Darren Daugherty, Ph.D.
Darren Daugherty, Ph.D.

 This is a children's book, published only right here. It is written in a "Dr. Seuss style," with similar rhyming and big imagination. This book, targeted for ages 5-10, is a modern-day allegory about a young boy that learns about the importance of serving God and relying on the strength that He provides for those that follow Him. As he encounters various fictitious scenes, he is put to the test. After contemplating on lessons taught by his father, he later…  Read More

A pubishing company advertised a special request. They asked for submissions of a children's book - a rewrite of one of their novels, "A Basket of Flowers." My submission was not chosen, and the potential improvements are now easier to see almost 10 years after composition. Instead of having it secluded on my computer, I've decided to post it here. It is a work of poetry, but be warned - it is very long.    This story took place in a land far away, Which is much like the land…  Read More

         by Daniela Daugherty  I only write of things I care; Of equal things and things unfair.  Like hurting kids whose lives are rough; Those kids who make my life so tough.  The lessons learned throughout my life; All through the pain, the hurt, the strife.  Appearance and acceptance too. And when I don't know what to do.  The people that I see each day. They pass me on the street I say!  My friends who keep me havin' fun. Could never single out just one.  And…  Read More

         by Daniela Daugherty  The sky on that day, Was a light, hazy gray.  And the streets were but bare. It was damp in the air.  Then the rain hit the road. On the stone darkness showed.  Statue hid anxious birds. In the town, idle words.  But then from apartment, Past house department,  Came down the cracked stairs. Now wind blowing her hairs.  Then unlocked the black gate. Iron bars, tow'ring -straight.  Hand back into her pocket, Holding something in…  Read More

          by Daniela Daugherty  I'm cooking and cleaning, But something's not working. I did all that they asked, And still they stayed lurking.  Sitting there, waiting there, Ready to pounce. One day the chance came, When the man did announce.  I was scrubbing the floor, When the messenger came. He gave them a notice, Which called all the dames.  They knew not I listened, But surely I was. I wanted my Charming, As everyone does.…  Read More

         by Daniela Daugherty  She looked in the mirror and saw her reflection. Staring back at her was just a simple complexion.  Her daddy said, "You're such a beautiful lady," And mommy said, "Plus, you were such a cute baby."  But all that she wanted was someone to care. She'd spend near two hours on solely her hair.  No one ever noticed her stay in the shadows. She could spend all day, all alone in the meadows.  Her hips…  Read More

         by Daniela Daugherty  She walked in the pouring rain. Alone in the rain she remained. And on her shirt left a stain. She was soaked in the pouring rain.  The icy drops fell on her vein. The mascara and makeup did wane. And it ran down her face and the lane. She's a mess in the pouring rain.  But for her it covered the pain. It shadowed the stress and the strain. Drops kept her from going insane. She was sane in the pouring rain.  Alone with her God who contains,…  Read More

         by Daniela Daugherty  The doorbell just rang. Then she felt a pang. The Captain there stood. The news was not good.  He took hard the fall. He'd given it all. No more to live. His life he did give.  "The bomb had exploded. The tankers were loaded, But now he is dead," This was what he said.  She dropped to the ground. Her world crashed all around. Brought up to her room; A place full of gloom.  Later, this lady, Heard a cry from her baby. Kept…  Read More

         WHO'S CHILD IS THIS (poem written in India, summer 2007)  Who's child is this with the burn-scarred face, of a different race, in this far off place.  Who's child is this, who comes up to me, with her childhood glee, says, "Will you love me?"  Who's child is this, who just wants to play, living life today, forgetting yesterday.  Who's child is this, I turned and shed a tear, it's…  Read More