Everyday Poetry

Day 10: ' Ezra Pound famously said that “poetry is news that stays news.” While we don’t know about that, the news can have a certain poetry to it. Today, we’d like to challenge you to write a poem based on one of the curious headlines, cartoons, and other journalistic tidbits featured at  Yesterday’s Print , where old new stays amusing, curious, and sometimes downright confusing.'  I was drawn to a story which appeared in the St Louis Post Dispatch, Missouri, on September 15, 1907, about a barber who shaved two men's heads at once,  because both said they were next in the queue,  and neither would give way to the other.  OK,  I'll admit I'm a bit off prompt because my poem is inspired by ,  rather than based on this story,  but it reminded me forcibly of trying to have a conversation with my grandkids,  sometimes two or three at a time!  Arrival They are so glad to see me They clamour for me all at once,  To come see the new Lego ...

Day 9: 'the   prompt for today takes its inspiration from   Pablo Neruda , the Chilean-born poet and Nobel Prize Winner. While he is most famous in the English-speaking world for his collection   Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair , he also wrote more than two hundred odes, and had a penchant for writing sometimes-long poems of appreciation for very common or mundane things. You can read English translations of “Ode to the Dictionary” at the bottom of   this page , “Ode to My Socks”   here , and “Ode to a Large Tuna in the Market”   here .   Today, we’d like to challenge you to write your own ode celebrating an everyday object.' No pressure then! Stirred, but not Shaken This teaspoon, chosen with its companions As part of an inheritance, Tipped from its regimented, mahogany box Where every item knew its place To find a humbler home in the  jumble of a drawer, Sits,  slightly tarnished,  but with either end Rubbed shiny fro...

Day 8: ' write a poem that centers around an encounter or relationship between two people (or things) that shouldn’t really have ever met – whether due to time, space, age, the differences in their nature, or for any other reason.' I need little excuse to turn this into another love poem.  The title is the motto of the Open University.  Like a sequence of sliding doors, The long-past move to Bristol,   The impulsive summer school in Bath  That year, of all the years, Slid me into your proximity.  How else would an Essex girl Dead set on the road to rising status Have collided so unexpectedly With an ex-miner from the Midlands, To find her place to settle, and to bloom? ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Day 7: ' write a poem titled “Wish You Were Here” that takes its inspiration from the idea of a postcard. Consistent with the abbreviated format of a postcard, your poem should be short, and should play with the idea of travel, distance, or sightseeing.' I'm not sure why,  but during Napowrimo this year my thoughts are landing mostly with my family,  both present and absent.  I'm not complaining;  it's a rich seam to pick.  Dear Mum Now I'm almost your age I wish you were here To see the view from where I'm sitting.  I've finally found my place, Grown into who I am, and like it! I'd love to share it all with you.       Rest in Peace.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Day 6: "write  a poem rooted in “weird wisdom,” by which we mean something objectively odd that someone told you once, and that has stuck with you ever since." I've chosen to write about the superstitions I grew up with - I remember my mum having one for almost every occasion, far too many to list in a single poem, but here's a flavour.    My mother was a repository of superstition,  Adept at avoiding bad luck, and attracting the good.  We scoffed at the silliness, conformed 'just in case',  Grew in her wake with our luck intact, Throwing spill ed salt over left shoulders, Retrieving her glove if it fell from her grasp,  Playing a weird hopscotch over cracks in the pavement, Willing tiny spiders to cross our palms,  Making wishes on Sunday wishbones, birthday candles.  She would never pass on the stairs, walk under a ladder,  Let a second person pour tea from the pot, Wear green, allow an opened umbrella through the door, Give the gift o...

Day 5: 's tart by taking a look at Alicia Ostriker’s poem, “ The Blessing of the Old Woman, the Tulip, and the Dog .” Now try your hand at writing your own poem about how a pair or trio very different things would perceive of a blessing or, alternatively, how these very different things would think of something else (luck, grief, happiness, etc).' For this one,  I thought of three very different people - my husband,  grandson and myself - and how each of us likes to spend our time,  when we are most 'in the zone'. I love the rhythm of Ostriker’s poem, and tried to follow it for my own trio. Happiness, said the angler Is having a peg Full of fish So hungry for bait  They risk your hook Each time it's cast.  Happiness, said the child Is a room  Full of Lego Of so many shapes and colours You can build whatever Your imagination designs.  Happiness, said the poet Is a brain Full of words So varied and precise The page can express The fancies of your mind....

Day 4: " write a poem in which you take your title or some language/ideas from  The Strangest Things in the World . First published in 1958, the book gives shortish descriptions of odd natural phenomena, and is notable for both its author’s turn of phrase and intermittently dubious facts." My grandson (who also loves Minecraft) has been obsessed with frogs from a very young age,  so I was delighted to find a section devoted to various South American species: The “tin-pan frog” is one of the most conspicuous creatures of the region. The chorus of singing males gives a   booming metallic sound which seems at times to be a regular clanging, like that of a blacksmith hammering on an anvil.   The “tin-pan” frog builds its own house—a crater-like structure of mud projecting above shallow water within which its eggs are laid during the dry season. These nests usually are constructed close to the water’s edge. Here the eggs hatch and the young tadpoles are swept into th...