#dailywriting — Public Fediverse posts
Live and recent posts from across the Fediverse tagged #dailywriting, aggregated by home.social.
-
a simple world
it just isn’t profitable if it
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
isn’t just profitable.
there are fields that
grow no food, fields that
clean no water, build no shelter;
there are professions invented wholesale
by wholesale; there are many who do
a work that bedevils even Hell; there
are places where nothing grows and
they are all around us, every day,
the world growing sterile from
those conducting a
work worse than idleness;
a mild destruction;
a narcissist wage;
all has been made complicated.
all has been made complicated.
it is profitable, just. -
storehouse syndrome
catch a smile on the air and
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing. -
storehouse syndrome
catch a smile on the air and
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing. -
storehouse syndrome
catch a smile on the air and
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing. -
storehouse syndrome
catch a smile on the air and
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing. -
storehouse syndrome
catch a smile on the air and
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
pin it to the shadowbox; find
something worth letting free and
keep it in a cage. the world is
cutting flowers from their stems
and putting them in water;
the world forgets to change the water –
everything dries, everything stays
intact and empty,
beautiful. lifelike. if you
bring your hand close you
can imagine it’s growing. -
home at last
home at last where the walls are rumbling,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last. -
home at last
home at last where the walls are rumbling,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last. -
home at last
home at last where the walls are rumbling,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last. -
home at last
home at last where the walls are rumbling,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last. -
home at last
home at last where the walls are rumbling,
#daily #DailyPoem #dailyPoetry #dailyWriting #Poem #poems #poetry #read #reading #Writing
where the skies are crumbling,
where sheets slicken with silken sheens
blotting sicknesses so defiled,
so revolting and reviled, where every
bed has been made by me
and made poorly; where
long-dead carpenters measured once and cut
twice, thrice, and again – the hourly
wages docked for drinking and
sent home before the work was done; all this
is half-finished, all this
is preamble to prologue. assembly guides
for a world constructed before birth; the
fabric stained in the bolts; the
wood worm-eaten in the forest –
and still, still, this
is home at last. -
SASORI, YANG BARU SEKARANG SEDIKIT BISA KUPAHAMI
Aku sudah mengikuti Naruto sejak anime ini pertama kali tayang. Waktu itu aku masih kecil, dan setiap minggu selalu menunggu episode berikutnya. Tanpa terasa, aku bahkan terus mengikutinya sampai episode terakhir. Tapi anehnya, baru sekarang aku bisa memikirkan karakter Sasori dengan cara seperti inihttps://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/08/23/sasori-yang-baru-sekarang-sedikit-bisa-kupahami/
-
KALAU AKU BISA MENGHAPUS SATU BAGIAN DARI SEJARAH
Ada kalanya aku memutar “Imagine” tanpa sedang memikirkan apa-apa. Lagunya cuma kebetulan ingin kudengar. Aku biarkan menyala di kamar sambil membuka ponsel, rebahan, atau sekadar diam karena hari sudah terasa melelahkanhttps://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/08/19/kalau-aku-bisa-menghapus-satu-bagian-dari-sejarah/
-
SEMINGGU, SEMBILAN NYAWA, NOL STRES
Entah magnet apa yang diam-diam dimiliki oleh kucing, karena sesekali aku benar-benar berharap bisa menjadi salah satu dari mereka—meski hanya selama seminggu. Jujur saja, aku sendiri tidak tahu magnet itu terbuat dari apa. Mungkin dari rasa percaya diri, mungkin dari kemalasan yang berhasil menyamar sebagai keanggunan, atau mungkin dari kemampuan ajaib untuk mengabaikan apa pun yang terjadi di sekelilingnya. Apa pun itu, daya tariknya selalu berhasil membuatku iri. Saat manusia sibuk […]https://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/07/15/seminggu-sembilan-nyawa-nol-stres/
-
TENTANG NEGERI KAYA DAN RAKYAT YANG DIMINTA BERSABAR
Jujur saja, selama ini aku tidak pernah menaruh perhatian sebesar ini pada urusan pemerintah. Hidupku lebih sering habis untuk mengejar penghasilan, merawat ide-ide yang tumbuh di kepala, lalu berharap semuanya bisa menjadi sesuatu yang layak dijual esok hari -
KEPADA MEREKA YANG BERTAHAN TANPA SUARA
Siang itu matahari menggantung tinggi di langit seperti bara raksasa yang enggan padam, menumpahkan cahaya dan panasnya tanpa ampun ke setiap sudut jalan yang dilaluinya. Aku memilih berteduh di sebuah tempat sederhana, sekadar mencari perlindungan dari terik yang membuat udara bergetar seperti tirai tipis yang tak terlihathttps://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/06/06/kepada-mereka-yang-bertahan-tanpa-suara/
-
KICAU KEDASIH, MITOS KEMATIAN, DAN JEJAK YANG TERTINGGAL DI ANTARA WAKTU
Saat masih kecil, ada banyak hal di dunia yang terasa lebih besar daripada kenyataannya. Salah satunya adalah suara burung kedasih yang sering terdengar dari kejauhan, menembus pagi yang masih basah oleh embun atau sore yang perlahan tenggelam dalam cahaya keemasan -
DI ANTARA ASAP KRETEK DAN SUNYI YANG BELUM SELESAI
Entah dorongan dari mana, sepagi ini aku tiba-tiba terbangun dari tidur yang biasanya begitu sulit dilepaskan. Jam dinding masih menunjukkan pukul setengah tiga pagi dengan detiknya yang terdengar lambat dan sepihttps://ceritauntukesok.wordpress.com/2026/05/29/di-antara-asap-kretek-dan-sunyi-yang-belum-selesai/
-
KURBAN, KEHIDUPAN MODERN, DAN KHUTBAH YANG TERASA TERLALU AMAN
Langit malam terasa sedikit berbeda hari ini karena gema takbir mulai terdengar dari berbagai arah kota. Lampu rumah menyala lebih lama dibanding biasanya dan aroma masakan pelan-pelan keluar dari dapur warga -
TENTANG ORANG-ORANG YANG TIDAK PUNYA PILIHAN SELAIN BERTAHAN
Beberapa bulan lalu, aku pernah berteduh di sebuah toko pakan kecil ketika hujan turun tiba-tiba tanpa aba-aba, seolah langit sedang menumpahkan sesuatu yang terlalu lama dipendamnya sendiri -
TENTANG HUJAN, KOPI HITAM, DAN ORANG-ORANG YANG BERTAHAN
Sedari sore, hujan turun tanpa tergesa seolah tahu bahwa kota ini terlalu lelah untuk terus berlari. Langit menggantung kelabu dengan cara yang anehnya terasa menenangkan bagi siapa saja yang memilih diam -
MALAM YANG REDUP, KOTA YANG RAMAI, DAN HIDUP YANG TERUS BERJALAN
Jalanan yang ramai juga terasa seperti sedang memukul kepalaku dengan suara klakson dan debu yang tidak ada habisnya. Kadang aku merasa hidup di kota memang seperti sedang berlomba tanpa garis akhir yang jelas