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Haiku in the Workplace: Looking Out the Office Window

Relax! Even the most intense of us needs to ease up on that grip once in a while. If we don’t, we lose our abilities to focus, and our accuracy and productivity suffers. We need a break once in a while from the tensions of the task, and, frankly, from ourselves.

Thank the gods, then, or AFGD, for the office window. Besides being structurally sound, thermodynamically efficient, and architecturally attractive, windows also release us from our own focus and release us out into the world. That glance out the window is sorbet to our minds, refreshing us, relaxing us, and, perhaps most importantly, reminding us that there is a world out there that cares little about our current crises. So take a deep breath and look outside on the rest of the world, mindful that they are probably looking out their windows right now and wishing they were you.

Our submitters were about equally divided on how they viewed the window: from inside or out. For many, the special array of massed windows reflecting a composite scene was compelling:

each window
captures an Autumn sunset —
one frame at a time
	[David Dayson]

or within

Autumn muted
from behind a window —
dry leaves rustle
	[David Dayson]

but one poet was able to conjure both views:

Tied to the office.
Going up or down? I’m like
The window cleaner.
	[Jeremy Ison]

And of course you don’t always get what you want:

Finally promoted
To a window seat, facing
A brick wall
	[Samuel Sibony]

But if you try sometime you find what you need:

migrating geese
fly over my office window —
gilded by sunset
	[David Dayson]

or need:

myriad views —
all from the same office
all different
	[David Dayson]

or need:

A burning desire to jump
In the raging forgiving river
But the window is locked
	[Samuel Sibony]

My third place selection this week uses the omniscient viewpoint of the office window to contrast the behaviors of two different species:

ways of a wren
sorting out the day —
the late employees
	[Alan Summers]

It would be anthropomorphizing to make too much of this likeness, but the poet doesn’t do that. He merely points to the two groups and let’s the reader decide how far to push the comparison. But it’s sufficiently close to make us look a second time, as a good poem will do.

A similar strategy is employed in my second place winner, aided this time by interior lighting:

caged by light —
late night office workers
flutter like moths
	[David Dayson]

The delicacy of the images, and the slow motion effect imparted by seeing things at a distance, make this a compelling poem. The light functions as the stimulant for both creatures, human and insect, and their movements come to seem equally fragile, equally compulsive.

My top prize this week goes to a completely different sort of poem:

      on one leg
a slender crane in equipoise —
            p
            i
            r
            o
            u
            e
            t
            t
            e
            s
	                  [David Dayson]

We have not seen much in the way of organic form in this column, but this is an excellent example. Seen in silence from behind the office window, presumably on high, the mechanical object takes on some of the outer aspects of its feathered namesake. Not merely pun nor word painting, the structure of the poem physically demonstrates not only the arrangement of the scene, but intimates its poise and grace as well. What a welcome relief from the stress and tedium of the office routine, expertly captured in words and form.

Happy daydreams! and don’t let the boss catch you.

New Poems

stuck at the office —
the acrobatic antics 
of a pigeon
     — Amy Losak

          *

class test —
outside, a plastic bag
is dancing in the wind
     — Maria Laura Valente

          *

occasionally 
glancing at an open window 
the touch typist
     — Ernesto P. Santiago

          *

windowpane
the boss waves away
my daydreams
     — Elizabeth Moura

          *

a glass skyscraper 
smiling from the outside
the window cleaner
     — Marta Chocilowska

          *

drift
of cherry blossom
the meeting runs over
     — Mark Gilbert

          *

two-man cubicle . . .
addicts in the alley
sharing a needle
     — Michael H. Lester

          *

amidst rolling hills
standing hind quarters 
mighty black stallion
     — Katherine Stella

          *

a blooming rose
through a film darkly
office romance
     — Celestine Nudanu

          *

looking through them 
for a living
window cleaner 
     — Rachel Sutcliffe

          *

busker
outside my office window
is he happier?
     — Pat Davis

          *

little boxes
an escaped balloon passes
my tenth floor window
     — Jan Dobb

          *

returning from the boss
i let the window
open
     — Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

