click
That unlocks my fate
(ah)
(ah)
Yeah
But you tell me its temporary
(but tell me its temporary)
And its a matter of time
(and its a matter of time)
By god
Dont you think I know its in my mind
Its right over left
(its right over left)
And healing the then
(and healing the then)
Ill soon be to nothing
(Ill soon be to nothing)
But I dont know when
Ill soon be to nothing
(Ill soon be to nothing)
But I dont know when
Ill soon be to nothing
But I dont know when
(but I dont know when)
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something Deliberate Maintained
The mind of an artist that is not detailed,
Can not be one accepted...
Or respected as a craftsman to be celebrated.
Perfoming or visual...
There is something deliberate maintained.
That which excells and commands attention.
And one who becomes a true artist can do this well.
And easily separates from those...
Who are just going through the motions.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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