Daily Verse a short verse (almost) every day


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.


Isn’t it pathetic that
in my moment of weakness,
of doubt,
when I am brought to question
the fundamentals of my own identity,
I seek the one I hurt,
who rejected and left me,
and find solace in the beauty
that she creates,
that she embodies,
that she exudes,
and it is through my ability
to recognize that beauty,
to love her still,
that I am brought back
to myself,
to calm,
to peace,
to grace.


The first thing I noticed was the hair,
then the jacket, the gait, the confident stare.

The piercing paragon of perfection impaled
by a single solitary blemish unveiled.

Not divinity, no, but a regular woman.
Perhaps that’s the most we get as humans.

If not worship, maybe we get to love,
to have and hold and be happy thereof.