I've always thrived on the encouragement of others.
quote by Patti Smith
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It Is Not An Inconvenience
What is it that you need,
I have not yet to give...
Or bestowed upon your desired wants.
The passion you receive,
Comes from the best side of me.
And if I have not been at your beck and call,
To service a whim...
That is when you seem to begin,
Displaying to no end those things impossible.
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But there is whining that sickens when it starts.
You appear to be unhappy with those blessings you've got.
And I get repulsed quick,
By demands made of greedy people.
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But there is whining that sickens when it starts.
You appear to be unhappy with those blessings you've got.
And I get repulsed quick,
By demands made of greedy people.
What is it that you need,
I have not yet to give...
Or bestowed upon your desired wants.
Are you pushing me to flaunt my agitation?
It is not an inconvenience,
For me to be with you as I please.
It is not an inconvenience,
To sacrifice my needs,
For yours if this satisfies an encouragement...
That flourishes and endures.
But don't explore or solicit,
My tolerance you believe needs testing...
For it to be identified and acknowledged.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Two Gods
‘Twas in the spring, two Gods gazed down upon the bright new land,
And one was Hope and one was Fear, and Hope it was who planned
This nation with its beauty and its wealth would surely be
The shining light to all the Earth - this was the God's decree.
But Fear it was who scratched his chin and begged to differ there,
Said he, that he would wager it would all end in despair,
And Hope took up the wager, for he was true to his name,
At stake the new land's fate, as Hope and Fear began the game.
And through that spring, the nation thrived, as sailing oceans wide
Came people from the worn out lands, where hope had all but died.
They cleared and built and farmed and tilled and made the country bloom.
They left, in far divided lands, dark thoughts of hate and doom.
Hope smiled at his companion but Fear's face showed no concern;
Still all went well, and soon to summer saw the season turn.
The cities grew, the country thrived, they battled drought and flood.
In foreign wars, sometimes in vain, spilled of their best their blood.
But built unique a people proud, united in their quest,
To not allow the old hatreds, to only choose the best.
No creed that would divide them, would they in this place allow;
They knew the course of history, their stance they would avow.
Then autumn came and Hope remained, but near, a nagging Fear.
The two gazed from the firmament, they heard the people jeer.
The calls to scrap the old ways, and embrace the new found truth;
Abandon hope and vision now that doubt and fear were sooth.
The old ideas like gilded leaves from wisdom's tree must fall,
As all around from ivory towers rang out the strident call,
And right across the land there spread a dark and mouldering cloud,
And those who shouting warnings soon were trampled by the crowd.
The old ways were all wrong - the cry of wreckers seeking power,
As winter's cold winds start to blow comes on the final hour,
And Fear smiles wide at Hope, and to him slowly shows his hand,
And in his palm, with sinking heart, Hope lays the promised land.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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An Opportunity Glares With No Preferences There
Unable to agree or compromise,
On what values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived.
Are those positioning themselves to delay...
The seriousness of what is needed today,
To uplift and move humanity forward...
In a less thieving,
Greeding to deceive leaving grief kind of way.
And promising with all of us,
To visit with a permanent stay!
That a world economy has dictated...
A bust from a boom...
Heads directly our way.
There are those on their knees still praying...
To awaken to see,
Horse drawn carriages on cobbledstoned streets.
Unable to agree or compromise,
What values and standards...
Should be left in a past,
Where all of our ancestors thrived and survived,
When gaslamps on poles lit the night skies.
May be a political ploy to get dwindling votes,
Some stubborned folks...
Believe will keep them praised in adoring eyes.
But...
Enjoying titles along with prestige,
Will not prevent the reality of circumstances...
Coming quicker to them than their fantasies can be released.
With decisions to make to let go of pretensions.
While an opportunity glares...
With no preferences there,
For anyone to preach or hesitate in debating long speeches...
Which choices are better,
Than the ones they should not keep!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The finest gift you can give anyone is encoragement. Yet, almost no one gets the encouragement they need to grow to their full potential. If everyone received the encouragement they need to grow, the genius in most everyone would blossom and the world would produce abundance beyond the wildest dreams. We would have more than one Einstein, Edison, Schweitzer, Mother Theresa, Dr. Salk and other great minds in a century.
quote by Sidney Madwed
Added by Lucian Velea
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Left To Wilt And Languish
It will rain to replenish,
That which needs to be nourished.
