Until It Happens
Don't be concerned about what others say about you.
Just do what you do and be done with it.
One day you will silence their lips.
'But Maaaahhh, that makes no sense! '
It ain't suppose to until it happens.
Now go outside and play.
You're getting on my last nerve!
Dedicated To:
Mrs. Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar
My mom.
'Ma, we miss you and your so 'appropriate'
philosophy about life and other 'stuff' '
(Andrea, Tammy, Lisa, Larry)
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
How We Learned Our Lessons
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.
And we understood each one of them.
With our minds, eyes and ears opened.
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the acceptance and loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the giving of respect,
We ourselves sometimes did not get!
That's how we learned our lessons.
And even though our steps made forward...
Were made to believe by others as limited.
And sometimes we wept and knew this was negative.
It was through the acceptance of who we were,
And loving ourselves.
That's how we learned our lessons.
And the parents we loved and had,
Did not brag about their college degrees!
Or 'things' with them we could buy to achieve...
To succeed in the repossessing of our minds,
Some permit an entry for this to be done!
They were with us all the time,
Telling us we could accomplish anything!
And could prove that too to ourselves and anyone.
'Whatever' it was we chose in our lives to do.
And working hard we did...
To pursue.
Through the living of their lives...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Through the observation of their sacrifices...
That's how we learned our lessons.
Dedicated to:
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
My sisters.
'Love you for your 'gifts' given...
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar
And Lawrence Pertillar, Sr.'
Our Parents.
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mama Was Phenonmenal
My mama was phenonmenal.
And even to this day...
Whatever I say could not convey,
The understanding and talents,
Of this woman.
We receive blessings,
And take them for granted.
We who have been spolied by this...
Think it's okay to do exactly as we wish.
But when gifts are given,
We must eventually share.
They are not ours to store and keep.
We must give them away...
As if an abundance for us is reaped.
My mama was phenonmenal.
And even to this day...
Whatever I say could not convey,
The understanding and talents,
Of this woman.
So rich in kindness.
With so much love...
She had in her to spare.
Yes sometimes I admit I became jealous.
Until I understood the many lessons taught...
She gave to me to ensure I was prepared.
Dedicated:
To my mother,
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar
'Ma...why you got so many names? '
~You need more than one ingredient to make a cake.~
'That makes no sense at all.'
~And you don't have to eat a piece of it either.~
'? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Twins
You don't know me!
'No!
You're the one that don't know me.'
You don't know me!
You're the one!
You don't know me.
You 'think' you do.
And that's your problem.
~Look!
Let's settle this right now.
I carried the both of you...
For nine excrutiating months.
You are TWINS.
If anyone wishes they had amnesia...
Guess who that would be?
Now...
I want the both of you to watch that TV.
And leave it...
On one channel.
Is that clear?
Or I'll be in there to remind you who I am.~
'Gee, Mahhh! '
~Gee hell!
You kids are getting on my last nerve.~
Dedicated to...
My twin sisters Tammy and Lisa.
Very few knew them apart...
When they were young ladies growing up,
And struggling for their own separate identities.
'Love you T and Doc'
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There Goes My Baby
I use to find myself staring at her.
She was so very beautiful,
My mother.
'Boy, why are you staring at me? '
~Ma, you are so pretty! ~
'Okay, what do you want?
I don't have any more money,
For you to buy another 45.'
I use to 'stay' in Roz Records.
It was a music store,
Not far from our apartment in Bellevue Square.
On Canton Street.
In Hartford, Connecticut.
I remember my first 45...
'There Goes My Baby'
By the Drifters!
I would play it 'all' the time.
~Ma, you so pretty! ~
'Boy, you better get out of my face.
And go play with the other kids in the playground.'
I did it!
Like a chore.
Children bored me back then!
They were so...'childish'.
And I was born a grown man.
I was!
But that's a different story.
I think most boys become infatuated,
With their mothers first.
Giving wives competition they did not expect.
And most men who had been mama's boys...
Usually divorce.
To be left on missions,
To find someone to spoil them!
I know.
I've been married twice.
To do that 'thrice'
Would be absolutely foolish.
