Pendulum Rubaiyat
The pendulum of history shall swing
now to, now fro, pride break or profits bring:
thus one ‘should take the current when it serves’
for Change is in the air and on the wing.
The century snails onwards in its slime,
or so it seems to those who actions mime
as if they were the puppet masters, still
strings stay attached to the design of Time.
Soon we will witness Nature’s thunder hurled.
Pandora’s box has menaces unfurled
which angry retribution will afford
Mankind for the abuses of our world.
Convenience converts much truth to fiction
outside pure science for what's held conviction
acts as a shield protecting ignorance
from fears life's one-way ticket, then eviction.
Song, sweet today tomorrow wrong, may bring
misfortune, tune some other pipers sing,
perchance won't sound as sweet as it deserves,
shun bells that ring, leave only hands to wring.
When doomsday burns in fire or icy rime,
who'll care a tinker's curse for prose or rhyme,
attention spans grow shorter by the day
while dreams forgotten lie in Styx quicklime.
Perceptions rarely are sustained, we're whirled
willy-nilly, helter-skelter, curled
as foetus round our pre-conceptions, bet
hedge against deception's underworld.
Minds, blind, swap narrow scope for hopes' prediction,
erase discomfort phase by phrase whose diction
draws less from facts and more from praising Chance
which scoffs at both, ironic valediction.
What will remain thereafter of Man's skin
shell history, of struggles' loss or win,
a potsherd shard? polluted plastic trash?
rash who believes he'll outlive cycles' spin.
Vae victis! history's a partial tale
writ by the victors while beyond the pale
are exiled vanquished, shadows pale must roam,
as all leads to New Rome, avoids dust stale.
Who terrorist, who freedom fighter fell
forgotten down time's plumbless pit, well, well
depends upon the way the cookie crumbles
enshrined in marble or confined to hell.
Remembered is Forgotten's favoured twin
Virtue today becomes tomorrow's sin,
while modesty as imprudent or rash
is redefined by timeline's litter bin.
Who heads once called by day by night bawls tail
while bubble reputations burst and fail,
mirage politicians' honeycomb
turn 'fact' to 'fancy' languishing in jail.
Value judgements' superficial swell
subside, belied by subsequent retell,
hidden agenda, vested interest tumbles
from pillar falls as ends this verse, farewell!
7 June 1991 revised 7 September 2008
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Impact Tracked
The century snailed onwards in its slime,
or so it seemed to those who actions mime
as if they were the puppet masters, - yet
stay strung dolls dangling on the jess of Time.
The pendulum of history now swings
to, fro, with speed, more humble posture wrings
from those who ‘take the current when it serves’ -
for Change is in the air, waits in the wings.
So as we witness Nature’s thunder hurled.
Pandora’s box unlocks tornadoes curled, -
an angry retribution will reward
Mankind for the abuses of our world...
Out of thin air there sudden springs alive
a windy wink turned category five,
son of sun, air, and warmer water which
blows minds away, - no sense to stay or strive
as hurry can mock man whose need to thrive
accelerates his hive to overdrive.
What poverty’s undrowned, its ugly head
soon rears in tears, - on prime time captured live
So whether it be cyclone’s swirling eye
or weather spun within a skirling sky
or band on year band foaming on Time’s sands,
Life’s tides turn flash floods swiftly whirling by.
Thus inches fall with mercury’s decline,
this fall’s reflected by the inches brine
or fresh, which lash land, sea, surgre up from shore, -
when impact’s tracked they add up to much more.
As temperatures climb we see a fall
in millibars and mercury as all
which once seem cloudless takes a darker cast
forecast to darken further as the squall
extends from one blind eye one hundred miles
or more to east and west while galeforce guiles
play games as Nature with torrential rains
wreaks havoc turning orphans to exiles.
23 September 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Keyless
High hopes are mocked by Time as, day by day,
efforts are hamstrung, - phantom puppet show
reflects our vain illusions’ ebb and flow.
Effects’ and causes’ ripple interplay
scoffs at control. Coincidence at play
enacts a dance whose patterns none may know.
Why seek for key? Self-righteous afterglow
can’t channel flow to stem the current grey?
Chance - Time’s harmony – Man won’t obey,
cares not a tinker’s curse for those who bow
would string, - self validating vertigo
soon bursts to leave brief, troubled, bubble bray
deflated, echo muted, song unheard.
Who’ll witness stand that strings were ever stirred?
19 September 2005 revised 30 October 2006
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Waiting For Tomorrow
Today is gone with my hopes
Tomorrow I wait for what comes.
If yesterday is history
And tomorrow mystery
I have today only as mine.