It will flood to clear debris,
To rejuvenate an encouragement of growth...
That allows a renewal to begin once again,
To restore a drought of life left to wilt and languish.
And has begun to dull with dust to cover in lament.
It will rain to replenish,
That which needs to be nourished.
It will flood to clear debris,
To rejuvenate an encouragement of growth...
Anguishing.
And...
Left to wilt and languish.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Never Before Seen in Eyes That Sparkle
The teaching of one accustomed,
To hiding in the shadows
That a reaching for stars,
Will lift a broken heart
To begin a mending,
That slowly ends
A feeling of desperation.
Does more for the confidence,
Of the one who convinces.
Something witnessed,
Flourishes with encouragement.
And the dawn
That removes a darkness once held
Sheds with a renewed freshness
That inspires two,
In a development of a closer relationship.
Unexpected.
A light never before seen in eyes that sparkle,
Is felt.
And a melting so obvious becomes shared.
Something witnessed,
Flourishes with encouragement.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Crashed Into Love
We stand alone
Warmed by the light that reflects in your eyes
I feel inside an emotional storm
And a heart like a sky
This moment takes to somewhere unknown
And what Im feeling is thrilled to the bone
Been chasing rainbows all of my life
Now I know that was wrong
Ive found the gold deep in my soul
And I want to hang on
Just one look of encouragement
And what I have here is heaven sent
And hit from above
I just crashed into love
Crashed into love
And Im feeling that when powers inside
When forces collide
This cant be denied
And now it hits me
Love overdrive
I try to stand my ground but I cant contrive
These are the days that well think that we dreamed
For the rest of our lives
This moment takes to somewhere unknown
And what Im feeling is thrilled to the bone
And hit from above
I just crashed into love
Crashed into love
And Im feeling that when powers inside
When forces collide
This cant be denied
I just crashed into love
Crashed into love
And I know that I was hit by surprise
Between open eyes
Emotions arise
And now were living the june of our lives
In the heat of the day
Were on the eve of experience now
And nothing will take away
Just one look of encouragement
And what I have here is heaven sent
And sent from above
I just crashed into love
Crashed into love
And Im feeling that when powers inside
When forces collide
This cant be denied
I just crashed into love
Crashed into love
[...] Read more
song performed by Spandau Ballet
Added by Lucian Velea
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Words of Comfort
In my mind thoughts will flow, from The Truth I have come to know,
To words of light and encouragement, to the places I’ve been sent.
A comfort to all who do believe, and a light to all who are deceived,
God’s encouragement to a brother, while words of Truth to another.
Comforting words that I can say, to brighten a brother’s dismal day,
Words filled with hope and love, that point to our Savior, up above.
Words of Truth that only come, through The Spirit from God’s Son,
Who comes to dwell in our heart, from where words He does impart.
This to bring the lost to The Truth, through loving words not reproof,
So through our words men can see, The Loving Father of all Eternity,
Who came to die, to give us life, through His Only Son, Jesus Christ.
Who now lives, so that all men, through The Son can be Born Again.
Then receive The Spirit spoken of, when they accept His Son’s Love.
To be used upon this temporal earth, through the power of New Birth,
And the washing and regeneration, through His Blood unto Salvation.
Which only comes from God’s Son, the Lord and Savior of everyone.
You too will share the Living Word, speaking Truth until all have heard,
The saving Truth of God’s Salvation, Christ who came for every nation.
And then you will be a comfort too, to all who believe like me and you,
Speaking words of comfort friend, about life in Christ that has on end.
(Copyright ©06/2007)
poem by Bob Gotti
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A Person's Worth Is Invaluable
A person's worth,
Isn't in their ability...
To obtain worldly possessions.
Or in the quality of them.
Can that person nourish others,
With encouragement?
Can that person be a true friend...
When the time for being one,
Shows what kind of skin...
That person 'is'
And exposes from within.
Being able to spend cash,
And make a quick dash on trips...
Or do a name dropping of notables,
Doesn't mean a thing...
If a person is negligent,
To extend heartfelt feelings...
Not too many can express or mention.
A person's worth is invaluable,
When a genuineness appears...
To surface time and again.
And that is proven to be dependable,
Without a doubt or a need to question.
Can that person nourish others,
With encouragement that does not end?
A person's worth will unearth,
Who and what comes first...
Regardless of those impressions made,
Someday that will fade...
