En.Citatepedia^®.ro

To Flourish Encouraged to Nurture on the Same Turf

Experimentations...
Dictating choices of temptations,
Explored, teased and tried...
Are not carried in a mind satisfied,
With re-occurring denials.
They are known.
They have been shown in limitations outgrown.

Run or walk around a block a few times.
The confines within it may be renovated,
And the changes fresh...
With the same steps taken made.
That 'space' still remains the same,
Unchanged!
Revamped temptations...
With updated entrances to dismiss memories.

Follow...
The same mind that allows them,
To keep them safe and from going away!
Introduced by new excuses replace them,
As if the old ones did not exist!
But they are there remembered.
To sit in reminisced places.

Façades are what they are...
And journeys without their presence as reminders,
Are the most difficult to take...
When left behind to embark on unfamiliar ground!
Unchartered frontiers can be found,
If one is willing to give up the notion...
Motivation to move forward,
Requires outside intervention...
To set this in motion.

Leave behind what 'is'.
Leave behind falling tears where they fell!
Without announcements to mention.
Inspite of promises and offers to please...
Quicken a hesitated pace to face real change!
Regrets may come to visit,
But one is not obligated...
To have them stay to produce sorrow,
Season after season...
To flourish encouraged to nurture on the same turf!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Renovated Much Too Late

Redone.
Refurbished,
And...
Renovated much too late.
Although...
Updated are amenities.
But...
There is something that will never please,
A mind re-arranged.
And...
Enlightened by the changes,
Of the times.

Redone.
Refurbished,
And...
Renovated much too late.
Although...
Updated are amenities.
But...
There is something that will never please,
A mind re-arranged.
And...
Enlightened by the changes,
Of the times.

And when times have changed,
Many leave what 'was' behind.
No matter who wishes to have it redesigned.
Since when times change,
Many seek a freshness to find.
Leaving what 'was' that could have been left behind.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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History Is Rewritten

A presence felt,
To leave meaningful steps.
And expressing 'that' which is observed!
Some might experience with encouragement.
Some with none...
Although brave enough,
And tough of nerve!

Others are not so quick,
To move forward without someone to assist.
Hiding behind insecurities found.
And protecting themselves with excuses,
Gone unaddressed.
To be left all around!

Paths many walk are with obstacles,
And unpaved.
Often they are criticized...
For what they do.
And what is done rarely goes unscathed.

The pioneer walks alone to adventure and discover.
To return to share with others.
As history is rewritten,
Over time!
To romanticize the specifics of events.
With a change of what has been done.
The absence of facts!
And no mention at all of the heritage.
OR nothing of the person's color.
If 'black' like the Eygptians!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Who 'Is' and 'Is Not' For Real

He,
Has not forgotten...
Where he came from.
Or the place of his birth.
Nor the enjoyment of fun.

He,
Is just not there...
Trying to keep it alive and fresh.
Unchanged and remembered.
Since those places others keep traced...
Where his life was once lived,
No longer exist.
On steps and stoops...
Or in hallways where some still stay.
Left to play as if those days have not gone away.
In minds that time for them has betrayed.

He,
Is just not there to care...
To listen to them determine,
Who 'is' and 'is not'
For real!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Not Without Choices to Make

Sometimes my days come,
Without extended shadows.
My mind can cloud...
In search of definition.

Emotions within me,
Aren't always bright with light.
As I become subdued,
To a darker, quiet side.

Some memories I keep,
Are not always the ones teased by pleasantries.
Although I've had lots of fun,
With those I regarded as 'special' ones.

And they are so missed,
When I sit...
To reminisce them.
And their presence alone,
Would lift me quick.

I try to ignore a moodiness,
My mind explores.
And yet I feel the invited guest...
Forced to participate,
In such brooding activities.

Some memories I keep,
Are not always the ones teased by pleasantries.
And the Sun when it comes...
Reminds me I am not without choices to make.
Although, at times, it is difficult to escape...
From the comfort of those times gone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Maybe You'll Be Able to Hear

If you do not want to face reality,
At least get out of my way.
You are blocking mine.
I choose to see!

