Joanie's Kitchen Poem by Dan Brown

Joanie's Kitchen



It's a funny little place this,
with life and death
sitting at the four or five tables
talking loudly above the clinking
and the hissing and the screaming sirens
that stream in through the open door
about the weather and how Margaret down the street
still hasn't got her tablets and their Emily
who's just had a little girl
and called it Madison y'know,
and it was so early y'know,
only six months -
it won't live y'know,
whilst one shouts at her Father
that they've no carrot cake, Dad!
No carrot cake!
A ladder enters and changes hands
with laughs and kind words
and complaints about paint shades
that I would join but for the violent plum
attacking me from all four walls,
even the one with Fifties Hollywood
pouting - with clashing cherry lipstick -
from above the red-tops on the rack
as she surveys the irony
of gossip, scandal and layman's terms
- sentimental wisdom and cheap philosophies -
served between baps and barms
and stirred into proper cups of tea
as outside the traffic roars past
- ever in a hurry -
and the old folk quite at home
pay no mind.

Friday, June 13, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: society
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Dan Brown

Dan Brown

Newcastle-Upon-Tyne, UK
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