Long after established ties with others,
Have remained to stay!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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First To Thirst With An Impression Rehearsed
If success and the encouragement of it received,
Had always been the objective to reflect greatness...
The presence of failure would not have been introduced,
To produce mediocrity to use as an accomplished goal.
And those making attempts to reach higher to achieve,
Would never be opposed by disbelievers who deceive.
IF insecurities and greed were not priorities to feed...
First!
To thirst.
With an impression rehearsed upon those observing.
If success and the encouragement of it received,
Had always been the objective to reflect greatness...
The presence of failure would not have been introduced,
To produce mediocrity to use as an accomplished goal.
Or advocating divisions with an emphasis on race,
To minimize greatness and those benefits replaced!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Behind the Poem: Enjoy This Season
Now that people are becoming more aware of my poetic efforts, interests are being expressed regarding the background of my poetry - in addition, to my spiritual muse. In this installment, I share a blurb regarding my poem 'Enjoy This Season'.
Lots of people like to surmise about the idea of living in a different period of recorded humanity, such as: Italy's Renaissance (circa 1400-1600 ad) , the building of the Greek or Roman Empires, the time of Christ and so forth. However, not me. Being an I.T. (Information Technology) professional in this 'Age of Information' with available technologies - specifically 'Personal Computers' and the Internet allowing me access to gobs of data - can be a real and surreal 'head trip'. For I've learned how to glean concepts from the experience of others; such an ability is helping me to learn to dream and redefine my personal journey. After all, we are instructed in the Bible that 'we're to be more than conquerors' and thus live a Christian lifestyle successfully. Hence the rub...
Like everyone else, I'm uniquely defined. So expect that your results will also vary. In the Scriptures, one of the many analogies to describe mankind is 'withering grass'. When compared to the centuries of mankind, one's existence is brief; however, it doesn't need to be invisible. With the tools and information presently at our fingertips, we can learn to develop vision and ultimately uncover the 'unseen things of God'. So in my desire to want more of Jehovah's presence in my life, I became more vulnerable - in a spiritual sense. As a result, I lost my joy; I lost it because I didn't recognize how important a commodity joy is. It took years to recognize what had transpired. And it took more years of internal fighting (with myself) and prayer to get it back. While attending Church for decades, I was familar with the idiom 'The joy of the Lord is my strength.'; its importance was only revealed once it was gone. Feel free to learn from my mistake and avoid the associated pain.
It had never been my life's desire to publish a book, as with some people. Writing poetry became my personal therapy sessions for reclaiming my joy; an insight that was realized once I reviewed my accomplishment in retrospect. Although a portion of my joy has been restored, I still have more work ahead of me. And more serious challenges are now in view.
One of my dearest friends, Norman J. Richard Jr., died earlier this year (August 19th) . One of his favorite quotes was: 'Do something, even if it's wrong! '. As some of you may guess, he was unquestionably a man of action. In addition, he fiercely loved life, his family, and friends - and he did so with an overflowing river of joy. Not only was he a member of 'my inner circle', but he was one of the few who truly encouraged me to pursue the goal of getting my poetry published. By the way he lived, he also showed me that I would be able to ultimately recapture my joy completely. So back in August of 2008, after spending quality time with Norman, I wrote this simple poem of encouragement for myself. And it's my desire that others can also find encouragement for themselves, during their times of difficulty.
poem by Joseph James Breunig 3rd
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How Much To Me That Is Meant
Where would I be...
If you were not near to remind me,
I am loved.
And I know that to be true,
When together I am with you.
Where would I be...
If no one was there to listen,
Even sometimes to disagree.
And I display weakness born from insecurities.
And there you are with encouragement!
You have no idea how much to me that is meant.
I have those days that come to gnaw on my strength.
Those days that come to drain my good intentions.
I sometimes betray the attention I am given...
In selfish ways that stay not to go away.
Only to awaken to feel blessed and grateful.
Where would I be...
If you were not near to remind me,
I am loved.
And I know that to be true,
When together I am with you.
Where would I be...
If no one was there to listen,
Even sometimes to disagree.
And I display weakness born from insecurities.
And there you are with encouragement!
You have no idea how much to me that is meant.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My Beautiful Love
My love
The world is beautiful
But you are more beautiful
You are the shining sun in my darkness
Your beauty attracks me
Your love retains me
Your character is an encouragement
The world is beautiful
But you are more beautiful
Without you my love
The world would be missing a beauty without substitute
cox you are a beauty without substitute
Beauty you are my love
My beautiful love.
