Survivor of My Griefs
I admit...
There is much in my own hometown,
I am not aware of that exists.
Most of my time spent,
Has been done healing from grief.
And growing into adulthood.
And the other part of my life,
Has been lived far away from sorrows.
And today I can say,
I have been blessed to have lived that way...
Far away from sorrows.
And growing into an adulthood,
I can now live knowing...
I am a survivor of my griefs.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Past is dust.
My childhood was not aware that
My adulthood would later mock at it.
My adulthood was not aware that
My old stage would mock at adulthood.
My senescence will be mocked at
By my soul. Every past is dust.
07.06.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Today I Had to Forgive Myself (My Life Is Meant to be Lived)
I saw something I had never seen before,
Once I looked beyond my own sorrows.
I lifted my head and saw an open door.
A light was shining through,
To show me tomorrow.
With promises I once wished,
But had not pursued.
I lived with a stagnation...
That came and overstayed,
A temporary reservation...
I made when feeling down,
And knocked out!
Drugged on self debasement.
Feeling nothing could replace...
This empty space within me.
And I knew then...
If I was to walk through that door,
Today I had to forgive myself...
And not let my burdens feel too welcomed.
As I had done countless times before.
Tossing my pain and self doubt about!
They could stay for as long as they wanted!
And entertain grief that came to visit.
But I had no intentions to remain with them,
Sustaining their attention or their comfort.
I kept deep within to repeat again and again.
A hollow search I felt had no end.
My life is meant to be lived.
Not to sit and forget to refresh my perceptions.
My life is meant to be lived.
And when I made up my mind,
I knew I would find...
A release of darkness that would diminish.
Once I allowed my guilt to deplenish,
I prepared to say goodbye to despair!
Knowing to leave that behind me to become fully aware...
My life is meant to be lived.
My life is meant to be lived.
My life...
Is meant to be lived.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Choose To Heal
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
Tears cried as others measured my pain,
On a scale from one to ten...
Are days I've chosen not to live.
Again!
And again.
AND...again without end.
Why should I celebrate my agony,
On a regular basis?
What does doing this for me achieve?
A hatred and bitterness I pray from me will leave?
Or a constant search to seek validation,
How miserable my life lived can be?
NO!
For others that may be so,
To acknowledge without a letting go.
But for me...
My happiness comes with the knowing,
I can forgive.
Not forgot!
My mind wont let me do it.
But make attempts to forgive I can do.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose with faith,
God has my back.
And will correct all that has gone wrong,
To make right for my life.
I choose with faith,
That God will handle my business.
I choose to heal,
Not to relive moments of my agonies.
I already know what it takes to moan.
I already know that process.
I've renewed my commitment to living.
And give my deepest respect,
To those who had experienced...
Untimely deaths.
I've decided not to be reminded of my griefs.
I've learned that carrying a baggage of sorrows,
Only weighs on my back...
Unhappiness to be left to be repeatedly monitored.
I choose not to keep my healing wounds,
Left to pick to bleed repeatedly in anger.
I choose to heal.
Not to be left,
For the rest of my life dropping tears wept.
To spend in the process of mourning.
Riding high on the shoulders of grief.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Welcome To My Hometown
Has anyone ever tried,
To tell you the kind of childhood you had?
Or the environment you spent,
Your yourthful days in...
As if you were on on tour,
And they were explaining it?
Has anyone ever told you,
About those grade schools you attended.
With an embelishment done,
As if you were on the sidelines...
Looking on for fun.
And they attempted to tell you,
About those teachers who taught...
And you seldom saw them in a classroom at all?
Welcome to my hometown.
Where any visitor who comes,
Would think what took place...
Was straight from a portrait painted,
By Normon Rockwell.
Welcome to my hometown.
Where actual events can be erased,
With a replacing of the truth...
To conveniently be mentally innovated,
For the sake of giving it a different face.
I had been often told how my parents were,
When they were raising me.
What they did and how I responded.
As if I had lost all memory.
I even had been told what I did with friends.
And what apartments they lived in.
While as a child growing up in the projects...
I would listen to these tales,
And wondered where I was when the teller of this...
Spent most their time locked up in jail.
Welcome to my hometown.
Where actual events can be erased,
With a replacing of the truth...
To conveniently be mentally innovated,
For the sake of giving it a different face.
Welcome to my hometown.
Where any visitor who comes,
Would think what took place...
Was straight from a portrait painted,
By Normon Rockwell.
And back then...
Anyone looking like Normon,
Would have been chased out of the neighborhood...
I lived in!
With no time to sit, sketch...
Or paint a portrait from a 'hand-me-down' myth.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sorrows cannot all be explained away in a life truly lived, grief and loss accumulate like possessions.
quote by Stefan Kanfer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sum of all his days
Lord, is this what life is really all about?
