Through The Kitchen Window

Then the point comes when you know you can’t save
it, it will break and crumble and drown in the milk and

that last cookie, the murky outline of that inevitability
will forever remain the memory of the night it began to

end. You know I never liked this table, the stripes the
morning sun paints on the teak through the blinds, it is

better, out on the steps, less interrupted, less incomplete,
the odd crow wondering if it is welcome while you wave

a rolled newspaper over tea and biscuits, saving us from
the flies. Alone, wrapped in your old parka, I see a half-

moon dissolve in the blackened sky bowl, somewhere your
fingers hold the other piece, rain dripping off its uneven

edge. Silver swirls begin to fill the air as the light mixes,
changes, till that point when you know you can’t save it.

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64 thoughts on “Through The Kitchen Window

  1. Just beautiful, Rajani. “…Alone, wrapped in your old parka, I see a half- / moon dissolve in the blackened sky bowl, somewhere your / fingers hold the other piece, rain dripping off its uneven / edge…”. Wow!

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      1. Sure is. I’m doing the same thing right now. It may be worth (as a good friend suggested to me) submitting to a few journals/competitions first – that way you can compile a book with a whole stack of published/prize winning poems included… Send me an email if you’re interested and I’ll send you the names of some journals I can recommend 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Ah, top class stuff Rajani – love you way you build the atmosphere and steadily develop this theme and meditative observation to its conclusion. The last two lines are especially masterful.

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  3. This is so beautiful Rajani and ‘Alone, wrapped in your old parka, I see a half-moon dissolve in the blackened sky bowl, somewhere your fingers hold the other piece, rain dripping off its uneven edge’ is pure magic :o) xxx

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  4. Yes, competitions! Your work is superb and I’m sure will be welcomed to be published in many publications…you are so good, Rajani…good luck to you! Enjoyed this very much…your emotions and images are so impeccable.

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  5. I love the way you’ve strung beautiful words and phrases between the last cookie and an old parka, Rajani! I love the simplicity of
    ‘You know I never liked this table, the stripes the
    morning sun paints on the teak through the blinds,…’
    and the startk monochrome imagery of:
    ‘…I see a half-

    moon dissolve in the blackened sky bowl, somewhere your
    fingers hold the other piece, rain dripping off its uneven

    edge.’

    Liked by 1 person

  6. “that last cookie, the murky outline of that inevitability”
    “You know I never liked this table, the stripes the
    morning sun paints on the teak through the blinds, it is
    better, out on the steps, less interrupted, less incomplete”

    Wonderful.

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  7. Like most of the others, I was hooked by /the parka/ and /the blackened sky bowl/. I know several poets who have self-published, and then labored to recoup the investment. Poetry does not conjure much income though, so if the drive to publish is strong enough, pursue it. I looked into the free self-publishing, like on Amazon, but no one edits their stuff, and you get tossed into the hat with a lot of inferior, poorly presented work, So for me getting a poem or two in the dVerse published anthology each year is more than enough; belonging to a strong poetic community is exposure enough for me.

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    1. Totally agree Glenn… you can’t do it for the money. I think we all see how hard it is for poetry to get substantial readership. Self publishing is a hard decision… haven’t got there yet!!

      Like

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