Quotes about strut, page 6

With Beliefs Their Misdeeds Are Not Perceived

No one achieves heights of success,
Professing what they have done...
Is at their best.
When what they have taken,
Is from someone else's nest.
To impress with accolades,
They expect to get!

Perhaps 'temporarily'...
They may strut in a charading,
With claims to attest!
But a theft is what it is.
And eventually faces protest and regret.
Upsetting not the victim...
But those who deceive,
With beliefs their misdeeds are not perceived!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Case Hardened for Joe Poewhit

A macho man must strut his stuff.
Because he lacks the sense to see
That any man who’s man enough
Can let his feelings show freely
Secure in his identity
He does not care what other say
about his masculinity.
He chooses to go his own way.
But macho men feel they must hide
behind a shield of bravado
But deep inside they’re terrified
that other people get to know.
Their attitude is self defence
their bravado is all pretence

Sunday,17 January 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers.

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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High and Buzzed

I met a new love.
Yes I met a new love.
And the clouds cleared up.
And my heart got a rush,
With an overflowing gush...
That fills my cup!

Aaaahhh met a new love.
Oh, I met a new love.
And with a slow stride I strut,
Got my chest puffed up.
Like I can't get enough,
Feeling high...
And buzzed from love.

Yes I met a new love.
Aaaahhh met a new love.
And the clouds cleared up.
And my heart got a rush,
With an overflowing gush...

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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They've All Been Duped

A bragging is done about the number of babies made.
But not one of the 'donators' prove themselves worthy,
To stay up to the grade they charade.

And the mothers are heard,
Taking their frustrations out on their kids.
As if the children are responsible to be born into ignorance.

This is not a reflection of any ethnic group.
They've all been duped by a majority,
Crooked and stupid.

And a backfire comes to be done.
A payback for being idiotic and dumb,
Comes to strike with a strut!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am A Minor Player In This World

I AM A MINOR PLAYER IN THIS WORLD

I am a minor player in this world
A bit player on this stage
Who does not strut
And often barely seems
To be seen.
When the drama ends for me
The main show will go on
Without any break in its rhythm.
A few may notice
But their pain will too be drowned
In the general sound
Of everything else booming or screaming.
I am a bit player
And when the door is closed
The final exit made
This stage will continue to be played upon
As if
I had never scriven on it.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Tears Shed Still Flood The Earth

men were described as beasts
before an apocalyptic flood and after
before legendary Biblical flood and after
men no longer strut across landscape like giants

men crush landscape all obstacles into dust particles
men raise up great monuments giant skyscrapers into skies
men dominate landscapes all available resources earth sea skies
but tears still ever flood the earth shed by staring millions

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Alcide

Walking with Jesus the slow,
behind the beat. Mr. Resistance.
Mr. Ohm, Mr. Exactly Lame.

By some reluctance, some
restraint, if it be a restraint,
by some undertow and stutter,

the halt and lame can strut.
You can hear it yourself. Buy
a few records and think how big

a bass is to a small boy,
his fingers bleeding to grow deft.
Bandages are for amateurs

and they blur the tone, that habit
a bassist and his bass conspire,
the way a couple learns a stride
though the man's taller by a foot.

poem by William Matthews
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Of Bronze—and Blaze

290

Of Bronze—and Blaze—
The North—Tonight—
So adequate—it forms—
So preconcerted with itself—
So distant—to alarms—
And Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me—
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty—
Till I take vaster attitudes—
And strut upon my stem—
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them—

My Splendors, are Menagerie—
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,

[...] Read more

poem by Emily Dickinson
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Pretend a Disconnection Has Been Made

What we talk about...
Is that more important,
Than those feelings we feel?

What we do to ourselves and others.
Should we continue to excuse this?
As a way of life we choose?

A tolerated suppression,
Has led many to express unhappiness.
As if this was a gift to expect.

UNTIL 'all' of our efforts are made,
To improve our outlooks, funky moods and attitudes...
We can choose to do what some still do.
Strut away with lips shut.
Put stuck up butts on high shoulders.
And 'pretend' a disconnection,
Has been made!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Burlesque

Burlesque
~
Sequins shimmer in the lights
While music builds a sensual rhythm
The move and sway of the dance
As the ladies begin to hypnotize
A celebration of the female form
In all of its beauty the eyes are held
Watching intent as the show unfolds
The smile and the look upon the stage
How the dancers enjoy their play
The little sway of the hips
As they turn and twist the audience
The strut in their stride tells
This is after all their night
One to which they knew belonged
To the evocative and sensual
To all that is beautiful

poem by Matthew Holloway
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