DAY 28... NAPOWRIMO
pungent cooking smells
reek of poverty and servitude
time for a shower
sound the trumpet
she listens to purcell
whilst chopping the onions
the door clicks
it's next door
another world
three inches away that
she never wants to see
the carnations in the jam jar
are joyous
are still alive
after weeks of neglect
are in love with
the sprigs of mint
pure and fragrant
amongst the potato peels
They refuse to die
I love the vivid details and defiant mood.
ReplyDeleteIt is good to be reminded that, even if neglected, some things refuse to die.
ReplyDeleteAnd that is why i really enjoy carnations. i have a love hate relationship with cooking. i have streaks of loving it (well, maybe not chopping onions) and then times when I dread it.
ReplyDeleteThis is so good.
ReplyDeleteYeah - Purcell doesn't sound great, but your poem is most excellent. It has a great flow, and great end.
ReplyDeleteI can't help but cheer the carnations on!
ReplyDeleteCompost never smelt so good. Mrs N & I watched and enjoyed Alison.
ReplyDeleteI like the starkness of contrast and comparison in this poem. They bring out many things unsaid especially the feeling of deprivation and the absence of scope of choice.
ReplyDeleteFragrance permeates every line! I have roses from ten days ago, magical
ReplyDelete