My love
The world is beautiful
But you are more beautiful
You are the shining sun in my darkness
Your beauty attracks me
Your love retains me
Your character is an encouragement
The world is beautiful
But you are more beautiful
Without you my love
The world would be missing a beauty without substitute
cox you are a beauty without substitute
Beauty you are my love
My beautiful love.
poem by Ezekiel Igbodo
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What We Teach Our Children By: Cay Thorne
If a child sees abuse in any form -
They will become abusers in any form;
If a child sees love;
They become lovers and romantics at heart
If a child sees loyalty and trust;
They know how to be loyal and trustworthy.
If a child sees hatred to all things and humans
They will live without love and kindness.
If a child knows encouragement and praise;
They will show encouragement and praise to all.
If a child sees peace and happiness;
They will show love and happiness to all mankind.
If a child sees violence;
They learn to be violent to anything and everything.
If a child sees bullying at home as a victim;
They become a criminal to satisfy the hunger.
If a child sees charity;
They learn to show charity to others.
If a child sees you help others in need;
They become helpers to all in need.
If a child learns how to be raciest in all forms of the word;
They WILL learn the true meaning of racism and hatred –
Which shows non of the virtues;
That we need to live with to stop;
All the kinds of EVIL in this world today.
If a child sees all the virtues that are out there in the world today;
They will show these virtues to all mankind and no matter who the person is.
poem by Cay Thorne
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In the Middle Ages and beyond, the target was the Court Jew who had the ear of the ruler; during the Inquisition it was the Spanish Jews who thrived after their conversion to Christianity.
quote by Jack Schwartz
Added by Lucian Velea
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The American Communists had thrived as champions of domestic reform.
quote by Earl Browder
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I'm sorry that we have to have a Washington presence. We thrived during our first 16 years without any of this. I never made a political visit to Washington and we had no people here. It wasn't on our radar screen. We were just making great software.
quote by Bill Gates
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dying Love
Our love, once like two vibrant leaves
Vigorous, lively, and vital;
Both clinging in a summer breeze
Beautiful and ornamental.
But time passes and our love died
Not unlike autumns foliage
Losing its vivaciousness-dried,
Withering in an outdoor stage
Where the slightest breeze sets them free
And separate but to perish.
Our love like the leaves on the tree
Where once it had thrived and flourished
Now a feeling in its last throes
Feebly lingering to let go.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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An Essay on Criticism
Part I
INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.
'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.
'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?
Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.
Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,
[...] Read more
poem by Alexander Pope
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The Child Of The Islands - Winter
I.
ERE the Night cometh! On how many graves
Rests, at this hour, their first cold winter's snow!
Wild o'er the earth the sleety tempest raves;
Silent, our Lost Ones slumber on below;
Never to share again the genial glow
Of Christmas gladness round the circled hearth;
Never returning festivals to know,
Or holidays that mark some loved one's birth,
Or children's joyous songs, and loud delighted mirth.
II.
The frozen tombs are sheeted with one pall,--
One shroud for every churchyard, crisp and bright,--
One foldless mantle, softly covering all
With its unwrinkled width of spotless white.
There, through the grey dim day and starlit night,
It rests, on rich and poor, and young and old,--
Veiling dear eyes,--whose warm homne-cheering light
Our pining hearts can never more behold,--
With an unlifting veil,--that falleth blank and cold.
III.
The Spring shall melt that snow,--but kindly eyes
Return not with the Sun's returning powers,--
Nor to the clay-cold cheek, that buried lies,
The living blooms that flush perennial flowers,--
Nor, with the song-birds, vocal in the bowers,
The sweet familiar tones! In silence drear
We pass our days,--and oft in midnight hours
Call madly on their names who cannot hear,--
Names graven on the tombs of the departed year!
IV.
There lies the tender Mother, in whose heart
So many claimed an interest and a share!
Humbly and piously she did her part
In every task of love and household care:
And mournfully, with sad abstracted air,
The Father-Widower, on his Christmas Eve,
Strokes down his youngest child's long silken hair,
And, as the gathering sobs his bosom heave,
Goes from that orphaned group, unseen to weep and grieve.
V.
Feeling his loneliness the more this day
Because SHE kept it with such gentle joy,
Scarce can he brook to see his children play,
Remembering how her love it did employ
[...] Read more
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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