Daily Verse a short verse (almost) every day


The seas have risen,
there is fire in the sky.
The animals are all gone,
not a bird left to fly.

The flowers have turned to dust,
to ash the webs of vine.
Here, at the end, I ask of you:
will you be my valentine?


They said you weren’t coming,
I was told not to wait:
and make a reservation
before it was too late.

I really want to see you,
there is so much to say.
But my calendar’s all booked
for the rest of the day.

If only I’d kept me free,
we’d be together tonight.
Instead, you’re now leaving
by an early morning flight.

When will I be able
to see you like this again?
I won’t be me, you won’t be you,
it won’t be now, then.


Naturally bitter,
artificially sweet.
A warm, welcoming,
intoxicating treat.

Mysteriously dark, yet
familiar and friendly.
Liquid and solid,
gooey and deadly.

An indulgence for the happy,
a consolation for the sad.
An accelerant of passion;
aphrodisiac for the mad.

A pleasure without guilt,
a substance without abuse.
No, I’m not addicted.
Yes, I’ll have that mousse.


I’m waiting at the airport
for you to arrive.

As each passenger exits,
I look into their face.
A quick jaunt
from hope to doubt,
from recognition
to the lack thereof,
to disappointment,
to worry.

All in the briefest of moments.

We who wait look to each other,
never saying a word
but silently nodding inside
with a shared appreciation
of this fleeting pathos.

I know you’re coming,
and as soon as you arrive
life kicks into gear,
conversing and commuting.

But until then, I’m waiting.


To live a life of truth one must
make good friends and earn their trust,
care and help and love and heal,
fill one’s heart with zest and zeal.

Find the thing that’s right to do,
make a plan and follow through.
Do not balk at those in need:
help the fallen to their feet.

Focus on the task at hand.
Be prepared to make a stand.
Do not lust for fame or fans —
the myth comes later, first the man.