Such Portraits From the Past
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks.
It is difficult to face current times...
That seem less romanticized,
Than those of cobbled stoned streets.
Upon which people mingled,
With a sharing of their simple visions.
In nights then to seem never ending.
Is there a relevance in attempts made...
To restore a past,
When an innocence was more restricting?
And the slow pacing done in those days,
Seem to last as long as those gaslights burning.
Or the wax that dripped from candlesticks,
Thick with wicks homemade.
Is there a relevance to any of this today?
And why some try to glorify such portraits from the past?
Didn't many complained about them when they lived back then?
But today there seems such a renewed interest.
With a wish for those values.
And a quality of life reminiscing embellished victories.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Where Is the Relevance?
Where is the relevance?
One once connected and applied,
To a life making more not less sense.
For those who believed...
There was something treasured,
We all had in common.
Where is the relevance?
To the multitude of debates...
Delivered by those 'practicing' their intelligence,
On the shoulders of folks...
With similar tastes,
Now heating collectively...
In an impatience observed,
And without question seen.
And told they must wait in anticipation...
For those in positions of leadership,
To decide the urgency of our fates!
Where is the relevance?
Eyes opened created the decadence.
Few slept through the entertainment done.
No one complained about the feeding of greed.
Or lifestyles that were shared by a choice few.
Not everyone!
So where is that relevance?
The one declared we all share,
But never there.
The relevance of standards and quality,
We all strived to reach!
That relevance lived by a few in exclusivity...
But from the rest of us impeached.
Where is the relevance?
Sought and now called upon all of us to seek!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Attempts Made To Prevent Change
A routine affixed to descriptions of stability,
Once depicted in overtures praised...
Has not strengthened aging to crumble foundations,
Built in days to glorify values and standards.
But has stubbornly resisted,
Against a flexibility these days lived...insist.
Time has proven,
Only that which is flexible sustains and endures...
With drastic adjustments made if needed,
Enabling innovative proactive actions consideration,
To continue forward with a pace that stays,
Current and updated to appreciate.
Reassuring those still left afraid....
That a future faced must let go of a grasp,
Wishing to maintain the relevance...
Of a quickly fading and dieing past.
And any attempts made to prevent change,
Will not or can it as is...in ignorance, forever last.
Reviewing to revisit and remininsce the past,
Would better serve a cost effectiveness...
If left to exhibit in museums.
Isn't that the purpose for them?
To visit and review what is on display...
Then to leave what has been exhibited when finished.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Relevance: No Return to a Ping, With Its Pong Gone
Where is it?
Who hid it from opened eyes.
And why is it in disguise?
Where is it?
A relevance missing.
With few curious.
Has it been thrusted,
And crushed under a bus?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is this presence that has gone?
And the minds it stayed on?
With relevance spoken strong...
Are they too gone?
Without a relevance,
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
But not too long.
If you delivered a ping,
Would you not expect a pong to belong?
Or in time,
Come along?
Where is it?
This relevance that was here,
Seems to have disappeared.
And it is very clear,
Relevance known...
Has shown to us,
It does not feel...
It belongs.
Freed from its ping!
With a needed pong gone!
Think about this...
Again if you wish.
There were opportunities,
When relevance was near.
And clear!
Now that it is absent...
Do you feel,
A bit of a tear?
And if there's no relevance,
What is the purpose...
To go on to sing unchained melodies?
Oh,
My love.
My darling...
I hunger!
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on to sing songs without meaning?
Breaking up is hard to do.
Where is that relevance we once knew?
Where is it?
A relevance,
Making sense.
Where is it?
And if there is no relevance,
What is the purpose,
To go on?
To sing songs of love.
And...
No return to a ping,
With its pong gone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Relevance
It is much too big to contain it.
Relevance.
It connects to a point of view,
Making sense.
A pieced together relevance.
And changing it to convince,
An alternative provides more to give...
With a backing of defense.
For those accustomed to confusion,
Conflicts for them sit well.
But a relevance to what exists,
Clears the air where delusions...
Have been invited to dwell.
Bringing 'home' a relevance,
Invites communication.
And from that confusion is dispelled.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Come To Go
These times are moving too rapidly,
For anyone to perceive they can keep moments...
Once experienced from a past preserved.
To remain unchanged.
Whether or not attempts are made,
To hold onto them as tightly as possible.
They can be discussed on a daily basis.
Or ignored as they speed away.
These days that we have been given to witness,
Will be better off lived...
Then reminiscing how they were,
And what was done.