'Huh...ma? '
Dedicated:
In loving memory to my mother,
Edna Roberts-Prudhomme Pertillar
'Miss you, ma! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I've Done the Best I Can So You Can Do That Better
Beneath the tree
That falling leaves descended from,
I stand.
Thinking of the changes,
I have experienced being the man I am.
'She is now called 'Mama'!
Ma! Or Ms Mimmie'.
When she's with her children...
And grandchildren too!
And I look up above me to witness the branches.
The twigs!
And the wonder of the tree...
All of this ascends from!
'Matriarch she is! ', I think with no doubt.
And the birds, squirrels and all that come to visit,
Are always welcomed
And I wonder if anyone wonders...
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
How can this be done?
And by whom?
We all can't be vacant with a disconnected fate!
'Something' is planned by the doing in all of this!
'Something' is in control and knows everything that sits...
Within and 'out' of our midst.
'Something' about this most people miss.
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
And we are God's experiment!
And my 'sisters' were born to nourish the flourishment.
And I can see...
Looking at 'this' tree before me I inspect.
And 'It' observes...knowing!
Encouraging those after birth and going...
After growing up,
With a gentle toughness that is meant.
'I've done the best I can so you can do that better.'
Dedicated:
To my sister Andrea. Mim, Mimmie and MimmieD
'You have 'eight' grandchildren? EIGHT? How, Mimmie? '
Where was I when all of this happened?
And Tammy and Lisa? ? Naw. No way, yo?
You can 'not' be in your 'fffffffffffffaaug. Getting 'more'
mature. Geeeessshhh. HOW do you all get so much older
than me? Overnight it seems.
LOL
Love you,
Larry
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Women
Two women in my life,
Left impressions deep on me.
These two women did for others,
Unselfishly...
And did good deeds.
The work they did was hard,
But they never gave up!
No matter what was on their path,
I never heard them fuss or cuss.
And Clara,
And Edna...
Still have me awestruck!
My grandma,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!
The work they did was hard,
But they never gave up!
No matter what was on their path,
I never heard them fuss or cuss.
And Clara,
And Edna...
Still have me awestruck!
My grandmama,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!
Two women in my life...
Left impressions deep on me.
These two women did for others,
Unselfishly...
And did good deeds.
Clara and Edna,
Still have me awestruck!
My grandmama,
And mama...
Left lots of love for me to touch!
Dedicated:
In Loving Memory
Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar,
My father's mother.
And...
Edna Pearl Roberts Prudhomme Pertillar,
My mother.
'Thank you! '
~LP, Jr.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Initiative
If I choose not to be held accountable,
For your responsibilities.
With an announced committment.
I am not the one to accuse of neglect.
Especially if your own life,
You do not prioritize with respect.
If I am in no position,
To hold your hand and babysit.
You can make all the claims you wish,
To point out my arrogance and selfishness.
I am not here to defend against your opinions.
Nor am I addicted to expressed empathies to give.
I've been taught to get up off my knees from crawling.
And not wait for someone to convince me,
Of my abilities.
Taking initiative does not come easy.
Nor is motivation given,
To appease those lazy...
Who use excuses as they please.
NOTE:
'Thank you T'Ana (my great niece)
Who thanked her grandmother (my sister, Andrea)
Who thanked our mother, Edna...
Who instilled 'initiative' in us,
(my sisters Tammy, Lisa, and yes, Andrea and myself) '
Who says women aren't the backbone of families?
And who says a man can be a man without them,
instilling the meaning of 'initiative'.
~LSP~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Happy Birthday Daddy Larry
86 years old,
Today my Daddy Larry...
Would have celebrated on this day.
He and I had a unique relationship.
We weren't particularly close.
And yet,
A closeness existed.
He and I were so much alike.
But he never did scold me,
Since my mother Edna did that...
To keep my steps on a path walking right.
When I was young,
My daddy was called Lawrence.
I was then Larry junior...
With my own presence known.
Then when I became of age,
He wanted to be called 'Larry'.
And I thought, 'How could he do this to me?
Moving in to claim 'my' territory.
I became Lawrence 'S'...
Back in 1971.
And when I discovered on his birth certificate,
He was Lawrence 'A'?
I had not known that up until that day.
And AS I grew...
Knowing my daddy would soon pass away?
I told him I loved him.
And he looked at me as if to say,
'I wish I had more time! '
That was back in 1988,
Days before my Daddy Larry...
