The Daily Poison
Sunday, February 3rd, 2008
So a couple weeks ago, I thought that it’d be cool to read a poem to myself once a day. Sort of like following the old aphorism “Starting the day right.” I wouldn’t say that it was a confidence thing. More like find myself some soulful nourishment before going into that cold, hostile environment.
Caveat: It’s not the co-workers that are hostile, but rather the room and environment is. To quote Armageddon “Imagine the most hostile environment ever.”
Off topic: Paige Davis from Trading Spaces is HOT.
So, a couple weeks ago, I went to google.com and did some searches. I used terms like “Daily Poem” or “Poetry Mailing List” etc. The results came in two categories:
Self-affirmations and Other
To those who missed out on those missable Saturday Night Live episodes in the late 80s, Self-affirmations are poems where you stand in front of a poem and just recite something to build your own confident. The phrase “I’m good enough, I’m smart enough and doggone it, people like me” epitomizes this movement perfectly.
I can’t imagine basing my confidence on a poem I received off of the Internet.
There were hundreds of these Daily affirmation mailing lists.
The “Other” category only had two entries. The daily Shakespeare sonnet, and the daily haiku. Now what I was looking for was a potpourri mailing list. Where one day I may be reading some Poe, and the next something out of the Sonnets of the Portugese. Give me something written by a wild-eyed long-nailed Aboriginal shaman. Give me an excerpt of an old Viking rowing song.
Give me something RANDOM and PASSIONATE.
And instead, I had to settle for a daily Haiku.
I don’t have anything against haikus. They’re cute. They can be deep. They’re short. They’re not filling. But they are fun.
But for FOKK’S sake! Here are the last two haikus I received from this list:
clipping toenails -
each one chooses
a new direction
-Edmund Hardy
Soft footsteps
of students bunking
class test
-R K Singh
Do people know what a haiku is? 5-7-5 syllabic structure people. It isn’t hard! That’s all I ask. These poems refuse to respect the time honored traditions of the form.
I do like the toenail one though.