Too many will discover themselves lost,
In the things they once did.
And not prepare their minds for what comes,
With maintained faith and not delusions.
These times are moving too rapidly,
For anyone to perceive they can keep moments...
Once experienced from a past preserved.
To remain unchanged.
And fixed to keep them revisited.
Especially when those changes made,
Aren't here to stay for anyone.
They come to go.
With no empathy shown,
To those who don't grow.
For anyone to perceive they can keep moments...
Once experienced from a past preserved.
To remain unchanged.
And fixed to keep them revisited...
To live and adjust as they must.
Will discover all their beliefs,
Dusted.
These times are moving too rapidly,
For anyone to perceive they can keep moments...
Once experienced from a past preserved.
To remain unchanged.
Whether or not attempts are made,
To hold onto them as tightly as possible.
A letting go,
Is the best thing to do to experience growth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Just to Show the Kids Today What Innocence Is
Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.
Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.
Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
Remember those lollipops we liked alot and licked.
I remember licking every bit and saving the sticks.
Remember spending nickels to get five hot rockets.
Sucking those hot balls until the juice dripped from our lips.
Do you remember candy dots on strips of paper...
With every flavor there but chocolate.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
And...
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
There were many benefits to being young and innocent.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
There were many benefits to being young and innocent.
Those times are gone but innocence should be held over.
Just to show the kids today what innocence is!
Just to show them proof that innocence once lived!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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None Will Admit They Knew
It is useless,
With a tinge of foolish ignorance.
To make attempts at snatching back...
Embellished moments from the past.
Those disgruntled would prefer...
Redoing by way of a fast track.
Glimmered with rewritten facts.
Forget that!
The unbearable days facing,
Those recently awakened...
Are traumatically dramatic.
With a hint that scents the air...
There is more of this to spare!
So much truth is out there now.
Remember the days when this was not allowed?
And those who dared to be honest out loud...
Had been declared negative.
And today their efforts should be spotlighted.
These folks should be applauded,
'Before' taking their bows!
It is useless,
With a tinge of foolish ignorance.
To make attempts at snatching back...
Embellished moments from the past.
Those disgruntled would prefer...
Redoing by way of a fast track.
Glimmered with rewritten facts.
And upon asking what they would do,
After going through what is known.
None will admit now,
They knew then what was coming.
Since they spent most of their time,
Ostracizing and shunning...
The ones they chased to noose to trees.
And dangling from a hanging.
While losing their breath...
Trying to get as many who were running,
Away...
To escape those blinded by lunacy.
Only updated today,
To put on display more of their craze!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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These Are The Days
Ah ah
Heres a song
About living in the past
If it was so good then
How come it didnt last?
If it helps you
Ill put it in a phrase
Those were the times
But these are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
These are the days
The times youre smiling back on
Had that great sitcom
It hardly compensated
For the terror of the bomb
Let me help
cause youre looking through a haze
Those were the times
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey hey
These are the days
Can you hear me now?
These are the days
Look around look around look around
These are the days
These are the days
Hey hey live today
These are the days
Its time to put the past away
These are the days
The more you do the more you say
These are the days
The more I need to get away
Youre longing for a time
There never was
Now tell me the truth
Youre looking for the reason
Its because
Youre fighting for youth
But if I have to listen any more
To fantasy talk
Or any other bug you have
Im leaving
Now Im not saying
Everything is really great
Hey hey hey
After sixteen years
Of legalised class hate
Why waste time
Looking back for things to praise?
Those were the times huh
But these are the days
These are the days
Looking back in history
These are the days
Time to get contempory
These are the days
The past is not the place to be
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reminiscenes
Oh those days gone past my era of joy,
“Come back – come back’’ I’m yelling
now. Still today when the memories
of those days flashback, a moment of
smile returns with the images of a few
happy friends holding hands and
Rejoicing-rejoicing in the small school
of Jnaneshwar. The river of love was
flowing in full swing, here-there,
everywhere was joy and joy and amidst
that joy lived some joyful friends happily.
we will never meet, my dear friends, all
of us once again and even in this
tearful life of today the slight memories
of those days bring back the smile on my
face. Oh those days gone past my era of
Joy- “please come back”.
Violent tides battle in the ocean of tears
each day that I remember the days gone
past in to the pages of memory, and the
Harbor though strong and resistant soon
falls apart as the teardrops wet my cheeks.
