Nobody thinks they are wrong, even when they are They think they’re right, they’re just mistaken Compassion and tolerance can heal the scar Our duty, as we understand it, remains unshaken
An ambulance was called to the library and the children all ushered out After Ms Lee collapsed while reading The incident, recalled without doubt
“Did the monster get the lady, mum?” questioned Eli, who had covered his eyes Ms Lee’s voice was nice but even at age 4 Eli knew that there would be a surprise
Marie was the new library volunteer And just passed her course on CPR Jumping up and checking for a pulse In her story, she became the star
Bobby, Ms Lee’s son, was called And he felt guilty at his selfish thoughts He struggled to drive to the hospital Obviously feeling out of sorts
Old Mrs Gupta had been in the M to N’s when she emerged to all the commotion She saw the event as a rehearsal as it unfolded in slow motion
Ms Lee herself looked to the frightened faces the sounds and light began to fade As everything softened and became pale She recalled all the quiet joys she had made
Written for Reena’s Xploration prompt #414, expanding on this prompt idea: A novelist creates a story told by five narrators, each contradicting the others.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
Push For Deep Understanding
The first page is not enough, leaving understanding rough; For the lesson to remain a keeper, You gotta go deeper and deeper.
A tanka, shared with Reena’s Xploration #400 – inspired by the attached picture from The Marginalian’s An Almanac of Birds. These elusive birds are known as ‘jewels of the swamp’ and their song is a ‘sweet-sweet-sweet’ sound. Their name is derived from their colour, an almost fluorescent golden-yellow, like the robes of a papal prothonotary (a high-ranking cleric in the Catholic Church. I learned all this today, too.
The line ‘How I would bake bread in my safe European home’ is a reference to a time when I was about 12 and, with the help of my mother, I started baking bread. As I was obsessed with the Clash at the time I baked some bread rolls that spelled out the letters C-L-A-S-H, ‘Safe European Home’ being a song from their second album.
The line ‘I never flew Hurricanes in Greece’ is a reference to Roald Dahl and his book ‘Going Solo’ about his time as a fighter pilot in WWII. I just finished reading his book today. The mention of Proust is because I will start reading ‘In Search of Lost Time’ soon.
This poem is about not knowing what to write, knowing what to write, knowing what is important and the futility in sharing a few words with a few people.
The second part involves running it through the N+7 machine, where I have taken the following extracts to recompose, revise and make this new poem:
Captured above to maintain format.
The Underclass
It’s been several daylights now since I sat staring at this empty pain; waiting for the butchers of duty to erase this void spoken.
Thought of those hot daylights and nightmares in Rhodes; I thought how I wasn’t scared of the game then, wondering why I can’t get basis there again; Time – how I got to here and how important it feels to leave;
Thunder about the word collectors those saviours threaten about nouns
~ How to make goodbye to be better ~
How I would bake breath in my safe European honesty; Thought why those menaces cling more than the acquaintance of discipline since;
I never flew hysterical in grief; The only huns I fought were trial sorrows and I always sided with the underclass and loyal
Combination is telling me that it’s tone to state reality, Proust!; Hoping for a riot, that witch put me straight and cleared the form… as the books keep dropping all around outlines, the body spills across this empty pain;
The word collector erased throwing his lifetime into the fireplace (throwing his lip into the flesh).
Constant communiqués of despair The end of times always kept in mind The hollow rings of Happy New Year Distracting us from our daily grind We become living embodiments Of the catastrophes we’ve foretold Trapped within these dark environments Hopes are fading for the dreams we’re sold
Embolden the heart! Be courageous! Inspire action to defend the world Sell, not be sold to, is contagious Flags of faith, hope and courage unfurled Hope becomes the energy of change A radical audacious duty With optimism, we can arrange Our thoughts towards a life of beauty
Shared with Reena’s Xploration Challenge #380 for the prompt ‘Who will read my diary?” I read through other people’s writing for the prompt and considered all the further questions raised from this initial one. It led to a more stream-of-consciousness write this time, perhaps because my own thoughts are not so clear yet. Who will even read this explanation?
Who will read my diary? I don’t know.
If you were deeply inquisitive… I could be in trouble! Because I told it all…
(mostly, one or two things remain too shameful, even for me)
My words likely to upset as I recall random thoughts from thirty years ago.
How could a reader put it all into context without reading from the beginning?
I’ve been good
(again, mostly)
for the last decade or two.
Thanks for the statute of limitations in the few different countries I’ve lived!
(I only stole from corporations anyway; and I haven’t written that story yet, but I will)
If you chose to take the time to read through it all you would only see yourself and hopefully you already know what you are all about…
If I wished anyone to read my diary it would be the children, to inspire them to keep going and never give up.
A little brighter today and trying to fight laziness. Must push hard as I spend a lot of my free time lying down and reading. I love reading but need to move my body more. What to do?
(Later) I avoided the dreaded nap today by playing guitar badly for more than an hour in my room and messing around sorting files on my computer for music and comics. Both things get me so excited, along with reading books too.
And before I know it, it’s dark outside, early evening as the winter slowly creeps nearer, yet I feel full of energy.
Health:
Physical: 7 Mental: 7
Today I’m grateful for:
The lady who served me at Tanapiraya, who remained fairly calm as there were many customers at the time and then she had to figure out what the free items were that the store was giving away and deal with the technology of the till software, which wasn’t doing what she wanted.
The best thing about today was:
Playing guitar was enjoyable, though the cheap strings that I bought are making me appreciate the more expensive ones that I will buy again in the future. As I’m pretty much just bashing away, it doesn’t matter too much but even I can tell that it should sound better!
I also just finished writing a poem connected with Native American mythology and compassion. I really enjoyed composing it and testing my brain with ideas.
Something I learned today?
Psephology is the scientific study of elections. I learned this from a poem I read today! ‘Psephos’ means pebble in Greek and ‘psephomancy’ is divination by pebbles. Pebbles were used by ancient Greeks in voting.
I took this picture because I was surprised by his sudden appearance as I was working near the window this afternoon. He’s getting bigger. This evening he’s still around, having a little relax near our water tank where I gave him some chin-rubs and affection.
I want to see the grief expressed Hear the kind words manifest Let me celebrate the life I led To become immortal now I’m dead
You don’t need to shed those tears I got to enjoy so many years But being gone is a long, long time Don’t forget me and what was mine
What wishes made, to have been said Or ones wished retracted instead Look on my legacy for what it’s worth You’ll soon join me too, returned to earth
You and me, will all be forgot Ladies and gentlemen, that’s your lot!
Inspired by reading others’ poems about grief at dVerse this week and the idea of wanting to know how others feel about you once you are gone, much like my teenage student, who, after attempting suicide, said that she wanted to see her mother’s reaction once she was gone! 12th Feb 2026 – Shared with Reena’s Xploration #417 10th Apr 2026 – Shared with Poets and Storytellers #222 – Legacies
Today I’m feeling:
Tired and a little sick with a sore throat. I slept for almost twelve hours and crawled back in again at around 11 am, after a couple of coffees.
Today I’m grateful for:
Amy told me that she was talking to a village auntie (the cowman’s wife) over the fence this morning and asked if I was teaching at CRPAO. Amy said yes and the auntie said that her son is in grade 8 and that even though I don’t teach him, she has heard that I’m a good and kind teacher.
That was nice to hear.
The best thing about today was:
Eating some nice food at Bruno and Nut’s place this evening. Even though I was feeling a little tired and sick, I enjoyed eating, talking and listening with them.
Something I learned today?
I watched an interesting video about a new DAW in development called Blockhead. Even though I don’t even use the DAWs that I have, I would still be interested in the idea of playing with them one day.