          *

basement office —
how blue the sky
in a painted window
     — Arvinder Kaur

          *

our office window
covered in plywood
after the storm
     — Michael Henry Lee

          *

almost five
looking out
the office window
     — Willie Bongcaron

          *

on the bench
a couple of lovers —
I am anxious about nostalgia
     — Angela Giordano

          *

no work coming in
the dog & i view the world
beyond the window
     — Roberta Beary

          *

motivational meeting
I follow the rising arc
of starlings
     — Peggy Bilbro

          *

still hovering . . .
day moon
looking in
     — Madhuri Pillai

          *

spreadsheets 
slices of leaves 
through the blinds
     — Agnes Eva Savich

          *

looking out the office window    faces    petals on a wet black bough
     — Angelee Deodhar

          *

rain on the window
no longer transparent
the flight of a dove
     — Stefano Riondato

          *

tense confrontation —
a giant seagull stares
back at me
     — Martha Magenta

          *

ongoing rain 
it all comes down
to this moment
     — Devin Harrison

          *

prison window
the softness of the wings
of a butterfly
     — Pravat Kumar Padhy

          *

unopened lunch box
from the office window a view
of a ration shop queue
     — S. Radhamani

          *

strategic window . . .
the bald head boss
eyeing the entryway
     — Mohammad Azim Khan

          *

the view
from my office window
office windows
     — Olivier Schopfer

          *

reflecting pool
through the office window
another office window
     — Jennifer Hambrick

          *

a crash scene
from the office window
colouring rain
     — Brendon Kent

          *

basement window
a live show 
of scissor legs
     — Alegria Imperial

          *

Across the lot
Same car
Different mates
     — Erin Castaldi

          *

November trees
migrating birds
stole this heart
     — Adrian Bouter

          *

out of the office window
the rust in the green —
autumn day

dalla finestra
ruggine negli alberi —
giorno d’autunno
     — Lucia Cardillo

          *

office windows
the melancholic notes
of a street musician
     — Eufemia Griffo

          *

looking out 
the office window
clouds pass by
     — Michael Stinson

          *

boss’s eyrie
over his shoulder the view
I’ll never have
     — Marietta McGregor

          *

rest my eyes . . .
beyond the lake
snowy Alps
     — Elisa Allo

          *

office view —
vertigo looking down
Alain Robert going up
     — Lee Nash

          *

one white cloud
from the seventeenth floor
swallows gliding
     — Mike Gallagher

          *

declaration of war! —
children still playing
in the courtyards
     — Tomislav Maretic

          *

lunch break at work
through the window smell 
of fresh cut grass
     — Cezar Ciobika

          *

stained window
a faded reflection
of a spreadsheet
     — Frank J. Tassone

          *

handed a pink slip
outside 
blossoms fluttering down
     — Lori Zajkowski

          *

the Bronte sisters
and I saw over-trimmed 
Heather, and stomped off
     — Carmen Sterba

          *

leaves falling
turning away to gather
notes from my desk
     — Karen Harvey

          *

through the window
yellow brick wall
ants are busy
     — Christine Eales

          *

clouds —
the gray area between
real and fake news
     — Anthony Rabang

          *

out the office window
imagining the expletives
as a car splashes him
     — Sonam Chhoki

          *

a view from office window
a rising smoke
from the kebab seller
     — Adjei Agyei-Baah

          *


Next Week’s Theme: Dawn in the Office

Send your poem using “workplace haiku” as the subject by Sunday midnight to our Contact Form. Good luck!

kacian_jimFrom October 2014 through April 2016 Haiku Foundation president Jim Kacian offered a column on haiku for the London Financial Times centered on the theme of work. Each week we share these columns with the haiku community at large, along with an invitation to join in the fun. Submit a poem by Sunday midnight on the theme of the week, from the classical Japanese tradition, or contemporary practice, or perhaps one of your own, which you might even write for the occasion. The best of these will be appended to the column. First published 2 November 2015.

