Chris Kinsey’s poem ‘The Lazy Poet’s Day’

British poet Chris Kinsey has had five collections of poetry published. Most recently, From Rowan Ridge, was commissioned by Fair Acre Press in 2019. These poems are mainly concerned with the Mid-Wales border environment where she and her ancestors have dwelt.

This poem seems to capture the malaise that many of us felt during lockdown. Writers in particular seemed to be suffering writer’s block, and it’s great to be able to laugh about the lack of productivity – a release in this poem!


The Lazy Poet’s Day


The good poet is up blogging

on the virtues of being

at her desk by 5.00 a.m.


This lazy poet sleeps on until

her greyhounds land. All three

set like giant pieces of jigsaw.


The good poet races through

her Morning Pages chasing a shoal

of dreams, obsessions and ideas.


The lazy poet snuggles down until

a crescendo of dream-driven paws

pound her into rising.


Out in the gold-grey currency of dawn,

under the unspent moon, the hounds

sniff rime, mark squirrels catapulting


off whippy twigs. The lazy poet

spins with the pin-wheeling sun

through pines.


By now, the good poet is consulting

her spreadsheet and posting poems

through open submissions windows.


The lazy poet lags – a woodpecker

brands a silver birch, she sight-surfs

on a kingfisher’s back, calls the hounds.


The good poet permits herself one well-

deserved strong coffee. The lazy one

has three, a ton of toast and then


fires up her computer. The good poet’s

checklist is a quiver of ticks. She has

a brood of drafts.


The lazy one creates a word doc and waits

at the blank page. Outside winter gnats

do not wander lonely as a cloud but compete.


Keys depress. Characters form.

She clicks onto Zoom, joins friends

to practise Tai Chi and wonders


if wu wei, action-without-action,

works better for poetry

than it does for housework?

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