I like to acknowledge those things,
Coming my way.
And those denials?
Can get you struck by a truck.
And having good luck these days...
Is not worth the wait.
Too many have hesitated for too long.
And for them it's too late!

If you don't want to use your mind,
Try to open your eyes and ears.
This will give you a clue as to what approaches.
If you can not see it?
Perhaps, if you wish, you will be able to hear!
But who knows?
When the mind goes...
What choices are left?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Which Is Known To Have Endured

It is difficult to replace,
That which has been established.
Regardless how fancy those signatures left,
After the pouring of fresh concrete.

That which is known to have endured,
To ease those footsteps that follow...
Will always be remembered,
For an implementation pioneered to initiate.

Regardless how fancy the signatures,
Of new names making claims...
On that which has created the foundation.
That same foundation would not exist,
Without the persistence...
Of the ones others make attempts to dismiss.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Open Season On My Heart

Here's to the corners yet to turn
Here's to the bridges yet to burn
Here's to the whole thing blown apart
It's open season on my heart
Days go by like flyin' bricks
Leave gaping holes, too deep to fix
I'd just stay home if I were smart
It's open season on my heart
I can't blame anyone but me
For this wreckless fool I've come to be
My tired excuses just don't fit
They don't look good from where I sit
I've tried to change without much luck
I reach the point where I get stuck
I hit the streets the fireworks start
It's open season on my heart
I can't be something that I'm not
I can't give what I haven't got
I don't know where or why or when
I only know the shape I'm in
So here's to the clown down in my mouth
Here's to the whole thing going south
My own true love's turned poison dart
It's open season on my heart
Here's turning heartaches into art
It's open season on my heart

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Until It Is Time For Us to Leave

We take.
To give.
To learn to share.
To receive and offer...
Our presence.
Bestowed upon those,
To show a caring.

Season after season.
Come and go.
Until it is time for us to leave,
All of our memories...
We've grown to know,
To Love.
Behind us.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Transformation Comes

Transformation comes,
To push forward...
From what has been done.
Sometimes paining with a laborious birth,
Endured.
Insuring something new...
That is introduced as glorious,
And pure.

Transformation comes.
And people do adapt to embrace this change.
Very few can block or stop it.
Or insist what had been 'before' accepted,
Remains the same.

But with each season that begins a fresh start,
To end for another.
We here who witness it...
May express our opinions and have our druthers,
Fixed and stubborn.
When transformation comes...
Everyone is powerless to resist,
Its completeness.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Secrets Kept and Untold By Disrespected Trees

I can not afford to look over my shoulder.
Or sit to allow age,
To slow the pace of steps I take.

Too much has to be expressed.
And my mind has long been satisfied,
By the distraction of entertaining temptations.

Clear are the peaks and valleys I've seen.
Now I live to learn about those secrets kept,
And untold by disrespected trees.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Take Your Eyes Off Of My Treasured Space

Take your eyes off of my treasured space.
Not an inch of it here is yours to be shared.
You are welcome to visit and admire,
The peace kept within it.

And when your visit is over...
The front door will open.
And through it you will leave.
Hopefully with less curiousity...
As to what your decorating additions will be.

There will be none.
I have all the fun I've had,
Doing what you see myself.
And in the doing of it,
Was one of the best experiences I've had!
Enjoyed with no one else.
It was such a selfish joy!

Take your eyes off of my treasured space.
Not an inch of it here is yours to be shared.
You are welcome to visit and admire,
The peace kept within it.

And when your visit is over...
The front door will open.
And through it you will leave.
With an understood appreciation...
How glad I was to have you visit with me.

But you staying here is out of the question!
Although the time together,
Was enjoyable and well spent.
Give my regards to 'old' Broadway.
And other streets on which we played.
Back in the 'day'.!

There is nothing like a peace of mind,
I can find in any room I choose!
The air is fresh and absent of attitudes.
Sometimes just to sit in silence,
Energizes me with motivation.

