Regis Auffray

Regis Auffray, poetry, short stories, personal quotes

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Bubbles and Childhood

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Bubbles and Childhood

Children blow bubbles
Creating carefree coloured worlds
(Spherical rainbows)
Which the breeze blows away
Towards the sun and sky
And evermore

Ephemeral worlds
As innocence and childhood are
In a world
Where children blow bubbles

© Régis Auffray

Blowing bubbles - little girl a

Written by Regis Auffray

June 10, 2017 at 2:40 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Dark Dream

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Dark Dream

Dim dreamscape



Dark skeletal trees

Crows peering down

From a starless sky

Your face appears

Your eyes seem sad


You keep looking at me



Perhaps disdainfully even

Coal black icicles

Beneath your eyes

Frozen tears?

And then

The stark dark realization

I am looking at the mirror

In my soul

Those frozen tears

Are not from your eyes

But from mine

My heart melts with sorrow

The light goes out

And with it hope

I am not feeding the crows anymore

For there’s nothing left of me

© Regis Auffray (01-14-17)

Written by Regis Auffray

January 25, 2017 at 7:42 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Would You?

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Would You?

Would you like to walk with me

would you like to talk with me

though I’ve placed my bet


Would you like to dance with me

would you take a chance with me

now that we have met


Would you like to hike with me

would you like to bike with me

though the road is wet


Would you like to roar with me

would you like to soar with me

now we’ve paid our debt


Would you like to race with me

would you like to place with me

though we’ve not run yet


Would you like to weep with me

would you like to sleep with me

now’s no time to fret


Would you like to sail with me

would you like to wail with me

though that’s all we get


Would you like to fly with me

would you like to cry with me

now we take the jet


Would you like to bend with me

would you like to end with me

though we have just met


Would you like to fly with me

would you like to die with me

now the sun has set

© Regis Auffray

Couple full moon.jpg

Written by Regis Auffray

January 14, 2017 at 12:09 pm

Posted in Uncategorized


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In a moment’s lapse
At times
I leave

I am not
What I am thought to be

I live
An echo from the past

Full moon
Silver night
Soft snow
Fresh tracks
Scented spoor
Quickened heartbeat
Rush of blood
Within my veins
An instinct that will not be denied

I breathe
The moment

A wolf howls

I wonder

Am I really me?


Written by Regis Auffray

November 26, 2016 at 7:22 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

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You Are

You are a raindrop
Like none other
You beckon to a ray of sunshine
A rainbow

You are a snowflake
Like none other
You join a myriad others
A wonderland

You are a teardrop
Like none other
You fall to the Earth
An ocean

You are an eagle
Like none other
You soar high in the sky

You are a white dove
Like none other
You carry an olive branch

You are a star
Like none other
The sun sets and skies darken

You are an angel
Like none other
You dwell in my heart

© Copyright  Regis Auffray

Written by Regis Auffray

November 19, 2016 at 4:31 pm

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The Blindness

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The Blindness

©Regis Auffray (August 26, 2002)

When the bird came
it landed
on the church steeple
it did not move

People said a lot of things
it was watching the village
it was a messenger
it was an omen

Three days later
it lay dead on the ground

The bird’s eyes were white
The people said a lot

It had been blind
It had come from the dark
Satan had sent it

No one
will go to the church now

The priest sits outside
he looks at the village
like the bird did

People say a lot
he is blind too
he never closes his eyes

I think a lot too
I think
we are blind
I think
we don’t know what we see

Written by Regis Auffray

February 19, 2016 at 4:00 am

The Legend of Fawcett Brook

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The Legend of Fawcett Brook

The story goes like this: Once upon a time, no one can say exactly when, there lived on the mountain called “Chilliwack” a young maiden who lives there still, although most would never notice her. At the time in question, she went by the name of Brooke Fawcett. She lived with her father a fair way up the mountain, deep in the forest. Brooke was a beautiful young woman. She had dark blue eyes and long, lustrous black hair that reflected even the most distant starlight on moonless nights. Brooke was lithe and agile because of her daily duty of herding the sheep to the few meadows that she could find amidst the deep forest of the mountain. Brooke lived alone with her father. Her mother, Leah, had died giving birth to Brooke. Her father told her many things about her mother. Although he was sad when his wife had died, he had been prepared for it. Leah had told him that, when her first child was born, she would be leaving to go back to her people. She did not say where this was, but Brooke’s father felt that it was a good place. He also told Brooke about Leah’s special powers and that these had been passed on to her from her mother when she had died. As a certain sign of these powers, Leah had left a staff for her daughter and Brooke never went anywhere without it.

