Jessica Bibbee

Posts Tagged ‘tomorrow’

20131009

In poetry, rumination on 20131009 at 21:03

《the way》
dear little one,
the world is yours.
the world was yours
even before you belonged
to it.
it was, is, and will be
your redemption as often
as it will be your nemesis.
do not be afraid, for fear
will not carry your burdens
nor will it shelter you
from the elements.
have hope as much as will
allow triumph
over the ills of present,
but none so much that
you deceive yourself
of the realities of the future
or the consequences of the past.
days of sorrow will weave
a tight knit alongside joy,
neither with warning
nor with limitation.
you shall persist because
you know of nothing else,
not only because you will it.
for as a mortal, possibility
is as finite only as is time.
what tomorrow will bring you,
yesterday has already taken
away, with a fluidity that
surprises with subtlety.
you will love and hurt,
feel pain and transfer pain.
you will always forgive
because the alternative
is no alternative.
fairness and justice
will oft be at odds
with one another and for you.
you will not always deserve
your destiny, but you will
decide not to deny it.
for tonight, the sun sets low,
but tomorrow, high,
high shall the sun rise up.
oh, little one, until tomorrow,
good night.

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20101207

In aphorism, haiku, poetry, proverb on 20101207 at 23:36

Judge only those with whom you can empathize.

Tomorrow will not feed the hunger of today.

Worry only of today’s hunger, and tomorrow will feed itself.

If one follows their gut, they will always have guts.

When information is framed, only education is tied, only knowledge sentenced, only wisdom slain.

Excuse befits the guilty; truth befits the innocent.

Hold a man to his capacity to err, and he will fail; hold the same man to his level of ability, and he will succeed.

When the Future quarrels with the Present, only the Past has the last word.

Complaining differs from venting, in that, it is with ability and without action to resolve the matter.

To be a friend, one must not lend a shoulder to lighten the burden, only lend an ear to lessen the brooding.

An omelette is not made by wishing for eggs.

Brilliant words only after brilliant eyes and brilliant ears.

《the night》
the night is a fickle lover
longing and lingering and
leaving me to morn.

《couth》
If one articulates
In triplets, would you say
one is high couth?

20101127

In aphorism, proverb, quote, rumination on 20101127 at 15:54

Men of fear unite; men of courage disband.

One dog smells a fellow dog.

A fool sacrifices tomorrow -a day he does not have, for today -a day he will never have again.

Freedom is like oxygen –most appreciated in its absence.

Development is incremental change in the direction of progress.

Ore must be smelted before metal is poured.

A dirty diner let’s another do his dishes.

Ideas alone cannot realize inspiration; only ideas coupled with action give birth to inspiration.

《On Fear》
It is said that fear can be smelled; I say that fear stinks.

20101125

In aphorism, proverb on 20101125 at 10:11

If we are to align tomorrow with today, it is not enough to will something, -we must also do something. If we are to align the future with the present, it is not enough to become, -we must also be.

20091026

In aphorism, proverb on 20091026 at 12:57

Eat today but for tomorrow, never a day more.

20081130

In aphorism, poetry, proverb on 20081130 at 16:01

One kind of fool eats a green apple today, unwilling to wait for the ripened tomorrow; another kind of fool waits for the ripened apple tomorrow, but goes hungry today.

《the light》
And the light of the midday
sun shone so brightly that even
the smallest shadow sought shelter
and was nowhere to be found.

20060131

In poetry on 20060131 at 23:10

《the sex of poets》

The sex of poets emanates –
flowing as without edges,
contagious as without knowing;
words play
back and forth –
a rhythm, ever changing,
follows whereby one leads
until the pull of the next.
One moment
as without definition,
nor clearly sided with neighbors –
rolling one to the next.
Beckoned without call,
it is from a distance that
one sees deep into the heart
where life seems both
to stop and start, again –
without pause and
with the haste of lovers
kept at bay, unwilled.
The words sear clear,
sharp and pure.
They exist alone,
and yet are fed
by the hunger of ideas
yet tossed,
yet exposed –
as if the virgin ever lived
within the eyes of the soul;
forever waiting,
forever with hunger –
fresh as the moment to follow.

The sex of poets lingers
past the setting sun
into the morning dew,
where one knows not for sure
if the climax be truer
at the final release of
thoughts never felt, – or
perhaps at the time
of response; the
lover’s words, a compliment,
meshing with, as if one.
Almost beyond a reality,
the words live on
to dance without end,
to breed a careful song –
as if in tales of lore,
existence never certain.
Fleeting, though strong;
Skirting, though present –
The moment speaks not
of tangible truths
that speak of tomorrows,
but rather the window
rarely looked into –
it is there
it is waiting,
but cannot be taken with you,
nor fed to the mortal –
only to continue
in the souls of lovers –
perhaps truer than
the love of lovers itself.

The sex of poets preys
upon the passion saved
over years and decades
desires of the flesh
never satisfy the wound
of ages past
of pains neglected
merely masking in mum
the yearning ever mounting
to release with a single
sound
The silence is broken,
fears relinquished;
the rebirth of hopes
fills the air –
thick with the essence of now
and hint of next,
never to be sure.
The bliss lies within,
ever longing.
Separate worlds entwined –
an affair of the id
within…
Never lucid to the searching,
but in control.
When no longer logic bids you
surrender, at last call
with bursting souls;
hungrier still, the eve –
power of the word
has finally come, the time.