Okay, the first day is in the books, and it was a lot of fun. But we’ve got plenty of poeming left to go.
For today’s prompt, write a “not today” poem. Maybe it’s normal to give in to outside pressures, but not today. Or maybe you’re usually very disciplined in your health and wellness habits, but not today. Or maybe you struggle to write poems, but not today.
*****
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*****
Here’s my attempt at a Not Today Poem:
“when you say we’ll see”
i see exactly what i want
being hoisted high above me
& know it won’t happen today
because “we’ll see” is code
for “maybe” which is code
for “when hell freezes over”
so we’ll see i guess we’ll see
& in the meantime i’ll plot out
my moves toward plan b
*****
Robert Lee Brewer is Senior Content Editor of the Writer’s Digest Writing Community and author of Solving the World’s Problems (Press 53). He always has a plan b and probably says, “We’ll see,” a little too frequently.
Follow him on Twitter @RobertLeeBrewer.
*****
Sijo #2: Not Today But Tomorrow
No tubes and spikes, twenty-four clear hours: peace, a final decision.
Through our stream of goodbyes we felt time stretch to decades.
Noon sun paved past shore: you, now young, took off running, dog at your heels.
ENOUGH
Enough is enough
Upset by politics
Going the wrong way
A sharp right turn
Backward into times
Best left behind
I speak my mind
Resisting backsliding
But I need respite
From bad news…
So tomorrow I’ll be
Back to the grind
But not today
© 2017 Robert Mihaly
Posted to:
https://artifiswordpresscom.wordpress.com/2017/04/20/enough/
The Integumentary System
It is what the world sees,
from ivory to ebony,
symbolic of heritage and health.
It advances with age—
the more lines,
the longer the timeline.
Twenty-two square feet of a durable, elastic material,
sometimes marred with scars,
freckles,
or uneven pigments—
indicative of disease—
it drapes our muscles,
our bones—
a cutaneous covering
that secrets the workings underneath.
In shades of white-blond
to tar-black,
it is a glorious crown;
sometimes it’s sensitive
and has a bad day.
Some is fine and straight,
others, kinky,
both enduring color and heat
in the name of beauty.
It frames the eyes like fans,
adds ten years to young men’s faces,
or falls out,
adding ten years to old men’s heads.
It was the glory of Samson,
Rapunzel’s ladder,
Jo March’s independent currency.
It is shaved in protest and
in camaraderie for others with cancer;
it is refrained from clipping for salvation’s sake,
even as it is sold for its preciousness.
The weapons of mass seduction,
painted in assorted colors,
and sometimes the indigestible chewable
of a nervous habit.
Whether weapons in defense of rape,
or branding tools of mates during orgasm,
they are the crescent moons
that grow on the ends of fingers.
It is the cover we wear—
our identity—
easily changed through chemicals,
contacts,
or surgery.
It encompasses the cup fillings
that nourish the children,
that make children of men,
that must not move
in polite society.
And for some women,
it must all be covered,
for it offends a man’s perception of
the God who created such heavenly creatures.
Family, Defined
“…no other success can compensate for failure in the home.”
–David O. McKay, the Ninth President of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints
For the Mormons,
it was the path to salvation.
For the Christians,
it was till death.
For those without,
it was friends.
For those with bad ones,
it was never again.
For those with good ones,
it was often history, repeated.
For me,
it was all of these things
and none of these things.
write a poem today
that’s the challenge, they say
I have excuses galore
let me think of some more
start with late rising
no lack of surmising
the house is a mess
when I’ll clean is a guess
have plenty of time
to think of more rhymes
will I ever succeed
i guess I just need
inspiration to come
but I have none
or little today.
The voice inside
That screams its ‘not enoughs’
You leave your mind
Cracked open just enough
For it to crawl back in
And wreak havoc
With inner peace
Time to take
Your power back
Grab the caulking gun
Fill in the cracks
With gold tinged
Hopes and dreams
Stare down self doubt
Shout at the top of your lungs
‘Not today!’