Give me a call.
Maybe one day we can do lunch.
And exchange more of our fantasies!
While reminiscing as we munch,
And free from any temptation to aggravate.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Falling Tears

its dark midnight,
i am walking on the road,
with faith in mind,
thinking of you
looking cold..

its a giant fight,
with my mind,
and cool wind are
blowing me very tight,
can you remember
we met here..

i know you never wanna
see me again, but i wanna
see you again.
cant you fell my
falling tears.

oh its too dark
you cant see me,
than burn me like a wood
then you fell me,
cant you fell my falling tears.

leave it write now,
my walk and road over now,
i am going not to return anymore,
you could not fell my
falling tears.......

poem by Deep Doloi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fresh Distractions Can Not Do That

Am I satisfied with fresh distractions?
The season of pleasure seems to have ceased...
A weakness to satisfy quick attractions.
The relevance?
Has left no importance to reminisce.
Dismissing this I can say I do not miss.
I can resist this hold upon my ego.
And the strength of simplistic wants...
No longer taunts me with a needing.
A complacency has arrived!
And has come to feed a peace of mind,
I control with all its comforts.
A shallowness is left behind.
I find a pace to keep a rat race fading.
Am I satisfied with fresh distractions?
To collect and say they are mine?
To prove they are there...
Just to ignore.
To become bored with desires,
Searching for more.
Why should I repeat defeats I've conquered?
What for do I wish to fulfill my life,
With 'things' to dismiss?
'Things' that provide no lasting happiness.
Yet on display just to say I too can play...
Games to delay and stunt my purpose.
Not in these times...
When I am finding a freedom,
That has lightened a load on my back!
I am with renewed vision,
I will not allow to retract.
Fresh distractions can not do that!
They come to trap, saddle and burden.
I no longer wish to pay that price...
To appear as if that kind of life,
For me pleases!
I'd rather hear others say I have nothing...
Than to give up 'everything'
A nothingness to them means!
I have an abundance that can not be seen.
I did not know that...
Until I came out of darkness,
To behold the worth of my total experience.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Autumns Passing Tears

While lying on my side in bed
I stare through windowpane and shade
And watch the autumn season fade
With every falling golden dead;
And with each leafs descent to ground
A sadness seeps into my soul.
I turn around then lose control
And shed my tears without a sound.
Why must this season loveliness
Take leave from me each passing year
And take with it all I hold dear
And leave me with this emptiness?

poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Don't Leave Me Now I'm In Love

Come and sit a while with me and talk
I need to have a word before you walk
Just before you go let me explain
That I love you
I know that this may come as a surprise
How do you think I felt when I realised?
It hit me like a bolt out of the sky
That I love you
You said that you were moving on
Come Saturday that you'd be gone
I thought of life without you and I cried
So finally I know who I
Am gonna love for all my life
So say you'll be mine
Please say I can change your mind
Don't leave, don't leave now I'm in love
Don't walk away from something that could have been so good
Don't leave, don't leave me now I know
I'll love you for forever, for all the stars above
Don't leave now I'm in love
Looking back on all the opportunity
I didn't have a clue that the girl was me
So listen to me now that things have changed
I love you
So suddenly my fate is sealed
'Cos only can make it real
So say you'll be mine
Please say I can change your mind
So don't leave, don't leave now I'm in love
Don't walk away from something that could have been so good
Don't leave, don't leave me now I know
I'll love you for forever, for all the stars above
Don't leave now I'm in love
Give me a chance to hold close 'cos...
I wanna feel that you're a part of me
Know how it feels to love you tenderly
Know that I'll never have to let you go
Don't leave me now I know
Don't leave me now I'm sure
Don't leave now I'm in love

song performed by by Lisa Stansfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When Each Season Leaves

To say today no changes have been made,
Is to exist in a stagnant vacuum.

Yesterday is not today.
Nor was yesterday the day before.

Those who perceive life,
As an opportunity to leech...
Sit waiting for someone to knock,
With a proclamation...
That allows them to breathe.

When each season leaves,
Another takes its place.
When someone opens a door...
So much more can be observed,
If steps are made to go forward...
To feel a freshness of this upon one's face.

To say today no changes have been made,
Is to exist in a stagnant vacuum.