We get to You all wrinkled and so worn out
Is life what we have become on our last day?
All weakened and plagued by senile decay
My child, this is not so, I'm pleased to tell you
That I don't see your loved one the way you do
His life before me in panorama displays
And I see him as the sum of all his days
From his final sigh right back to his first breath
All is seen by me when he passed through death
I see the babe giving his parents delight
And the small boy growing up so fair and bright
The young lad entering his turbulent teens
Coming to terms with his inherited genes
All through his adulthood I see him going
Forming new friendships and life overflowing
You see the aging process making him old
But before me I see his whole life unfold
Each second and each moment of the years
I can see his exuberant joys and tears
Then on that final day as in death he lay
I see one who has walked with me all the way
The sum of all his days is what I can see
In your loved one who is standing before Me
And now with Me as his new life he begins
One that is not marred by the effect of sins
Sicknesses and sorrows shall no longer be
For he is now living in heaven with Me
Who Am I to Deny It Promise?
If I am not living my life today...
With the fulness that I should,
To be left feeling betrayed.
Then everyday I have lived my life,
Has been invalidated.
If I can say,
I am not living my life today.
I am dreamless without hope.
I give empty reasons to mope!
I am a vacant shell...
Existing in a hell I've created.
If I am not living my life today!
Where did I store those memories?
When did any happiness come to leave?
Why am I not pleased...
With anything that comes my way?
If I can say,
I am not living my life today!
And I breathe just to witness my breath...
Fade away into a nothingness.
If I am not living my life today...
What is this,
That IS!
And 'who' am I,
To deny 'it' promise?
Like a gift one receives...
Selfishly to leave unwrapped.
Can I honestly believe,
I am not worthy to do that?
If I am not living my life today...
Perhaps I should.
And unpack...
From sorrows deeply stacked.
Trapping my sight in darkness,
Without daylight I alone hold back.
If I am not living my life today...
With the fulness that I should,
To be left feeling betrayed.
Then everyday I have lived my life,
Has been invalidated.
And I know there is 'something' I value,
I can give!
To say 'that' is the reason,
I am here to live!
If I can remove myself...
To cast shadows,
Instead of finding an escape within them.
To live and let my life,
Be the one I have and learn to like!
Unfrightened.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Growing Up
(orbison--dees)
Your life begins when teardrops start, a broken toy, a broken heart
All of these things are just a part of growing up
From kiddie cars to walking shoes from lullabyes to lonely blues
Somehow you never quite get used to growing up
Yeah yeah youre growing up, yeah yeah youre growing up
Its good to know youre growing up.
The wheel of fortune takes a spin
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you must play the game again
Drink another cup,youre growing up.
Yeah yeah youre growing up, yeah yeah youre growing up
Its good to know youre growing up.
Heeeeey eeeeey now little one youre growing up
Heeeeey eeeeey now little one youre growing up.
To be a man, to be a woman to understand, takes a lot of growing, growing up
Youll live to learn, youll learn to live, youll give to love your love to give
And when youre wise enough youll know, youre growing up.
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Can't Be Everywhere
Let,
Me live.
My life.
Knowing...
That it is,
My life...
To grow.
And,
Let me live.
My life...
Growing.
As it is...
My life,
To know...
There's more,
I don't know!
You can't be everywhere...
When I'm humbled,
After stum'bling.
You can't be everywhere...
To see me,
On my knees.
And you can't be everywhere...
When night falls,
And I'm crying.
Freed from hiding my own tears.
To understand my life for what it is!
You can't be everywhere...
To see me.
And...
How I heal.
So let me live...
My life.
Knowing...
That it is,
My life...
To grow.
And,
Let me live.
My life...
Growing.
As it is...
My life,
To know...
There's more,
I don't know!
And-I-say...
You can't be everywhere.
When I'm humbled,
After stum'bling.
You can't be everywhere...
To see me,
On my knees.
No...
You can't be everywhere,
When I'm pleading desperately...
I must be me.
Just me.
No,
You can't be everywhere...
To see me.
And...
How I heal.
You can't be everywhere...
To see me.
And...
How I heal.
So let me live,
My life...
Growing.
As it is...
My life,
To know...
There's more,
I don't know!
So let me live,
My life...
To know,
There's so much I don't know.
It's my life!
And...
So much I don't know!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sorrow Makes One A Hero Tomorrow
Without sorrow life is zero
We must accept fate's arrow
If our efforts are thorough
Our sorrow, God will borrow
Sorrows nicely shape our mind
Sorrows stop our being blind
Via sorrows, remedies we find
Sorrows are indirectly kind
In the absence of sorrow
Our mind does not grow
We think not like a hero
Our attitude is made narrow
Sorrows must be overcome
For which efforts we welcome
At last strong we become
This is sorrows' outcome
Our will-power, sorrows increase
To our heart, sorrows supply grease
Our talents, only sorrows release
In a gist, sorrows supply peace
Every sorrow at last dies
Not because of our cries
But because our soul tries
Life and success, sorrow ties
Sorrow less person is none
Sorrow is sure, if life has begun
'Sorrow trains brains' is a slogan
Sorrow is a tamable dragon
In sorrow, all must dip
By coming under its grip
All are lashed by sorrow's whip
To every life, sorrow makes a trip
Now sorrow will somehow vanish
But you cannot fully relinquish
Further sorrows, time will furnish
From life, sorrow, none can banish
Life and sorrow are closely associated
By life, sorrow is very much fascinated
By sorrow, peace is initially confiscated
Sorrow grows when life is sophisticated.
poem by Mailrangam Visvanathan Venkataraman
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Our Lady of Sorrows (Feast day: September,15th)
O Lady of Sorrows! Please hear
Our grief and add them to yours, dear;
With swollen eyes and bloody tear,
You showed to farmers near.
‘To farmers two,
At Milan’s Rho,
When they came to
See you! ’
The blessed pieta
Became a miracle
Bringing millions to
The Griever’s Basilica!
The blood-stained kerchief lies
In a silver reliquary;
As proof of the miracle
To world today, it stays!
With dead Christ on her lap,
His mother seated, grieves;
Besides her sorrows own,
Mankind’s too, she receives!
O heart of Mary pure,
What sorrows, you endure!
For love of Christ and God,
You suffered for our Lord!
Mary’s most holiness
Won her the grace of God,
To bear her sorrows all,
And sufferings, so odd.
None could predict ever
Or gauge her sufferings;
Since Simeon’s prophecy,
She suffered silently!
The Virgin bore a Son
By Holy Spirit’s power;
She had to see Him die
For man’s sins on cross!
What pain had filled her heart!
How anguished she felt from start!
Her Son and Lord, her life and love
Had to suffer and depart!
Despite her immense grief,
She lived obeying God,
Unafraid of sin,
For glory of the Lord!
By Will of Heavenly Father,
She whole-heartedly agreed
To be Christ Jesus’ Mother –
Her Son divine, she loved.
She witnessed Son suffer:
Flogged and crowned with thorns;
Spat at, rebuked and mocked;
Bleeding, thirsty and fall!
His pain went through her bone;
His bruises cut her skin;
The lance that pierced his side
Brought bloody tears like tide.
All things, she had to bear,
Though Son’s life was so dear;
With God’s Will always near,
From obedience, she didn’t veer!
Her heart bore, her Son’s cross!
His death was greatest loss!
Yet, He was Lord and Boss,
And on third day, rose, because!
“O Lady of Sorrows, Pray for us! ”
Copyright by Dr John Celes 15-9-11
poem by John Celes
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Green Things Growing
O the green things growing, the green things growing,
The faint sweet smell of the green things growing!
I should like to live, whether I smile or grieve,
Just to watch the happy life of my green things growing.
O the fluttering and the pattering of those green things growing!
How they talk each to each, when none of us are knowing;
In the wonderful white of the weird moonlight
Or the dim dreamy dawn when the cocks are crowing.
I love, I love them so - my green things growing!
And I think that they love me, without false showing;
For by many a tender touch, they comfort me so much,
With the soft mute comfort of green things growing.
And in the rich store of their blossoms glowing
Ten for one I take they're on me bestowing:
Oh, I should like to see, if God's will it may be,
Many, many a summer of my green things growing!
But if I must be gathered for the angel's sowing,
Sleep out of sight awhile, like the green things growing,
Though dust to dust return, I think I'll scarcely mourn,
If I may change into green things growing.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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We All Come To Experience 'Our' Truths
We all come to experience 'our' truths.
We all come to experience,
Realities lived others may not accept.
Or come to believe,
If they are not there to witness.
Or see as they sit to observe life pass by,
From a closed window and behind locked doors.
We all experience our own sorrows...
With burdens to bear and struggles to conquer.
And yet there will be some among the 'doubters'...
Who believe nothing happens to anyone but themselves.
And when they experience a pinch of pain to feel,
It becomes worthy of a news broadcast...
To appeal with the getting of attention on their griefs.
We all come to experience 'our' truths.
We all come to experience,
Realities lived others may not accept.
Or come to believe,
If they are not there to witness.
And yet...
Highlighted are the most ridiculous afflictions,
Repeatedly for all to witness close up on TV sets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Create New Chapters Made
You like to dropp those 'have nots' you've got.
But need to stop growing them like crops!
And take them away,
Today!
Pity party chatter that you gather like it matters.
Is not a page you should keep re-read or save.
If your life is lived in a way you say is craved.
Singing songs of what is wrong all day long,
Wont keep you strong.
Let them be!
Why desire that as company?
You like to dropp those 'have nots' you've got.
But need to stop growing them like crops!
And take them away,
Today!
Pity party chatter that you gather like it matters.
Is not a page you should keep re-read or save.
If your life is lived in a way you say is craved.
Then you've got to seek more meaning.
Turn that page and create new chapters made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Age Children
It is inconceivable
when we were kids
childishness comes
anytime and anywhere
but when it gets old
and had to deal with children
we're back to the infancy
because we are already beyond the age of adulthood
then be face-to-face we
debating something real
no need to debate
because each of us
live in our own world
which is different
who left the world a growing childhood
The old is back to the kids
poem by Prasetya Utama
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Sorrows
My sorrows consumes me,
There won’t be a tomorrow,
There won’t be a light that shines above me,
There won’t be me anymore,
The way I feel,
The hate I feel,
My heart is breaking,
Its aching,
I am crying for this pain to end,
Today is no ordinary day for me,
Today’s the day I feel more drifting apart from this world,
My sorrows won’t go away,
My deep thoughts in my head leaves me laying dead,
I didn’t mean to lead this pain on and on again,
Look at me now,
I am falling apart,
Apart into million pieces,
This sorrow keeps on going into my thoughts,
This heart break makes me wanna cry over and over again,
My sorrows won’t fade away,
Is this me,
The me I have been waiting for,
Too many times my sorrows has over come me,
This is not me anymore,
This is my sorrows that makes me feel all sad inside.
poem by Jennifer Rondeau
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So Much Life Longing For More Life
SO MUCH LIFE LONGING FOR MORE LIFE
So much life longing for more life
Wanting to live so much
To feel to experience to know to enjoy to love.
So much life
Others have lived
So much life
I would have lived.
And the life I have lived?
More than I can know or understand
So much of it gone forever.
And all the longing and all the memories
And all the love,
Where is it now?
I have lived so much
And never lived enough
And want to live too much more
And know I will never live enough
And know I have lived so much much more
Than I will ever know again.
Life and more life,
Longing and more longing,
Life- Please God-
Not Death.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Open Ends....
do you live life
according to your nature?
that a pig must be a pig
destined as pork?
in the same manner
that flowers must always be
only for display?
do you think
nothing but only your happiness?
do you not see how others
are?
tell them how life must be lived
and spent so well?
tell me
shall the dove coo forever
the lion lesser without its roar?
have you ever asked these
questions?
do you like some answers?
will you ask me
about tomorrow because today
is lived
lesser than what
yesterday should
have been?
do you still like me
to ask
you all about these
basic
which had long been
disregarded
because
life must never be
a question
but
a declaration?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Had I lived another life
Had I lived another life
~
Had I lived another life
What would I have to show in equal years
Would I be loved instead of just loving
And know the lasting secret to another’s heart
How would I then count my mistakes
Would my company be welcomed not accepted
It is a fruitless thought to be considered
For the never will be a known answer
I am but the sum of all my years combined
I harbour my guilt and shameful pride
Those words I wish to take back
And the others I now wished I had now said
Had I lived another life
Would I carry these same regrets
Would I know sorrows of yet another unkind
There are things which have shaped me
That I would happily go back and change
Perhaps in another life I may well feel the same
For all the unknown reasoning’s
One thing stands out as a certain
That life is a gift, a gift to the living
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Knowing This Admission
I alone had to face my dysfunctions.
And to see them for what they were.
I was not going to live all of my life...
Pretending my experiences,
Did not rip my heart apart or hurt.
I began to express my emotions,
With a knowing of this admission...
Came from an inner strength,
And not a submission to weakness.
I would condense to convince,
Myself.
I could not hold my head up high,
If I kept my sorrows gone denied.
I alone had to face my dysfunctions.
And to see them for what they were.
I was not going to live all of my life...
Pretending my experiences,
Did not rip my heart apart or hurt.
I have healed from several illnesses,
None of which I needed to embrace.
I forced myself to analyze by looking inside...
To replace a charade,
That grew tired of masquerade.
I alone had to face my dysfunctions...
With a forgiveness I wanted to admit.
I did not want to live my life,
Condoning unhappiness.
I could not hold my head up high,
If I kept my sorrows gone denied.
And this,
After getting over it...
Has allowed me to increase,
My identity with a peace released!
And not an approval have I sought to seek,
From anyone who has yet to do what I have done!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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