Today I grant myself
permission
to eat and drink
what I enjoy,
ignoring all the nay-sayers.

I will do nothing all day
if I choose,
Take an afternoon nap
read a book until dawn,
get up at noon if I so desire.

My house can stay messy
for all I care
while I let my mind wander,
amusing itself
in random pursuits.

After all, I'm retired,
I can do what I like,
someone said.
Yes, I can and I will--
No apologies forthcoming.

Eileen Auger
4/29/14

Poems write themselves
Seemingly out of nowhere
Whenever they choose.

E. Auger 4/28/14

When I need to write
All else becomes background noise
Til my poem's birth.

Buttery sun pours down
generous early Spring warmth
A consolation prize
for enduring last Winter's blast.

Behind closed eyes
my ears attune to
distant hiss and rumble of traffic
and small birds exchanging tweets.

Soft breeze pats my face gently
with its kitten paws
carrying scents of mulch
and hints of scattered blossoms.

I see.
I hear.
I feel.
Life is good.


Eileen Auger

4/28/14

My dear Candy Crush
You are such a shameless tease
Stringing me along.

Eileen Auger
4/28/14

In a perverse sort of serendipity
our friendship shaped itself
around our one common bond
when not even our closest allies
wanted to acknowledge
the elephant in the room.

When everyone else
in our little worlds
went on about their business again
you and I granted each other
the right to our indulgences,
a place to put the pain for a time.

Even in our mutual weakness
we mustered the strength
to pull each other
out of the murky depths
to that little pocket of oxygen
which would save us from drowning
at least for this one day.

We understood every nuance
of each others' private torture,
having walked  too many miles
in those same shoes.
No emotion was too intense
no thought too bizarre to be voiced.

And then our friendship
seemed to wane by degrees,
as if it had served its purpose
as if we never had much in common
except that one awful truth
informing our lives for a while.

I see us drifting apart, my friend
now as our grief has softened
and we've begun to open our doors
to the world outside that all-consuming pain
which once brought us together
but can no longer be enough.

Eileen Auger
9/27/09

Piteous cries long ago ceased
Achieving anything save
Turned-away heads, selectively
Hearing-impaired,
Exasperated with repetitious litany
Tuneless and tiresome
Irate when counsel is spurned,
Casually abandoning a lost cause.

Eileen Auger
2/19/2010