Lawrence S. Pertillar Poems

There are not that many lights,
Shining to stay bright these days.
Neither to be found strolling around,
Reflecting during the day and ecstatic.
...

He growls.
She runs.
He chases.
She returns to pose.
...

The primal faker,
Innovated what today goes on.
The primal faker,
Has created what today belongs.
...

Senses intensed in scented laments,
Are often bittersweet...
When they arrive to come,
Unexpectedly from places...
...

With a stepping ahead to face unknown plateaus.
Or what that doing reveals to show.
I have learned as I've been blessed to age,
To not stop on my tracks to look back...
...

What destination is arrived,
When those on selfish 'trips' take them.
And who is it that they travel with,
Expected to accomodate their every emotion.
...

If I have witnessed division and conflict,
As did my parents and theirs before them too...
It is a safe bet to place,
That the children of today...
...

I seek with a doing to escape from explanations.
With a choosing not to confuse my understanding,
Of what I believe is to be meant but not mentioned.
Sometimes I find to ask questions for clarity,
...

If I have given a response,
To not be accepted...
Should I make requests,
Of getting those responses...
...

If I had demanded payment,
For my volunteered efforts made to make...
With a return of someone offering gratitude,
Less would be the critique...
...