Put Out To Graze In The Pasture
Hey
The only thing you can truly say
Is that you 'once' ran a good race
And now that you've aged
And have been replaced
Why put that blame on the jockey?
That jockey is accustomed
To riding on the backs of winners.
And you have fed that purpose.
No matter what spotlight you believe,
You today deserve.
Your purpose has been served.
Get over it.
You've been put out to graze in the pasture.
Whatever you had has been used.
And like the rest,
Who have taken their lives for granted
Your purpose,
Has
Been served!
With or without your consent or lost investment,
You spent at the service of others.
Graze and shut the
Just shut up!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Ringmasters Word
I have a purpose...
Take your dill knife, stab me, go, strike my heart...(ha ha, ha ha...ha ha, ha ha )
I have a purpose...
Such things cant exist...
I have a purpose...
You will tell them of me and how one day I shall come for them...
I have a purpose...
Quietly, I will come over your bed,
I will lean over and gently bite your neck...
Ringmaster...
I have a purpose...
You will tell them of me and how one day I shall come for them
song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baby Blues
(bth australian version)
I wonder whats happening to me
Things are changing so dramatically
Ill search for you, youre not really there
Still I wonder knowing that you do care
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
He is the best thing to come my way
Perfect picture baby blues in my day
He is the best thing to come around
Sleeping in his cradle safe and sound
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up, I shut up
I shut up, I shut up, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
I shut up now, I shut up now
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby blues, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Baby baby, baby blues
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
Sha la la, sha la la, sha la la, sha la la
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something Good To Do And Say
Where is the opportunity
To let what 'was' go?
To know that today...
Has more purpose than yesterday.
Right now,
In this moment.
Let us be in 'it' without delay!
Where is the opportunity
To say what was 'is' done?
Nothing gained is more rewarding...
Than to know something fresh has begun!
Beating dead horses and riding slow turtles,
To make a point that will never be won!
Doesn't do a thing when slinging aged mud...
To accomplish an understanding,
Misunderstood.
Let us leave it alone...
Like we should!
Where is the opportunity
To let what 'was' go?
To know that today...
Has more purpose than yesterday.
Right now,
In this moment.
Let us be in 'it' without delay!
Right now,
In this moment...
Help me help us,
Find something good to do and say!
You must be tired,
Like I know I am...
To discover in review,
Nothing 'fresh' or new to be pursued!
And reliving past emotions feed,
A time that is not returning...
We should leave as is and let it be!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Your Purpose of Living
The master of purpose does not
respect certificate or degree;
He only respect people
with purpose in life.
Purpose is the gate fee
to success land.
Purpose is your direction.
Purpose is an objective in life,
dream, and what you are here for.
You cannot move on in life
until you have discovered
your objectives in life,
which is your purpose of living.
poem by Franca Kenneth
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A Jockey, and a Horse Named Love
in the kentucky derby
i am jockey
my horse is love
you are my sponsor
on the day of the race
i abandon my post
you lose the bet
now i come
to beg you
to be my sponsor again
your trust i have betrayed
your money spent for nothing
i plead you to overlook
i plead you give a chance
so will you
whom i have caused losses
whom i have betrayed
whom i have left in mid-race
give a jockey like me
who caused you losses
who betrayed you
who left you in mid-race
another chance
to jockey again
my horse
named love
poem by Kiley Casanova
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Chaos, Order, Chaos, Beauty And Ugliness...
beauty must a purpose
have, for instance beauty that
gives peace and
harmony to the world,
presumably this world is a world of chaos,
and chaos is wanton
and understood to be messy and
undesirable, makes the mind
to lack the necessary focus
but what is focus for? what is thinking for?
again, you return to purpose
focus must have a purpose
and thinking must have another purpose
but what is the purpose of purpose?
seems that purpose is beauty
and that purpose without beauty is not desirable,
and so on and so forth,
people get so confused, they want order as though order itself is
beauty
as though it is one purpose that we need,
the universe must have an order
a system, every planet orbiting around the sun must have
a purpose
as though they are human beings like us
as though they are us
look at this poem, read it so well,
it has no purpose but to make you think
make you doubt
that perhaps beauty to be beauty must be wanton
and chaotic, which by itself is a reality
and reality is always
beautiful,
it has always a purpose and this is what you think it to be
right now, but is this really so?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Midst Of Creating Conflict
Wishing for a past to return to relive,
Has to be those wishes made by the ones...
Doing a procrastinating done.
They did it then and still do now.
And there are many living,
Who believe they are owed to be served.
As if for no other reason they exist.
To live to criticized to bemoan their failures.
And the ones who go unnoticed,
With a sacrificing done to condone...
Take no one or anything for granted.
With a doing not to complain or it shown.
And...
Often those believing they are owed to be served,
Are in the midst of creating conflict...
Anywhere they are allowed to critique and whine.
With a finding of doing this as fulfilling their purpose.
As if to make their presence known.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Apocalypse, And Good Bourbon
apocalypse, and good bourbon.
the beat of the news feels like
shovels digging graves by themselves...
deaths without purpose, lives
without purpose....
the cash register rings,
someone else is evicted,
another factory shut down!
the stench of oppression
is almost unbearable....
fresh manured fields of lies,
pull the strings of the puppet,
make him dance....
(you cant see them,
cant touch them,
they're insulated, shut off
from the sounds of hunger
and naked hearts beating!)
and down the street an old man
dies alone in a rundown house.
the shades are pulled, no one
notices... his old dog
guards the body, waiting....
while two young lovers make love
in the back of an old car...
two young gay men hand in hand
walking and talking....
two babies are born,
and two more die....
apocalypse, and good bourbon.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Find It. Your Purpose
Find it.
Your purpose.
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Your purpose.
It is difficult to be oneself,
And declare oneself to 'be'.
It is much easier to locate acceptance,
When approval from others...
Does not threaten,
A routine enjoyed with unchanged beliefs.
Find it.
Your purpose.
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Your purpose.
And once it is recognized...
Be prepared to be criticized.
Be prepared to be humble too...
When a strength felt opens your eyes.
But never be apologetic,
For those steps you make.
Moving forward has been known,
To cause many heartache.
But find it,
You must...
Your purpose.
And trust that it is...
Your purpose!
And...
Once it has been discovered,
Do not let it be undermined.
Once it has been discovered,
Your purpose...
Will open and broaden your mind.
Finding one's purpose,
Does this every time!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Moving Home
My life was now over so I moved home today.
I have passed on my earthly wealth and gone away.
No need for my goods and chattels to follow me
for they're not required where I am going to be.
This old house all dilapidated and decayed
had outlived the purpose for which it had been made.
So I left it behind me as an empty shell
for it was made of flesh and served its' purpose well.
But I am eternal and born by the breath of God.
Saved when I put my trust in Christ Jesus my Lord.
So my soul soared heavenward up to its new home
no more confined to earth but the heavens to roam.
Lost As A Treasured Experience
If it was not meant to be taken seriously,
None of it would have been given to be taken
With a purpose to receive,
And comprehend its meaning.
Instead of comprehending the meaning of it,
It has been left to sit
As of its existence is there to provide,
One a uselessness.
And one who has decided,
That all there is to it was to use
Until the nourishment from it was exhausted.
Then an exhaustion from taking it for granted
Leaves.
If
It was not meant to be taken seriously,
What is the purpose for any of it to exist.
Just to please the existing of the unimportance,
To prioritize an increasing toleration of nonsense.
And
If nonsense continues to increase,
The purpose of witnessing any of this
Diminishes in value to be lost as a treasured experience.
Never to have been found worthy of its priceless blessing.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Comparing Deeds Done
An exhaustion that comes,
To the one giving...
Seems to go overlooked,
By what others do to share.