This Post Has 51 Comments

  1. Brilliant and inspiring commentary on all poems! Thank you so much for your perceptive and close reading, Alan, much appreciated. Warm wishes, Marietta

  2. Thank you Alan for your comments on my work.

    Actually, ‘Through a Film Darkly’ is in reference to a play with the same title written by the late Prof. Joe De graft, a Ghanaian author and playwright.

    It is interesting to note that there is a similar title, in this case a film by Ingmar Bergman.

    Best wishes, Celestine.

  3. Dear Alan,

    I’ve read all your beautiful comments, thank you so much for taking the time to read our lines and share your impressions with us.
    I’m so grateful for your deep and precious words about my humble senryu… I’m touched!
    If you consent, I’ll write your comment on my blog, with my lines.

    Thank you so much for this stunning surprise!

    Sincerely,
    Maria Laura

    1. Dear Maria, I also loved your image of the plastic bag dancing, perhaps suggesting the struggles of the young intellects.

  4. office senryu

    Ah, yes, we are so easily distracted at work, if in an office, just like we were at school, be it warm and sunny, or just more fun “out there”. 🙂

    Great work Amy!

    stuck at the office —
    the acrobatic antics
    of a pigeon
    — Amy Losak

    *
    Oh, yes, school will never end for some, so thank goodness there is something like a plastic bag blowing in the wind, something Bob Dylan might have written a song about?
    .
    .
    class test —
    outside, a plastic bag
    is dancing in the wind
    — Maria Laura Valente

    I actually like that comma, which some may feel is not required.

    *
    .

    occasionally
    glancing at an open window
    the touch typist
    — Ernesto P. Santiago

    *
    I love Ernesto’s quietly observed poem, that includes subtle movement(s).
    .
    .

    Oh gosh indeed, a shock to the system, even if this isn’t the tenth floor!
    .
    windowpane
    the boss waves away
    my daydreams
    — Elizabeth Moura
    .
    Wonderful!
    .

    *

    a glass skyscraper
    smiling from the outside
    the window cleaner
    — Marta Chocilowska

    *
    .
    I adore Marta’s hinge line that should be a pivot!
    .
    The idea of a skyscraper smiling is utterly beguiling:
    .
    a glass skyscraper
    smiling from the outside
    .
    And works beautifully with the “man outside”
    .
    smiling from the outside
    the window cleaner
    .
    .
    This makes my heart smile when I read this poem!
    .
    .

    drift
    of cherry blossom
    the meeting runs over
    — Mark Gilbert

    *
    .

    Ah, in Japan, it’s more than a viewing experience, it’s a gathering of friends, family, colleagues, and complete strangers, in a group phenomenon. I remember a different type of meeting where I was locked into the jury service room deliberating a complicated and utterly nasty and despicable crime, and it had started to snow outside, and the boy in me wanted to go out there. Needless to say we did our duty, and the evil villain got banged up, and I still got to see my snow, even if it was late at night.
    .
    .

    two-man cubicle . . .
    addicts in the alley
    sharing a needle
    — Michael H. Lester

    *
    .
    All sorts of work happen in all sorts of places. I see both a two man cubicle in the office block, and one in the alley although al fresco. A two man cubicle seems horribly claustrophobic, and makes aspects of the alley almost appealing.
    .
    .

    amidst rolling hills
    standing hind quarters
    mighty black stallion
    — Katherine Stella

    *
    .
    I love the daydream of perhaps Black Beauty, the 1877 novel by English author Anna Sewell, and perhaps even Darcy or an equivalent, and a brave young woman, breaking the confines of society, from inside the office, nose pressed against the glass, leaving a smudge that is all that will be left once the desk is again re-embraced.
    .
    .

    a blooming rose
    through a film darkly
    office romance
    — Celestine Nudanu

    *
    .
    Great film reference!
    .
    Film. Through a Glass Darkly (Såsom i en spegel aka “As in a Mirror”), a 1961 film by Ingmar Bergman.
    .
    .

    looking through them
    for a living
    window cleaner
    — Rachel Sutcliffe

    *
    .
    I wonder what is inadvertently witnessed, what is deliberately scene set also. An intriguing aspect is that the window cleaner is both painter and viewer of the artwork, along with still life and not so still life at times, I feel.
    .
    .

    busker
    outside my office window
    is he happier?
    — Pat Davis

    *
    .
    Just like the grass always seems greener on the other side, so we think many people, even those street performing for money, might be happier.
    .
    .

    little boxes
    an escaped balloon passes
    my tenth floor window
    — Jan Dobb

    *
    .
    One of my favourite songs is “99 Luftballons”
    https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=La4Dcd1aUcE

    You can also listen to it in English as 99 Balloons too. 🙂
    .
    Love the verse, with its little boxes, that can be both cubicles as well as deliveries, and other things.

