sitting
The Benefactor – 26th August 2026
In shadows, with coins and a crafted line,
to make a people's grief align
with foreign maps, foreign plans,
to break the chains with borrowed hands.
Suddenly, a protest grown—
the grievance true, but the help a loan,
where interests wish a stolen throne.
Written for dVerse Quadrille #354 – protest
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Seeking Out Shipwrecks
We never suffer the loss when neccesary
To let go of the things we hold dear
A life filled with your philosophy
Is all that we need to keep near
Morning Paralysis – 25th August 2026
Waking up for each morning’s graces
I analyse my thoughts from twenty paces
Before a single movement, I’m off to the races
Paralysed with the fear of my many faces
OCD has me trapped within its embraces
I’m one of the doctor’s strangest cases
Written for the Chimeric Poetry Scavenger Hunt:
Write a Quadrille as a Monorhyme.
This poem is written from the perspective of an old girlfriend of mine who suffered seriously from OCD, so much so that she couldn’t move her body when she woke, as her brain tried to work out the order that she needed to move her muscles in to get out of bed.
I’m pretty sure I borrowed the second line from someone but can’t remember who.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Respect The Past But Be Open To The Future
The pioneers are not our masters
But they surely are our guide
They make excellent forecasters
Take the future in your stride
A Life – 24th August 2026
made to be broken
pulled apart and examined
put it together
The most important haiku ever written.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Pillage From All Sources
Philosophy is not a contest
Wisdom is found everywhere
Pick and choose what’s best
For your morning prayer
Joining In – 23rd August 2026
A rainbow requires a rain that stings
against the broken beams of sunlight,
then slowly lifts its colour from the sky
or shatters into mist on the earth.
I watched each shimmering light
from across the valley,
and the highest peaks where
scraggly goats adjust their footing.
Meltwater races down
to the river rushing by,
where some fish brace the current's weight
and others choose to carelessly let go.
As another crossroads comes into view,
I hear the gravel crunching the tune
of both right and wrong.
I join them—flat-footed,
unsure, waiting.
Written for Poets and Storytellers United #241 – change
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
It’s In Your Self-Interest
Pleasure beyond its measure
Becomes a punishing test
Persuasion on occasion
Must appeal to self-interest
It’s Ars Poetica! – 22nd August 2026
I'm not so sure how to begin
but needing to find my place in
poetdom!
Started writing—the muse's call
always knowing I am the small
poetling!
Each day I scratched my thoughts on air
until my clumsy hand found there—
poethood!
Words that would make my mother cry
a joke that lights the evening—my
poetry!
Whatever the shapes or sounds or themes
I'm making worlds inside my dreams—
poetise!
Written for dVerse MTB: Compounding the Stem
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Don’t Sweat The Small Stuff
Evaluate the worth of your attention
Time is the only real thing you possess
Let the small stuff go without a mention
Let go of any unnecessary stress
Fading Away – 21st August 2026
Once in a lifetime, just once
you will know not to be scared
of death, as he approaches in
the periphery. Calm before his duty,
he gently takes your hand and
whispers you away. All storms
begin to settle, your medals tarnish,
your children’s laughter fades
to a hum, as all your prizes begin
to disappear, with his promise
that this sorrow will be only once,
just once. Once in a lifetime.
Shared with dVerse Poetics – Once in a Lifetime
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Don’t Be Miserable In Advance
It’s rumours for the soul to be anxious
To be miserable in advance of misery
It’s a sort of longing that’s thankless
When right now is the place to be
Worst Enemy – 20th August 2026
Love is a ladder
from hell.
Without it: just grey.
No song. No sun.
The gap
between
the notes
is
not just the music
but the hum.
Convert the poison
into honey
where life
and death embrace.
Silent and
patient,
until finally
finding grace.
The sinner
becomes a saint
but sometimes
the saint is a sinner.
Stop and step back
when you see
the murderer
in the mirror.
Inspired and paraphrased from Osho’s Live, Love, Laughter – chapter 4, I think, about love.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Where It Counts
Changing your clothes is a statement
Changing your haircut a fashion
Your thoughts are where it counts
Only you may see the passion
Pouring Out – 19th August 2026
All ideas already exist, waiting to be discovered by art.
An American Sentence inspired by the Red Hand Files #356. It may not look like much, but this poem is brilliant!
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Corralling The Unnecessary
Do fewer things and do them well
What’s necessary is easy to tell
Life is busy with so much to do
So ask yourself, do you really need to?
Murder House – 18th August 2026
The house dreamed itself perfect
with gleaming floors, white-brick smiles,
lawns kept trim and proper;
the fine print buried under elegant styles.
Inside, where rooms rehearse their lines:
promotion, bonuses, closing dates,
framed certificates, all little mirrors,
where “success” smoothed small mistakes.
Every door required a password,
every hallway became a funnel,
narrowing toward a single shining point
that lay at the end of the tunnel.
These dreams have their plumbing,
and somewhere underground
the pipes groan under pressure
until release is finally found.
The fairy tale of the bedroom,
turned on itself, 180 degrees;
love then became a ledger,
an audit brought to its bloodied knees.
A carefully budgeted future
splits along an invisible seam,
reckoning never knocks -
it’s built into the dream.
Outside, notifications soon circled
like headlines on a brand new day,
strangers pressed their faces
to the windows of the dream’s display.
Seeing not two people
but an x-ray of their own bargains:
what they traded sleep for -
“making it” with manicured gardens.
So, when the dream stood naked
under the fluorescent light of attention:
all the glittering milestones lined up
a bargain of murderous intention.
Reckoning is not thunder
but the moment the sun returns,
after the party, the scattered trash
collected, quietly burns.
The lawn keeps growing over,
as if to bury the past,
like nothing happened at all,
because nothing was built to last.
Inside the dream, he still sits
on the edge of his broken bed,
finally out of excuses,
reflecting on everything left unsaid.
Staring at his red reflection,
realising the story he’d been sold
had never been built
for this much truth to hold.
This poem is based on the article “Murder House” at Equator, which tells the story of the American Dream gone wrong for two intelligent Chinese immigrants and generated much online discussion back in China.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 