Fridge magnet

The unassuming white circle Anchors your note to the side of the fridge For me to see as soon as I come down.  Like the sun driving away morning mist Your words chase away last night's sadness So completely,  I wonder why it was ever there.  © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  


Someone I know recently horrified me, by saying "this is the best we'll ever be". I do hope not! Throughout my whole life I've been trying to improve myself in various ways, including trying to get fit, lose weight, keep my mind sharp. It sometimes feels like a losing battle,  but I'm not ready to give up yet!  The crest of this hill Appears to disappear Farther away with each step I take. There's no boulder on my shoulders Just the weight of years Of trying and failing To reach my goals.  I'm tired of the burdens  Each year adds to the trial: Arthritis, high blood sugar,  Poor eyesight, obesity.  Will I ever be able To bound over the summit Feeling nothing but wind in my hair And a sense of arrival? © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  


I was an intermittent social smoker for years - never more than one or two packs a week,  but I enjoyed it. I'd give up for a few years,  then take it up again when life got tricky.  I finally gave up for good in 2004, when each drag made my lungs hurt!  That enticingly sweet waft of tobacco smoke Time travels me back across the years To the acrid flare of the match, The catch of flame to paper on the inhale,  The first slow drag turning the tip red,  The hiss as the tobacco burns,  The successive neat taps on the ashtray rim,  The casual flick of ash to the ground; The feeling of self indulgence, lighting up After a strong black coffee,  After each round in the pub.  I never miss it -  Until that teasing scent wafts my way.  © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  


I love watching the sheep and cattle roaming over the fields opposite our house,  and have taken to counting them, like a morning register.  I'm a vegetarian, but a realist, so realise that without people eating meat I wouldn't be able to enjoy this aspect of our view.  It's still sad when they disappear though.   An evening of plaintive bleating Prompts a count of white dots in the field.  No matter how I alter the groupings It always adds up to the same eleven.  Ten lambs have been chosen and taken,  Realising their high market value. This first year of lambing in the valley, Plays out the truth of livestock farming: That without these sad goodbyes There would be no smiles hello.  © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  


Another one of the workshop exercises on Wednesday was to create an acrostic poem using your friend's name. How can I post just one,  when I'm lucky enough to have so many good friends?  Saying that,  I find acrostics very challenging, so have limited myself to first names only,  trying to create a pen picture of each person within a few lines.  See if you recognise yourself! Selfless and generous,   Hair long and lustrous, Expert garden knowledge shared alongside your cuttings, Indian takeaways lasting long into the night,  Long chats over coffee or on walks through the countryside,  Always there, offering help before I realise I need it.  Supremely glamorous, hair, face and clothes immaculate, Unstinting workhorse,  tireless grandmother,  Everything I wish I could be!  Jolly, clever, amazing artist, soft shelled,  Only a short friendship, but so  sympatico !  Green to the core, unless feminism trumps environment, Irascible, uncompromising, never sitting on the fence, Logical,


 I went to a poetry workshop last night,  and one of the exercises was to write a clapping song,  starting "I love...". We'd mentioned there are no poems about cheese earlier (I have written one, but that doesn't count!) So here is what I came up with.   I love all sorts of cheeses I love to eat them all Their flavour always pleases That's why my waist ain't small! © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  


I've been challenged to write a poem on the theme of whimsy. An odd word,  but one you can play around with rather whimsically.   I'm not a fan of whimsy I find it rather mimsy Even verging on the grimsy. My appreciation being flimsy The likelihood is slimsy That I'd ever welcome it insy To my poems. © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved