“Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But, since no one was listening, everything must be said again.” – Andre Gide
The dew isn't frozen for a change,
each step leaves a dark hole,
a trail to my soggy shoes.
Once again,
I stand at the old wooden shed door
with a bent, rusty key
that no longer turns the stuck lock.
It would be easy to break in.
Inside,
the axe,
the scythe,
the shears,
all in need of sharpening.
I'm not ready yet.
Written for Poets and Storytellers #246 – spring. Look at that. I actually wrote a seasonal poem.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Do you see this home I made,
as well, the streets, houses and moon?
You are just a game I play,
ceasing to exist very soon.
Once out of sight, out of mind;
mere puppets dancing on my strings;
Life is illusion, you'll find
no magic with what freedom brings.
I will create the rainbows
or thunder as my mood dictates;
My rules, nobody knows,
along with all your future fates.
If you deign to interfere
I'll fill you full of distraction;
Better say your prayers right here
and give us both satisfaction.
This poem is based on the four stanzas of Soliloquy of the Solipsist by Sylvia Plath.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Leaving dusty footprints on Texan soil,
a drifting unemployed taxi driver.
Stumbling through nights of doubt,
towards seedy lighthouses that shone brightest.
He scratched her name on napkins, in margins,
on the fogged glass of Greyhounds—
rehearsing a love that would never be more
than a monologue for his mirrors.
Believing the act would be a sentence,
six shots, one ricocheted love letter,
so that on his arrival,
history might remember him
as something other than a ghost.
Shared with dVerse Poetics: Pilgrimage and reflecting on the story of John Hinckley Jr.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
A bully found within—
always the one wronged,
going to great lengths
to communicate your offence
at things so trivial.
You are the ironic
definition of the humdudgeon!
Almost obsolete in the dictionary
and modern use.
When you were needed most,
you were gone.
Shared with dVerse Quadrille #256 – ho-hum
From Deepseek:
Humdudgeon is a compound of hum and dudgeon.
Hum comes from Middle English hummen (to hum, buzz, drone), probably imitative in origin. Here it carries the sense of “humbug”—a hoax or imposition.
Dudgeon means a feeling of deep offence or resentment—as in the phrase “in high dudgeon” (furiously indignant). Its ultimate origin is uncertain, but it may come from the English dudgen (something worthless) or Italian aduggiare (to overshadow).
So the word combines the idea of something false or hollow (hum) with righteous indignation (dudgeon)—a fake grievance, an invented illness, a fuss over nothing.
One modern commentator noted the irony: at a time when taking offence seems increasingly popular, the near-obsolescence of humdudgeon—a word for needless offence—is “a bit odd”.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
There’s a strange bird in the tree
warbling weird birdsong at me.
I’m listening lazily.
~ Thinking that there will be a long time
of contemplating death ~
The sun shines down on me
and I’m smiling uncontrollably.
What a wonderful day to be.
True story.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Rebellion at the fingertips...
Is every Mao-suited Chinese man a wannabe beatnik?
Even the anti-hero unknowingly conforms to a borrowed script
succoured by allure.
Exhaled ethereal silver circles of thought,
while plotting...
Ritual rhythms at the Café de Flore,
stillness and motion in retro contrast.
A cowboy in cool contemplation
draws deep,
leaving footprints in the dust.
Inspired by the aesthetic pleasures of smoking. I am reformed but felt curious about the charm.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Shared with dVerse MTB: Five Leavings From Home and inspired by my own movement of home around the world.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Snow in my shoe
Abandoned
Sparrow’s nest
—circling cats
~~
I am nobody:
A red sinking autumn sun
Took my name away
—give it back, asshole!
~~
In the falling snow
A laughing boy holds out his palms
Until they are white
—the doctors try to reattach the fingers
~~
The crow took the sky,
brushing the clouds with its wings,
then folded them back,
—mangled in a jet engine.
~~
Empty baseball field
a robin hops along the bench
picking at peanut shells
—the bleachers have seen better days
~~
Office coffee break
we pretend not to notice
the new receptionist
—but welcoming cleavage defies
~~
First date at forty—
she straightens the salt shaker
between us twice
—hiding the damp between her legs
~~
Morning train delay
no one meets each other’s eyes
phone screens fill the car
—modern life really is rubbish
~~
Family reunion
we all share the same bad jokes
and different regrets
—but never speak of Uncle Jim
~~
Wedding reception—
the band plays “Unchained Melody”
for the third time
—give it a rest, guys
I decided to ruin some perfectly good haiku/senryu. All credit to the authors and their italicised original writing – whoever they are.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
A quick write after reading this tiny thought by Shane Parrish, “We spend time chasing money, then spend money chasing time.”
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Inspired by a Daily Stoic email about waiting and the story of James Stockdale. The Killing Joke song The Wait popped into my head, so I looked up the lyrics (below) and as you can see, I appropriated half of each line to make a new write.
The Wait – Killing Joke
Motives changing, day to day
The fire increases, mass decay
I look at the river, white foam floats down
The body’s poisoned, got to sit tight
After awakening, the silence grows
Screams subside, distortion shows
Mutant thoughts of bad-mouthed news
It’s just another birth of distorted views
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