Would from us pass away.
And on this day, December 11th 2010...
I miss my daddy very much.
With a more understanding of him,
And who he was.
Feeling his presence is near.
And we are closer now than ever.
Just because...
That is the way it is!
Happy Birthday, Daddy Larry!
Dedicated to the memory:
Lawrence Pertillar, Senior...
My father.
'Miss you, daddy.'
Love,
Lawrence ('Larry') ...lol
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Mama Didn't Raise No Punk
Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
Not when she would slam dunk me,
Away from public view.
Or dared me not to do those things,
She told me to.
Or take my time!
Mama came from the old school.
And she didn't hesitate,
To strike fire to my behind.
Let me say this...
My mama didn't raise no punk!
She knew exactly what she was doing with me.
She raised me to become independent.
Not a chump.
I was raised to use my mind.
And defend my thoughts!
And any gift I got from mama,
Is was bought for me because it was earned!
Like those whippings for my backtalk.
My mama didn't have easy lessons taught.
None that I remember were for me quickly learned.
But over time I did.
Since I didn't like to sit...
On a burned butt after getting whipped!
Eventually they sunk in...
Those lessons.
Deep.
To stay.
If I was ever to become a punk...
It was going to be done mama's way.
With a tormenting whipping,
As she held me,
Screaming...
'I've got it, if you want it.
And you're going to get it good.
What's my name? '
Mama.
'What is it? '
Mama.
'And don't you forget it!
Who's your mama? '
You're my mama, mama!
'That's right!
And don't you forget it,
Not one bit.
Or I'll be back to give you more...
Of some of this.
Don't play with me, boy! '
Dedicated:
My Mother, Edna Pearl Roberts (Prudhomme) Pertillar
And my paternal Grandmother, Clara Louise Countryman Pertillar
'Thank you! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Competition
Competition?
I don't like it,
When no one else is involved!
And opponents?
They are becoming rare these days!
Myself?
I'm my worse competitor!
I am never satisfied,
Unless I'm looking for challenges!
My sisters...
Andrea ('Mimmie') , Tammy and Lisa
They did this to me!
They make me 'sick' with their brilliance!
But,
I will never let them know that.
They will want to raise the bar!
As if this is some contest of some kind.
And it ain't!
I am too grown for that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Sister
Lisa says that it's allright
When she needs to be alone at night
Lisa says that she has a fun
And she'll do it with just about anyone.
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Lisa says that she's on the run
Looking for a special one
Lisa says that every time she makes his trip
She knows her heart will beat
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Looking for a part and some action
Going to make it feel okay
But what do you find
When the time has come on, now
Look at it run
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says
Lisa says, Lisa says, Lisa says...
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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I suppose my look, the way I play - you combine all that sort of stuff and that makes people interested in what I actually do. So then, when off-the-field stuff happens... I suppose it's one of those cocktail mixes.
quote by Shane Warne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Makes No Sense
life makes no sense,
some days i wished it did,
so i wouldn't have to say,
'life sucks'
time to time,
i try and see the good,
it just how?
i mean why?
life is unfair,
i'm waiting for it,
just to get better,
but, it start to seem impossible,
life never what it seems,
people not what they seem,
life makes no sense,
it filled with ups and downs,
are we suppose to learn?
what is the message from god?
to be everything you can?
no matter how unfair he makes it?
we just have to fight to get through?
our life we suppose to live,
day after day?
because life to me,
just don't make no sense.
4-9-09
poem by Mona Martinez
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Aunts and Uncles
Ladies and gentlemen...
My daddy Lawrence, Sr.
Is the eldest of twenty-one.
YES...21!
Born to Clara and Charles Pertillar.
And I remember the times
We would have great fun!
There is:
Jesse
Charles (Bey) , Jr.
Catherine
Clara, Jr.
Albert
Edward
Donald
Julius
Is abel
Emily
Edna Mae
Cecil
Leola Jean
Sandra
Gayhall
Overton
Virginia
Lorraine
And...
Anna
'Hey...
That's only 19!
Did you miss anyone,
In between? '
Well...
My grandmother said she had 21.
And my grandfather is proud...
He even remembered the names of everyone!
And I soon will be 61 myself.