SKIP IT
You experienced the past,
we want the future.
Skip it.
Another trap in our mind,
we need the key to break it out.
Skip it.
You lived the life,
we want to fly.
Skip it.
Another moment in the chaos,
we need to be in someone’s skin.
Skip it.
Keep it for now,
keep it to win.
REMAKING THINGS WHOLE
for S.M.
He cleaned up trigger trash – made it his job
to pick up after those other plinkers who
treated the woods like a garbage dump. Spent
cartridges, gun-shard glass, even an ammo
clip; refrigerator riddled with bullet holes,
rusting into forest litter. Got his buddies to help
load it in his pickup, haul it away to recycling.
That man cleaned up the mountain
like it was his home. Smiled when the birds
sang thanks, even the old tattered raven
high in a pine. He’s gone, the clean-up plinker,
fallen like a grandfather oak in storm.
What would he say, now, to the trees girdled
with bullet holes, dying? How do you
pick up an empty hole for recycling,
to make it in a new way whole? Who shot
the trees? Who will pick up where he left off,
if not today?
Some days
He wakes with the sun,
Rising to the challenge.
Some days
He laughs with his children
And marvels at how they’ve grown.
Some days
His soul sings a melody
That he is eager to share.
Some days
The pain gives him respite,
Allowing him to breathe.
Today
Every step is pain,
Every breath is pain,
Everyone is pain.
Some days
He awakens.
Not today.
Not Today
The list just sat there
chores awaiting to be done
not today I say
NOT TODAY
The dog barks at 5 AM
I just fell into bed at four
A last drink filled to the brim
And I was just beginning to snore
I groan and cover my head
Bury it under the pillows
But that confounded bed
Is still rocking on the billows
Maybe if I just ignore
the loud, frenetic barking
He can take himself out the door
but that’s too much to be asking
For he jumps on the bed
Causing the boat to rock even more
He eagerly licks my head
And I jump ship and head for shore
**SELF-HARM TRIGGER WARNING**
He Wants to Dissociate the Pronouns, but Doesn’t</strong.
In thumb and first finger, tying,
I twist the skin in a pretend knot
today, like yesterday, trying
not to bruise the muscle for
the minimal pain, an exchange
of aching which leaves me spotless
but breaking; the external heat received
from the beat of the internal flood;
tear stains rinse away far cleaner
than blood, trading hurt for hurt
the heart pumps hopefulness
and self-defeating relief
that these secret beatings can stay
and there is more to come of this darkness
being both victim and thief,
if only I am not found out today.
I’LL BE ME
I’ll be okay
Like a phoenix from the ashes
I will rise
My eyes will be dry
My heart will stop screaming
I’ll stop searching the faces of strangers
I won’t be afraid
To love and be loved
I’ll smile and laugh
And kiss and hug
I’ll be strong
I’ll be confident
I’ll be me
But not today
Just Like Every Other Day
I used to remember
those times I
was blown away,
cast like sand
from where I’d stand
to watch you, while
winds capricious
into my youthful visage
carved what now is age.
But not today.
To my mind, you might be
a cloud of dust,
amorphous, nebulous
and just
impossible to grasp.
Though if I could,
I’d hold you tightly,
where I stood,
as in an hourglass,
and you’d never blow away.
Not then, not tomorrow,
not today.
This morning, a moment.
I, as ever, alone and
staring in a mirror at
these ancient scars,
vivid as a clear
summer night’s stars,
those stellar sands,
sifted through my own hands.
And I heard a voice say
“You recall how I got them
like was yesterday.”
“I guess,” I replied,
but it always hurts like
it was just today.”
Oh my gosh—a other typo… Sorry
The Day I Forgot How to Dance
The beat came
Then went
While my feet
Cement
Like my heart
Too heavy to be lifted
Every song had
No rhyme or melody
And my soul
Tasted gray
The day
I forgot
How
To dance
I actually wrote this after my dad passed away over a year ago. Never published it because that would make it real.
