Tight Thigh Holders Strapped to Stomach Wraps
One 'chronologically' aging,
In years that clearly appear.
With a slow pacing done.
And the carrying of aches and pains...
As the usual 'identifying' suspects.
Reveals no aspects of an acceptance yet.
And the effects of this...
Has not yet affected a reflected maturity.
None to speak of nor that is obvious.
An awaiting presence of it will not surprise...
In an overnight appearance.
Or come in disguise as an adult,
With wisdom seen in experienced eyes.
Experience, adulthood and maturity...
Sometimes are in conflict.
Many on the threshold of chronologically aging,
With that rapid sagging muscle look...
Are in denial about the process.
And seek to have time stand still...
By displays of irresponsibility.
With needs of centerstage attention.
And praise accompanied by accolades.
'Don't you like attention,
No matter how old you are? '
~Sure.
But I don't crave it.
I just know how and when to get it.
That's the difference.
Some folks 'whine'.
But I don't need to do that to get mine.
I like to think my tactics have been refined.
Without the need for ointments, braces...
Or tight thigh holders strapped to stomach wraps.
Thank God I am still naturally attractive! !
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
Witnessing As I Live
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
Some would have others believe,
They are gifted with the expertise.
And already know what it is like.
I don't.
I am witnessing as I live my life...
With a wisdom I have never known.
And mysterious aches I feel in my bones,
As if done to remind me...
'Something' seeks attention and wishes it shown.
I have never before been given the opportunity,
To rehearse the process of aging.
But I must admit,
The process is interesting.
Although...
Being around those who announce their pains,
Is more aggravating than anything else.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Insecurities Not Faced
I am not into the hide and seek business.
No...
Not me.
I prefer to be confronted,
By those with wisdom...
And an experienced maturity.
Insecurities not faced,
And protected to defend...
Will not become my reason to feel,
I need to walk softly on eggshells...
Around those with emotions,
Hidden like children to prevent their tantrums.
I am not into the hide and seek business.
No...
Not me.
I prefer to be confronted,
By those with wisdom...
And an experienced maturity.
I try to stay away,
From those who thrive on delusions...
As a means to keep realities defeated.
I'd rather be around those who tell it like it is.
Than to hear from those who gossip about...
Who said what to someone else,
That offended and left them in tears.
It has been many aging years since I had been a kid!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Proud To Exist To Witness Possibilities
I am glad I represent a generation aging.
With an acceptance to reminisce and reflect,
Upon the times I have been blessed to remember.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer.
Although I will admit,
A loneliness when so many are dismissing...
There are phases of life that should be natural.
And understood with observations undenied.
And moving forward instead of backwards.
Or remaining down to earth unchanged.
As many aging with their delusions intact,
Would like to claim with a sameness of sanity.
But isn't that what stagnation is?
A stubbornness that is fixed in place.
With ways that begin to collect ignored dust.
And being stagnant and stale, unchanged...
Is something I don't consider fresh or impressive.
Or sparkles as if proud to exist to witness possibilities.
Not if one is to grow and experience what life is.
Or come to realize this adventure isn't here to last forever.
I am glad I represent a generation aging,
With an acceptance.
I am glad to be able to think with a thought process,
That connects with a wish to daily adventure.
And welcome a maturity I have earned.
With all that being conscious of it has to offer,
As a life I have learned to live...
To appreciate, explore and not take for granted.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Overnight Aging That Arrives
Ugly doesn't seem to care,
How early in the morning it is found on one's face.
And the entire body,
Feels as if it is being renovated.
With a work in progress taking place.
This aging process is done with more than just grace!
First a reaquaintance slowly begins.
To introduce a youthful mind,
To the 'vessel' that mind refuses to be trapped in.
Then an acceptible reality is encouraged,
With a tolerance one has to respect.
If this is not done with a kindness that reflects...
Folks who happen to see you publicly,
Will say what is believed one expects...
'You look SO good!
For 'your' age.
Not at all like you're ready for the grave.'
~Uh...
Thank you!
For the compliment?
I know what you meant.
I guess.~
And one feels inside someone has lied!
Especially when one knows how long it takes,
Of late...
To get ugly from taking a much longer ride.
With a regimen of ointments and pain killers,
To mask those aches one does not pride!
In the mornings when it is no longer safe,
For even one to find a place to hide...
From the 'overnight' aging that arrives!
And the time it takes for those aches to subside.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stages
First of all...
I know it's not just all about me.
Only in my mind I am told.
