En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Wishes To Escape

The only true purpose crabs in a barrel have,
Is to ensure those that are kept in it...
Become immuned to the pinching.
And numbed to the pain.
With wishes to escape from this,
Thought as foolish as the attempts made.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Remnants of a Ravenous Activity

Shallow are the crabs
Laying near the bottom of the heap.
Pinching and clawing those near the top!
Wanting more darkness.
Wanting the light shown to stop.
And rotten is the smell,
Preferred and enjoyed.
Tough of crust,
And a sting of venom.
In a barrel that's enjoyed.
To eat themselves and keep...
Trapped.
Devoured.
Until there is nothing left,
But remnants of a ravenous activity.
And scarred shells...
That have begun a rusting into dust!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How to Escape From Crabs That Live In a Barrel

How to escape from crabs,
That live in a barrel?
Pretend you are trying to claw your way to the bottom.
Fast.
And being very impatient.
There will be those doing their best to prevent it.
Some wanting to see you thrown out!
And wishing that to happen as quick as possible.
They will do their best to lift you to the top of the rim.
Plead with them to keep you in!
Add crying to your motivation.
Since ambition is despised by those who suspect it.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Once I was foolish

Once I was foolish—
I thought I could nurture
A garden of flowers
In a desert

Once I was foolish—
I thought I could clad
A desiccated tree
In its lost foliage

Once I was foolish—
I thought I could restore
A bird missing
Back to its nest

Once I was foolish—
I thought I could swim
The length and breath
Of the oceans

Once I was foolish—
I thought I could ease
An aching heart
And wipe the tears

Once I was foolish—
I thought my dreams
Will bloom into colorful petals
That I might sprinkle in you way

I want to be foolish
Again and again…

22 Oct 2010
12.52hrs

poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For The Purposes Of Making Claims

To take a piece and rave about its taste,
While disparaging the creator...
After learning who it was,
Who spent the time in its delivery.
Only validates,
When something delicious is nibbled...
Some will enjoy it for what it is.
And will become interested,
As to 'who' whipped together the flavor.
Seeking an opportunity to meet and greet.

However...
There will always be that 'one' amongst them all,
Who will convince anyone who listens...
They too should become suspicious,
When someone does something so well,
There has to be another motivation...
Needing further investigation.
Because there just has to be much more,
Than just one's experience...
And love that assists one to excel.
Especially when something done is accomplished,
With such tireless effort.
Someone like this needs an instigated probing.

'Have you tasted this?
It is wonderful.'

~I know.
I enjoyed it much better before I discovered,
Who made it.
Aren't you the least bit curious as to 'how' this was done? ~

'No!
If it's to be enjoyed,
Why should I be the one to make attempts to destroy it? '

~Well...
Some of US like to get to the bottom of things.~

'For what purpose?
To re-create the flavor for the purpose of making claims? '

'Not necessarily.
Just to ensure certain procedures were accurately followed.'

~Oh!
I hadn't thought about that.
You do have a point.
Let me recommend that to the others.~

'By all means.
You do that.
And...
If you have the time,
I'd like to have another piece.'

~Sure.
Me too! ~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Demands of Accomplishment

How great is the feeling of accomplishment?
When the application of dedication,
Has seldom strayed from those sacrifices made.
And one has given undeniable time...
When time itself had seemed uselessly spent.
Is a sensation one can not explain,
To anyone who sits without a purpose...
Trying to comprehend what to them makes sense.

With wishes to have dreams delivered,
And not a finger to lift.
Or hesitant to make a stand,
To place a step forward...
With a footprint made the best one can.

People like that would not understand,
The demands of accomplishment!
Or what it means to one who beams,
After living through experiences,
One sometimes laments.
And with those experiences one has lived...
Motivating as they do to continue making attempts,
To accomplish through pain and feeling of loneliness.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Here Is The Deal

Here is the deal.
I am not afraid to give.
Nor make foolish mistakes.
Sometimes done,
To immediately redo.
With no excuses made,
Like some choose to!

But absent are your offerings.
With whispers overheard.
With a quick exit in charade.
As if to escape.
Is that your purpose to prove,
You can scrutinize as you do.
Then leave when you're through?

Here is the deal.
I am not afraid to give.
Nor make foolish mistakes.
Sometimes done,
To immediately redo.
With no excuses made,
Like some choose to!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Those Who Laughed With Time To Waste

I never sought to be taken for a fool.
But there were those foolish enough,
Not to believe I was serious.
And perhaps that seriousness,
Had been misinterpreted.

And I have never elected,
To see them in that way.
Anyone making attempts,
To express their gifts and talents...
With intent,
Gained my respect.
Since I knew what that took.
I knew too well what that meant.

