Everyday Poetry

Day 23: ' write a poem about, or involving, a superhero, taking your inspiration from  these four poems  in which  Lucille Clifton  addresses Clark Kent/Superman.' My childhood hero was Batman, which used to be on TV around tea time on the night I used to go to Girl Guides.  It was the series starting Adam West as Batman and Burt Ward as his sidekick Robin, and there was just about enough time to watch up to the closing credits before I had to run out the door.  The TV had pride of place opposite the dining table, Encouraging the habit of watching TV at mealtimes,  Eating too fast, matching the pace of the action onscreen, Not noticing what was disappearing from the plate.  Friday evenings were spent with the caped crusaders,  With just enough time to eat dinner and grab my stuff  Before the mad dash to Guides. The jeopardy of the rush  Increased the excitement of Batman chasing the villains,  Landing a Biff! Pow! Bam! on their weak and puny bodies,  His cape swirling in their

Day 22: ' write a poem in which two things have a fight. Two very unlikely things, if you can manage it. Like, maybe a comb and a spatula. Or a daffodil and a bag of potato chips. Or perhaps your two things could be linked somehow – like a rock and a hard place – and be utterly sick of being so joined. The possibilities are endless!' I'm devoid of surrealist imagination this morning,  but I do have strong memories of long car journeys when our children were small.  Each journey would start well enough With cassette tapes of jolly children's songs To sing along to; both sides on constant repeat.  We'd turn to games of 'I spy', 'First one to spot',  Their favourite: 'I'm thinking of an animal'. We'd talk about what we wanted to do Once we arrived in Cornwall,  Where there were cousins to play with,  Sandy beaches, animal sanctuaries, The excitement of Flambards fairground.  But there were too many miles from London.  It would begin with

Day 21: ' write a poem that repeats or focuses on a single color. Some examples for you – Diane Wakoski’s “ Blue Monday ,” Walter de la Mare’s “ Silver ,” and Dorothea Lasky’s “ Red Rum .”' "Come in," she said,   "it's time there was more of you in my life," And starting small, her nails took on a scarlet sheen,  A hint of depth, of danger, beneath her surface.  Next, her lips blazed red -  it took a while to find the perfect shade -  And longer still before others had the chance To see how it lit up her frequent smile. Once ushered in, red found itself at home Among her safer colours.   Blue and black, good friends, still hung about, Reliable, safe.  But in amongst,  Bright splashes of red, and its cousin pink, Lit up her life with warmth, and fun. Soon shoes, boots, a purse, a bag, appeared,  A t-shirt, dress, a winter coat,  And soon her day was incomplete  Without a splash of red t o draw the eye, To stop her blending in.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Au

Day 20:'   write a poem that recounts a historical event.' I haven't got time for a lot of research this morning,  so I'm drawing on my memories of marching against fascism and in support of socialism, in London and Manchester in the late 1970s. It seemed necessary, almost commonplace, To travel on a coach with fellow students, With our long hair, flares and desert boots,  Singing rallying songs, putting the world to rights, Completely convinced of our convictions. It was thrilling to be marching amongst thousands A wild blend of backgrounds, a melting pot,  All calling and responding to chants, We felt sure of saving the world, Righteous glory ate up the miles.   Brightly printed banners marked affiliations - Socialist Workers, Communists,  Labour,   L iberal,  every Trade Union under the sun -  For that day our divisions didn't matter,  Our unity was our strength.   At day's end we'd reach a park,  For speeches, songs and celebrations. A fog of nostalgia c

Day 19: ' What are you haunted by, or what haunts you? Write a poem responding to this question. Then change the word haunt to hunt.' I honestly don't think I'm haunted by anything.  Of course I've done things I'm not proud of,  but I've made my peace with them. Instead, I've chosen to write more literally about haunting, using a story my sister told me about the period when they first moved into their house.  Oddly enough, this came up in a conversation with my daughter earlier this week.  Coincidence?  At first, we thought it was the chaos of moving,  The upheaval in our lives making us forget the little things,  Where we'd put the keys, left a bag, our glasses.  It was only when we knew for certain,  When they turned up in places we'd definitely not been,  We began to believe the unbelievable. Gathered in the hallway, taking strength From our new family unit, but feeling foolish,  A tiny bit scared, we issued a challenge: 'Stop trying to m

Day 18:' write a poem in which the speaker expresses the desire to be someone or something else, and explains why. Two possible models for you: Natasha Rao’s “ In my next life let me be a tomato ,” and Randall Jarrell’s “ The Woman at the Washington Zoo .”' My choice may have been due to me deciding to compose it during my Thursday morning swim! In my next life I would wish, to come back as some kind of fish, To swim in river, lake or sea, that's the life I'd wish for me.  Perhaps a roach with orange fins, that glitters as it darts and swims, But not a tench, even in its prime, I'd rather not be bathed in slime. A brown trout in a Scottish river,  or its rainbow cousin all a-shiver, Perhaps a koi carp from Japan, white and gold, my tail a fan. To come back as a common pike, now that's a fate I would not like, Always angry,  with no friends, that's not how my story ends.  The best choice by far, I believe, is to live in a coral reef,  Brightly coloured, safe