The View From The Kitchen

After weeks on the road

Fighting and arguing

With my siblings and parents

Making pit-stops

Only so that we don't forget

How to walk

And strange beds

In strange hotels

In strange cities

I find myself here

In a small house

In a small town



At five in the morning

Disheveled and

Sleep deprived

I shuffle into the kitchen

Bundled up in a sweater

Against the cold

Wet

Summer

Morning



Somehow

It is all worth it

To see the whales

Swim in the harbour

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Between grades 6 and 7, my family took a cross-country road trip to the closest thing I have to "The Old Country." That would be the island of Newfoundland. The home of my maternal grandmother. It was the farthest I have ever been from home, and it really changed me.

Fast forward to grade 12. At this time, Charles Bukowski opened my eyes to free verse and open verse poems. His short, staccato and to the point style was influencing my writing at the time. In a "drill" for my writer's craft class, I wrote most of the first stanza on a scrap of paper. I found it a while later and liked it. I expanded and refined it, until it reached this point.

View rtw's Full Portfolio