Everyday Poetry

Tomorrow sees the start of Napowrimo,  and traditionally there is a warm up day on 31 March. This year's  early-bird prompt is to take a line from one of Emily Dickinson’s poems and see where it leads you.    Hope is the thing with feathers It raises spirits high It leaves dark dread behind on land And swoops up in the sky.  Hope keeps the fearful breathing, It comforts man, woman, child,  It strengthens resolve in danger And turns the meekest wild.  Hope may be a delusion But can be strong as tempered steel, It can transform people into heroes And make their dreams seem real.  Hope is the thing with feathers It's song lasts all day long It lifts and stirs, invigorates,  And keeps the weakest strong.  © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.

As a warm up to this year's NaPoWriMo, which is only a week away,  I thought I'd have a go at a writing prompt in this month's Writing Magazine. It suggested writing a poem using the perspective of a unicorn, speaking to someone who is looking up at it in wonder, shock,  confusion. Think about what they might ask of the unicorn.   Bit of an odd one,  but it got the juices flowing.  Unicorn You did not call me; I was drawn by your longing, Your need whispered its way across the oceans, Drew me to this moonlit garden Where you stand, heart breaking,  Under the stars.  No need to be afraid.  Trust in my magic. I'm here to help you, calm you, free you,  Take away your pain.  A few moments is all it takes. Place one hand on my horn, The other on your heart. Rest your wet cheek softly against my flank. In the morning you'll wonder Was I really here?  There will be no sign Apart from faint hoofprints in the dew And a new sense of hope.  © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All R

I came across a motivational quote this morning "live life like someone left the gate open".  It hit a nerve.  How did I change From mocking my father's diary - This day for that, that day for this -  To realising I'm a chip off the old block, Comfortable with plans made days in advance Thrown by last minute changes Caught out by days without direction, Each day dependably predictable.  I need to pay attention to the joy of the cows When someone leaves their gate open. © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved .

Acrostic poems can come across as forced or artificial,  but this one just seemed to emerge in that form.  Undaunted Kyiv stands strong Rallying its troops: Accountants,  teachers,  Insurance salesmen, students,  Now given a uniform,  a gun, Expected to do their duty, to give their all.  Russia reaches in with sharpened claws, Unnerved by Ukrainian esteem of the West, Sensing threats in democracy, Seeing the strength of their new leader.  Invasion is the answer, but pretend it's liberation,   Annihilation the true intention, a bully's last resort.  © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved .

Today was a lovely sunny day,  after what seems like months of wind and rain. The downside of sunshine is that it shows up the dirt on the outside of the windows - especially at the front of the house where traffic throws up muddy puddles exactly at window height!  I leave vinegar behind for the inside,  And take a bucket full of hot sudsy water, Sponge,  squeegee, cloths of varying grades, To stand on the safe side of the kerb. With each sharp buffet of air from passing cars,  I carefully soap each pane, and frame,  Rinse,  squeegee,  then dry,  then buff, Until I can once again see white puffy clouds Floating past in the bright blue sky.   © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved .

Palest pink petals:  A splash of Japan amid Dursley's urban sprawl.  © Copyright 2022. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved .