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Those Sugarcoating Days

The last time I had the opportunity,
To sugarcoat anything...
I was a child making candied apples.
From a family recipe,
My West Indian mother, Edna, taught me.

With a dipping of the apples in the mix.
To then let them sit,
In the icebox.
And my sister Mimmie and I,
Were left to get impatient.

During those days when the iceman came,
With blocks of ice.
And the milk and soda was delivered to our door.
Leaving those sugarcoating days,
Not to exist for me any more.
With a wish for them to return..
I do not do.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When She Played It Was On Her Piano

As a kid I had ambitions.
And the first of them was to do my chores,
Before my mother would come home from work.
And she would pack them on too!

'I told you to sweep this floor.'

I did!

'With what?
A sandwich?
Do it again.'

My sister, Mimmie, would look at me.
And smile!
I couldn't wait,
To give her the spray can...
To kill the roaches!

I didn't know we weren't suppose to have them,
Until I was eight years old!
And that's not a joke.
One day when my mother went to work,
I made sure Mimmie got introduced.
She's a grandmother now.
And every once in a while...
She will mention how mean I was to her.

Nobody is going to sit,
And enjoy me getting whipped!
And that has been my philosophy...
Learned very early in my life.

Those days are long gone.
And being assigned to responsibilites,
I believe every child needs.
However...
Too many parents have raised lazy and spoiled children.
Believing one day,
They will awaken and be accountable for their actions!

Today as I reflect on my childhood,
I am glad my mother did not allow me to go to sleep...
To chance an awakening to what I knew I should do.
What I had and was going to do got done,
Before I had an opportunity to give it thought.
Procrastination,
Was not a lesson my mother taught.

I've seen parents,
Do everything possible for their children.
To wonder at a later date in time,
Why their children disrespect them.
Even 'if' I looked as if I wanted to say something back,
My mother would put a 'switch' to my behind.
AND...
I would have to fine one she liked to use on me.
That was before the calling of 911.

Today...
They would call that child abuse.
When I grew up...
We got our 'butts' tore up.
Just for looking as 'if'...
We did not enjoy getting whippings!
And I aint hardly kidding.

How does that 'old' saying go?
~Spare the rod and spoil the child.~
Well...
Mimmie and I were very spoiled.
But...
A rocking of a boat,
Did not float at all...
With Ms Edna!
When she played,
It was on her piano!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Red Apples

Out of Mother Nature
Came little red Apples'
That were grown
In the Garden of time
But God don't like
Little red Apples'
From which the Devil does dine
Women love to eat little red Apples'
In the Summer time
Men desire little red Apples'
Any old time
Winter, Summer, especially
When the Sun is high
In a clear blue Sky
The Devil does love
Little red Apples'
Man does love
Little red Apples'
Women love
Little red Apples'

poem by Allan James Saywell
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Heffa

'Don't let me chase you...
Heffa! '

My mother would say this,
Before she did my sister's hair.
And I would sit in a chair...
To watch my sister.
And she would cry and I would stare.

'What you looking at? '
My sister Mimmie would say!

I'm looking at you!
What you gonna do?

'You kids better not start nothing with me.
Hold your head still, girl!
And don't you say another word, Larry! '

I would think to myself...
'Is Mimmie a 'heffa' when she gets her hair done?
Why when I called her that...
She would chase me,
And I would run?

Then my mother would say,
'Would you kids stop that!
Both of you get on my last nerve.
Stop that fighting crap.'

Ma, what is a 'heffa'?
And why is Mimmie one?
Is it the way she looks...
When her hair is undone?
If I called her that,
She wants to fight with me.
Daddy don't call her a heffa.
Why do you...
Exclusively?

My mother would look at me,
As if I was crazed.
I could tell in her eyes,
She was trying for 'something' to say!

I never heard my mother curse.
She didn't have to back then.
But I grew to understand...
'Heffa' was a word,
Black women shared between them!

And my sister Mimmie...
Thought she needed to keep me in 'check'!
And 'if' I didn't leave her alone...
A grown man I would never become or get!

I grew up in a family of very strong willed 'heffuhs'!

