To Submerge Within Completed Bliss (Part IV)
A joy begins to ignite inside,
An exercise expressed...
Coming to provide one total rest.
An emptiness on shoulders lift.
Received as a gift...
A bliss exposing to one now knowing,
The sound of sad songs in loneliness sung...
Are unwrapped from an entrapment,
Once a cleansing has begun!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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When a Consciousness Begins to Lift
When a consciousness begins to lift...
To leave behind foolishness that exists.
There seems to be an acceptance of it.
As if one realizes,
A birth has been committed.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
A release of limitations,
Easily takes a shift.
No longer is one concerned,
About winning conflicts with enemies burned.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It becomes easier to observe,
Those disturbed and their afflictions addicted.
Enjoyed and unrestricted.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
It is best to rest.
And let it accept the truth,
That comes with it.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Expect a shock and some loneliness.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Those experiencing this,
Are left to feel estranged!
Alienated,
From that...
Which one had thought,
Was sane!
When a consciousness begins to lift...
Enjoy it as a gift.
Unveiling an abundance of understanding.
Connecting a peace that can be reached.
With a wish to share and treat.
When a consciousness begins to lift...
From those taught they should live,
With lives accepted in self defeat!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Gone Are Those Sad Songs Sung
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone
Once sung 'then' now no one sings,
With a wish to begin them again.
Too many on the streets.
Now too accustomed to fresh beats,
Declare they will not be defeated.
By a repeating of old tunes.
Too many collectively.
Have decided to leave.
Gone are those sad songs,
Sung begun some sang.
With the singing of those sad songs,
Gone.
Once sung now no one chooses to sing,
With a wish to begin them again.
Solos and duets seem for many more accepted.
With a clouding once done to dim overcasting skies.
Clearing now as a harmony begins,
To find eyes brightening.
With a listening to voices heard.
And giving each one specific attention.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Some Prefer To Keep It Frozen
Honesty can be that one gift received,
To be quickly unwrapped to wear.
With a daring that is flaunted.
And exposing it to everyone,
To prove a truth living within...
Exists and is shown everywhere.
Unfortunately...
Not everyone welcomes this gift to receive.
With a keeping it under wraps.
To pack away in one's attic.
Or...
Stored in one's basement.
To leave it frozen in a freezer,
With a thawing no one will ever see at all.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
Some prefer to keep frozen,
Never to thaw.
Honesty can be that one gift received,
To be quickly unwrapped to wear.
With a daring that is flaunted.
And exposing it to everyone,
To prove a truth living within...
Exists and is shown everywhere.
But,
Left corrupted...
A shocking honesty can awe.
To be abducted.
Shocking honesty can awe.
With none conducted.
A shocking honesty can awe.
And...
Leaving it to freeze,
Never to thaw.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
A shocking honesty and truth can awe.
Some prefer to keep frozen,
Never to thaw.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Loneliness That Visits
Sometimes loneliness is a gift.
It allows our minds to reflect and drift.
To evaluate who it is we are.
What our wishes mean to us...
And the depth of our dreams,
When loneliness descends.
Our desire to be free of this 'entrapment'
Is encouraging!
Once it is realize 'why' we feel this way.
And 'what' the efforts are to deliver us,
From only seeing ourselves mirroring a sadness.
Knowing that a trust hidden,
Awaits to deliver gladness that arrives...
Eventually!
To inspire our hearts to thrive on new adventures!
This can not be who it is that we are.
A frowning face that takes a place,
Becoming too comfortable with a loneliness sitting.
It is unfamiliar,
When first viewed.
And expressed upon our faces.
Clearly not subdued.
That is why it draws all of our attention to it!
And others too.
This loneliness that visits.
Because it is allowed.
Until we walk away from it.
Freeing it from its welcome.
Leaving it as something seen...
Like a foe that pops up on the scene.
But not to be accepted with a warm embrace.
We can move away from it IF we so desire!
If we inspired a happiness within us to surface!
It can and should be replaced.