With those comments made by some and done,
And time that has come many have tried to shun...
I still have not been the one to evaluate.
A progress made.
However...
Few I knew have made great strides.
While those who laughed with time to waste...
Seem to have vanished to other places,
To grace their faces with fates they've faked.
Or wish to make attempts to do it.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If I Am Not Seen Following You

My heart that beats,
May to you have no purpose.
Or my emotions felt,
To you may not be shown.
But what is known,
Without you condoning it...
Are wishes and dreams.
And although different they may be,
Every wish I dream seems to be mine alone.

I live with a desire to fulfill,
Those adventures that appear...
To have my signature on them clear.
And if I am not seen following you,
On a path you pursue...
That should leave you a clue,
My life is mine to live.
Just as yours is for you to do,
With wants and wishes made to come true.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Welcomed Into the Family of Comprehension

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

What hand reaching out to shake,
Does not support that?
What prolonged heartbreak,
Would stay wallowing in sorrow?
To borrow an excuse,
Or a chance not to view agony?
Close up and into a tear stained face.
You should not want that reflecting...
Everywhere,
And in every face you see.
Denial is the most contagious disease!
Everywhere,
And in every face you see.
Denial is the most contagious disease!

No thing is detached,
That keeps an attraction from coming back.
Something is attached to that.
And seriously repeated.

When done,
The meaning of that purpose...
Should not go misunderstood!
Like selling one 'pot' who requested 'crack'.
An end should come to that.
When the mind gets that whacked out.
And chained to keep one remaining unchanged.

If it does because of ignorance declared delicious?
That can be forgiven, allowed and forgotten.
We all have had our cravings.
However...
If it does come from an intention reeking in deceit?
That can be considered a good cause,
Some some severe cussing out!
And some folks have earned their cussing out,
Those deserving it...
Rights!

And some folks can be sadistic about it!
You can not cuss them out enough!
There are a number of them to unionize.

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

If it does come from an intention meant?
That can be shallow, obvious...
And an absence of common sense.
And an absence of it is more common than not!
If one ain't got it!
And an intention done lacking sense,
Wastes too much time.

Everything has a reason.
Everything.
With a purpose to ponder.
And a place for that purpose,
To find reason at that time.
Everything has a reason.
Everything,
In a thinking mind!
Any thought adopted...
Is welcomed into the family,
Of comprehension.
And attempts to understand,
Is supported.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eventually They Discovered Him To Be Their Teacher

Actively and from behind the scenes,
There were those who took it upon themselves...
To ensure his deeds he wished to see accomplished,
Were minimized.
And to their surprise attempts made to deny him,
Did not make a difference in his outward appearance.
And, in fact, he seemed happier than he had ever been.

And when it was revealed to them his sacrifices made,
With an exhausting of himself and unafraid...
By putting his neck on the line like no one else,
They then began to accuse him again to charade...
His expressing of a concern.
Or that he showed outwardly he had learned,
Any lessons at all they thought they were teaching him.

Eventually they discovered him to be 'their' teacher.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Little Crab

As the little crab climbed
To the top of the basket
Hoping to make an escape
The bigger crabs pulled him down
And when the consignment
Did reach the market place
The Fisherman’s son was delighted
To find a small crab in the bag
He picked it up carefully
Drooling at the thought of soup
But this time the little crab
Reacted fast, he bit the boy’s hand
Falling quickly to the ground
As the child reduced his grip
Undaunted by the crack in his shell
He scuttled away in search of
A safer place, far away from
Fishing baskets, boys and big crabs.

poem by Sandra Martyres
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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x21-Escape

-Jane Spencers

Why still cry? I chose to die,
I should have smiles tonight.
This place is none for bitter lies,
I thought i chose what's right.
I thought that death is an escape
from pain and all my fears.
I thought that death is all but peace,
but here, peace never cares.
I thought that pain would die with me,
that tears have no place here.
But pain endures...and tears endure;
eternal may they be?
I dreamed, i thought...i always thought
that death could set me free.
I wish I could just die again,
or lose my memory.
Are souls eternal? Is this my fate?
I hunger so for life.
Am I forever bound by death?
I thought it's my escape.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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People Like You

If I had not shown you the way,
You would not know a way could be made.

Now that you have updated it,
You say my attempts had not been that great.
And with your efforts,
They have become greater.

And this you ensure is a cause for celebration!
With applause and no mention of me at all!

But...
That's what people like you do!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Missing Of Escapes From Evil Dens

Once one graduates,
With an experience done...
From being in an evil den,
There is much to recognized with opened eyes.
When a survival from it has been earned and won.

The thought of being attacked,
By malicious backstabbing traps...
Ceases to produce feelings of warmth and gratitude.
One no longer is seduce by this.
Since those pinchers felt,
Snapped by crabs in a barrel...
Motivates with determination,
To climb out of this barrel and do it quick.

There is no missing of escapes from evil dens.
Nor is a broken arm received,
Falling out of a Maple Tree...
Remembered to relive the excruciating pain.

