Tomorrows
Ah, tomorrow and tomorrows!
A procrastinators' catchall
future days that he will borrow
freely to do nothing at all;
but presently those days will dawn
calling due his declarations;
promises he'll not keep thereon:
deliberate fabrications.
His wishy-washy character
lacks effectiveness and purpose;
his favorite word is "later"
which can be defined as fruitless.
Is there any hope for him? No!
as long as there are tomorrows.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Related quotes
Tommorows Just Another Day
Trying hard, I thought Id done my best
All my life, I cant get no rest
Some whove closed the door before
Say I cant carry on no more.
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them saying
And it gets better every day
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
Listened long, tried to take it in
All these facts leave me in the swim
Its down and down there is no up
I think that Ive run out of luck.
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them saying
And it gets better every day
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
Tomorrows just another... day
Walking now, over covered ground
There is a chance if I move around
I need a moment to reflect
On the friendships I have wrecked.
Why is it i, dont I always try ?
I hear them say
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them say
And it gets better every day
I hear them say
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them say
And it gets better every day
I heard them say
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them say
Tomorrows just another day
Tomorrows just another...
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
I hear them saying
And it gets better every day
I hear them saying
Tomorrows just another day
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tomorrows Gonna Be Another Day
By tommy boyce and steve venet
Im gonna pack up my pain,
I been a keepin in my heart,
Im gonna catch me the fastest train
And make me a brand new start
But thats okay,
Tomorrows gonna be another day,
Hey, hey, hey.
And I dont care what they say
Tomorrows gonna be, tomorrows gonna be,
Tomorrows gonna be another day.
Yay, yay, yay,
Yay, yay, yay.
They say theres a lotta fish,
Swimmin in the deep blue sea,
Im gonna catch me a pretty one
And shell be good to me.
But thats okay,
Tomorrows gonna be another day,
Hey, hey, hey.
And I dont care what they say
Tomorrows gonna be, tomorrows gonna be,
Tomorrows gonna be another day.
Yay, yay, yay,
Yay, yay, yay.
Well, I aint gonna think about ya,
cause it aint no use no more,
Im gonna make it fine without ya,
Just like I did before,
Im on my way.
Tomorrows gonna be another day,
Hey, hey, hey.
And I dont care what they say
Tomorrows gonna be, tomorrows gonna be,
Tomorrows gonna be another day.
Yay, yay, yay,
Yay, yay, yay.
[repeat and fade]
song performed by by Monkees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Another Love Poem
Can every tomorrow be guaranteed?
Will our love live forever and a day?
One can’t predict what tomorrow may bring
But our love is certain as this year’s spring.
Can the sun be stopped from rising each day?
Can a bard cease writing his love poems?
If tomorrow may dawn another day
And we find the sun has lost its own way
A poet that day will write words like this:
“Tomorrows may come but then again no
Yet the love you share will prosper and grow
If the sun never cast another ray
The love in your hearts will light the way
For your future tomorrows come what may.”
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Its Better This Way
Answers can come too late
And time is not one to wait
I no longer believe
Feelings of deep despair
I tell myself I dont care
It wasnt meant to be
Maybe its better this way
Maybe its better than the games we used to play
Maybe its better this way
Wont give in to fear of falling
When I hear tomorrow calling
If I should fee the need
You know that my heart must bleed
I will not touch that phone
And maybe Ill mourn my loss
But after the caring stops
Desire turns to stone
Pride has taken hold of me
I must escape this apathy
And should wake to deep regret, Id suffer
cos I stand alone
And if there was any doubt
That this was the one way out
Id never let you go
Tomorrows calling, tomorrows calling
My fear of falling - dont be afraid
Tomorrows calling
song performed by by Johnny Hates Jazz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam A. H. H.: 45. The baby new to earth and sky
The baby new to earth and sky,
What time his tender palm is prest
Against the circle of the breast,
Has never thought that "this is I":
But as he grows he gathers much,
And learns the use of "I," and "me,"
And finds "I am not what I see,
And other than the things I touch."
So rounds he to a separate mind
From whence clear memory may begin,
As thro' the frame that binds him in
His isolation grows defined.
