Everyday Poetry

May An odd one this,  short,  but the length of each line and where the breaks come between the lines seem important. May,  and the Sweet smell of wild garlic Follows me Down the lane Edged with may blossom And the froth Of cow parsley. Tonight We will savour The tart sweetness Of rhubarb. © Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Turning the soil I've challenged my local poetry group to write a Haibun on their local landscape.  I've recently been helping my husband create a growing area from a wild patch in our garden,  and those few square metres of soil has become my local landscape! Over the length of many back-breaking, sun-baked days,  the wild patch (infested with nettles, brambles,  and convulvulus) is lifted,  turned, searched for roots,  stones and ancient buried treasures, enriched with leaf mould, and placed in planters ready for sowing. Each tract of soil an encapsulation of potential,  a promise for the future. Dark, crumbly tilth sits Waiting to bring forth new life Holding itself ready. © Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Good news I had some exciting news this morning,  from a publication I'd submitted some poems to for consideration.  It seems they liked one of my poems enough to publish it in their 2019 calendar,  and I'm really made up about it!  Those of you who've known me for some time will know that I've previously had two poems published in the Earthpathways Diary (2015 & 2017). I'd heard that I hadn't been successful for the 2019 diary,  and had been consoling myself with the thought I could try again next year, so today's news is absolutely brilliant!  Here's the successful poem,  written in 2016. Winter sunlight Weak winter-slanted sunlight On a frosty November morning Picks out each striped field furrow Every humped grass hussock Throwing elongated shadows across the ground So that giant trees, cows, birds Inhabit an uneven monochrome landscape Like an image by Dali. © Copyright 2018. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved