Future Poems

Come thou, thou last one, whom I recognize,
unbearable pain throughout this body's fabric:
as I in my spirit burned, see, I now burn in thee:
the wood that long resisted the advancing flames
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You may forget but
let me tell you
this: someone in
some future time
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Only on me, the lonely one,
The unending stars of the night shine,
The stone fountain whispers its magic song,
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Can rules or tutors educate
The semigod whom we await?
He must be musical,
Tremulous, impressional,
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The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects' faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the
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The God separated a spirit from Himself and fashioned it into Beauty. He showered upon her all the blessings of gracefulness and kindness. He gave her the cup of happiness and said, 'Drink not from this cup unless you forget the past and the future, for happiness is naught but the moment.'
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Introduction: Eyes can be deceiving...So don't give up with a snap because Its only the beginning. Fight it, ease in your future and make it glow from the gray vicinity.
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The future: time's excuse
to frighten us; too vast
a project, too large a morsel
for the heart's mouth.
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XLII

'My future will not copy fair my past'—
I wrote that once; and thinking at my side
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BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give
Color and form to mine,
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Cool breeze and fresh air,
Give comfort and raise hair,
Body relaxed and sound sleep,
Novel ideas and insight to peep,
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A prince stood on the balcony of his palace addressing a great multitude summoned for the occasion and said, "Let me offer you and this whole fortunate country my congratulations upon the birth of a new prince who will carry the name of my noble family, and of whom you will be justly proud. He is the new bearer of a great and illustrious ancestry, and upon him depends the brilliant future of this realm. Sing and be merry!" The voices of the throngs, full of joy and thankfulness, flooded the sky with exhilarating song, welcoming the new tyrant who would affix the yoke of oppression to their necks by ruling the weak with bitter authority, and exploiting their bodies and killing their souls. For that destiny, the people were singing and drinking ecstatically to the heady of the new Emir.

Another child entered life and that kingdom at the same time. While the crowds were glorifying the strong and belittling themselves by singing praise to a potential despot, and while the angels of heaven were weeping over the people's weakness and servitude, a sick woman was thinking. She lived in an old, deserted hovel and, lying in her hard bed beside her newly born infant wrapped with ragged swaddles, was starving to death. She was a penurious and miserable young wife neglected by humanity; her husband had fallen into the trap of death set by the prince's oppression, leaving a solitary woman to whom God had sent, that night, a tiny companion to prevent her from working and sustaining life.
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The letters always just evade the hand
One skates like a stone into a beam, falls like a bird.
Surely the past from which the letters rise
Is waiting in the future, past the graves?
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day day day or history should I call you?
To you future is alien, only present is the ink that fills your pen
Your pen that has never licked the same letters upon the book of time.
On the pages of seconds you carve universes silent whisper
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I shall gather myself into myself again,
I shall take my scattered selves and make them one,
Fusing them into a polished crystal ball
Where I can see the moon and the flashing sun.
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POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!
Not to-day is to justify me, and answer what I am for;
But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than
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I thought there would be a grave beauty, a sunset splendour
In being the last of one's kind: a topmost moment as one watched
The huge wave curving over Atlantis, the shrouded barge
Turning away with wounded Arthur, or Ilium burning.
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Because gods perceive future things, men what is happening now,
but wise men perceive approaching things.

Philostratus, Life of Apollonius of Tyana, VIII, 7.
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I thank God for having sent me here,
What did I bring? Bare body and no wear,
No sense, nothing to see, only to hear,
Opening eyes slowly and gently with fear,
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The future is not here yet.

"Present" and "Future" are not equal.
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imagine future look arouns present watch out past.
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hope is not in future future is in the hope already.
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Aliens do not make computers on Earth.
Only humans make computers on Earth.

"We" (no aliens) use computers for science fiction.
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Ain't no future for the present
Ain't no future for the past
Want to be there
When the future comes
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Future is nothing but castle in the air
Figment of imagination.
Refuge of the weak,
Abode of day dreamers
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Past, present and future

Dr. Varanasi Ramabrahmam
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time tells a vocabulary
time tells a tale of a grand vocabulary
the test of time is the test of a grand vocabulary
the test of time is the test of a grand magician
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NOSTALGIC INSTALLATIONS..BKARAER
TO MY NİGHT ……………….. GENCAY

NOSTALGIC INSTALLATIONS …………..
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Right now the
future is really
sad
Sometimes I want
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