The Day I Forgot How to Dance
The beat came
Then went
While my feet
Cement
Like my heart
Too heavy to be lifted
Every song had
No rhyme or melody
And my soul
Tasted gray
The day
I forgot
How
To dance
This is offered for
I actually wrote this after my dad passed away over a year ago. Never published it because that would mean it was real….
April’s Fool
Yesterday
I was
the cunning trickster
hyping possibilities, alternative facts
almost believable even to myself,
but then they tell me dreams
reveal ambitions we didn’t know we had.
Hell, if I’d known, I’d have gone
Bigger than the county poet’s seat.
Watch out Juan Felipe Herrera,
United States Poet Laureate!
Here I come,
but not
Today.
Someday you will hear a song
while shopping
It will be a familiar friend
and you will hum along
One day a passing car will catch you
singing loudly and off key
to a tune on the radio
You won’t care
Someday you will know my songs
without knowing me
Someday
But not today
the robin adds
more mud to her nest–
spring cleaning
revision:
the robin packs
more mud into her nest–
spring cleaning
final revision:
the robin spreads
more mud around her nest–
spring cleaning
Unspoken Things
He tells me we’ll go tomorrow-
and without protest
I put down the car keys
and kick off my untied shoes,
sinking into the worn out couch
cushions. His glasses rest
on his nose end and outline
his eyes like a picture frame.
I stare into them for a moment
like a memory.
He is unmoved when I lay my head
on his shoulder, a small sigh releasing
from his mouth. I close my eyes
and forget where we were supposed
to go to begin with;
before I drift off thinking,
not today.
~rattle~
forget, sorrow
your anniversary
in case
you’re not
alone
Not Today
Waking to the tornado warning
one wildflower filled county away
I wanted to get up
and hurry to the store
Before the grey skies dropped
the promised hail.
Mama needed a few things
she’d said yesterday
Feeling neglected by visitors
who visited the the town and
not just her.
They’re intentions were good
they took her for bar be que
with beautiful young people
near tall buildings
And to a late dinner
where trees
were wrapped in lights,
But the storm came in quickly
and the promised hail and damage
and that trip to the store
Didn’t happen
Not today.
Disclaimer
Someday you’ll be a faint reflection
a claustrophobic memory
bobbing up to the surface
in melancholy bursts
without form
without substance
but not today
Disclaimer
Someday you’ll be faint reflection
a claustrophobic memory
bobbing up to the surface
in melancholy bursts
without form
without substance
but not today
NOT TODAY
The sun shone yesterday all day long.
First thing the air was filled with birdsong
until I could no longer hear it over children’s shouts
and after neighbours’ lawn mowers were all fetched out.
That was Saturday, kids were all playing outdoors,
their mums and dads were catching up with chores.
Not today. It is peaceful. There’s no-one playing:
It’s raining and all the kids indoors are staying.
I can hear birdsong again, watch the ducks on the pond
and the odd dog walker as they walk around,
and I’ll walk my dog in the rain to Lusty Glaze.
People wonder why I like rainy Sundays.
*******
Passing
Why,
Do I wait,
For tomorrow
When
Yesterday’s
Already gone
Why,
When the world
Keeps on going
Is
It, today,
I am stuck on?
Not today
When it comes time I will crumble,
and float like pollen on the breeze –
get up all of your noses, then
commingle with the earth’s great seas.
Not today, not today
When it comes time I’ll run away
Pull my thin coat tight in the sleet –
melt like butter on a crumpet,
an oily sheen on neon streets.
But not today, not today
Come the time I shall disappear,
fade away leaving just a grin –
effacement atom by atom,
memory by memory: Fin.
Yet not today, not today
(c) 2017 Caroline Hutchinson
https://carolinehutchinson.wordpress.com/2017/04/04/not-today/
Procrastination
A characteristic I’ll address tomorrow
#seventeensyllablesfortwentyseventeen
Nope; Not Today
Not going to sleep
on my woken dreams today.