And that seems to be aging rapidly!
As a glowing youth...
Dims to be conquered,
By an aging truth!
Overnight it seems.
Although many may refuse to agree with me.
Those into appearances and physicalities!
I am not one to be talking about looks...
But let me say this,
No pages flipped through books
Prepares anyone for the stages of aging.
Or when to apply a night cheek lift!
To become disappointed with the results,
That sit unresisting to stay for a long visit!
Compliments on maintaining a youthfulness,
Stirs those in doubt about what is really meant...
By those unsolicited comments sent!
But pleased to get them without resentment.
There are those who may defy this process.
But when it noticibly starts...
A feeling of achievement begins to arrive,
Or a time gone by so quickly is realized!
Which gets many into denial fits!
Horrified that the time has come...
And that they too can not escape from this!
When a passing glance in a mirror,
Becomes a lingering stare...
What is seen is obvious.
And we all must become aware...
An aging has taken place,
To stay on one's face...
Not to go anywhere,
But to etch and trace.
Hopefully some allow...
And undergo with grace.
That's the reality of these stages we go through!
At least 'some' do.
The ones who are not moisturizing...
To rid a wrinkle,
Or two.
OR...
Those of us who make a fuss,
About a delayed aging process ordered...
Taking too long to come and is much overdue!
A special delivery was paid to insure a rush!
To subdue those lines that accrue...
With the stages of age some welcome unphased!
Praying this amazement of a quick aging,
Fades away!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dust Collector
Not as close to center.
And away from the spotlight,
On life's stage.
This becomes evident and noticed,
By the one who becomes of age.
And having it one's way...
Is given.
Without swaying any one's opinion.
'Hey why not?
They are not going to be around here,
That long! '
~They who?
I'm aging too and so are you!
IF you're 'lucky'.~
A withering in appearance,
Is experienced as this 'blessing' occurs.
And the one who goes through the process adapts.
Since encouraging words seem to overflow as heard!
Coming from those still in their youth.
'You seem to be lost!
Do you need help crossing the street? '
~I need no help.
I happen to be thinking of a new recipe,
Thank you! ~
Reminding those who are aging...
How brave it is to have that much nerve,
To allow it to show and be done.
Leaving those in their youth,
Stunned by someone over the age of '31'...
Loving the act of aging!
'Mister, I heard you.
And you are well over '31'.
You are old enough to be my grandfather.'
~And I am willing to bet,
Your 'grandfather' never suggested...
Kids like yourself,
Need to learn how to mind your own business.
I could care less about you being in the spotlight.
I can shine just as bright and with more lustre without it.~
'Listen up...dust collector!
I don't have to pay you any attention at all,
Old man!
Wrap that around those aching bones and wrinkles.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Of A Once Natural Process
Ointments.
Moisturizers.
Facelifts and tummy tucks...
May slow the appearance,
Of a once natural process.
But a tock heard from a clock that ticks...
Does not stop,
To acknowledge any of these efforts.
No matter what one is told to feed and sell.
Those who accept and face aging...
Often live well when not dwelling on looks!
And those dwelling on looks,
Are most likely hooked on receiving compliments.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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To Dust Up
As a learning experience,
It is much more difficult...
To expect anyone to listen,
Than it is to teach them...
The difference between how and why,
A listening done will affect their time.
And the taking of it for granted...
Is something no one should do.
And one's expectations that the wasting of it,
Is going to gain empathy...
From those who had patience to sit with a listening,
No matter how bored one gets going through the process...
Is going to prevent a slipping of time,
To rush through their fingers.
With opportunities set aside waiting for anyone's decision,
To be made and done with a seletive picking to come.
Once an aging process starts and is noticed,
There is no playing of hide and seek with it...
To disregard those believing they have hidden in safe places.
Since in most cases everyone will be found.
Either forgotten to eventually dismiss.
Or stored away on top awaiting somewhere,
To be lowered into the ground...
With eyes and ears shut to dust up...that's it!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Quicker Than Picked Bananas
Aging!
And showing it quicker than picked bananas,
Are those hanging onto their youthful hopes...
With an inability to disperse from an immaturity.
Clinging onto hopes a cuteness shown can be excused...
Isn't as sick as it looks,
By those exposed to it.
And for those choosing to dismiss this as an acceptance...
Can not one of them explain the presence of an ineptness.
With few people left having a capability to express intelligence.
Or can catch up to adulthood to reasonably be respected.
Since a maturity is nonexistent.
