MelJayNaray Poem: Riddle in the sink

This next poem has very happy memories for me :) During my second (possible third...) year at university I discovered that there was a university creative writing magazine called "Jabberwocky", and I knew that before I'd finished my degree that I'd like to have a poem published in it. I picked up a copy one day and saw that the team were looking for poems which had the theme "I write this sitting in the kitchen sink" - quite an ambiguous starter and plenty of scope for creativity, so how could I refuse! I knew exactly how I wanted to approach the poem and worked hard at getting my plans in ship shape (! a little joke, which you'll get when you read the poem :D) I enjoyed thinking up the rhymes for this one and when the Jabberwocky team printed my poem in Issue 11 I was extremely excited!! Collecting my copy of the magazine and seeing my name and poem written inside was such a thrill! I took two copies actually and guarded them with my life! Showing my family was really a beautiful experience and they were very proud. It was the first time that I had a poem published in a hard copy publication. Thank you Jabberwocky for choosing my poem!


http://www.su-web.nottingham.ac.uk/~jabber/issue11/2.jpg

 Hope you enjoy it, with lotsa love Mel XXXX

Riddle in the sink

By Melanie Jay Narayanasamy

I write this sitting in the kitchen sink,

Getting dirtier as he cleans the plates,

A change from being frozen on the ice rink,

Where they make patterns on me with their skates.

They don’t listen when I say I compromise,

I blow hot or cold at the turn of a tap.

But you’ll understand why I don’t advertise,

That I’m but a squiggly line on a map!

I’ve conquered the north, south, east and the west,

I walk along the Earth leaving a trail.

Three quarters of your world is where I rest,

Gently carrying the heavy boats you sail.

Woeful or happy I fall from your eyes,

From a plastic bottle I quenched your thirst

But I’m not all good, I hope you realise,

For in stormy weathers I do my worst.

Flowers blossomed when I fell into the soil,

Decorating your garden and the empty vase,

But into my heart you emptied your oil,

And now I’m abused, I cannot hide the scars.

So now my work is done, the cups are clean,

The plug is pulled and down the drain I go.

But where I’ll go next remains to be seen,

Just what will become of H20?

© Melanie Jay Narayanasamy 2011