By Pamelap
that knot today
that
knot today
that
you twisted in your hair
that
you feel in your gut
that
you found in your breast
as you wait for the tests
is not bigger than God’s however…
not today… not tomorrow… not ever
Not Today
The message was clear from beginning to end
Undeniable truth of the presence of God
Undeniable to all, but still up for debate
As to what must be done; accept or reject
She held the pew tightly with sweat on her brow
A decision that she would one day have to make
But not today
Another time listening to yet another sermon
Her heartstrings tugged by an invisible force
Self distracted once more with gobbledygook
Still greatly bothered by the truth and the tugs
Not realizing that no decision is still a decision
She waits out the moment, still not giving in
Not today
Out on her own, she makes all the decisions
Dad calls and invites her to the Sunday service
Not today, dad, got things to do
I love you, he says, maybe next time
Years pass not once shadowing the door
Of the church her parents took her to
Until that phone call arrived with bad news
A weak heart took her father away
At the funeral his life story was told
With an urging for all within earshot
To heed that still small voice and
Give in to the free and eternal gift
She cried at her loss, but didn’t give in
Not today
Tears filled her eyes as she left the funeral
She never saw the red light
Life is filled with Not Today’s
Some no big deal
Others life changing
But only one is eternal
LIFE ON MARS by Ken Bentz
Scientists have hope.
They found a billion-year-old
fossilized bacterium in a chunk of ice.
I have some live ones on my toilet,
But I wouldn’t want to live there either.
*snort chuckle*
It’s Been that Same Ole Same Ole Thang…Yet Not
It’s been one of those same ole same oles
yet quite different from any other same oles
you know what I mean?
Hope you do., as I sure don’t.
I would love to know
what I’m doing wrong.
And what I am meant to do.
To Do: Clean the Bathroom
Something always falls off the bottom of the list. I guess
I lean in, on the top, and the tasks twitch and panic,
look for an exit. They peer over the stile
where nightly the sheep leap
and they fling themselves
into tomorrow.
Haha, yes!!
Today
Today there are only strawberry jams.
Not traffic.
Today the robos
Don’t call
The pundits
Don’t pun
No pedo, hemo or any philia
No opinions, beliefs, leanings, learnings no del, fac or any other kind of toid
No optim, pessim, anti-semit or any other ism
Sun in face
Wind in hair
And out.
Not exactly what I was hoping for
Not really what I was praying for
Not intentional
definitely not conditional
No other way to categorize it
other than
“No thanks, not today!”
Not Today
Normally I’m
The first to shoulder someone else’s burden
But not today.
Normally I’m
The last to lavish time to myself
But not today.
Normally I’m
The simpering, spineless yes-sayer
But not today.
Normally I’m
The ever-malleable ‘nice’ guy
But not today.
Today, I’m someone else
Who dares to talk back
And strives to claw back
Those few scraps of self-esteem.
Nice! I really like the rhythm of your poem.
Thank you very much 🙂
NOT TODAY
is the mantra of the hesitant ones, those who
never found a passion or a goal that
could rouse them to bless the world.
Not Today believes, in spite of
overwhelming evidence to the contrary,
that there will always be a tomorrow.
Not Today has built a barrier of excuses
that blocks the door to the future
and allows the atrophy of the soul.
I really like your word choices in this poem! I especially like the second stanza. You are correct. If “not today” then there must be another time when….
Wow, this is so deep, and a good ‘kick up the bum’ poem to boot! Nice work
SUNRISE, PERSPECTIVE
In the sure
silence of black space,
you will not
find a sun-
rise. Up, and around, though, you’ll
see a thousand more.
-JR Simmang
Just had to say
Though I’m working on today
Yesterday’s poems were grand
And I give a hand
to my top picks:
1.But Just Not Today – N.Posey
2. Not Today – Bushwils (?)
3. Maybe Tomorrow -Rosansela CT
4. Opener – gr c.
5. Four to Five – Sara McNulty
Tanka
“not today thank you”
I say for the umpteenth time
to a cold caller
their voices the only ones
I hear through these lonely days
Still working on day one. Happy to write poetry again.
