My Poem: Kitchen Pantoum: Gen

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Title: Kitchen Pantoum
Fandom: Original
Rating: Gen
Word Count: 381
Notes: I've been working on this for several months. With it done, I've one poem left in my WIP folder. Yay. Inspired by this art [I lost the link so if anyone recognizes it, please let me know so I can give proper attribution].



The pan rests, clean and dry. The kettle screams.
Below, the pot and skillet sit, unused.
The wall is pocked by blistering hot streams.
The lino once was blue, now much abused.

Below the pot and skillet, sit unused
a stack of sundry scorched-stained baking sheets.
The lino once was blue. Now much abused,
the floor is grey, hard scarred with cracks and pleats.

A stack of sundry scorched-stained baking sheets,
a clanging set, rests in an odd drawer. Sunlit,
the floor is grey, hard scarred with cracks and pleats;
it catches morning rays and shines to spit.



A clanging set rests in an odd drawer. Sunlit
oasis breaks the dingy shadow underfoot;
it catches morning rays and shines to spit
reflecting mouse-eye views asunder put.

Oasis breaks the dingy shadow. Underfoot
a pair of troughs lie, their round veneer,
reflecting mouse-eye views, asunder-put
old kitchen, rag’s long-ago homely cheer.

A pair of metal troughs lie, their round veneer
licked clean. A phantom shroud hangs, a ghost of
old kitchen rag’s long-ago homely cheer,
well-camouflaged in gloom the walls boast of.

Licked clean, a phantom shroud hangs, a ghost of
leftover weariness which lingers on,
well-camouflaged in gloom. The walls boast of
a rotting wood to splinter fingers on.

Leftover weariness which lingers on
the walls lies massacred in floods of light;
a rotting wood to splinter fingers on
falls misbegotten in bright blinding blight.

The wall lies massacred in floods of light,
ignored by plates held prisoner in the drying dock,
falls misbegotten in bright blinding blight.
The zinc-lined sink is made of sturdy stock.

Ignored by plates, held prisoner in the drying dock,
the cups and saucers contemplate the drip.
The zinc-lined sick is made of sturdy stock
but pipes let an irregular tear slip.

The cups and saucers contemplate the drip,
the mirror, switch, and decorative plate,
but pipes let an irregular tear slip,
a trace of rot behind white cupboard slate.

The mirror, switch, and decorative plate
hang. Glancing sun and dead light shadow, like
a trace of rot behind white cupboard slate,
impatiently waiting on final strike.

Hang glancing sun and dead light! Shadow-like,
the wall is pocked by blistering hot streams.
Impatiently waiting on final strike,
the pan rests, clean and dry. The kettle screams.

Comments

[lunabee34]

I really like this, and I enjoy seeing your inspiration.

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Thanks! As soon as I saw this one, I thought of a pantoum because pantoums are sort like circles so I started at the most interesting element for me, which is the kettle, and moved step-forward, step-back counterclockwise around the room and back to the kettle.

[lunabee34]

I think sometimes forms just feel arbitrary to me, like a poet decided, "I shall write a sonnet" or whatever, but I really enjoy form when it adds to the meaning of the poem, so I really like the way you're using the form to add this extra spatial layer to the poem.

[smallhobbit]

This is very lovely - such a clever use of the pantoum to describe the kitchen. I'm not surprised it took time to write, it's most impressive.

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Thank you! Pantoums are slow, you know, because it's one step forward, one step back. I let it sit for many weeks and then finally picked it up and decided to finish it off.

[debriswoman]

Great use of the form...thoroughly enjoying your work:-)

[stonepicnicking_okapi]

Thank you very much!