This use may lie in blood and breath
Which else were fruitless of their due,
Had man to learn himself anew
Beyond the second birth of Death.
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Sonnet V: Nothing But No
Nothing but "No," and "Aye," and "Aye," and "No"?
How falls it out so strangely you reply?
I tell ye, Fair, I'll not be answer'd so,
With this affirming "No," denying "Aye."
I say, "I love," you slightly answer "Aye";
I say, "You love," you pule me out a "No";
I say, "I die," you echo me an "Aye";
"Save me," I cry, you sigh me out a "No";
Must woe and I have nought but "No" and "Aye"?
No I am I, if I no more can have;
Answer no more, with silence make reply,
And let me take myself what I do crave.
Let "No" and "Aye" with I and you be so;
Then answer "No," and "Aye," and "Aye" and "No."
poem by Michael Drayton
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Yesterday Blues
Oh for the yesterdays, filled with sincerities,
togetherness, love, and future harmony.
Shouts of laughter were unashamedly loud,
today there’s silence beneath a shroud.
Yesterday once promised endless tomorrows
full of opportunities with no regrets or sorrows.
Tomorrows promises have now vanished from sight
along with my reason, hope, and fight.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Revolt In The Ranks
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!& quot;
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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A True Account of Talking to the Sun on Fire Island
The Sun woke me this morning loud
and clear, saying "Hey! I've been
trying to wake you up for fifteen
minutes. Don't be so rude, you are
only the second poet I've ever chosen
to speak to personally
so why
aren't you more attentive? If I could
burn you through the window I would
to wake you up. I can't hang around
here all day."
"Sorry, Sun, I stayed
up late last night talking to Hal."
"When I woke up Mayakovsky he was
a lot more prompt" the Sun said
petulantly. "Most people are up
already waiting to see if I'm going
to put in an appearance."
I tried
to apologize "I missed you yesterday."
"That's better" he said. "I didn't
know you'd come out." "You may be
wondering why I've come so close?"
"Yes" I said beginning to feel hot
wondering if maybe he wasn't burning me
anyway.
"Frankly I wanted to tell you
I like your poetry. I see a lot
on my rounds and you're okay. You may
not be the greatest thing on earth, but
you're different. Now, I've heard some
say you're crazy, they being excessively
calm themselves to my mind, and other
crazy poets think that you're a boring
reactionary. Not me.
Just keep on
like I do and pay no attention. You'll
find that people always will complain
about the atmosphere, either too hot
or too cold too bright or too dark, days
too short or too long.
If you don't appear
at all one day they think you're lazy
or dead. Just keep right on, I like it.
And don't worry about your lineage
poetic or natural. The Sun shines on
the jungle, you know, on the tundra
the sea, the ghetto. Wherever you were
I knew it and saw you moving. I was waiting
for you to get to work.
And now that you
are making your own days, so to speak,
even if no one reads you but me
you won't be depressed. Not
everyone can look up, even at me. It
hurts their eyes."
"Oh Sun, I'm so grateful to you!"
"Thanks and remember I'm watching. It's
easier for me to speak to you out
here. I don't have to slide down
between buildings to get your ear.
I know you love Manhattan, but
you ought to look up more often.
And
always embrace things, people earth
sky stars, as I do, freely and with
the appropriate sense of space. That
is your inclination, known in the heavens
and you should follow it to hell, if
necessary, which I doubt.
Maybe we'll
speak again in Africa, of which I too
am specially fond. Go back to sleep now
Frank, and I may leave a tiny poem
in that brain of yours as my farewell."
"Sun, don't go!" I was awake
at last. "No, go I must, they're calling
me."
"Who are they?"
Rising he said "Some
day you'll know. They're calling to you
too." Darkly he rose, and then I slept.
poem by Frank O'Hara
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The Voice of Truth - A Short Story
"I cannot love her! , yelled the man.
"And why is that? ", the soft voice questioned.
"She will never change. ", the man exclaimed,
"She yells at me, scolds me and does not respect me."
"I can see how you cannot love her.", replied the voice.