But I still wait for tomorrow,
For yesterday is gone with my hopes.
O' home, sweet home of mine!
I have missed for twenty years
If they can feel my tears;
My pains and my bleeding heart.
Time has failed me
Time won't leave me.
And every day I grow older;
Everyday I grow weaker;
America, are you there?
Africa, can you hear me?
My country has failed me
And I am growing old, old away from home
My Africa, my sweet home of mine
I come with a new hope.
Where is my hope Nigeria?
You have killed my dreams.
But I wait for tomorrow;
I still wait for tomorrow.
poem by Efe Benjamin
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To write is a challenge, But to understand the writer is a mystery
Right now I am writing history
Amongst a million other writers
But what makes me different
from that never ending million?
Every word has a meaning, has
it's background, I, on the hand don't.
Just a meaningless word, nothing more
But a word it is, nothing less
To write is a challenge
But to understand the writer is a mystery.
Right. Write only with the mind and heart.
So powerful, So strong, So moving.
Today, Tomorrow a never ending cycle.
Today becomes history when tomorrow becomes today.
So right now I am writing history
But tomorrow it becomes forgotten
It will not be forgotten if the writer has a mystery to solve, so to write is a challenge but to understand the writer is a mystery.
poem by Lady Simple
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The History Of Tomorrow
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of light
By dumping us in the dark with pits everywhere
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of food
By asking us to chop several fire-woods to heat up a pot full of stones
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of job creation
By making us slaves on our own soil
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of education
By dumping us in dilapidated buildings without teachers
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of accountability
By looting our treasury and asking us for yet another term in office
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our leaders fulfilled a promise of safety
By leaving pot holes large enough to swallow countless accident victims on our roads
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of how our bows and arrows
Would secure our future
I want to tell you the history of tomorrow
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless heroes
It’s the history of a country, a country with countless robbers
Robbers with fame
Robbers without shame
Robbers that we would roast with flame
© Adegbenro Adekunle Jacob
Tomorrow’s history is today. All world leaders must make real democracy work. They must be selfless. We must not wait until there is horror and terror before we learn. Nigerian leaders must shun CORRUPTION.
poem by Adegbenro Adekunle
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Maybe Tomorrow
you ask for today
i do not have
today, maybe tomorrow
i may have tomorrow
inside my hands
wait for another day
or another week
or another year
maybe tomorrow
maybe
i cannot give you today
what i have is this past
that you cannot accept
and i cannot offer you today
because i cannot afford
it.......
today i am nothing
but tomorrow, if you can
wait, i may have tomorrow
whole and full
inside my hands, yes, yes,
tomorrow,
i have lots of these tomorrows
my dreams
my hopes
inside the basket of my hands
clasped by the gentle cups
of my heart
wait, please wait, do not die yet
we still have tomorrow
that is all we have
a bunch of tomorrows
sweet sweet tomorrows
dreams, hopes, wishes
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Why Did I Fall For That
The streets of the future littered with remains
The streets of the future littered with remains
Of both the fools and the so called brains
Of both the fools and the so called brains
The whole prediction is enough to kill
The whole prediction is enough to kill
But only God knows if it wont or it will
But only God knows if it wont or it will
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Some silly creature said wed never crack
Some silly creature said wed never crack
Most would just survive and then bounce back
Most would just survive and then bounce back
But the rest are crying whyd I fall for that crap
But the rest are crying whyd I fall for that crap
Why did I fall for that?
Why did I fall for that?
So many rash promises sincerly made
So many rash promises sincerly made
By people who believed that we were being saved
By people who believed that we were being saved
They made us all believe that we were acting white
They made us all believe that we were acting white
But the truth is weve forgotten how we used to fight
But the truth is weve forgotten how we used to fight
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Were impotent and neutered like whining cats
Were impotent and neutered like whining cats
Weve found the piper but weve lost the rats
Weve found the piper but weve lost the rats
But the kids are crying whyd I fall for that dad?
But the kids are crying whyd I fall for that dad?
Why did you fall?
Why did you fall?
It never rains under my umbrella
It never rains under my umbrella
Four minutes to midnight on a sunny day
Four minutes to midnight on a sunny day
Maybe if we smile the clockll fade away
Maybe if we smile the clockll fade away
Maybe we can force the hands to just reverse
Maybe we can force the hands to just reverse
Maybe a word, maybe maybe is a curse
Maybe a word, maybe maybe is a curse
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Nobody knows why we fell so flat
Weve never been taught to fight or to face up to facts
Weve never been taught to fight or to face up to facts
We simply believe that wed remain intact
We simply believe that wed remain intact
But history is asking why did you fall for that
But history is asking why did you fall for that
Why did you fall?