Dedicated to:
Those women in my family whom I love dearly.
And I have learned what they say to each other,
And amongst themselves...
Is between them as women!
And they have provided me with 'much' wisdom!
I know now...
What is said 'endearingly' between them,
Is not for a man to repeat!
Even though they can say what they wish,
About us!

'Right, fellas'?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Apples And Oranges

Got a flip-top pack of cigarettes in her pocket
Feeling good at the top
Shopping in sharp shoes
Walking in the sunshine town feeling very cool
But the butchers and the bakers in the supermarket stores
Getting everything she wants from the supermarket stores
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
Cornering neatly she trips up sweetly
To meet the people
She's on time again
And then
I catch her by the eye then I stop and have to think
What a funny thing to do 'cause I'm feeling very pink
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
I love she
She loves me
See you
See you
Thought you might like to know
I'm the lorry driver man
She's on the run
Down by the river side
feeding ducks in the afternoon tide
(quack quack)
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges

song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apples & Oranges

Got a flip-top pack of cigarettes in her pocket
Feeling good at the top
Shopping in sharp shoes
Walking in the sunshine town feeling very cool
But the butchers and the bakers in the supermarket stores
Getting everything she wants from the supermarket stores
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
Cornering neatly she trips up sweetly
To meet the people
Shes on time again
And then
I catch her by the eye then I stop and have to think
What a funny thing to do cause Im feeling very pink
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
I love she
She loves me
See you
See you
Thought you might to know
Im the lorry driver man
Shes on the run
Down by the river side
Feeding ducks by the afternoon tide
(quack quack)
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges
Apples and oranges

song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Days

- Album: Reality
- Lyrics and music by David Bowie
Hold me tight
Keep me cool
Going mad
Don't know what to do
Do I need a friend?
Well I need one now
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
All I've done
I've done for me
All you gave
You gave for free
I gave nothing in return
And theres little left of me
All the days of my life
All the days of my life
All the days I owe you
With redeyed pain I'm knocking on your door again
My crazy brain in tangles pleading for your gentle voice
Those storms keep pounding through my faded heart
I'll play your sooth my sorry soul
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days of my life
(All the days of my life)
All the days I owe you
All the days of my life

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give Me Mimmie

Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

She 'may' have a flaw.
Not too many I have seen.
She's my oldest 'and' younger sister.
And when she whips her dander up...
Watch out!
She can let off some steam.

A jewel, a star...
A bright light shining.
Never to complain,
She refrains from whining.
Wife, mother and devoted grandmother too.
She says she has retired!
But from what?
She's 'so' busy.
She's always finding something to do!

Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

She's funny when she says she is going to relax.
By preparing a meal for fifty or more people...
For some function at her church,
Where she is very active at!

She doesn't hesitate,
To express the wisdom that she has.
It's sharp and quite clear,
To whomever it is passed.
And she entertains with humor.
When she jokes,
You are going to laugh.
She's quite accomplished...
Undertaking several task!

Yes...
Give me Mimmie.
Her honesty I accept.
Give me Mimmie.
What she does,
It's done at her best!

Dedicated to:
My sister Andrea Doreen 'Mimmie' Pertillar Dixon

'Love you, young lady! '
Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Queen of What Is Right

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

No one,
Not even me...
Can argue with Mimmie D.
She is seldom wrong!
So prepare to take a hike.

She's quite talented and gifted.
And seems to never rest.
She makes things look too easy.
Even her children, Shayla and Landry...
Often find time with her protest.
But Mimmie is quite a special person!
And yes, I can say this...
It is true,
She knows what is best.

She knows how to dress with style and grace.
When she cooks a meal,
I've witness people stuff their faces.
Everything she touches,
Has a quality to it.
And she's the first on the scene,
When family, friends and those she loves get sick!

Did I tell you she was a nurse?
When she was just a child...
Healing the 'universe' she use to rehearse.
She tried to practice her skills on me!
But I had to remind her...
I was the one born first!

'Mahhhh...
Will you tell Mimmie to leave me alone.
She's trying to tell me what to say.
When I get on the telephone! '

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

Yes, we had our arguments.
And yes we had our childish fights.

But on September 10th two thousand and nine,
My little sister will be sixty.
And it is hard to believe,
Without me...
She has done quite fine.