The stream of life haunted through the coot
and hern and joy bubbled at each fall until
it made a sudden sally and listed a thousand
miles between us which changed all. Late at
nights I’ve often awoken to cry for the laughter
that reverberates in my dreams, and soaking my
tears, I’ve often turned back expecting your eyes
which never allowed me feel solitary and I’ve passed
each day hoping that this day is the last day of
separation but the time is the arrow which once
shot, never really returns back.
Oh those days gone past my era of joy, don’t
Leave me broken, torn and lovelorn-
“Please come back.”
poem by Saket Suman
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Fantastic 'Had' Been Your Daydreams
Fantastic 'had' been your daydreams.
And intrumental in your survival.
Your past activities,
Are justly due some applause.
But your current expectations,
For what had 'then' taken place...
Has been updated to require substance.
And those elements from your past,
Did not exist to be considered missing.
Even though that attention given,
You believed had no end.
There is no reason to prioritize,
An updating of a presence that did not begin.
And that end for you has long departed.
Along with those whims you stored within.
With a wish to see them 'alive' again.
That daylight is not on your side!
To make futile attempts,
Your arguments for reminiscing them,
Generates a cause to re-establish a sense of nostalgia.
For you perhaps...
That would bring back a confidence with happiness.
However...
It is highly recommended you abandon that campaign.
Since these days now lived by the many awakening...
Offers little patience to regain that flame,
Few, if any, wish to rekindle.
No time is left to spend in waste,
On those insisting their meaningless values...
Have merit!
To satisfy a hungered taste.
And are worthy to be kept adored!
Those efforts have explored and exhausted,
Their usefulness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tomorrow People
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Today you say you deyah
Tomorrow you say you're gone
But you're gone so long
If there is no love in your heart - so sorry
Then there is no hope for you - true, true
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last?
So you're in the air
But you still don't have a thing to spare
You're flying high
While we're on the low o-o-oh
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Tell me now
Tomorrow people, where is your past? No where
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Ten years!
Stop tellin' me the same story
Today you say you deyah
Tomorrow you say you're gone and you're not coming back
If there is no love in your heart oh now
There will never be hope for you
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, how long will you last? Ten years!
Tomorrow people, where is your past?
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, come on
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, come on
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, no soon come
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, soon come
Tomorrow people, tomorrow people, today is here
If you don't know your past, you don't know your future
Everyone
Don't know your past, don't know your future everyman
Don't know your past, don't know your future, come on
Don't know your past, don't know your future
How many nations
How many people did that one catch
How many
song performed by by Ziggy Marley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Useless!
Born I was all alone, and so I will die
Now I've done away with my dispel,
Never knew what was the motive to cry,
My being here today barely just to ply.
Seems that all to me; seldom it will be
The one in my dream i dreamt of; just smudge!
Going down fathoms below the sea.....
And know i nothing here in lies the grudge.
When just innocence dripped down me;
Their coarse, faulty, snout as it were made a grimace,
And after all of it were gone to leave;
Then innocence flourished on their face.
Come on now my serenity wake up!
Into this useless stuff I am caught in,
Whatever I do, it is hard to stop,
Let my fate have a sound new beginning! ...
poem by Tauheed Ashraf
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Pacing The Cage
By: bruce cockburn
Sunset is an angel weeping
Holding out a bloody sword
No matter how I squint I cannot
Make out what its pointing toward
Sometimes you feel like youve lived too long
Days drip slowly on the page
And you catch yourself
Pacing the cage
Ive proven who I am so many times
The magnetic strips worn thin
And each time I was someone else
And everyone was taken in
Powers chatter in high places
Stir up eddies in the dust of rage
Set me to pacing the cage
I never knew what you all wanted
So I gave you everything
All that I could pillage
All the spells that I could sing
Its as if the thing were written
In the constitution of the age
Sooner or later youll wind up
Pacing the cage
Sometimes the best map will not guide you
You cant see whats round the bend
Sometimes the road leads through dark places
Sometimes the darkness is your friend
Today these eyes scan bleached-out land
For the coming of the outbound stage
Pacing the cage
Pacing the cage
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Broken Images
He is quick, thinking in clear images;
I am slow, thinking in broken images.
He becomes dull, trusting to his clear images;
I become sharp, mistrusting my broken images.
Trusting his images, he assumes their relevance;
Mistrusting my images, I question their relevance.
Assuming their relevance, he assumes the fact;
Questioning their relevance, I question the fact.
When the fact fails him, he questions his senses;
When the fact fails me, I approve my senses.
He continues quick and dull in his clear images;
I continue slow and sharp in my broken images.
