Everyday Poetry

I arrived at the campsite shop 45 minutes early so decided to wait by the (mercifully empty) children's playground.  It's surrounded by trees and I was delighted to be serenaded by a wren while I waited.  Such a loud and melodic song for a tiny bird.  Bravado It's not your size that matters It's the lust in your song, Your need to make it clear who you are,  And if they didn't grasp it the first time To repeat it over and over until they say: Listen to the bravado of that wren!  © Copyright 2026. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

I came across this poem prompt posted by @rogerrobinsononline: Write a poem with one repeated line appearing five times.  Each time the line returns, the surrounding context must alter its meaning through irony, tenderness or revelation. What a clever idea.  I really love this time of year, When days stretch out, spilling into evenings, Flowers unfurl shy hearts to probing bees, Smiles banish the blues, welcome in the green. I really love this time of year With its promise of heat building day by day, Its lush sunlit valleys busy making hay, While birds flit from feeders to nest, and back again. Oh yes, I really love this time of year The daily battle against rampaging weeds, The constant on-and-off of 'just in case' layers,  The sudden sodden surprise of a shower. I really love this time of year When plans for celebrating an anniversary Narrow down from a multitude of possibilities To the perfect expression of all we have made together. I really love this time of year As...

I've been taking a rest after the madness that is April and Napowrimo. I was beginning to think I'd exhausted my ability to think in poetical terms,  and then I came across Pat Schneider's excellent poem The Patience of Ordinary Things.  It's one that struck a chord the first time I came across it - such a simple but unique way of looking at everyday objects - and I love it more each time I revisit.  Here is my rather dark homage to Schneider's poem - I feel I should apologise as it's almost a betrayal of its generous sentiment.  The Betrayal of Everyday Things It is a sign of ageing, is it not? How blister packs proliferate after each doctor's visit, How they make themselves at home on the breakfast table, How chairs suck you into their embrace, How the floor is no longer a space to play on, But a thing to be kept at leg's length, How the soles of shoes are chosen for their grip. I've been thinking about the betrayal Of everyday things.  How toes Ha...

Day 30: " In his poem, “ Angels ,” Russell Edson speaks of spiritual warrior-messenger-guardians as if they were a type of endangered animal. Today, try writing your own poem that discusses a real or mythical being with the same sort of musing yet dispassionate tone." I've just had a conversation with my daughter about the demons that haunt you during intentional weight loss. We've both spent years trying to rid ourselves of negative self- talk,  but they still creep in when you least expect it.   It's a bit of a negative way to end this year's NaPoWriMo but it does provide a bookend on the same theme as it started - dieting!  Diet Demons They lurk in patient exile Biding their time to weedle in At the first signs of self doubt. Sneers peer over your shoulder As you step on the scales, Whispering fear in your ear. Each cinch of your belt Innocently questions the buckle:   Will the prong reach its usual hole? Greet your reflection with a smile And they will ...

Day 29: " In “ After Turning the Clocks Back ,” Jennifer Moxley links present with past, using a few well-placed details to invoke both a sense of the daily “now” and a nostalgic sense of the speaker’s long-ago life. In your poem today, similarly compare your everyday present life with your past self, using specific details to conjure aspects of your past and present in the reader’s mind." Only one more day to go! This is a great prompt, despite feeling daunted by Moxley's masterful poem. What to write about? I've vowed to stop banging on about mobility issues, so perhaps I'll revisit the differences between my two marriages, twenty years in.  Twenty Years In Hot coffee and unhurried time  Spent talking through our lives Are your gifts to me those mornings You're not off to chase the glory Of the biggest catch.  I remember a time Of early nights and early mornings A refuge from all-night, bare-all sessions, Where we picked over what was going wrong, Tried to p...

Day 28: " Victoria Chang’s poem, “ The Lovers ,” is short and somewhat shocking, bringing us quickly from a near-hallucinatory descriptive statement to a strange sort of question, before ending on the very direct statement of a “truth.” Six lines, three sentences, and to top it off, a title that I think works for the poem but is only obliquely related to its text. Today, try writing a poem that follows the same beats: three sentences, six lines: statement, question, conclusion." I went to see a consultant about my arthritic knee yesterday and was basically told to come back after I'd had the hip replacement I'm waiting for. I was expecting this but was holding onto the possibility of having a steroid injection to relieve the pain until then,  but was told it was out of the question before I even asked.   Disappointment  Air is knocked from lungs Poised ready to request relief.  Is there nothing to do but wait, See how things turn out? Hope lies discarded; A chif...