Yesterday is not today.
Nor was yesterday the day before.

To say today no changes have been made,
Are words spoken from those...
Who have chosen the boredom,
Of a monotony to daily experience.
With a keeping of this explored.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poison Love

The all exits and entrances past me
Leave two choices before me
I have too choose none or both
The dilemma acts as a poison on my mind
Unable to grab the memories, I lack
Graced by god! Heaven is mine, I could say
I have both failure and past thus I have
The hindrance created by the hampering talent
Leaves me nowhere! I have to give a fresh start
Thus, on my mind, That poison acts as a foe
I had the wrath, without my love, on me
Poison-her love-is that poison of sea
That is now and there killing inside me.

poem by Vizard Dhawan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Irresistible

Seasons come, seasons go
But each season leaves a distinction
For which it is remembered

So once a season came
With a green environment
Rosy plants all around
And I enjoyed the period
Went to the orchard
And picked a flower
That I stayed with long after the season had vanished

But this same flower I had picked
Went with the season
I did not know I could not stay with it
Without its season

Despite all that
There is a wonderful flower I have seen
Which does not vary with seasons
But stays amidst all circumstances and seasons

It has a goon\d name
That every time I mention it
I find myself hungry

Dear sister
Pick the flower too
The all season flower of salvation!

poem by Brian Bwesigye
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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0164In Mind

It’s only now, only now, that I remember, that I can see,
how you made your presence felt so often;
so long unlooked for, seeing only absence, never believing presence;

for in the subtlety of your wisdom, the wisdom of your subtlety,
you leave reminders of that presence in that secret place
where it’s as safe as childhood happiness
forgotten, then remembered…

for you speak a closer language to a child,
closer than the growing child comes to believe.
When was the first time - now I can remember who you are,
when you first spoke to me?

Wasn’t it that day when I could toddle unsteadily
but with wide open eyes, where the lion’s head
poured water from its mouth into the basin?
and in the paving of the bricks – which anyone could see –
you left me that private, secret message,
knowing that I’d not notice, (so I’d not forget) ,
until one day it swam out of memory?

For this is your so secret, open generosity: you leave every one of us
this secret message: that moment when we knew
that we knew something certain – and yet,
did not know what that something was?

And then, that time after a year or two – a lifetime for a child –
when you announced your presence by your so painful absence,
and I made that solemn decision for a four-year-old,
never to trust a grown-up ever again; not because
of being a helpless child – but because there was that in me
which knew when you were there, and when you weren’t?

Then you left so many messages I did not need to heed
-or so it seemed, because they were so obvious –
and only in your absence was your presence felt:
the day after a gale, the ozone of the beach, the sea
now brown but calming, seaweed salty on the stones;
the field of flowers and dewdrops –the moths in ecstasy;
and in that silent glade of woodland, as if you had made that space
between the trees, to leave a message loud and clear: that
you live in space, so visibly invisible…

then later, on the tennis court, green grass just newly cut,
that exhilarating smell; lime-white lines just newly marked;
and when the ball hit the centre of the racquet, just so,
I missed your message, in the will to win…

And then, grown up: how are we to know – until we know –
your messages left all around, in so many places, all so different?

When, like the unicorn, we know we’ll never see you,
yet know we know that in our minds, you live?

That single horn upon its clear-eyed brow,
that dips in recognition of innocence,
how could we miss your message, so gently elegant,
one-pointed image of yourself, in mind?

poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Upkeep Of Images

Approaching a broken fence,
With a brush and a can of paint...
Believing to change its appearance,
With a few minutes given to it.
And a mending with a healing,
Of fresh and accepted perceptions...
Would again begin...is quite admirable.

However,
Wouldn't it be better and cost effective,
If denials were rejected?
And a broken fence needing to be removed,
Would be viewed as a needed thing to do?
IF denials and excuses were not used,
To dilute with a diffusing of reality.

'Maybe you are right.
None of us have heard it stated that way.
We have spent millions,
On the upkeep of images...
And outdated appearances.
With a hope our efforts would influence,
Those times we wish unchanged to stay...
With us forever,
In a never-to-age-land of fantasies.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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