Once one graduates,
With an experience done...
From being in an evil den,
There is much to recognized with opened eyes.
When a survival from it has been earned and won.

There is no missing of escapes from evil dens.
Nor a heartbreak rejoiced,
From emotions battled to conquer over and win.
Since the showing with the exposure of them,
Would have meant a dire and detrimental existence.

The thought of being attacked,
By malicious backstabbing traps...
Ceases to produce feelings of warmth and gratitude.
Once one graduates,
With an experience done...
From being in an evil den.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In The Midst Of The Doing

What I have managed to accomplish,
With a focus on attempts to pursue...
Has not been without sacrifice or effort,
And a fixed determination to prove...
My life live and the experience of living,
Means more than approval to me someone gives.
I am here to live life.
And adventure possibilities to either create,
Or accept as is.

And those who sit seeking acceptance,
Are usually the ones wasting time to complain.
While conducting campaigns to gain sympathy.
With a hope empathy is there to share in abundance.

People like this are often limited.
And grieving with excuses to make them sound legitimate.

I am not immuned from making mistakes.
And as long as I live there will be more I will make.
But...
It will be in the midst of the doing done.
And not in the faking...
To allow to be dismissed,
The seriousness of my wishes.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Believing Themselves To Be The Keepers Of Time

It is foolish for anyone to believe,
They can and will forcibly keep anything unchanged...
With the speed of that being done,
Before someone can have a flashback...
To what had just happened to them seconds ago.

Those with preferences selected, ideals and pleasures,
With wishes they had something no longer in existence...
Are often heard saying what they will do,
When dreams once pursued come true for them.
And they are the ones trying to block others,
From doing those things already done.
Believing themselves to be the keepers of time.

To say they would be out of their minds,
Is a waste of an understatement.
And those still basing their opinions on color...
Should be forgiven for isolating themselves,
For promoting such ignorance advocated with others.

It is foolish for anyone to believe,
They can and will forcibly keep anything unchanged...
With the speed of that being done,
Before someone can have a flashback...
To what had just happened to them seconds ago.
And the attention they perceive themselves of getting.

Who is going to stop to tell them,
That train they await to escape from it all...
Has long left the station.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Presumption

Her constant communication
Fed his chauvinistic ego
And led him to blind conclusions
That her heart cared for him so.

Her words nurtured in friendship
Made it hard to tell otherwise,
But he felt it was part of a courtship
Where the lady was chasing the price.

Unaware of her true intentions
Too flattered was he to surmise,
He was drunk by his own motivations-
She was not what he soon realized.

He coolly brushed her aside
Thinking he was making a conquest,
But she took it all in stride
For her true love had laid a request.

Now with her nuptial invitation
His heart heavy with despair
Too numbed in his foolish presumption,
He had lost his maiden fair.

.................... ................................................. ....................
May 3,2008
Philippines

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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More Fun Than A Barrel Of Monkeys

there are multiple questions pertaining to the concept,
'more fun than a barrel of monkeys.'

how big is the barrel?
how many monkeys are we talking about?
how big are the monkeys? Are we talking spider monkeys, chimps, baboons or what?
Are the monkeys old or young and where's the barrel, inside or outside?

If you leave the monkeys in the barrel, you got a problem:
they'll die in their own excrement,
if you lift the lid and let them out,
they might kill you.

a monkey can rip out your eyes, is that fun?
monkeys, leaping and running around the house, can do a lot of damage, is that fun?
monkeys are dirty, so... what exactly do you consider fun?
what's it going to be like trying to get the monkeys back in the barrel?
would that be fun?

what would the neighbors think of you, if you released the monkeys into their yards?
what happens if the police gets involved?
it could mean everything imaginable is more fun than a barrel of these animals.
maybe even more fun than a barrel of human beings.

poem by Richard Jarboe
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A few solitary thoughts

I sit browsing a world, virtual yet stylish
I have my headset on
A Tamil song played, which I care not
To escape Mamma`s scoldings, only my aim
To the aim my hopes always go
Filled, my mind with hopes and wishes
And eyes still sleepy, I wish 'not again'
An interpretation to dreams, got my mentor to say
Foolish hopes and beliefs with me to act
In real I know not, what does play
To make them all come true.
Dreams do have boundaries

poem by Evangeline Ray
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Something Else Unstated

What is it that one 'should' expect to accept?
That which is told and thought to be correct.
Or another version of it,
To then be told what was first said and heard...
One should forget since it was not meant,
To be intended to be interpreted...
For anyone to take seriously.

'Then why say these things at all?
What is the purpose? '

~Today?
I've learned not to analyze one's intentions.
Or the depths of their honesty or purpose,
To avert away from it.
It has become too easy for anyone,
To change what they initially say...
For something else unstated,
They claim to have meant.~

'Why bother to make attempts,
To have a meaningful conversation? '

~How can that be done?
When people have not experienced,
The benefit or purpose of having one.~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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