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A Simple Silver Ring

A new development for me - I've started the 2nd Block on my OU course which is Creative non-fiction, I'm quite enjoying it as a genre and have created this for my first writing exercise.  Although it is about me, I've written it in the 3rd person because it felt too personal to own those feelings as I was writing. A Simple Silver Ring It was a cold Saturday just before Christmas 2005, and the sun was trying to break through the clouds that had settled over the jewellery district of Birmingham. The day was overcast and as grey as the blocks of buildings on either side of them, but that didn’t dampen their spirits in the slightest. A warm glow felt only by them stopped the cold from penetrating their thick coats.   They had visited several traditional Jewellers, looking in the brightly lit windows at rings that seemed too showy, rather overblown, for the simple commitment they wanted to honour. Both recently divorced, they weren’t ready for the big diamonds that would be ...
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The roar and the hiss

This one has been sitting with me since Sunday morning when I woke in the night to a storm raging outside. It's basically me playing around with sound.  Brave in our cave we lie safe and dry Covers tucked tight under toes, over shoulders, Warm as the storm unfolds bold and cold outside. Inside, we huddle, we hide, terrified. Windows sing in the eaves, as the wind begins To seek the weak, explore creaks, Before it roars from its core, loud, proud, unbowed, To be drowned by the sound of the rain once again.  We lie wrapped tight against the night, Listen to the hiss on the road as it flows Like a river that shivers on its way down the hill. Then everything stills.  © Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved
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Magic trick

I'm not sure what prompted this memory this morning.  I've been reading a book about our relationship with the sea,  and had intended to write a very different one about swimming in the sea as a child,  when we holidayed in Woolacombe with our dear Ma and Pop - adopted grandparents who we loved just as much (if not more) than our own. But this one edged in! I may have to write a series.   The trick was To make it look as it did Before the dip and lick Of the spoon.  Their move to the coast With its wide reach  Of flat grey-yellow sands  Its wild, and blue-grey sea Was alien after the green Encircling folds of the fields.  But our Ma had never truly left,  Taking with her the rhythms of the farm, It's hearty breakfasts, sit-down lunches,  It's light high tea, of thinly sliced bread - Tucked tight under her left arm Sliced with a well honed knife Towards her breast - Her fruit cake and her scones.  Her pantry held the clotted cre...
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Model behaviour

Phil is taking a photography course and we've had lots of conversations about the emerging prevalence of AI, and the use of Lightroom and Photoshop.  Sat there in satin, Black lace, stockings held Taut by suspenders,  Face made up just so, She turns this way, that way, Varnished nails clasping Her knee, teasing  Neck, hair, thigh, Just so He can capture her Spontaneous smile.  He shifts the lights Adjusts the screen  Asks for a different pose,  Tries far away, close, Her face now out of shot. He's almost got what he came for, Nothing that can't be fixed After the shoot. The camera never lies. © Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.
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There must be a name

I had my first online tutorial recently. It was a little intimidating, as although it wasn't on Zoom (which I hate) it felt very similar. As part of the 90 minutes we had two sessions of free writing, each prompted by a quote. We were encouraged to use these ramblings to inspire new poems. The second one needs a third verse, but it's not come to me yet.   1.  " There must be a name for this moment of change" There must be a name For this moment of change  This reach for a new horizon, This stepping off a cliff Not knowing if the sea hides Sharp rocks, Or warm waves Far below.  Somewhere in the world Someone has the perfect word  Easily at their fingertips  For this excited anticipation, The anxious thrill of the plunge. 2. "Some summers it hardly seemed worth getting up in the morning" Guilt found me under a warm duvet, Calling me to trim and weed, To cut and plant, to mow and prune. I was in no mood to listen. There's no getting ahead in a garden Only...
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To my husband, shopping alone

I've been learning about repetition of various types this week,  and have to write a poem of 15-20 lines using some of the ideas.  The last poem we had to read was 'To a Young Poet' by Mahmoud Darwish, which is full of sage advice on how to write poetry.  It's stuffed full of clever repetitions, not as repetitive or as everyday as what I've come up with, mind you. But I took the idea of writing a poem giving advice to a novice and combined that with the time Phil did the monthly shop alone, when my knee was first injured. He's actually much better at shopping than this gives him credit for - poetic licence!  This is a draft - I've learnt that the course expects you to rewrite in line with comments from fellow students,  so they are not polished as much as usual.   Go to Lidl, go to Asda, You won't find everything in one place.  Go to Lidl for the basics, they're the cheapest,  Go to Asda for the rest.  You know what you need, that'll be easy,...
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Twist

A short poem written in short lines, which started off being about my knee injury, but may have ended up with the possibility of a wider interpretation, say for example the recent American presidential election. As to whether Attention was paid To the right thing, At the right time, You tell me. As to whether Lessons will be learnt From the wrench, The twist of fate, Wait and see. Until then One step Leads us forward, The next one Drags us back.  © Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved.
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