#1 Not Today
Not today, will an egg white, vegetable omelet and un-cured turkey bacon,
healthy protein and kale shake, lean meat and salad with oil and vinegar dressing,
a peanut butter cup substitute of one rice cake with no salt, low-fat peanut butter and twelve dark chocolate chips and flavored seltzer water pass these lips.
No, not today, because today is breakfast at the local diner with biscuits and gravy, pizza with four ounces of Malbec wine or maybe a full-bodied beer, or steak with baked potato, butter and sour cream and cheesecake hall-pass day. Today my gut will seek revenge.
#2 Not Today
Not today will I let the loss
of a lover twenty years
my junior who left the sheets
we shared for a ready-made family
rob me of my remaining youth
not today on the cusp of the
fourth anniversary of my
husband’s passing
will death steal away what
spirit within me persists
NOT TODAY
–:–
no rain today, prayed for or unbidden
no dinosaurs, no asteroids, no plague
no sliver moon or morning star to guide you
no handsome stranger standing at the gate
no inspiration falling from the heavens
no voice of God in burning bush or cave
no poetry in everyday existence
when you decide to always play it safe
Chops and Wings
Do you know the tale
of the Bremen Town musicians?
The chicken on the dog on
the pig on the donkey—
or something like.
It doesn’t matter. The chicken
liked the view. Thought
she was entitled to it.
But the dog had fleas,
the itchy kind—not
the plague kind,
And the pig was unsteady
on his little trotters—
you know how slippery
donkey hair is.
So today the chicken, whose
job it was to warn
the others, failed,
And the robbers had both
chops and wings
for dinner.
The dog and donkey
have their own show
in town now—
Hamburg—not Bremen Town.
Triolet
A day might come when I get some sleep
And wake refreshed to greet the day:
No nightly feasr, nor troubles keep
Away the slightest hope of sleep.
At 3 a. m. awake I lay.
I weary of counting unnumbered sheep:
A day may come when I get some sleep
– Today is not that day.
Oh boy! I can relate to this. Nicely done.
Thank you! You have my condolences 🙂
Not Today
The place is tidy, just as I want it
Sunlight and flowers on my nightstand
Friends chatting through the door
The bill basket empty
He won’t be back now
With his raised voice and hands
With lies and threats and promises
No more
The locks are thrown
The table seats one
The music is mine
And the bed is a twin
I said No More this time and meant it
Just as much as before
I didn’t take it back, or him
When I said it
No bullet on the nightstand
No women with only first names
No changing past
No tears I can’t cry
I drain the sink
And hang the towel
And pull his beer from the fridge
And take it to him
Available in Paperback (Not Today)
On sale! Cheap!
Seventy-five thousand words.
(Assembly required.)
There was a pile of words,
disassembled, trying to make
sense, pass along a message
in their mess.
The writer longed to call
the story written, but instead
became smitten with endless
editing and coffee addiction.
Excellent.
Thank you, Misky!
SPRING STORMS
There was a time
in my life long ago
that days like today
excited me…
filled me with energy…
expectation…
And ~
Wonder…
But not today …
Spring Storms no long
have the meaning of my youth…
my young adult life…
They once brought the
possibility of fireworks
the coming together
of two should creating
magic as one
But not today …
Those storms held
memories of a wild and
crazy youth while today
they have a new magic
A magic of renewal
and restoration of
the Earth as she
drinks deeply of
life-giving rain
Praising Spring
as new life is given
for trees, flowers, and
young tender vegetables
Those youthful days elicit
amazing memories
while spring storms now
bring a promise of
the Future …
Copyright © 2017 Sharyl
Always…I wish you peace, joy and happiness, but most of all I wish you Love.
As Ever, Sharyl