Why did you fall?
Why did I fall for that
Why did I fall for that
Why did I fall for that
Why did I fall for that
Why did I fall for that
Why did I fall for that
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Leftovers
LEFTOVERS
We know that we were meant to be -
we know we feel we feel we know.
Once free, at sea now, few find key
decoding life’s vibrating flow
‘until no more of me and thee’
is sought within united glow
of what forgotten history
omitted from Man’s archives - so
little left to memory.
Today here, see tomorrow flee,
earth's limbo, over, only crow
enjoys leftover pickings – tree
of life’s vain strife. No merry-go-
round but mirror fragility.
For fleeting hour before we go
who tunes into the mystery
of life’s timed rondo fast and s[l]ow
with some degree of certainty?
The past: lost in primaeval sea,
whose glory stony strata show
has hardened like an artery
fossilized when vertigo
toppled pride's ride which paid fee
for crass complacency. Below,
find species seeking primacy
that suffered an extinctive blow,
untuned to evolution's key.
Grim future looms. Eternity:
climactic challenges' gloom grow
daily greater globally,
imbalance plain to friend and foe.
Origins enigma, we
beyond time spectrum seek although
no proof forthcoming teaches free
will span from slime of long ago
to rhyme sublime humanity.
25 June 2005 revised 16 January 2008
robi03_1289_robi03_0000 XXX_ENZ
for previous version see below
LEFTOVERS
We know that we were meant to be -
we know we feel we feel we know.
Once free, at sea now, few find key
decoding life’s vibrations’ flow
‘until no more of me and thee’
is sought within united glow
of what forgotten history
omitted from Man’s archives - so
little left to memory.
Life’s limbo, over, only crow
enjoys leftover pickings – tree
of life’s vain strife. No merry-go-
round but mirror fragility.
For fleeting hour before we go
who tunes into the mystery
of life’s timed rondo fast and s[l]ow
with some degree of certainty?
communicates, shows how to grow
from slime to rhyme humanity...
© Jonathan Robin - 25 June 2005
poem by Jonathan Robin
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These Dreams
She lies on the bed
With her hands in her head
And she screams
He gets a kick out of losing the plot so it seems
He makes you all laugh so she's the one
Doing harm
But how can you fight when she's not
The one under his arm
These dreams have let you down
Take it don't break it just turn it around
These dreams won't let you down
You never stopped loving his misfortunate
Lazy ways
All the memories that you should've had
Are a cabaret haze
There's just a hole where you know he
Should've been
There's no one worse off than you
When you can't describe what you've seen
These dreams have let you down
Take it don't break it just it turn around
These dreams won't let you down
Where do you go when you're all alone
In your bed
Do you cry in your sleep cos it's
Better unsaid
Have you forgotten your past because
That's how it seems
Is it too hard to think so you edit
Your dreams
And play them back again and again
These dreams have let you down
Take it don't break it just turn it around
These dreams won't let you down
These dreams have let you down
Take it don't break it just turn it around
These dreams won't let you down
You've got tomorrow tomorrow
You've got tomorrow tomorrow
You've got tomorrow tomorrow
You've got tomorrow tomorrow
You've got tomorrow tomorrow
song performed by by Robbie Williams from I've Been Expecting You
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tale Of A Man
Its been forty days and nights
Since I heard you
Girl, I cannot bring myself
To ask you why
Its a fact that your not here
I aint accusing you
I only seek the simple answer from the sky
Chorus
See the circle spinnin round
Changing colors without a sound
Helter, skelter, doomsday plan
Its just another tale of a man
Lay me down, lay me down
In your heaven
I can really see
Everything quite clear
I can almost reach your hand
Enough to touch you
Girl, Ill have you safe and sound within a year
Chorus
See the circle spinnin round
Changing colors without a sound
Helter, skelter, doomsday plan
Its just another tale of a man
Solo
Its been forty days and nights
Since I heard you
Girl, I cannot bring myself
To ask you why
Its a fact that your not here
I aint accusing you
I only seek the simple
Answer from the sky
Chorus
See the circle spinnin round
Changing colors without a sound
Helter, skelter, doomsday plan
Its just another tale of a man
song performed by by Toto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Holy movement
Nature did it because of her holy movement
God also did it because of holy commitment
This was all for happiness for the mankind
Only we failed in our intent and went blind
Can any individual plead ignorance?
Can our acts be easily forgotten at once?
What have we done to preserve nature and self?