Erasing...
This loneliness,
We can dismiss.
To acquire a more sweetened taste...
From a life of bitterness,
An aloneness made can trace!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hold and Escalate It
The flame I see within you brightens.
Something has dawned,
To ignite a dimming need.
Something has connected,
To spark an increase...
Of a desired feeding pleased.
You have attached to happiness.
An entrapment has been detached.
You have come to decide,
Whatever you carried...
To lift it off your back!
I hope you allow this to magnify.
Hold and escalate it.
Embrace and motivate it,
To keep you satisfied!
Whatever it is,
It has come to you as a gift!
To identify any remnants of darkness.
I can tell by your smile...
And the ease of it.
You once tried to hide from escaping,
To show on your face.
And tightly shut lips!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Tender
Ache
Can't watch you break
And shatter
Saved
New lives to make
Us better
I'm letting you know
Cleansing my soul
Been letting you know
For days
Turn over everything
Time can heal us again
I'm tender in your arms
Reaching inside of me
Bringing the love I need
The loneliness has gone
Faith
New roads to take
Together
Days
Lying awake
Remember
I'm letting you know
Cleansing my soul
Been letting you know
For days
Turn over everything
Time can heal us again
I'm tender in your arms
Reaching inside of me
Bringing the love I need
The loneliness has gone
I'm letting you know
Cleansing my soul
Been letting you know
For days
Turn over everything
Time can heal us again
I'm tender in your arms
Reaching inside of me
Bringing the love I need
The loneliness has gone
The loneliness has gone
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whether Daggerless But...And, Or If Cloaked
I wish I knew your true identity.
I wish I knew who you were...
Coming into my lfe,
Daggerless but cloaked.
With mental teases...
That do not provoke.
Even though you could...
But you don't provide a heat...
To ignite and get that fire started.
I wish I knew your true identity.
I wish I knew who you were...
Coming into my lfe,
Daggerless but cloaked.
With mental teases...
That do not provoke.
Even though you could...
But you don't provide a heat...
To ignite and get that fire started.
Why?
Do you sense a commonness between us,
Perhaps?
Do you perceive my 'eclecticness'
Has a variety of pieces,
I make comfortably fit.
And you believe you know 'the how'
'The why' and reason I do this?
If there is a 'reason behind it at all!
I wish I knew your true identity.
I wish I knew who you were...
Coming into my lfe,
Daggerless but cloaked.
With mental teases...
That do not provoke.
Even though you could...
But you don't provide a heat...
To ignite and get that fire started.
I sense you like to wine and dine,
Under candlelight?
But you don't provide a heat...
To light and get that fire started.
Whether daggerless,
But...and, or if cloaked...
Or not!
We both need something to eat.
Curiosity may have killed the cat...
But this dude does not feed on teases,
Alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Mystery Gift
I once received a exquisite mystery gift,
Which gave my mood, that day, quite a lift.
Inside, was some chocolate covered fruit,
Bought from a chocolatiers of high repute.
With the mysterious gift, I was totally thrilled,
But with wonderment, my mind was then filled.
I was taken aback by the gift, which had been sent,
And, on finding out who purchased it, I was intent.
I wanted to find out who had been this kind,
But, at the shop, no name had been left behind.
While I was there, I sneakily checked out the price,
And was amazed that someone had been that nice!
To whoever sent me the gift, I’d like to say ‘thank you’,
As it really was a very kind and thoughtful thing to do.
Which kind person sent that lovely gift my way,
I, still, am not aware of, even to this very day.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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When the Pain Begun Begins to Mend
When the pain begun begins to mend,
The sky is brighter.
The clouds then start to drift.
The rain dries and the thunder stops.
When the pain begun begins to mend,
A freshness occurs.
The Sun invites a rendezvous.
Just to sit with it,
And feel...
A soothing come over you.
When the pain begun begins to mend,
And you are there...
Ready to be healed,
Feeling a once broken heart...
Being pieced back together,
Completely.
