Everyday Poetry

I've recently come across a form of poetry called the sevenling. As its name implies,  it consists of 7 lines,  lines 1-3 contain 3 connected or contrasting statements or details,  as do lines 4-6. The 7th line is a narrative summary or punchline.  It doesn't have a fixed rhyme or metre but should have a rhythm of its own.  It's tight enough to make you careful with every word,  but not as restrictive as a haiku for example.  It was coal black feathers, Blazing orange beak, Pale feet gripping the swaying cable.  It was an acrobat riding the wind, Alert, on guard,  Gripped with an overriding hunger. It was drawn to the feeders in the lilac tree.  © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  

When the dusky winter light is failing Bleaching the landscape to fuzzy greys, The sky turns black in an ever-changing  Monochromatic kaleidoscope. Twist it and thousands of starlings, Separate but conjoined by invisible magnetism  Perform their marvelous murmuration. Looping, swooping, regrouping, Each glossy bird hides amongst the flock  Cloaking its own magnificent iridescence  While painting tourmaline clouds in the sky. Until, at a hidden signal They drop, plummeting down, down,  To roost; re-leafing bare-branched trees, They rest in safe nocturnal nests.  © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved  

Chaffinches are raiding the roof  Diligently searching for insects Hopping from tile to tile,   Deep in concentration, listening, Looking, head on one side, then the other, Pecking quickly at the moss Ripping it up in a sudden motion Flinging it earthwards  Littering the porch roof; The mystery of its spotted patchwork Solved at last.    © Copyright 2021. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved