Tag: poetry
Thoughtless – 7th August 2026
i am a haiku
written on paper and leaves
i do as i do
A haiku to end all haikus
Struck From The Record – 6th August 2026
Stories that fell into the hole
so that no distractions could be made.
A single gunshot wound to the soul.
The images remain unseen, unpaid.
Lives suddenly non-existent;
documents denied by the punch,
but the memories are persistent.
History is always just a hunch.
The belief remains on their faces
but the message must project strength.
All the poor folks kept in their places
and their stories maintained at arm’s length.
Those long-gone faces returned to haunt,
their stories born again to be told.
New deals sold short would finally taunt,
as their futures would slowly unfold.
Inspired by this article by Stephanie at Extracurriculars:
Hole-Punched History
In the FSA archives, photos of The Great Depression are marred by an empty black void, forever obscured by the perfunctory click of a hole-punch.
Idiot Exposure – 5th August 2026
Thousands before breakfast
Scrolling through my feed
To test my own theories
Three or four is all I need
A perfect comic from Existential Comics – #633 – Aristotle on Democracy
Temporal Blindness – 4th August 2026
A poorly built machine
cannot conceive its fall.
The gears will grind in present-tense
until they do not turn at all.
Severed from tomorrow,
the meaning of now is lost.
It knows no drag of boredom,
but neither does it know the cost.
Written after reading this article at Smarter Brain Insider
Murder Girl – 3rd August 2026
She was the murder girl,
the bloodied knife held in her hand
dripping to the floor.
“I hate love,” so she said,
a rage risen from sick passions
screaming nevermore.
Never to be apart,
she just wanted to be alone,
tapping at the door.
Bookfuls of memories
piled high, set alight, enjoying
watching the flames roar.
Erasure of the past,
the future now written redder
than an open sore.
With a sigh of relief,
the act cannot be taken back;
What was it all for?
She was the murder girl
head and heart were separated
evening the score.
Mediocrity Museum – 2nd August 2026
“Everything is fine, it sure is swell”
The lie that everything is going well
Reliable, adequate – never too much
A chinless wonder, always out of touch
“Yes, yes, yes, I’m doing just fine”
Even with this jelly for a spine
At the bell curve, a perfect cog
More average than the trusted family dog
Easily recognised at the office hot desks
The most unremarkable of ‘mehs’
It’s not a sadness as far as you can tell
It’s beige on beige in a mediocre hell
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
We Can Work Any Way
No one is ever denied learning
No matter their circumstances
The wheel of life is always turning
And there are always more chances
Cross The Line – 1st August 2026
we tell a
story
an illusion of control
a cold comfort
in mourning
lines drawn in sand
random; unplanned
rally the troops around
fighting to the death
for their story
til strangers
on familiar grounds
we used to call home
Inspired by the various border wars around the world and copying the syllable count from a previously published poem by Matthew Maitland, including the borrowing of the final stanza. The poem has since been made unavailable.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Don’t Go Expecting Perfection
Why ponder the existence of nuisance?
It’s holding you back from getting started
Best to make do with how things are
And take on the task wholehearted
The Big ‘Oh!’s – 31st July 2026
Decades rush towards
an ever distant double-o.
Crossing off the milestones
one by one
we find less to celebrate.
And when lids finally close,
eyes open to a new world
with a big 'Oh!'
"That's what it all meant."
Destined to write poetry forever
next to Wilfred, Walt and William,
like old friends.
Written for dVerse – Launch and these thoughts came to me after reading Henry Rousseau’s tombstone epitaph, written by poet Guillaume Apollinaire:
“We salute you Gentle Rousseau you can hear us
Delaunay, his wife, Monsieur Queval and myself
Let our luggage pass duty free through the gates of heaven
We will bring you brushes, paints and canvas
That you may spend your sacred leisure in the
light and truth of painting
As you once did my portrait facing the stars, lion and the gypsy”
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Your Career Is Not A Life Sentence
Your work does not make you immune
From the end arriving soon
Just A Prayer – 30th July 2026
We filled our children full of hope—
What else were we supposed to do?
We taught them that to care is to cope
With the evils we’ll put them through.
Make it faith, or just a prayer—
Because what’s left when love’s not there?
Written for dVerse Quadrille #252 – care
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
1994ever 