Everyday Poetry

Day 10: " In his poem, “ Goodbye ,” Geoffrey Brock describes grief in three short stanzas, the second of which is entirely made up of a rhetorical dialogue. Today, write your own meditation on grief. Try using Brock’s form as the “container” for your poem: a few short stanzas, with a middle section in which a question is repeated with different answers given." Grief is a hard theme to write about, but it comes in many forms. Like Brock, I've chosen to write about a long ago broken heart.  The Depth of a Crevasse  Sufficient time has passed. You'd never know from my face That deep inside there hides A messy raw patch, still bleeding.  (Did you ever really love me?  I told you not to fall in love with me.  How could I know the risk was so big? Who knows the depth of a crevasse?) They told me time heals. It's almost true. The years have shrunk the grief To a small messy patch, which bleeds Only when I think to poke it.   © Copyright 2026. Chris Auger. All...

Day 9: " Marianne Moore  was a well-known modernist poet, with a curious taste in  hats . Though she wrote on many themes, I’ve always had some affection for her many poems about – or in the voice of – animals, such as “ The Fish ,” “ Dock Rats ,” “ The Pangolin ,” and “ No Swan so Fine .” Today, try writing your own poem in the voice of an animal or plant, or a poem that describes a specific animal or plant with references to historical events or scientific facts." I've decided to write about the grey squirrel who visits our garden, tempted by the easy pickings available. Little does he know what strong emotions he arouses in us.  Squirrel The crafty beast, d iminuitive, nervous, That c urls his tail round the pole as he grips Upside down, with perfect, tiny paws,  Does not know, or care, that he should not be here But should be living out his life on another continent. He does not know how the Victorian upper class Carried his forebears across the ocean to adorn th...

Day 8: " In his poem, “ Poet, No Thanks ,” Jean D’Amérique repeats the phrase “I wasn’t a poet” multiple times, while describing other things that he instead claims to have been. In your poem for today, use a simple phrase repeatedly, and then make statements that invert or contradict that phrase." I'm not a Poet I'm not a poet.  I'm a woman whose world unwraps itself Piece by beautiful piece, Revealing its true nature shyly Like the heart of a onion. I'm not a poet. I'm a wife with love as deep as the ocean Riding waves of joy and frustration Bobbing along on the tide of commonplace Warming myself on your shore.  I'm not a poet.  I'm a mother and grandmother as fierce as a tiger, Soft as dough rising in a cream ceramic bowl, Constant as the sun appearing in the morning,  Proud as a peacock, true as time.  I'm not a poet.   I'm a sister whose thoughts fly over the miles Shrinking the distance till we stand side by side, Two branches split f...

Day 7: " In her poem, “ Front Yard Rhyme ,” Cecily Parks evokes the sing-songy beats that accompany girls’  clapping games , and  jump-rope and skipping  rhymes. Today, we challenge you to write your own poem that emulates these songs – something to snap, clap, and jump around to." My granddaughter loves to make up clapping rhymes with complicated hand gestures to reflect each line.  With this in mind and a need to grab my walking stick and see the bluebells carpeting the woods at the end of our lane before they disappear,  I've crafted this poem to encourage me to get over my fear of the struggle to get there.  I'm hoping the rhythm will scoop me up and carry me along before I can think too much about it..  Into the Blue Bluebell wood, life is good, walk there now, how? Take a stick, grab it quick, out the door, now. Past the hedge, stone wall edge, up the hill, till You stand in awe, blue woodland floor, breath held still. One bell flutters Nothing m...

Day 6: " take inspiration from Yentl van Stokkum’s poem, “ It’s the Warmest Summer on Record Babe ,” which blends casual, almost blasé phrasing with surreal events like getting advice from a bumblebee. In your poem today, try writing with a breezy, conversational tone, while including at least one thing that could only happen in a dream." I've chosen to write about a dream I had a few weeks ago.  It didn't happen exactly like this,  but that is what poetic licence is all about.   Epiphany   You know, last night was one one those nights You don't expect.  You go to bed as usual,  All the ritual stuff of brushing your teeth For the regulation two minutes, the last minute wee, The diary pause to capture important moments from the day, The reading of the latest novel to ease your brain into sleep,  The last, last minute wee.   So far, so usual. But sometime between midnight and the inevitable 3am wake up, I had an epiphany.   ...

Day 5: " write a poem in which you talk about hating something – particularly something utterly innocuous. Be over the top! Be a bit silly and overdramatic." Quite a challenge for me, as I feel hate is too strong an emotion,  and one I really don't identify with.  But as we're encouraged to be overdramatic I've exaggerated one of the things that wind me up. Climbing Everest I love you,  I really do. But hate the everest of paper Piled on, beside, around your chair, An untidy, unstable heap About to collapse to the floor At the slightest touch.  I seethe inside each time it catches my eye, Determined not to be the one to put it right, Silently holding it against you as it grows day by day. Oblivious, you s it instead on the settee, And start another pile. © Copyright 2026. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved