Doodles


I have a breakfast meeting, little salmon parcels,
Coffee Americano, the cucumber was cut too early
And now it curls around the edges, I eat a strawberry,
Madly out of season but it rolls gladly onto my tongue
And I bite, it is far better munching than making retorts.
I sit hemmed in, the musical director who is given to
Spontaneous humming both odourly and hourly
Bristles with his uneven sideburns, he has yellow nails.
Why he is called a director, I have no clear idea
As he spoons himself into over tight jeans and juts his chin.
He wants "input" and Madame La Directrice certainly outpours,
She is oddly unkempt for this hour of day, usually she is lacquered
And overspills onto the leather armchair in the rest room.
Perhaps it is these prissy seats that Maurice ordered,
I have to admit they do bite the butt, I have a small arse
But even so I have come to appreciate good upholstery,
I am tempted to wheel across the meeting room
Waylaying Matthew who 'does' and challenge him to a race
Right down the corridor, the wheelchair ramp and out into
The road that slides downhill toward the beach, perhaps there
We catch the little duck and make our way out to the castle.
I suppose I really should contribute instead of gnawing
Around strawberry stems, using my tongue to dislodge
Bits of salmon – someone in catering has sprinkled poppy seeds,
I fear that after this tedium, we shall all smile with relief
Our teeth glinting with black decay and spraying opinions.
I have always doodled, down the sides of margins, between
Headers and footers, my quavers have personalities and
I do a fair copy of an over ripe treble clef, unlike this strawberry,
Funny how out of season fruit just quivers really, it does a
Fair imitation of juiciness but doesn't fall away as quickly.
On the other hand the cape gooseberries have just that
Bitter touch, I know they are meant for garnish and
Our youthful would be caterer from the college will be mortified.
Musicians are such anarchists of the business breakfast,
Any minute the director will trumpet his nose and Madame
Will start pulling on the strings, like dental floss,
Something will have to dislodge those poppy seeds I fear.
Three quarters of an hour after I first lost concentration
And the coffee Americano has gone cold I am slightly jolted,
I do what any sane person does, I bolt, claiming a prior engagement.
Nothing ever gets resolved at these meetings
I prefer to act, then while they are still all ruffling at the cuffs,
Persuade them that this was agreed and 'look how well it works'.





Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 561 times
Written on 2013-11-17 at 19:43

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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
It seems masochistic to say that I enjoyed this poem, but I did. It brought back many painful memories.
2013-11-24


Chaucer Whethers The PoetBay support member heart!
I concur, like a passage from an intriguing novel one vicariously experiences the writers poetic angst and ennui.
2013-11-20


shells
I love the detailed descriptives here and the "frayed around the edges" way the story is relayed, genius. Go girl with the wheelies!
Like Jim I was up for more and disappointed I had reached the end.
2013-11-18


countryfog
I don't know what to say anymore . . . there are so many pitch-perfect passages and images here, original and insightful. I have great admiration for someone who can find the poetry in the commonplace and reveal it in such a way that one reads it and says "Yes, that's exactly how it was" as though one had been there too.
2013-11-18



My only criticism of this is that it isn't long enough. I wish it would go on and on and on.
2013-11-18