    At a time that two powerful individuals are pushing for a nuclear winter, 99 Balloons is so timely to avert it again, if only to return safely to our little office boxes and not bunkers.
    .
    .

    returning from the boss
    i let the window
    open
    — Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

    *
    .
    There is so much left unsaid that it is as palpable as being able to cut the air with a cake knife, or stiletto. Wonderfully creative and disquieting.
    .
    .

    basement office —
    how blue the sky
    in a painted window
    — Arvinder Kaur

    *
    .
    Ah, the wonderfully windowless basement office with its gift of enclosure and being buried alive, with just a painting of a window. But how that painting keeps just on the right side, barely.
    .
    .

    our office window
    covered in plywood
    after the storm
    — Michael Henry Lee

    *
    .
    I remember doing this in Malibu before an incoming storm, and also in Oxford Street, London, in case the tens of thousands of rioters got through to us. I expected to die that day, but neither event happened that day.
    .
    .

    almost five
    looking out
    the office window
    — Willie Bongcaron

    *
    .
    Both the child is five, or the office has lost the adult for a moment, returning back to one of their earliest memories as a child? But then, of course, it’s that awful clock-watching, and the official end to a 9-5 office existence. I hear a Dolly Parton song coming on. I love that I misread/misinterpreted “almost five” a time when we were or felt we were free. Love i t!
    .
    .

    on the bench
    a couple of lovers —
    I am anxious about nostalgia
    — Angela Giordano

    *
    .
    Ah, my mother used to worry as much about no problems as real problems. But she was never nostalgic or feared it. This is a bittersweet poem beautifully penned.
    .
    .

    no work coming in
    the dog & i view the world
    beyond the window
    — Roberta Beary

    *
    .
    What a beautiful scene, two fellow denizens of the planet enjoying a view, I’m reminded of the famous dog in the Lake District, Cumbria, or takes himself out along to view the mountains. Karen met him while she rested at a bench. Alas I had gone on, so I missed this intimate treat.
    .
    .

    motivational meeting
    I follow the rising arc
    of starlings
    — Peggy Bilbro

    *
    .
    That must have been inspiring, and surprised that the entire meeting just didn’t pause to witness the marvel. Ah, well, back to the powerpoint I guess. Wonderful poem! My heart soars with it.
    .
    .

    still hovering . . .
    day moon
    looking in
    — Madhuri Pillai

    *
    .
    Breathtaking, and all in six words! I can almost reach and touch…
    .
    .

    spreadsheets
    slices of leaves
    through the blinds
    — Agnes Eva Savich

    *
    .
    I wish I could feed the shredder all of the unnecessary paperwork I generate by being in this oh-so-not-a-paperless-computer-world. Love the play on words with ‘leaves’ and the taut visual of it all.
    .
    .

    looking out the office window faces petals on a wet black bough
    — Angelee Deodhar

    *
    .
    Ah, to be back at that metro station. 🙂 Brilliant allusion of the famous poem:
    .
    In a Station of the Metro
    .
    The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
    Petals on a wet, black bough.
    .
    “In A Station of the Metro” is an Imagist poem by Ezra Pound published in 1913 in the literary magazine Poetry.
    .
    .

    rain on the window
    no longer transparent
    the flight of a dove
    — Stefano Riondato

    *
    .
    Beautiful opening line that continues to be translucent in light and raindrops of a free bird beyond the confines of the office cage.
    .
    .

    tense confrontation —
    a giant seagull stares
    back at me
    — Martha Magenta

    *
    .
    Gosh! I remember a TV situation comedy where the protagonist imagines his boss as a number of beasts. Or was the confrontation with someone officious, only to be followed by an aggressive gull? A startling juxtaposition, and well done too.
    .
    .

    ongoing rain
    it all comes down
    to this moment
    — Devin Harrison

    *
    .
    Love the opening line! Rain has a way of closing things down positively into a simple matter of warmth, and a hot cup of tea, coffee, or soup. Wonderful!
    .
    .

    prison window
    the softness of the wings
    of a butterfly
    — Pravat Kumar Padhy

    *
    .
    The prison window, either in criminal incarceration or civilian employment, is a painting come alive by sky, clouds, and visiting insects that could maybe enter, and leave at will.
    .
    .

    unopened lunch box
    from the office window a view
    of a ration shop queue
    — S. Radhamani

    *
    .
    I made a separate comment here because I was so pleased and delighted that S. Radhamani produced such a powerful poem that tackles so many things.
    .
    .

    strategic window . . .
    the bald head boss
    eyeing the entryway
    — Mohammad Azim Khan

    *.
    Ah, the status office which must have a status window! Marriage, home, happiness must be sacrificed for it.
    .
    .

    the view
    from my office window
    office windows
    — Olivier Schopfer

    *
    .
    A good thing reflecting multiple skies and clouds and small lives, or a nightmare, like The Matrix.
    .
    .

    reflecting pool
    through the office window
    another office window
    — Jennifer Hambrick

    *
    .
    Somewhere that seemed ideal to dive into, and then to our horror is not an inviting swimming pool, but another office. I feel like Keanu being chased in the first Matrix movie.
    .
    .

    a crash scene
    from the office window
    colouring rain
    — Brendon Kent

    *
    .
    A stunning if not unsettling final line, and possibly fatal. Perhaps it’s just the diesel and petrol/gas making rainbows out of a crisis. Stunning work!
    .
    .

    basement window
    a live show
    of scissor legs
    — Alegria Imperial

    *
    .
    A gym, that pop up everywhere near and far for office workers? Wonderfully depicted movement.
    .
    .

    Across the lot
    Same car
    Different mates
    — Erin Castaldi

    *
    .
    Car sharing program or office romances swapping partners and witnessed via the drive into or out of work? Great!
    .
    .

    November trees
    migrating birds
    stole this heart
    — Adrian Bouter

    *
    .
    Poignantly beautiful!
    .
    .

    out of the office window
    the rust in the green —
    autumn day

    dalla finestra
    ruggine negli alberi —
    giorno d’autunno
    — Lucia Cardillo

    *
    .
    I both imagine the rust colour of the leaves as well as a rusty gate to a beautiful public garden where office workers can stroll to relieve the tensions of the day.
    .
    .

    office windows
    the melancholic notes
    of a street musician
    — Eufemia Griffo

    *
    .
    A great exception to avoiding adverbs, wonderfully done!
    .
    .

    looking out
    the office window
    clouds pass by
    — Michael Stinson

    *
    .
    Ah, passing clouds and no way of jumping on one. Beautiful image.
    .
    .

    boss’s eyrie
    over his shoulder the view
    I’ll never have
    — Marietta McGregor

    *
    .
    That first line reminds me of Hitler’s own eyrie before he was condemned to his own bunker. And those who want to remain bosses and in command, whatever. Deeply poignant.
    .
    .

    rest my eyes . . .
    beyond the lake
    snowy Alps
    — Elisa Allo

    *
    .
    If only just beyond your eyelids, just to reach out. It’s why I love the idea of the Holo Deck in Star Trek: the Next Generation. 🙂
    .
    .

    office view —
    vertigo looking down
    Alain Robert going up
    — Lee Nash

    *
    .
    Ah, “the French Spider-Man” who scaled skyscrapers using no climbing equipment except for a small bag of chalk and a pair of climbing shoes. He certainly would have an almost unique perspective of office views, along with the window cleaning crews that constantly go up and down the big blocks. Good to name a contemporary hero!
    .
    .