We have polluted everything including she shelf
We are getting perturbed over little pain
Some losses make us pale and grim
We feel it as it is caused directly
But we care less for what is caused by us indirectly
We run merely for selfish motives
We are so careful and selective
We hell bent upon desire and remain active
At any cost we want it to be done even if others are reactive
The world has become limited
We have exhausted all means and remitted
We have harmed the areas not permitted
Unforeseen crime is intentionally committed
Someone runs for its rectification
Someone strengthens it as fortification
We all run in opposite direction
Where there is no guarantee for our stupid action
Cry in corner when time has gone
By the time enough of damage might have been done
We may tale little note of nature’s displeasure
As we will silently watch the blockade of future
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Stars Dont Know My Fate
Tonight I make history
and one day history will find me
and haunt me...even write me
in the pages of immortality
and will never be forgotten
as the wind.
Tonight I face history
and one day history will face me
and mock me...even write me
in the pages of uncertainties
but will never be forgotten
as the wind.
Tonight- I end my life...
I change my history, I make my destiny
for stars don't know my fate.
And one day, maybe one day
this night would be forgotten,
carried by the wind.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Smoke, Mist and Nebulous Things
Tell me then your perceptions of the past
Tell me why hard facts are hard today
Facts tomorrow, then gone away
Do facts, then, rarely last?
Watching the march of time, the artefacts
The ruins they continue to dig up day by day
What remains of those wonderful beings
Who peopled our fables and myths
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away
Tiptoe in history’s corridors
Crowns, coins and chariots
People, peasants, and simple folk
Just spirited clean away
Where do they lie now?
Unknowns jostling in history’s corridors.
Queens, courtesans, mothers of kings
Toys and things, necklaces and dreams
Smoke, mist and other nebulous things
Spirited them away
Tiptoe in history’s corridors
The modified history of the world
Domination, nomination, abomination
Smoke and mist and nebulous things
Have spirited everyone away.
poem by Rani Turton
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Knowledge
What happens to our knowledge
when we pass from here?
Will it be buried with us
for an eternity to be undisturbed,
or do we leave tracks
of our knowledge behind?
Great minds have already written down
things they did not want to forget.
Is it possible that great knowledge
is gathering dust somewhere
in those forgotten chapters
of our history?
Leonardo Da Vinci’s drawings
of airplanes and submarines.
Were they just fanciful dreams,
or were they reality?
Could these things have existed,
but of their presence in history
this knowledge for them departed?
What about Atlantis
with its knowledge unbound.
Did it really disappear
beneath the waves without a sound,
and the knowledge that they held,
did that all vanish with them?
We can only speculate
where all this knowledge goes
as new minds dream of things
that may have existed in the past.
Which leaves us with the question,
what happens to our knowledge
when we pass away from here?
4 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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The Forgotten Son(Name Revised Hopefully Viewable)
Oh exiled angel,
oh the forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Its a sad life of loneliness we live in.
Have you given it your all?
Sacrifice after sacrifice.
Everyone has disappeared.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Dreams are broken.
Dreams are stolen.
Still you are standing here.
Holding on.
You are only so strong.
Baring your soul time after time,
just to see it fade,
lying in the wake of all those horrible mistakes.
Only true heart break is everlasting.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Not the only one.
How can this be?
A denied destiny.
Was it too much gluttony?
Was it all those stories you told were unfounded?
A lier in dire straights.
Everything is so complicated.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Your life has just begun.
Yet its already half over.
Were picking a four leaf clover.
One by one.
The leaves are gone.
Until theirs absolutely nothingness.
The black sun is what you've become.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one.
Are you burning on the inside?
Is fire what ignites your desire?
Burn it all,
burn it all.
These thoughts run through your head.
Sometimes you feel better off dead.
Some words are best left unsaid.
Ignorance is bliss, till you reach the end of your existence.
Then you forever wonder what you missed.
It feels like another outer body experience.
Oh exiled angel,
oh forgotten son,
please say your not the only one,
not the only one.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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The History of Now
The recording of culture is history;
but our culture is more than that.
It's the world of human action,
and the myths we make of the fact.
The recording of history is culture,
but our history is more than that.
It informs a hidden agenda.
Unconscious of motive we act.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
It's only the present that exists as endowed.
It's the history of now. The moment - KAPOW!
That knocks you right over and muddies your brow.
Through the prism of language, we know what we know.
We carry our baggage and stories of woe.
Victor and vanquished pride cannot budge,
the dead weight of hatred and ancestral grudge.
We fight our good fights with our hand on our heart;
the music is swelling as loved ones depart.
As sheep to the slaughter, the script cannot chart,
a course more ignoble: the propagandist's art.
The recording of history is culture,
but our culture is more than that.
More than the great individuals,
the scholars so love in their tracts.
The recording of culture is history;
but our history is more than that.
Not simple dates or statistics,
the full horror and gore still attracts.
It's the history of now, the history of now.
A strange contradiction that makes sense somehow.
It's the history of now, a mystery and shroud.
The past and the future: best fiction allowed.
poem by David SmithWhite
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Bottled Message 1717
From shore to shore
I brave wild waves
with winds unsure
'bove mermaid cave,
in shine or pour
with message grave
within I store,
from water save.
While currents flow
from East to West
I onwards go
and do my best
to bring words so
they find fair guest
whose heart may know
shared joy unguessed.
Thus bottle green
upon sea blue
will float unseen
by blue sky too,
until the scene
is set for two
to find love keen
which years renew.
As bottle sent
one April day
I'd spring event
life-changing, May
no sooner spent
saw June display
as covenant
where interplay
would represent
Joy's present, way
to taste sweet scent
as roundelay
was surely meant
all fears to lay
at rest, prevent
guilt complex grey.
Upon time's stream
the message came
as true dream's beam
to help two claim
tomorrow's team
free from all blame
could bloom, esteem
helps heart pure flame
complete life's scheme
while spurning shame
as groundless, deem
tomorrow's fame
would show shared gleam.
From bridge of sighs
flow onwards: face,
once shed disguise
and self-disgrace,
joy love supplies
to interface
with wisdom wise
as time and place
dissolve, while cries
one can replace
and recognize
as two embrace
the future lies
ahead! Displace
forgotten lies
past tears might trace.
One could write on
till cows come home,
unreel tale long
on how to roam
at sea in song,
words honeycomb
in plaits sweet, strong,
neath starry dome.
But this might bore
the reader who
could stop before
end comes on cue,
paint stormy roar
and calm - but few
can cope with more
than this so you
must know to woo
was message sent
on Chance's tide
to represent
love none should hide.
Tale ends. Fate meant
two bona fide
to find shared tent,
and there abide.
(9 January 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Never Put Off Until Tomorrow
Never put off until tomorrow,
what you can do today.
For when it comes tomorrow,
you will have forgotten
what it was you wanted to say.
Never leave it until tomorrow
or your chance would have gone away.
By leaving it until tomorrow
something could be out of your grasp,
The chance you had for happiness
might have up and flown away.
So never, put off until tomorrow,
what you can do today.
poem by David Harris
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Don’t Worry For Tomorrow
Day by day, must be my focus, this as I obey The Lord Jesus,
Living simply, one day at a time, obeying Truth, that is sublime,
Through the grace given by God, while I live on the earthly sod,
Knowing I’m sustained by Christ, as I live out this temporal life.
A command sometimes ignored, but, a deep Truth of our Lord,
Today has concerns of its own, as all tomorrow’s are unknown,
And concern about what’s not yet, just turns into worry and fret,
But our life we won’t fret away, when we obey Christ day to day.
If we only give God every day, Christ will help us along the way,
And not with tomorrow’s concern, as our Lord wants us to learn,
To trust every single day to God, as He leads with staff and rod,
For God knows all that we need, so just follow the Savior’s lead.
We must live one day at a time; this isn’t ours, but God’s design,
Not only is this more than sound, but, keeps us on solid ground,
And as we lean upon our Lord, an abiding peace God will afford,
All understanding this transcends, while His presence never ends.
So as His presence fills our life, we’re comforted by Jesus Christ,
Through today and into tomorrow, always there in joy and sorrow,
So today as we hear God’s voice, we really have only one choice,
Not simply just hear, but to obey, to live not tomorrow, but today.
(Copyright ©11/2010)
Sail Into Tomorrow
(john farrar)
If a ship of dreams bid me come, would I board it?
If I had their gold in my hands, would I hoard it?
If I knew the trials I must face, would I carry on at all?
Sail into tomorrow, living day to day
Thats all I can afford to do and all Ill ever pay
Is a song to sing to thank you for making me alive
And a prayer to bring me comfort--lord help us to survive
If his pretty eyes shone my way, would I leave you?
If I wasnt sure he would stay, would I deceive you?
If I had to melt you with promises, would they stand or fall?
Sail into tomorrow, living day to day
Thats all I can afford to do and all Ill ever pay
Is a song to sing to thank you for making me alive
And a prayer to bring you comfort--lord help us to survive
If time should call me a fool, would I laugh or would I care?
Sail into tomorrow, living day to day
Thats all I can afford to do and all Ill ever pay
Is a song to sing to thank you for making me alive
And a prayer to bring you comfort--lord help us to survive
song performed by by Olivia Newton-John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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