Brooke loved her life on the mountain. After her father left to work in the village in a valley far below, Brooke would herd the sheep to a meadow and watch over them until the sun was low in the west over the mighty river that flowed to the distant sea.
Brooke did not have any people friends. She seldom went to the village, only visiting there when someone who had taken ill, summoned her through her father. As in all human communities from all time, there were some in the village who, through fear of mystery and what they could not understand, thought that Brooke was a witch. They said that she got her powers from the devil. So, although Brooke never refused to go to the village to heal someone who believed in her, she preferred to stay in the forest on the mountain. For there, she had no lack of friends. She could talk with the birds and the animals and indeed, they would often gather around her without fear. As well, Brooke could often hear her mother’s words of love and encouragement in the sigh of the wind and in the rustle of the leaves. And she would often see her mother smiling at her from some cloud sailing slowly by. Yes, Brooke truly loved her life and she would not have exchanged it with anyone in the world.
The climate where Brooke and her father lived was ideal. It did not matter the season, it was never too hot or too cold. Even when people in the village complained about the harshness of the weather at times, Brooke and her father never found reason to agree with them.

One fateful day in the fall however, a sudden, unexpected storm came over the mountains along the great river from the north. Brooke had felt something in the air since she had awakened that morning; but, as was her duty, she led the sheep to a distant meadow so that they could graze on what was left of the grass.
The storm was savage. The wind blew suddenly in freezing gusts and a heavy snow started to fall. In a very short time, it was very hard to see through the blowing snow. Brooke began to herd the sheep back home. The ground was slippery and suddenly, one of the smallest lambs disappeared down a dark hollow in the ground. Through the howling wind, Brooke could hear its plaintive bleats. She followed the sounds and soon located the unfortunate creature. She would not leave it behind. She laid her staff on the ground, now covered with snow, and reached to pull the lamb to safety. Just as she managed to do so, the staff started to slide down the mountainside. In an instant, it had vanished in the swirling snowflakes and the darkness beneath the giant trees.  Brooke was struck with panic but she would not let the sheep freeze to their death. She herded them to the safety and warmth of their shelter. Once she had made sure that they were all accounted for, she fed them hay and bid them a good night.

Her duty done, Brooke immediately went back into the storm to search for her precious staff. She looked and she looked until her eyes became dim. The storm grew in violence. It was as if all the evil spirits had descended upon the mountain. Brooke began to feel weak. She could no longer feel her limbs. She was freezing. Finally, well after darkness had fallen and still the wind and snow did not abate, she saw the staff. Its slide had been halted by a giant cedar. Brooke bent down to reach for it, and fell in the snow. As she touched the beloved link to her mother, she smiled but she did not get back up.
In the spring of the following year, as Brooke’s father herded the sheep towards a meadow, he heard something that caught his attention because it was most unusual. It was like a girl’s laughter. It seemed to come from the direction of a very large cedar tree. Curious, he followed the sounds. A few strides brought him to a sight that stirred his deepest emotions. Next to his daughter’s staff, a spring bubbled out of the ground and tumbled over large rocks towards the mighty river below. He was suddenly overcome with an incredible sense of relief and joy. He felt the presence of both Leah, his beloved wife, and of his cherished daughter, Brooke. As he watched the water flowing from the earth, his eyes filled with tears and he closed them for an instant. When he opened them again, the staff had vanished.

Well, that is the legend of Brooke Fawcett. If you visit Chilliwack Mountain, you can find evidence that this legend is true . Along one of the many roads that wind through the forests of the mountain, there is a brook that is marked on the maps of the region. It is called Fawcett Brook. If you find it, as I have been fortunate enough to have done, you will hear a maiden laughing and your heart will soar.

© Copyright Regis Auffray



Written by Regis Auffray

January 30, 2016 at 7:57 pm

Posted in Uncategorized