When the pain begun begins to mend,
You are prepared to forget.
Wanting to forgive.
And wishing to be forgiven.
When the pain begun begins to mend!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Is A Time When One Has Nothing Inside
THERE IS A TIME WHEN ONE HAS NOTHING INSIDE
There is a time when one has nothing inside
No birds sing
No longings demand their realization
Only the endless emptiness
Of what one has never been
The endless ambition to be
Without knowing what to be
Nothing inside
Endless hopelessness
Little fear
Waiting
No poem either
Nothing inside
But only
Emptiness
And more Emptiness
Like these lines
So small
So pathetic
So unworthy of ‘Poetry’
As if one’s life too
Were a meaningless passing of nothingness to nothing else.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Hunger For More
How can anyone wish to go back inside?
After a discovery begins to connect,
Thoughts they could not get to think...
From an outside source,
Found that links...
Ideas,
Appearing that appeals.
And this process starts...
To clear with comprehension.
How can anyone wish,
To undo something like this?
How can anyone wish to return a gift?
One that begins to reveal an unveiling,
Of a thought that had not existed?
Or seek to reopen a door that has been closed?
To choose to refuse what has been exposed?
Knowing what one knows...
That allows a hunger for more.
For a darkening that stops a tease,
Baiting as it does...
The craving of a curiosity!
Who would want to leave 'that'...
If that was a possibility?
If one could,
Who really would desire...
To wish for less of an interest to digest?
Coming as it does to feed!
Who would choose not to adventure...
When the power of it,
From one does not leave!
How can anyone wish to go back inside?
Once bitten to probe a need.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dinner
i see how loneliness opens its mouth
and swallows you whole
there is this dinner
and you are
what is served to its hunger
and thirst and you do not even make a sound
when you are gone
into the deepest throat
of emptiness
there is no sound
there is only the willingness to be lost
and to be forgotten
loneliness ate you for dinner
and i will be its breakfast tomorrow morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Troubadours
From the ancient sun to the old heart stove come the troubadours
From the city gates to the castle walls its the troubadours
On a sunlit day it was bright and clear
And the people came from far and they came from near
To hear the troubadours
Well the troubadours sang their songs of love to the lady fair
She was sitting outside on a balcony in in the cool night air
It was a starry night the moon was shining bright
And the trumpets rang and they gave a chime
For the troubadours
And for everyman all across the land and from shore to shore
They came singin songs of love and chivalry from the days of yore
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours as they go through town
Baby lift your window high do you hear that sound
Its the troubadours with their freedom song
Lift your window high turn your lamp down low baby
Dont you know I love you so
Lift your window high do you dig that sound
Its the troubadours coming through town
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inner Garden I
*
autumn has come to rest
in her garden
come to paint the trees with emptiness
and no pardon
so many things have come undone
like the leaves on the ground
and suddenly she begins to cry
but she doesn't know why
heavy are the words that fall through the air
to burden her shoulders
caught up in the trees
her soliloguy,
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Payday Long Overdue
No one knows,
What you go through each day.
But there are some with 'something' to say...
About what it is,
That you do...
To get done.
No one knows,
How it is that you feel.
But opinions given they will reveal.
Just to get the satisfaction...
To opened ears to appeal.
But you know that...
Your payday coming for you is overdue.
For those dues paid that you've been through.
With no sad songs sung heard,
To come from you.
So get that payday long overdue.
You've been through what no one ever knew.
Leave those sad songs,
For others who sing the blues.
And you know that,
Your payday coming for you is overdue.
For those dues paid that you've been through.
With no sad songs sung heard,
To come from you.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Seeking Something Genuine
I too have gone through that process.
Believing if things,
Would only go my way...
Everything would be okay.
And those in doubt about 'my' decisions...
Would get over it!
And so happy, ultimately, we would all be.
So confident had I been,
With my interpretation of correctness.
I too abused myself with stubbornness.
Not knowing it then...
How a foolishness can haunt one's bliss.
With a believing if things,
Would only go my way...
Raised high on shoulders a lift I'd get,
To sniff the air...
With a hearing of cheers no one could resist!
And then a snapping done cracked me back into reality.
With a receiving of a request.
It seemed a lawyer wanted me to sign divorce papers.
And to do it without protest!
Does any of this make any sense to you?
Is there something I've expressed,
Sinking in and getting through?
What you want from me...
And what is not going to happen,
Is not a consideration I am going to make.
I have said no,
To any kind of relationship!
Freaky, homo, straight or discreet.
I aint into it.
I use to be...
All of that.
But today...
None of that is where I am at!
I am seeking something genuine.
Now...
What part of 'no' do you wish to have clarified?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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It's Just A Song (Lyric) :
You hear the sound of the song.
It's coming on real strong.
It gives you a sense of strength.
it filters through the air.
It lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It takes you out in space.
Closer to second base.
It follows through so cool.
The smoothest thing for you.
A sound that sounds so clear.
A sound you'll want to hear.
It's just a song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It sends you through the air.
A sound that makes you high.
It makes you feel so good.
A sound that always should.
Just lifts you off the ground.
We hear from town to town.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
It's just a song.
It's just a-song-sung-long.
A sing-a-long-song-sung.
It's just a song.
it's just a song..
Song-Lyric-Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1989,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
See>>www.edwardspoetry.com
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Woeful Emptiness
All that I can feel now the emptiness -inside
Hudge And rough emptiness
Surrounded my soul,
Echoes of vainy dirges howling alone.
Like me inside me woes of loneliness Insatiable serpent has wrraped my soul.
Nothing can hurt me more,
No word at the world can express how I feel
Now,
More then this word,
Woeful emptiness is wrrapped all my own.
The grief and gloomy veil
leaning pale
Teribble strain ebbed my chest breathless is the spirit inside
Moaing dreary woes
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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The Risk Is in the Giving
The risk is in the giving,
Not the taking of a gift one gets.
Many times that which is given,
An appreciation returned...
Seldom comes with it.
People take advantage,
Of what comes...
As a deed to please.
With an inspection to put a value,
On that which is received.
With a showing of an ungratefulness,
The giver of the gift to give...
Often leaves with this believed.
People take advantage,
Of what comes...
As a deed to please.
With an inspection to put a value,
On that which is received.
The risk is in the giving,
Not the taking of a gift one gets.
Many times that which is given,
An appreciation returned...
Seldom comes with it.
And when one does hear from another,
A thankfulness expressed.
The one who is gifted expresses this,
With an acknowledgement...
It is 'not' the gift one gets,
But the thoughtfulness of the one who gives...
And that is the exchange one does not soon forget.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Shearing's Coming
There's a sound of many voices in the camp and on the track,
And letters coming up in shoals to stations at the back;
And every boat that crosses from the sunny 'other side'
Is bringing waves of shearers for the swelling of the tide.
For the shearing's coming round, boys, the shearing's coming round,
And the stations of the mountains have begun to hear the sound.
They'll be talking up at Laghmor of the tallies that were shore,
And the man who broke the record is remembered at Benmore;
And the yarns of strikes and barneys will be told till all is blue,
And the ringers and the bosses will be passed in long review.
For the shearing's coming round, boys, the shearing's coming round,
And the stations of the mountains have begun to hear the sound.
The great Orari muster and the drafting of the men
Like a mob of ewes and wethers will be surely told again;
And a lot of heathen places that will rhyme with kangaroo
Will be named along with ringers and the things that they can do.
For the shearing's coming round, boys, the shearing's coming round,
And the stations of the mountains have begun to hear the sound.
At last the crowds will gather for the morning of the start,
And the slowest of the jokers will be trying to look smart;
And a few will get the bullet, and high hopes will have a fall,
And the bloke that talks the loudest stands a show of looking small.
For the shearing's coming round, chaps, the shearing's coming round,
And the voices of the workers have begun to swell the sound.
poem by David McKee Wright
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