Everyday Poetry

Napowrimo early bird prompt: " Pick a word from the list below. Then write a poem titled either “A [your word]” or “The [your word]” in which you explore the meaning of the word, or some memory you have of it, as if you were writing an illustrative/alternative definition."  I chose the word 'window' as they fascinate me. This square pane of glass, newly polished, Separates me from the world. Insubstantial, transparent, translucent, It forms a mental barrier Between the ease of comforting fiction, And the effort of outside. While I sit here over a morning coffee, My plans for the day still have the glow of possibility. Reluctance to make a start is far from laziness It's prompted by the knowledge That once I move beyond the pane Their promise will be compromised  By the inevitable weight of reality.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

As if writing a poem a day throughout April is not enough,  there are warm up challenges for 29, 30 and 31 March! Today's is to compose a spine poem: literally arranging the titles on the spine of books found on your bookshelves,  to make an interesting juxtaposition. I chose 5 books from my poetry shelf.   Days like these I wish I knew Rapture.  These are the hands Teaching the wind plurals.   ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved Brian Bilston: Days Like These Donna Ashworth: I Wish I Knew Carol Ann Duffy: Rapture Poems from the NHS: These Are The Hands Nigel Forde: Teaching the Wind Plurals

It seems like it's been raining every day so far this year.  I'm desperate to get out in the garden to sow the seeds for this year's veggies,  but haven't managed it so far.  I need to get out in the garden and weed, Turn over the soil, and sow this year's seed, But the earth is too muddy, it sticks in a clot, It needs to dry out,  I'm afraid they'll all rot.  A few days of bright sunshine is all that I need So the beds can turn crumbly, to cradle the seed, Each time the sun shines I go out to the beds But the sky greys right over, drops fall on my head. It's getting frustrating, I've done all the prep,  But need a spell of dry weather before the next step, My potatoes have chitted, my onions have set, But I can't get them planted,  it's too flipping wet.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Something caught my eye as I was returning to my car the other day,  and I just had to capture it to share with you.   Outside the supermarket Two ladies, silver-haired, Huddle close, co-conspirators, Leaning in to share a tale. A sudden gasp, one rears back, Grasping the other by the arm, Both screeching with laughter, Finding the comic within the everyday. For a moment they look exactly like teenagers, Finding every little thing hilarious, Lost inside their own bubble of laughter. So good to share a joke between friends.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

My dad came from a large family of 4 boys and 3 girls.  So it's not surprising that a certain amount of teasing went on between the siblings.   My dad, and his younger brother Stan, Were wordsmiths,  Masters of the absurd, Stringing together a senseless succession, A multitude of meaningless phrases To torment their oldest sister.   We knew her as Auntie Min, short for Millicent, But they knew her as: Skinny malinky long legs, Big banana feet,  Then several phrases, long forgotten,   Ending with: Boiled old onts - No-one ever knew what that meant.    My dad would recite the words to us, with glee,  His unofficial party piece.  These fragments of the taunt live on,  Known within the family Despite the passing of its creators, My uncle Colin surprised By my daughter chiming in with "Big banana feet" Seventy, eighty, years after its inception. My sister, brain sharper, better recall, Messages the missing piece, Her written words ringing out in my dad's voice:  'Skinn