The man loosened up. "You understand? ", he asked.
"Of course I understand" the voice confirmed,
"How can you possibly love a woman like that, "
"When you are expecting so much of her? "
Puzzled, the man listened to the voice further.
"You cannot love and expect at the same time.
You can either love her, or expect from her
You see, the purpose of love is to give.
It is my gift to you, to be given to another.
As is her love for you.
You choose who the gift is given to and who it is not.
You cannot expect her to give you her love.
That is a demand.
All you have the ability to do,
Is to give her yours.
The balance you seek is very unbalanced.
Patience, kindness, grace and mercy are all gifts you can give.
If you are expectant of them, they are no longer a gift.
They become a right, an entitlement or an obligation.
The gift of one's love is not a right, but a privilege.
As are all privileges, if abused, they will be taken away.'
A tear rolled down the man's face.
"My heart has been so full of myself, I had no room in it for her." The man sobbed.
"I can see how that works."
The man seeing the err of his ways, realized his love was not true.
He returned to his wife with a new love.
A love not defined by himself,
But as defined by the voice of truth.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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A spirit sped
A spirit sped
Through spaces of night;
And as he sped, he called,
"God! God!"
He went through valleys
Of black death-slime,
Ever calling,
"God! God!"
Their echoes
From crevice and cavern
Mocked him:
"God! God! God!"
Fleetly into the plains of space
He went, ever calling,
"God! God!"
Eventually, then, he screamed,
Mad in denial,
"Ah, there is no God!"
A swift hand,
A sword from the sky,
Smote him,
And he was dead.
poem by Stephen Crane
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On the Importance of Being Earnest
"Gentle Jane was as good as gold,"
To borrow a line from Mr. Gilbert;
She hated War with a hate untold,
She was a pacifistic filbert.
If you said "Perhaps"--she'd leave the hall.
You couldn't argue with her at all.
"Teasing Tom was a very bad boy,"
(Pardon my love for a good quotation).
To talk of war was his only joy,
And his single purpose was preparation.
* * * * *
And what both of these children had to say
I never knew, for I ran away.
poem by Franklin P. Adams
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Our Love
Just "us" and "we"
For we are one
Not "you" and "me"
Or we are done
There for always
Every moment
Good and bad days
That's our intent
As we embark
On this journey
Out of the dark
Where we can see
And live each day
Giving it all
I pray we stay
And do not fall
So hold on tight
And don't let go
We'll make it right
Our love will grow
poem by Paul H Nelson
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The Caged Thrush Freed and Home Again (Villanelle)
"Men know but little more than we,
Who count us least of things terrene,
How happy days are made to be!
"Of such strange tidings what think ye,
O birds in brown that peck and preen?
Men know but little more than we!
"When I was borne from yonder tree
In bonds to them, I hoped to glean
How happy days are made to be,
"And want and wailing turned to glee;
Alas, despite their mighty mien
Men know but little more than we!
"They cannot change the Frost's decree,
They cannot keep the skies serene;
How happy days are made to be
"Eludes great Man's sagacity
No less than ours, O tribes in treen!
Men know but little more than we
How happy days are made to be."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Fragment
At last I entered a long dark gallery,
Catacomb-lined; and ranged at the side
Were the bodies of men from far and wide
Who, motion past, were nevertheless not dead.
"The sense of waiting here strikes strong;
Everyone's waiting, waiting, it seems to me;
What are you waiting for so long? --
What is to happen?" I said.
"O we are waiting for one called God," said they,
"(Though by some the Will, or Force, or Laws;
And, vaguely, by some, the Ultimate Cause;)
Waiting for him to see us before we are clay.
Yes; waiting, waiting, for God to know it." ...
"To know what?" questioned I.
"To know how things have been going on earth and below it:
It is clear he must know some day."
I thereon asked them why.
"Since he made us humble pioneers
Of himself in consciousness of Life's tears,
It needs no mighty prophecy
To tell that what he could mindlessly show
His creatures, he himself will know.
"By some still close-cowled mystery
We have reached feeling faster than he,
But he will overtake us anon,
If the world goes on."
poem by Thomas Hardy
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Dandelion
Settle down now and sit with me
Let me tell you how this all came to be
A yellow flower with your pedals to the air
And flying on paper wings that brought you here
Summer rolls on in the lazy hours
An ether dream way
Of hummingbirds and clouds
Midnight swims in the cool back waves
And you in my arms as it rolls away
Chorus
Little dandelion
Let your heart keep time
Now the clouds are gone
All of your tomorrows shine
Oh oh
All of your tomorrows shine
Oh oh
All of your tomorrows shine
Born of restless night the moon as a pearl
Playing games down inside your soft warm world
Hear my voice I know that you can
You're the fire in my eyes
The sun as a man
Seasons come along and seasons go
And what they'll leave behind
I don't pretend to know
I'm afraid that all I have missed
Will loom very large when the darkness lifts
Chorus
Little dandelion
Let your heart keep time
Now the clouds are gone
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
I will ride by your side
Wherever you go
I won't run I won't hide
Just letting you know
Chorus
Little dandelion
Let your heart keep time
Now the clouds are gone
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
All of your tomorrows shine
song performed by by Audioslave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Yesterdaze
Yesterdaze are gone, along with my youth
I'm older now, and longer, in the tooth
I have very few regrets from the past
You must look forward, there, the die isn't cast
The fog of the past is now hard to remember
Did that happen in October or in September
Yesterdaze can't be overcome, they're done
The choices were made, and it was fun
Much of the ‘70's is a fog in the past
Why change much, except the memories to last
It was my youth and I was a little crazy
That's what really makes it all so hazy
Too many drugs and lots of alcohol
Nobody wanted to change, anything at all
"Live for today", was the overriding theme
So many lost days, make me want to scream
Yesterdaze not tomorrows
Made a life, without many sorrows
Sure it could have been differently done
Maybe I spent too many days in the sun
There's no need to overthink the past
It is what it is, and couldn't last
We move on, with the lessons learned
At least in that daze, my mind wasn't burned
I love my future, and I love my past
Yesterdaze are gone, the future isn't cast
It was a challenge to just live through them
With the Lord's help, Yesterdaze were a gem
poem by J.B. LeBuert
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Arcturus
"Arcturus" is his other name—
I'd rather call him "Star."
It's very mean of Science
To go and interfere!
I slew a worm the other day—
A "Savant" passing by
Murmured "Resurgam"—"Centipede"!
&q uot;Oh Lord—how frail are we"!
I pull a flower from the woods—
A monster with a glass
Computes the stamens in a breath—
And has her in a "class"!
Whereas I took the Butterfly
Aforetime in my hat—
He sits erect in "Cabinets"—
The Clover bells forgot.
What once was "Heaven"
Is "Zenith" now—
Where I proposed to go
When Time's brief masquerade was done
Is mapped and charted too.
What if the poles should frisk about
And stand upon their heads!
I hope I'm ready for "the worst"—
Whatever prank betides!
Perhaps the "Kingdom of Heaven's" changed—
I hope the "Children" there Won't be "new fashioned" when I come—
And laugh at me—and stare—
I hope the Father in the skies
Will lift his little girl—
Old fashioned—naught—everything—
Over the stile of "Pearl."
poem by Emily Dickinson
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Love Constrained to Obedience
No strength of nature can suffice
To serve the Lord aright:
And what she has she misapplies,
For want of clearer light.
How long beneath the law I lay
In bondage and distress;
I toll'd the precept to obey,
But toil'd without success.
Then, to abstain from outward sin
Was more than I could do;
Now, if I feel its power within,
I feel I hate it too.
Then all my servile works were done
A righteousness to raise;
Now, freely chosen in the Son,
I freely choose His ways.
"What shall I do," was then the word,
"That I may worthier grow?"
"What shall I render to the Lord?"
Is my inquiry now.
To see the law by Christ fulfilled
And hear His pardoning voice,
Changes a slave into a child,
And duty into choice.
poem by William Cowper
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The ABC
'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"
Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"
"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."
C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."
"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."
"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.
"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."
X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."
poem by Spike Milligan
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