Apr '12
12
Look at that: we're up to day 12 of National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo).
Please remember that these daily poems require plenty of editing - some more than others. I still grit my teeth when uploading them because of how rough and newborn they are.
Earlier today I skim-read a newsletter article about the importance of water coolers in the workplace for generating ideas. Today's poem just took complete control and I let it off.
What do you think?
Water cooler culture
Our need for water
draws us together,
reminiscent of tribal gatherings
at the river bank
or lake's edge.
We size up the new employee,
share weekend stories.
We discuss
the latest movies,
the best vintage clothes shops
the least expensive holidays
the tastiest recipes.
Fellowship develops.
We promise to do coffee, lunch, dinner,
we worry about health issues and the best hangover cure.
Ideas are shared.
We complain about bills,
the cost of child minding,
parking,
healthy food.
The water cooler
unfurls grapevine tendrils,
nourishes its gossipy stems;
we open up.
We grumble at how impossible it is to keep track of young ones nowadays
how difficult it is to find decent nursing homes for our elderly parents;
doesn’t your woman look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth
and I bet he hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in years;
we hear about someone’s new baby: sleepless nights, ha ha.
We gasp at rumours of sackings,
snipe at promotions,
moan about yet another restructure
and confide that we’d leave home in a heartbeat
for George or Angelina or Hugh or Miranda.
Sometimes we notice knowing looks
and discover someone thought we were having an affair.
Please remember that these daily poems require plenty of editing - some more than others. I still grit my teeth when uploading them because of how rough and newborn they are.
Earlier today I skim-read a newsletter article about the importance of water coolers in the workplace for generating ideas. Today's poem just took complete control and I let it off.
What do you think?
Water cooler culture
Our need for water
draws us together,
reminiscent of tribal gatherings
at the river bank
or lake's edge.
We size up the new employee,
share weekend stories.
We discuss
the latest movies,
the best vintage clothes shops
the least expensive holidays
the tastiest recipes.
Fellowship develops.
We promise to do coffee, lunch, dinner,
we worry about health issues and the best hangover cure.
Ideas are shared.
We complain about bills,
the cost of child minding,
parking,
healthy food.
The water cooler
unfurls grapevine tendrils,
nourishes its gossipy stems;
we open up.
We grumble at how impossible it is to keep track of young ones nowadays
how difficult it is to find decent nursing homes for our elderly parents;
doesn’t your woman look like butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth
and I bet he hasn’t seen the inside of a gym in years;
we hear about someone’s new baby: sleepless nights, ha ha.
We gasp at rumours of sackings,
snipe at promotions,
moan about yet another restructure
and confide that we’d leave home in a heartbeat
for George or Angelina or Hugh or Miranda.
Sometimes we notice knowing looks
and discover someone thought we were having an affair.
You can submit that on Sunday as your 'list poem'. Reminds me a tiny bit of my "Caution This Office will Damage Your Health". Feels more left brain than right brain. 12 down, what, 18 to go. Bloody Hell, not even half way.
0 Trackbacks