Feeling blessed,
I was produced from this nest!
And we 'all' had nicknames too.
Some of us had more than one!
Many of us had quite a few.
And grandma made sure,
She fed her 'crew'!
Dedicated:
To my wonderful Aunts and Uncles.
Love you...nephew 'Larry'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pearls
A pearl in an ocean of dreams,
What can I say, shot the beams?
A pearl in an ocean of hopes,
All I got was a lot of nopes.
A pearl in an ocean of fears,
Just hand me the beers.
Why a pearl in an ocean,
It has no motion?
(The pearl in me, it's my birthstone.)
poem by Andrea Szyhowski
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Just Too Grand
I suppose if I wanted,
I could be a prude and standoffish.
With a résumé to prove,
In my life I've accomplished...
What few can and could do.
If...
I chose to put my nose up in the air.
And carried on with that kind of flair.
My mother's father,
Had been a leader of his own band.
Appearing here and there and across the land.
And for some reason then,
I couldn't 'stand' him.
He was just too grand!
And those feelings were mutual.
I just was not impressed.
Today?
I can understand why he was that way.
And I hope he has forgiven me for saying,
Whenever he telephoned to speak to my mom...
'Ma, some guy is on the phone claiming to be your father.
You know...
He of the George Frank Roberts Band.'
~That's 'your' grandfather.~
And I'm Sammy Davis, Junior.
Dedicated to my grandfather:
In Loving Memory
George Frank Roberts,
Englewood, New Jersey
'Love you, grand-daddy.
Even though we had 'many' differences,
of opinion.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They Do Not Seek Publicity
There are those who give,
With such positivity!
And with just one purpose...
To encourage others.
They do not seek publicity,
For their good deeds.
Nor do they anticipate in waiting,
For those they assist to express appreciation.
They are here to give!
With the service to others,
They do so well.
And those blessings they receive.
Dedicated to:
Andrea Dixon...Springfield, Mass.
Shayla Dixon...Springfield, Mass.
Leola McCrory...Windsor, Connecticut
Edna Vinters...Bloomfield, Connecticut
Sandra Lindsay...Hartford, Connecticut
Virginia Pertillar...Hartford, Conencticut
'Okay! Okay...so I am biased.
They just happen to be,
Some of the most dynamic women...
I am blessed to know.
Is my smile too broad that it doesn't show? '
So proud am I.
~lsp~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Voodooded Lips
VOODOODED LIPS
esspeecee …18.06.09.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll reflect you lips’ eloquence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll blush-in by your lips’ glittrence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll unfold your lips’ innocence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll savor to the lees your lips’ elegance.
In the mirror of silence
I get psychic catharsis
In our lip lock reminiscences.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll siphon in your lips’ effulgence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll grope your lips
In abyssal absence.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will coalesce
In your lips’ effervescence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll be vortexed by
Lips’ psychedelic resonance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll passionately hug
With sensuous confluence.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll smear lips by
Your lips’ fragrance.
In the mirror of silence
We’ll tie-up our lips
In Monalisian resemblance.
In the mirror of silence
I’ll fresco my lips
From your lips’ brilliance.
In the mirror of silence
My lips will stain
By your lips’ every essence.
I’m voodooded by:
In the mirror of silence,
Your lips’ excellence,
And deluxe luminance.
Copyright reserved by the Author
.
poem by Dr. Sakti P. Chakravorty
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We Prefer 'Butter' Beans
What do I contribute to my being tenacious?
A dislike for lima beans.
It seems as if my sister, Mimmie, and I...
Ate them everyday.
And my mother would say to us...
'Be thankful for what you've got.
Some people aren't even eating that.'
To say to us...
Times then were 'meager'.
'So eat and shut up.'
Well,
That was many years ago.
Long before my younger sisters, Tammy and Lisa...
Acquired a craving for those weekly 'Grinder' sandwiches,
Our dad would buy for them.
And they would cling onto them as if they possessed,
Fort Knox.
And Tammy would look at me,
As 'if' I had better not...
Ask for a piece to taste.
She's the one most opionated.
To this very day,
My sister, Mim and I can not stand lima beans!
But...
For some reason,
We prefer 'butter' beans.
And...
You can not tell us,
They are the same thing as those 'limas'.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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