Posts

Desperately seeking sunshine

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

Bubble

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

Skinny Malinky

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

Shiver

This little poem started its life on 5th February,  and has gone through too many revisions in proportion to its size.  Sometimes they come fully formed,  sometimes they need a while to sit on the page and bother me. Anyway, I'm reasonably happy with it now,  so I'm going to leave it alone! Early February cherry blossom shivers in the wintry breeze,  like young girls too eager to show off their floaty summer dresses.   ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Night noises

I'm not sure if it's an age thing,  but I sometimes find myself waking in the middle of the night, unable to doze off again immediately.  This happened recently while I was staying at my sister's and the night noises were different to how they are at home.  Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, The cats are caterwauling, The night is still, the streets are dark, But sleep won't yet come calling. What can it be that roused them so? Intruders? Ghosts? Kids walking past? Why can't they simply let it go? Let me drowse off again, at last. The frustrating clock gives a single chime -  No good to man nor beast! Now I won't know the actual time For a good half hour, at least.   I've fretted my sheets into a shroud, It's tight, grimly constricting,  This nighttime chorus is far too loud, My thoughts too disconcerting.  I toss and turn, I fret and sigh, Watch the curtains growing light,  Then bam! It's somehow already nine, I must have slept alright!

Peonies

It's only when I came to draw a vase of peonies in a still life that I noticed their variations in colour, and the impossibility of capturing their gorgeous combinations on the page.  Crimson at their core, Petals cluster in frilly carmine, Bright cerise, cherry red,  Purple where they layer, one tight to another, Fading to pale mauve, grey-violet, where the light hits.  Three peony heads loll voluptuously in a white vase; Hand crafted, its simple, hard-squared edges emphasise The complications of each heavy blood-red globe. ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved

Stand fast

We often tell people we're ' fine ', or that things are ' good ', because we either don't want to burden them with our troubles,  or can't face the inevitable overwhelming rush of emotions that come from telling it like it is. But a trouble shared is a trouble halved, or so the saying goes,  (Don't worry,  I truly  am fine!) Your tears, Held back by strong,   Well-practiced, defensive walls,  Are breached by kind words of recognition; Each stone so carefully placed Knocked aside by every supportive phrase, Until not even a loving embrace Can hold your defences together.  Trust me. Let me help you. We'll build your fortress high again,  Laying each stone on the strongest of foundations, To create a beautiful declaration of power,  Tougher than any defensive barricade.  ©  Copyright 2024. Chris Auger. All Rights Reserved