Silenced Has Been This Nut Cutter
Silenced has been this nut cutter.
The one whose persona,
Had been one of dignity.
He with lips,
Flapping and microphoned.
Broadcastiing sentiments...
One of his stature,
No one condoned.
Silenced has been this nut cutter.
Finding such disgust,
He should not have uttered.
And today,
Whatever influence he may have had..
Has faded away.
Along with his perceptions...
On top of water he walked,
And not through it he waded.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
When You Come Back
before you go
you put three things
just three things
on the table of your room
a red rose, a yellow mongol pencil,
a nail cutter,
a nail cutter is nothing
but when you come back you find it missing.
you think about the nail cutter
that ordinary nail cutter that you can buy
at anytime
in any store,
it is not there anymore, the red rose wilted
and the yellow mongol pencil is untouched.
you still think about the nail cutter
where could it be? who took it?
your world revolves now around
the missing nail cutter.
it is like loving an ordinary person,
who is now
missing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Suicide Silence
Suicide Silenced the roaring lion.
Suicide Silenced the wish of dying
Suicide Silenced every voice
Suicide Silenc every choice
Overall suicide silenced life
Deep down suicide should of silence the knife.
Because of the knife,
Suicide Silenced me...
poem by Shauntae Taylor
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Pretence
One Lonely night
Under my bed
I found a soul
rusty and wet
Tearing apart
grey webs of art
I took the soul
out of the dark
Oh! What a fright
it gave my old heart
Oh! What a searing light
it shed on my new life
A silenced strife
of my silenced life
The silenced start
Silenced apart
Carving a hole
inside the wall
I tried to hide
hide from this all
Protecting the sight
of my own right
I threw it down
drawing a frown
Bouncing back and forth
jumping up and down
doubting everything I did
It started a mutiny
Then!
another contention
beyond contemplation
my consummation
the final conflagration.
poem by Pamuditha Zen Anjana
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The Sound Of War
When all the bombs are silenced
When all the dust has died
When all the planes of violence
Are stored all safe inside
When all the crumbled buildings
Just teeter on the brink
When water lies in every street
Yet none is fit to drink
When politicians preaching
Of peace and healing sores
Just fail to see they're teaching
The young to fight in wars
When rhetoric and violence
Are met with with much the same
The guns will not be silenced
The killing still remains.
When families are slaughtered
And Generals hold the sway
Sure tell our sons and daughters
That no-one wins today.
poem by Dave James
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The Cookie Cutter Shudders
The cookie cutter shudders.
Quivering in disbelief,
The taste of cookies prepared...
No longer meets the satisfaction,
Of those seeking originality.
An ingredient wished is missed.
That shake and bake appeal,
Has lost its zest and zeal.
People of substance hunger for it.
And the cookie cutter shudders.
Since a recipe used,
Was discovered to be illegitimate.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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With The Scaping Of Knees And Knuckles
I've learned to keep my own lips silenced.
To keep them shut.
Even though an opinion sat on my tongue,
Preparing for an appearance to be heard...
With a retorting done no matter how absurd.
There is nothing like the scent of conflict.
And the familiarity of its arrival.
Along with its creators and who is prone to deliver it.
I've learned to fix my lips to sit together.
And with the clinching of teeth if necessary.
Once one is introduced to a peace of mind,
It becomes more treasured...
Than having the keys to a Mercedes.
No luxury on Earth can replace a peace of mind.
I have discovered that...
With the scaping of knees and knuckles done.
I've learned there are times when the best of thoughts,
Can sometimes be those kept to oneself...
To go unheard by anyone else that may offend to defend.
Yes...
I've learned to keep my own lips silenced.
To keep them shut.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Toeing To Toe
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
But if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Or have some green tea with me.
I'm having crackers and cheese.
And if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
That cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
Add some snuggled hugging....
With your toe to my toes touch too!
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
And it got too hot,
To get your cookies baked to taste.
Did you leave your cookie cutter,
Near that boiling pot?
Now you think you should stop...
Concentrating on your need,
For sweets.
So if you wanna,
You can still whip up...
A cool mint 'coolah-tah'.
And do some toe to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me.
If you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe with me.
That's if you wanna,
Do some toeing to toe...
With me!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Horse Cutter's Dream
like a meanness racing around an incongruity's slow burn the horse cutter's day ends
nothing but the slow dance of the swizzle stick makes for evening's fast times
where the drawn shade rattles whisper's whistle sweeps across a dream
one of these days i'll go home
down to where white haired men sit around warming their meanings on no meaning at all
where what is said is easy as crossing the eye of a storm
and so the horse cutter passes each day keeping to himself
keeping the teeth of his saw sharp
hambone hambone where you been
round the world and back again
poem by Paul Bamberger
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Remember the Ridiculous?
Remember the ridiculous?
When outrageous public statements made,
Were attributed to those considered nonconformists.
Or at least depicted as militant with violent wishes!