He in a new confusion of his understanding;
I in a new understanding of my confusion.
poem by Robert Graves
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Yesterday Man
Sometimes people say to me,
why do you write so much about the past?
I look at them with dreamy eyes;
a small smile curls my lips,
visions of my childhood,
runs across my mind.
Of the days of innocence
that were left so far behind.
Those days when everything was new,
so ready to explore.
Then one day the world came by,
with its harsh reality,
and with a sweep of its hand,
took all the innocence away.
Therefore, now you know why,
I want to be a yesterday man.
poem by David Harris
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You Have Nothing To 'Anyone' To Prove
SOMETIMES...
Not often,
I am amused to meet...
Someone from my childhood,
Who attempts to re-invent...
The events I lived through,
From 'their' memory!
And how good it was,
In those days long gone...
When I was made to do chores,
As other kids played...
And I was home taking out garbage,
Washing dishes...
And mopping and sweeping floors.
As I look back at those days today,
I can say I am no longer bitter...
By how I was raised.
Or the fact that I had been called names.
But a fear I did not express.
Although I walked with my head down,
Feeling insecure and shamed.
'You're gonna fix this God? '
I would 'always' ask!
Today?
I live not too far from that same neighborhood.
And God has made so many things 'right' in my life.
That bitterness that use to sit within me?
Has been replaced by so much joy these days.
~Gee...
Is this 'me' feeling all this happiness? ~
I am tempted to evaluate others.
But I can 'feel' my mother daring me to do it.
And hearing her voice whisper in my ear to say...
'Larry, you have nothing to 'anyone' to prove.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wished In Retrospect
How legitimate can contributions,
Of a poet made can be?
If comparisons are made to another poet,
Who spoke from a time...
When poets expressed themselves,
From a different philosophy...
That occurred in a past be gone history.
I always accepted poetry to be commentaries,
Of that which depicted activities existing.
But there are those who today compare,
A cobbledstoned road of yesteryear...
To a highway today needing constant updating.
Since those who travel on it...
Have mentioned little interest,
Of using a covered horsedrawn wagon!
And most people afraid,
Will always attempt to validate nonsense.
Since this nonsense becomes romanticized...
As a time when exquisite etiquette was expressed,
As wished in retrospect...
By those whose ancestors were highly illiterate.
And lived amongst themselves in a welcomed ignorance.
And some like me are today told...
Our poetry is not European,
Therefore the quality of it...
Will never achieve exquisiteness.
And I sit to compose caring less,
About comments made by those...
Who have chosen themselves,
As images of correctness...
When generations of them,
Have chosen to digress!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Simple Days of Innocence
They talked about the ice cream man
And they waited just for him
And from their homes fast they ran
For the tinkling bells that called to them
Together they laughed on autumn nights
As hand-in-hand they walked
Down city streets past flickering lights
And of old memories they fondly talked
The sound of bells no longer rise.
Yet they smiled on moonless nights
As lightening bugs flew past their eyes
To dance ballets of mystic lights
“Ghosts” they said, “of old lamplighters
Who’ve come to light our way.”
But innocence lost with childhood dreams
Of loving warmth and songs
Fly away on night’s moonbeams,
And are gone, forever gone..
Oh, the simple days of innocence.
Gone, forever gone.
poem by Thomas Noel Smith
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Identifying How It Is Applied
You're looking for relevance?
What a coincidence.
So am I.
But I think the retrieving of it...
Will depend on one of us,
Identifying how it is applied.
Whenever it is discovered!
And to what will it be processed?
To impress whom?
And why should we care,
If it doesn't become recognized.
Since whose relevance will it then belong,
Once you and I declare it so and agree?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Ain't Nothing From The Past Coming Back
Not a 'what-if' in sight,
On the horizon in my mind.
Neither am I trying to find,
An 'I wonder'.
Today has much more relevance.
With something about it that can be changed...
If my movements within it persist as wished.
I live to correct my own steps within minutes,
Without preconditions.
I'm concentrating on that which I can do right now.
And letting the breath I breathe be experienced,
As it is to myself witnessed.
My eyes are open and I am kept ready to adjust.
Those wishing for the taste of grandma's cakes,
Cookies and homemade pies...
Are finding it hard to adapt to facts.
Ain't nothing from the past coming back...naturally!
However...
Maybe an habitual headache from a process is desired.
And one that welcomes an attachment loved when attacked.
From those unseen relatives living away long distance,
And coming to visit and admittedly missed.
Shouldering hopeful grievances to unload and stress to match.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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