But sometimes I wonder about her husband AL.
After thirty six years of wedded bliss with sister Mim...
He seems to get better as he ages with her.
And not showing one sign,
He is out of his mind!
There has to be 'something' WRONG with THEM.

Two peas in the same pod.
The love they have for each other,
Today...
IS quite odd!

Yes!
She is my sister.
And Queen,
Of What Is Right.

And I love her dearly with all my heart!
Since Andrea and me,
Are both alike.

'Mahhhh...
will you tell LArry to leave me alone.
And mine his own business,
When I talk on the telephone! '

Dedicated to my sister,
Andrea 'Mimmie' Doreen Pertillar Dixon.
In celebration of her 60th birthday.
September 10th 2009.

'I love you, Mimmie.'

Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Thought Frost Could Not Surprise Me

Robert Frost is one of the ones
That got me started
When the only poems I would read
Had to be assigned

'Read pages 21 to 28 and
on Monday be prepared
to discuss campare and contrast.'
Yeah - yeah more homework

Thank God Robert was in there
Somewhere between
Pages 21 to 28
I don't recall which one grabbed me

But he had me looking for more
On my own nothing due by Friday
We talked about doubt and
Dealing with death 'OUT, OUT-'

This was before I met Macbeth
Robert was talking to me
Not down at me
I thought I knew him

I've invited him to family funerals
'Reluctance' got him a ticket
To my great-grandmother's
'Bravado' to her daughter's

'Devotion' for my father
'Never Again Would Bird's
Song Be The Same' shared
With my mother aunts in chorus

Today he surprised me
Found some humor in there
That I had read over before
I tripped over his cow

'...IN APPLE TIME
As a very young youngster
I was at our family ranch
When it had cattle and apples

Part of my job
Was to keep them apart
Robert shows in this poem
He knew why better than I

While she the cow
May scorn 'a pasture
withering to the root.'
He knows what happens

When as he describes
'Her face is flecked with pomace and she drools
A cider syrup. Having tasted fruit.'
Don't look for Adam and Eve

Allthough they may have been on his mind
Get out of the way when 'She leaves'
the apples 'bitten when she has to fly.'
AKA The green apple dirties

That's what my great-grandmother
Called the affliction when I had eaten
Too many free apples off the trees
AKA The back door trots

Quickest way to the outhouse
It was more important
And not as funny when
A cow would get into the orchard

As Robert ends his poem
'She bellows on a knoll against the sky.
Her udder shrivels and the milk goes dry'
If it's taken me this long to get this

What hope is there for generations hence
Whoes apples all have bar codes on each one
In season they are not free
They are going to overthink this poem

poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Iceman Comes

The iceman comes
Someone is out there
Theyll wait and wont make mistakes
The iceman comes
My head runs empty
Oh Ive got the fear
The iceman comes for me.
The iceman comes
Blow dust off your stories
I could give in
The iceman comes
Ill send, youll take
Is this such dark business?
The iceman comes for me.

song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Apples

I love apples,
Apples have crunch,
Lovely red apples,
Red, pink color, punch.
I love apple pies,
Family ties,

I love apple juice,
I call it zapple juice,
Without the fizz,
Or sugary twist,
Healthy fibre, Apple is.

poem by Philo Yan
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Apples of Hesperides

Glinting golden through the trees,
Apples of Hesperides!
Through the moon-pierced warp of night
Shoot pale shafts of yellow light,
Swaying to the kissing breeze
Swings the treasure, golden-gleaming,
Apples of Hesperides!

Far and lofty yet they glimmer,
Apples of Hesperides!
Blinded by their radiant shimmer,
Pushing forward just for these;
Dew-besprinkled, bramble-marred,
Poor duped mortal, travel-scarred,
Always thinking soon to seize
And possess the golden-glistening
Apples of Hesperides!

Orbed, and glittering, and pendent,
Apples of Hesperides!
Not one missing, still transcendent,
Clustering like a swarm of bees.
Yielding to no man's desire,
Glowing with a saffron fire,
Splendid, unassailed, the golden
Apples of Hesperides!

poem by Amy Lowell
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Muscular and Thick

I don't see how you can eat that meat.
Ripe and dripping moisture licked.
And oozing a rich nectar...
To satisfy your inviting tongue.