And were silenced quick wherever they dared to sit.
Remember the heights achieved by those self righteous?
The ones who quoted from scriptures and knew what sinning meant.
The ones who declared a separation of church and politics.
And spoke of family values and deplored decadence.
With hints they were chosen and others lived to be blasphemous!
Rewind these actions and tell me this...
Whose standards vowed are at a crisis now?
Who authorized the lives we live?
While standing by to watch...
Chaos rise to become prioritized as top notch!
With excuses to make and pointing fingers to give!
Remember the ridiculous?
When outrageous public statements made,
Were attributed to those considered nonconformists.
Or at least depicted as militant with violent wishes!
And were silenced quick wherever they dared to sit.
And those making the most noise today...
Protest loudly in disarray!
In groups to influence and convince in their dismay...
They represent the people who are of conservative ways.
Remember the ridiculous?
When terrorists were thought to ride camels...
And not be Ivy league graduates,
On shores who condoned and promoted this!
With only greed and the economy as the main interest.
Too bad the borders can not be secured,
By those who are staunch racists!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All the silences you've written out for me
were words boomeranged silenced on my lips
except for one...beautiful
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Don't Take My Word For This
To age is a blessing.
Ask anyone who has not...
Aged.
And I am sure their lips,
Will be silenced.
Don't take my word for this.
Observe it for yourself.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is a Realization That Has Come
All of their thug cronies,
Have silenced themselves of late.
Few seem to be demanding today,
Proof of a president's birth certificate.
And/or birthdate.
There is a realization that has come,
To land upon their sensibilities.
Everything President Obama is trying to correct...
Has been directly associated,
With their incompetence and deeds misguided.
And a prior leadership misdirected.
All of their thug cronies,
Have silenced themselves of late.
Few seem to be demanding today,
Proof of a president's birth certificate.
And/or birthdate.
And their latest fiasco sits in the Gulf of Mexico.
Without a clue how to fix it.
But a blame of this,
Will be wherever President Obama sits.
Since a shifting of blame has been a custom we live with.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Retreat at Mount Zhongnan
My heart in middle age found the Way.
And I came to dwell at the foot of this mountain.
When the spirit moves, I wander alone
Amid beauty that is all for me...
I will walk till the water checks my path,
Then sit and watch the rising clouds –
And some day meet an old wood-cutter
And talk and laugh and never return.
poem by Wang Wei, translated by Witter Bynner
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Nife
Vegetable
Cutter...!
Surgery
Manner...!
Murder
Mermer...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Breakthrough
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
I wish we all had invested,
Our priorities in uplifting all humanity.
To realize the true wealth we have...
Is not in the value placed on 'things'.
But who we are as human beings.
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
I wish one day we all should awaken...
To witness pieces released from us,
That kept us in limitation debating a fate.
And with eyes opened,
There was a feeling of escape.
A breakthrough we knew we could not forsake.
I wish I was speaking to influence,
The undoing of perceptions.
And commanded distribution,
Of everything new, accepted and believed.
But then again...
I do remember,
How long it took for the deceit I sought...
To leave me...to see what it is to be clearly seen.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nothing is more effective than sincere, accurate praise, and nothing is more lame than a cookie-cutter compliment.
quote by Bill Walsh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words fashioned with somewhat over precise diction are like shapes turned out by a cookie cutter.
quote by Peter De Vries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today, our actions must be motivated only by our intense desire to achieve a just and lasting peace. The compassion and charity of the American people should be reflected in this legislation, though sadly, they are silenced.
quote by Nick Rahall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fault and Reason
All day today,
I've noticed you.
There in my mind,
To remind me,
I've changed!
So much to you,
I wish to say.
Things I've said in the past...
Have faded from my grasp.
And those times I was wrong,
You were there...
Without hesitation,
As I stayed and played a fool.
Finding myself now...
I do not contemplate,
To accept fault and reason...
Why we needed to separate.
All day today,
I've noticed you.
There in my mind,
To remind me,
I've changed!
So much to you,
I wish to say.
Things I've said in the past...
Have faded from my grasp.
I can't pretend,
I am hurting from within.
All my flaws are there to view...
Without you.
Without me.
Without us...
There is no trusting!
Finding myself now...
I do not contemplate.
It was me I had deceived.
And in me you kept believing.
Finding myself now...
I do not contemplate,
To accept fault and reason...
Why we needed to separate.
So much to you,
I wish to say.
Things I've said in the past...
Have faded from my grasp.
And has taught me a lesson,
At last!
And forgiveness from you,
I wish to ask!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Floating Brim
An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.
The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.
On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.
A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.
A ghostly port to stop, at Cape Coast,
a shinning and all was a dim past,
an end aghast, a thorny crowned post
to visit my sleep, for I remained last.
Our cargo slowly cuts on a bluish drape,
our diesels hum a besetting rhythm
in mists, as we envision a dark gate
that opens to engulf our floating brim.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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