Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

When she would macramé,
I stayed and watched.
Taking her needles,
And attaching small knots!
...

If my comments find a spot in your heart...
And my life is one of living.
And perhaps yours is not?
Don't take it personal,
...

People wishing to be understood...
As if life itself was created just for them,
To receive that kind of attention from others...
Are deeply self involved.
...

Don't...
Make me go.
Don't make me,
Disbelieve.
...

No men popped for them.
Not those raised to lay in playpens.
Hot topics of 'where' the men could be?
Seems to be an ongoing mystery...
...

It goes unrecognized,
And they despise it.
Yet it is their own reflection.
They do not like what they see at all.
...

We need a fear injection,
To get done...
To keep the people fed with fearing.
...

When does the teaching process end?
And the learning of lessons begin...
Starting the arrival of experience?
And not far behind is a common sense,
...

My hands can gently hold.
Also ball into fists.
I refuse to lift my hands to hit.
I refuse that kind of anguish to sit,
...

Wind and sea,
Leaves me adrift.
With this warmth...
Sitting in my heart so grounded.
...