And what is left to spoil and rot quicker than picked bananas,
Is what many people possess and is seen quite a lot.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Only The Ones Who Continually Count Their Blessings
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
But,
I've earned this.
I had to awaken to admit it!
I've EARN THIS!
Every bit of it and proud.
I have managed to do some things I dared.
With challenges and obstacles,
To prove a faith had pulled me through...
Mucho grief!
With just some of it shared.
Not all.
I don't want to scare the few people I know,
Away!
There's already been an acceptance,
Of my mentioned dysfunctions.
Why blow it on a 'show and tell' demonstration?
Some boundaries should be kept limited.
And imagined.
Why is it when one is young,
Aging is something believed...
No one wants to get done.
I've had my share of bouts with doubts.
Praying my advancing age...
Would not be so obvious.
Or in public be announced,
To be shouted out.
As I made attempts not to appear,
Like I was not experiencing a mid-life crisis.
I use to fear aging before I understood it.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
Only the ones who continually count their blessings,
Can appreciate a few aches and pains...
And associate 'that' with being grateful to feel them.
And I'll keep that repeated to myself,
As a reminder.
Sometimes this self motivation business,
Does get old and tired.
But a blessing to live to get done.
You never know who's listening,
When confessions are being made.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When Something Said Might Make Sense
Two things I have learned not to do!
Give an opinion even if asked.
Or express my beliefs,
To family members who have not a clue...
What it is I do, when it gets done.
Or can connect an aging process,
With experience.
At least,
Not as being factors to one's maturity and wisdom.
I've learned,
Whether relatives or not or just friends...
People become easily offended,
When something said might make sense.
And has credibility!
Especially in times,
When many minds are on prolonged vacations.
And some are stuck in Summer.
Without a Spring, Fall or Winter to recall.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Mind Has More of a Youthfulness
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed.
Some agitate their way through it.
Reminding themselves,
Nothing about this process
For them is welcomed!
And they are not pleased,
By anything it leaves.
And as I reflect,
Doing my best to accept this process...
I must admit,
Some of it I am not in total agreement with myself.
Although I go through the motions,
I am doing it with much ease!
Okay! I must say...
Sometimes I do get a bit perturbed and upset.
Especially when someone yells, 'Hey, grandpa.
Do you need assistance to cross the street? '
I grit my teeth with a fake smile I release.
Hmmm...
Is it noticeable,
My gait appears to be slower and more noble?
Everyday...
This aging 'thing' seems to speed!
And I sit on a nearby bench,
To gather my breath and gently breathe.
Wishing the aches and pains that come with aging...
I could put to rest.
Knowing my mind has more of a youthfulness,
That my body, on certain days...
Could care less what my mind forgets!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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That 'Senior Citizen' Thing
That 'senior citizen' thing,
Isn't easy for many to face and address.
And...
I am not comfortable with it yet.
Not to cling onto it like it is mine.
I am not prepared to declare,
Total ownership of it.
I am told I can still 'pass' for 55.
And that's young and radiant,
When one is...
On the fringes of showing 'maturity'.
And as my aches and pains,
Make attempts to ignore a fading youth...
Slowly leaving my consciousness,
With loud professions of my obsessiveness...
I know,
Is no longer in that hip hop stage!
And has gone.
I feel time has crept upon me,
And has done me wrong.
But...
I aint crying about it.
Not in public anyway.
And if I do it is raining!
I tell people then,
How I enjoy the feeling of nature.
That 'senior citizen' thing,
Was never on my agenda when I was in my teens.
Nor did aging appear in my dreams...
When I sought ambitiously,
To waste as much time as possible.
It was not a topic of excitement.
Nor a subject to defend.
Back in those days when age was taken for granted.
And then,
Overnight...
My eyesight needed correction.
I had to wear glasses 'with' bi-focals.
My digestion needed anti-oxidents with more fiber.
And for no apparent reason,
I would stumble into buildings and trees.
Losing my balance.
That 'senior citizen' thing,
Isn't easy for many to face and address.
And...
I am not comfortable with it yet.
Not to cling onto it like it is mine.
I am not prepared to declare,
Total ownership of it.
I am told I can still 'pass' for 55.
And that's young and radiant,
When one is...
On the fringes of showing 'maturity'.
Someone...
Like myself,
For example.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My First Time Being Here
The experience of aging
Is a process many fight.
Some act as if it's not a gift...
To grow older with delight.
I'm often asked how it feels,
To be an age I don't appear.
I tell them it's my first time doing it...
It's my first time being here!
And if I knew I should feel a certain way,
Nothing in my past prepared me for this day!
It's all new to me...
I have no clue how I should be.
Nor do I look in the mirror with fears,
To chase away!
('That depends on HOW I'm looking')
It's clear I'm aging,
With a grace I accept!
And blessed I feel everyday!
No one I know will be here forever...
No matter what's done to stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Subjected to Their Release of Insecurities
You will get and find attention,
IF it is to someone's benefit.
You will be treated with consideration,
IF someone else gets credit for it.
You will also be ignored by those who show and tell.
The subject of charades and gossip.
Someone will initiate a wish not to see you well.
IF you are the one who has peace of mind...
And dismiss conflicts of all kinds.
Someone will produce an obstacle for you.
IF you have managed to survive,
And thrive independently...
You will get and find attention,
From those unaccepting...
You have achieved maturity.
And maturity is a threat,
To those who do not respect who you are!
And 'how' you got that done.
You see...
You will get and find attention,
IF it is to someone's benefit.
Someone who has been stung and stunned!
And as long as you remain,
The fool they believe you to be!
Or that person they perceive provides them comedic relief...
To keep their sensibilities obtained and valued,
You will be subjected to their release of insecurities.
Especially if it is thought,
You are accessible to their antics.
And accustomed...as they see it,
To your own stupidity!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Under Wraps #2
Keep it quiet. (go slow.)
Circulate. need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file ---
Masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you ---
Wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Wear an air --- (keep mum)
Of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
About your usual business.
Wrapped in daydreams of you ---
Wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! i've got you under wraps.
Tell you when --- (not yet)
Soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.
Wrapped in your summer night ---
Wrapped in your autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the winter of your sleeping.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under Wraps
Keep it quiet. (go slow.)
Circulate. need to know.
Stamp the date upon your file ---
Masquerade, but well worth while.
Wrapped in the warmth of you ---
Wrapped up in your smile.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Wear an air --- (keep mum)
Of casual indifference.
Careful how you go
About your usual business.
Wrapped in daydreams of you ---
Wrapped up by your eyes.
Wrapped in the folds of your attention.
Under wraps! Ive got you under wraps.
Tell you when --- (not yet)
Soon the great unveiling.
Bless my boots! upon my soul!
Secrecy, it is my failing.
Wrapped in your summer night ---
Wrapped in your autumn leaves.
Wrapped in the winter of your sleeping.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Then Leave
The seeking to get attention business,
Isn't all what it cracks up to be.
Those who seek no attention,
Are chased by those disbelieving,
No one wants to keep peace selfishly...
To be left alone.
And these might be the ones who first sought attention,
Initially.
Now...
Those who seek to get attention,
And with passion disguised by a lust...
Accompanied with deep breathing,
Could frighten someone seeking just to tease.
To then leave quietly...
To then go home to self satisfy.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Acceptance Threatens the Status Quo
Small towns aren't the only places...
Where acceptance is regarded,
As difficult as learning a foreign language.
And spoken although despised...
By those noncomformists criticized,
And labelled to provoke...
As mavericks.
Acceptance threatens the status quo.
Those folks choosing to maintain unconditional control...
No matter how low the deceptive use of their tactics.
And...
Innovative are those tactics!
Acceptance fosters maturing as well.
Small minds uncomfortable with this process...
Are generally threatened by growth,
And the affects of all signs of intelligence expressed.
This is as evident as the planting of weeds,
To ensure the killing of floral bloom.
And the excitement of the anticipation of it.
This kind of acceptance is an infestation.
And some folks are just as thrilled to manifest the defects!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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How I Approach My Life
I am often reminded,
How the direction of my writing...
Has changed over the years.
And for the life of me,
I can not understand it.
I've done the best I could,
To keep my outlook elementary.
And perhaps it has been my evolving,
Since high school...
That my thought process and experiences,
I had since then...
That I should attribute to my maturity.
What a dilemma!
However...
God knows I am doing the best I can,
Not to be so observant and intelligent...
As to how I approach my life.
But I do keep my fingers crossed,
That my growth process is not that noticeable...
To those choosing to remain in denial,
And become offended by my adult revelations.
Hey,
Who knows?
Maybe I'm just one of those people,
Who refuse to stay limited to perceived expectations.
You know...
Rebellious, arrogant, self confident, honest and forthright!
And...
65 years old.
One would think I should know my place by now?
Huh?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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