The Poetry Place

Out of the kitchen...

Thursday, 24 January 2013 12:57:08

Thursday, 24 January 2013 12:57:08

...and into - where?

Just because the blog may be quiet for a while doesn't mean I'm not thinking...



Kitchens

Monday, 21 January 2013 14:50:23

Monday, 21 January 2013 14:50:23

So this is the almost complete version:

Our kitchen is the harbour:
Lights guide family and friends
To where they can tie up,
Take on supplies,
Fill up with food and drink.

They can moor for a while
Before heading off on the tide
For open seas or other havens.

Freshly unloaded stores
And the old detritus
Of past voyages
Lay piled on the dockside

And beyond the harbour walls
On the horizon, great ships pass
Like mysterious strangers.

I wondered about swapping verse 2 and 3 but so far I've left it as it is.



Kitchens

Friday, 18 January 2013 16:02:26

Friday, 18 January 2013 16:02:26

Sometimes, it’s just a question of re-ordering the words you already have -

Freshly unloaded stores
And the old detritus
Of past voyages
Lay piled on the dockside

And beyond the harbour walls
On the horizon, great ships pass
Like mysterious strangers.

- and deciding that some parts just don’t work and need to go, such as these lines:

And in the waters-edge works
The furnace heats a pie.

- which just sounds ridiculous now I read it again!



Wednesday, 16 January 2013 10:16:11

Wednesday, 16 January 2013 10:16:11

Small changes make a lot of difference. I'm much happier with the first two verses now.

 

Our kitchen is the harbour:
Lights guide family and friends

To where they can tie up,
Take on supplies,
Fill up with food and drink.


They can moor for a while
Before heading off on the tide
For open seas or other havens.

 

These still need work:

 

On the dockside, stores

And the detritus of many voyages

are piled
And in the waters-edge works
The furnace heats a pie.

 

Beyond the harbour walls
Big shops pass on the horizon.
Mysterious strangers



Kitchens

Tuesday, 15 January 2013 14:08:10

Tuesday, 15 January 2013 14:08:10

No, not the engine room. Perhaps the harbour:

Our kitchen is the harbour
Lights guiding family and friends in
They take on supplies
Fill up with food and drink
Moor up for a while
Before heading off on the tide
For open seas / choppy waters / or other havens
On the dockside stores are piled
And in the waters-edge works
The furnace heats the sunday roast or oven chips
Beyond the harbour walls
Big shops pass on the horizon
Mysterious strangers



Kitchens

Monday, 14 January 2013 10:48:57

Monday, 14 January 2013 10:48:57

And another alternative:


Stuff happens here
It’s the engine room
It’s here we take on supplies,
People -
Neighbours call
Hover here
Drink tea, coffee
Reluctantly move on  

there's a metaphor waiting to be developed here if I can think it through a bit more...



Friday, 11 January 2013 15:44:16

Friday, 11 January 2013 15:44:16

Or perhaps something more reflective would be an interesting alternative:


The kitchen was always my favourite place
It was warm
In more ways than one
A place to perch
And overhear the gossip
A place where dad appeared at dinner time
At one o’clock
And half past five for tea

Always a pudding at dinner time
Custard of course
Always bread at tea time
And cake...

Add: 'when I was young…' to line 1?



Kitchens

Wednesday, 9 January 2013 6:34:17

Wednesday, 9 January 2013 6:34:17
It might have the makings of a rap, or something similar.
Put me in the kitchen
That’s where it’s at
Me and the fridge and next doors cat
Shelves of cans
Packs of lo-fat
Fridge of leftovers
From Fri and Sat
Sit me on the stool
Near the cupboard door
Hands on the biscuits
And crumbs on the floor
…. Cooking oil
….kettle on the boil


Kitchens

Monday, 7 January 2013 10:06:59

Monday, 7 January 2013 10:06:59
Sorry the Santa poem didn't really get going. You know what it's like around Christmas. But I’ve also been invited to write on the subject of kitchens – a topic on many people’s minds around Christmas.  It sounded a bit boring to begin with, though nothing is without interest if you think round it long enough.
Cupboards, shelves, fridge – it’s where you keep stuff.
It’s where you do things – cook, clean up, and often eat, talk.
It’s where stuff happens – making, chatting, arguing
Perhaps this might lead to a three part poem based on that kind of division.


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