As if a competition in a race is there.
Instead of feelings that are genuine,
When comparing deeds done...
At social affairs.
Amongst those they are who benefit,
From their being in cliques.
Just to say how their time is spent.
Regardless if what is done is effective.
And generating an effectiveness,
Seems for many not to be their purpose.
Or an involvement to them really meant.
'Then what is their purpose? '
That's a good question to ask.
But I'm just an observer.
I am not the one behind the assigning to them tasks.
'Then you have time to waste! '
Are you kidding?
I am on my way to another hat fitting.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Lesson From The Horse Race
There's no such thing as gallant loser and there's no glory in defeat
And coming first is all that matter and victory is always sweet
For the winning horse and jockey there's a mighty hip hooray
And the jockey he is smiling victory has made his day.
The stable lad leads in his winner he has never known such joy
And the owner pats his race horse as if to say well done me boy
And there's applause for the winning trainer from the large onlooking crowd
And the horse is centre of attention and those who backed him clapping loud.
Near by stands the beaten favourite held there by his stable lad
And with no trace of the horse's owner and the trainer looking sad
In a thrilling photo finish beaten into second place
But he get little recognition for running such a splendid race.
Human life is like the horse race at winning post you've got to lead
Losers are quickly forgotten and to be loved you must succeed
You must strive hard for your glory and if you fail in your vital test
You too will be quick forgotten as winners are remembered best
And there's a lesson from the horse race and it read plain for all to see
If you live for admiration go for outright victory
And you will be the main attraction and all the applause will be for you
And like the poor defeated race horse there will be none for number two.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Villanelle
A dainty thing's the Villanelle.
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A doublc-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime-
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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A Dainty Thing's The Villanelle
A DAINTY thing's the Villanelle,
Sly, musical, a jewel in rhyme,
It serves its purpose passing well.
A double-clappered silver bell
That must be made to clink in chime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And if you wish to flute a spell,
Or ask a meeting 'neath the lime,
It serves its purpose passing well.
You must not ask of it the swell
Of organs grandiose and sublime--
A dainty thing's the Villanelle;
And, filled with sweetness, as a shell
Is filled with sound, and launched in time,
It serves its purpose passing well.
Still fair to see and good to smell
As in the quaintness of its prime,
A dainty thing's the Villanelle,
It serves its purpose passing well.
poem by William Ernest Henley
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Expect Some Blushing
When one sweats to deliver,
I doubt if basking in adulation
Is the purpose behind it.
Unless it has been whispered,
A good cup of coffee is served.
Then by all means,
Expect some blushing too!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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So that studio served its purpose, and still is working very well for other people right now.
quote by Billy Sherwood
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God’s Purpose Never Changed
I will post
poems today
the purpose
is not
about you
or me
it is about
God
this purpose
has never
changed
persona
changes
within certain
styles
within
poems
I write
but
consistency
of purpose
never changed
it is a constant
as omnipresent
omnipotent
omnibenevolent
omniscient God
is constant.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Holiday At Race Course
Went to race course dismissing idea of casino.
It was really something different to go.
I was excited to watch some thing live
instead losing in gamble in smoky light.
Horse race, a joint work of man and animal,
again a combination of sports and gamble.
Accompanied my friend who was bit experienced,
he selected racetrack and horse to win the bet.
The pony looked having better winning chance
judged he was happy, peppy and eager to race.
Jockey was also smart and had good ride style
I did nothing but followed my friend with smile.
I too dared to risk my ten dollars on same pony,
it was unknown, on whom we put the money.
It's past performance matrix and about training,
even about the jockey we were not knowing.
Lucky day was it, for the horse chosen by us
We returned happy, added few dollar to vault
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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Two Jockeys see through the same hole.
Other masters are not your advocates
To take up your issues with your master,
The cause being genuine or you a friend though.
A Jockey will not advocate against a jockey.
23.03.2012
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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