Orchards exploding with muscular and thick,
Apples of Macintosh.
Tempting one to pick.
When that season comes around again...
And bushels of them,
Become so hard to lift...
In woven baskets carried.

Muscular and thick these apples,
Held by such strong limbs.

What's the matter, baby?
Why is your mouth opened like that?

'It didn't dawn on me you were writing about apples.
I forget sometimes how you like to interpret things.
You make my eating this apple so...'

Interesting?

'Yes.
That's exactly the word I was looking for! '

You're sweating like it's the 'dog' days of August!
Are you feeling okay?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Watching Mother

Your mother is peeling apples
for the apple pie

and you stand watching her
and say can I have some peelings?

Sure she says
it’s probably the best part anyway

and you notice she has tears in her eyes
and wonder if the old man

has had a go at her again
like that time over the camera

and her saying jokingly
you look like some tourist

in upstate New York
and he thumped her one

and her lip bled
and you stood watching

keeping your mouth shut
but wanting to go at him

but you being too small
stood still

and as she peels the apples
you watch her hands

go over the apples
with a skill of years of experience

and you watch as the tears
run down the side of her nose

and fall like raindrops
on to her busy hands

and you focus like some artist
at the way that they land.

poem by Terry Collett
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These Apples

I am an open book to your heart,
I am the mirror that you look at daily;
Come and touch this sweet apples of mine.
I am the mirror of your love and,
My sweet apples are nicely prepared for you only;
Come and taste these apples.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Curious Delivery Indeed

Average duration of
Human pregnancy is 273 days
We heard of a delivery
Just a day's back
And delivery took place
After 255 days
Though seemingly premature
It was not at all
But a perfect delivery
As expected
All safe and fine
Normally a child has one mother only
But a lot of mothers delivered this
And it was delivered not at home,
Hospital, operation theatre,
Why it was not delivered on earth
It was delivered at a place
Which can be reached
Only after 255 days of travel
And at times speeding at
Twenty thousand kilometers per hour
No doctor, nurse why for that matter
No one attended the delivery
All were remotely controlled
Yet the delivery was safe
The child landed smooth
Descending gently
On the land
And believe the child is already
On the move
Taking photographs
Collecting samples
Doing anything which its mothers
Ask it to do remotely controlling
Its each movement
Let us congratulate the mothers
Who conceived the child
And let us complement them
For safely delivering it
Let us wish they conceive similar children
And deliver them at farther destinations
Let us pray that the child
Named curiosity
Stay there healthily and longer
And keep performing assigned tasks
On the surface of mars, the planet
Curious delivery indeed

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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From A Suggested But Wrong Tree

They've been reaching to grab apples,
From a suggested but wrong tree.
They chose to accept,
Their own offerings not as competitive.
And...
Their own apples just as sweet.
And far more delicious to nourish and eat.

They have been conditioned to ignore,
The brightness of their own colors...
Many others said they adored.
Letting those apples dropp and rot.
Only to discover too late,
The weakness of their branches...
That could have sustained them to enhance.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Country Scrumping

Your country cousin took you
Across a field to a vast orchard
Where low hung branches
Made the green apples within
Reach of your young boy’s hands.
Don’t eat too many of them
Or you’ll get gut ache, she said.
Your eyes had never seen so
Many apples, row after row
In long lines down the field and
Fields beyond. You picked an apple
And bit into it. They make cider
From these, she said, picking off
An apple too and biting with relish.
Your younger sister looked nervously
On wondering if she too should pick.
Go on, your cousin said, pick and eat.
Your sister reached up and pulled
And a few apples fell to the ground
With soft sounds of thump on the
Short grass. She picked up one and
Brushed it off on her dress. Have to
Run if the farmer comes, your cousin
Said, and don’t tell of this or we’ll be
For it. For what? Your sister asked.
Your cousin looked around and replied,
A good telling off or a good tanned ass.
You stood all three of you eating, beneath
The apple trees, in the short green grass.

poem by Terry Collett
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Days to Dazzle In Pretensions No Longer Exist

Whatever is given.
And however that is meant.
Why do many get upset,
When they receive exactly...
What to them has been sent!