    one white cloud
    from the seventeenth floor
    swallows gliding
    — Mike Gallagher

    *
    .
    What an amazing bonus to living so high on glass and steel!
    .
    .

    declaration of war! —
    children still playing
    in the courtyards
    — Tomislav Maretic

    *
    .
    If this wasn’t to do with looking out of office windows it would be chilling, making me think of the Halabja chemical attack atrocity and also the Kurdish kindergarten deliberately targeted. Here I hope it’s safe war games being carried out by children, and not for real, or in boardrooms.
    .
    .

    lunch break at work
    through the window smell
    of fresh cut grass
    — Cezar Ciobika

    *
    .
    I like how you have kept ‘smell’ in the second line as often the window smell is of cleaning liquids and not fresh grass. Sounds almost idyllic.
    .
    .

    stained window
    a faded reflection
    of a spreadsheet
    — Frank J. Tassone

    *
    .
    Ah, not the stained glass of cathedrals and churches, but weather stained or coffee being hurled around? And nothing but reflections of spreadsheets. Poignant and effective.
    .
    .

    handed a pink slip
    outside
    blossoms fluttering down
    — Lori Zajkowski

    *
    .
    A termination notice that is the pink of blossom, so ironic, but proves both employment and cherry or plum blossom are transient. Excellent poem, though sad.
    .
    .

    the Bronte sisters
    and I saw over-trimmed
    Heather, and stomped off
    — Carmen Sterba

    *
    Great literary allusion! Memory is a poem written in 1844 by Anne Bronte where she looks back to her childhood in Haworth, recalling with happiness the moorland heather and primroses.
    .

    leaves falling
    turning away to gather
    notes from my desk
    — Karen Harvey

    *

    .

    As I said, that middle line is a great hinge (pivot) line where the two ‘ing’ verbs really work to great effect. Love the musicality of ‘falling, turning’.

    .
    .
    through the window
    yellow brick wall
    ants are busy
    — Christine Eales

    *
    .

    Alas not the Yellow Brick Road of Elton John or those silver shoes (called ruby slippers in the Judy Garland movie). A bright yellow brick wall sounds ghastly, only made more human by our insect colleagues.
    .
    .

    clouds —
    the gray area between
    real and fake news
    — Anthony Rabang

    *
    .
    Ah, clouds make for wonderful views, and are powerful entities, whilst the almost always slightly or greatly inflected news is not so wonderfu lfor a clear view.
    .
    .

    out the office window
    imagining the expletives
    as a car splashes him
    — Sonam Chhoki

    *
    .
    Love the opening line! How often we’ve wanted to get out of the office window! And here you mean quite literally and fatally. I wonder who the ‘him’ is, boss or other type of office foe?
    .
    .

    a view from office window
    a rising smoke
    from the kebab seller
    — Adjei Agyei-Baah

    *
    .
    I’m reminded of A Room with a View, a 1908 novel by E. M. Forster, and also the SF story “Window” by Bob Leman, published in 1980 and reprinted numerous times. It was nominated for the Nebula Award for best short story. The influential science fiction publisher Donald A. Wollheim included the short story in The 1981 Annual World’s Best SF.

    But here, instead of lifelong love, or a Victorian age alternate era eating a future sciencist, it is the harmless streetfood of kebabs being cooked down beneath your window. 🙂

    .
    .
    What a great set of poems about the office window!
    .
    warm regards
    Alan

    1. Thanks, Alan, I thoroughly enjoyed your comments on all the poems. Your insights as “co-author” in the haiku experience give me a deeper appreciation of each poem. Feedback is a great teacher!

      1. Thank you! You are most kind.
        .
        .
        Re:
        “Your insights as “co-author” in the haiku experience give me a deeper appreciation of each poem.”

        New Zealand Poetry Society, via Sandra Simpson, kindly approached me for an extended version of my The Reader as Second Verse article on the British Haiku Society website.

        NZPS:
        “This month’s article by Alan Summers tackles the topic of the importance of readers in making a haiku successful.”
        .
        .
        The Reader as Second Verse
        https://poetrysociety.org.nz/affiliates/haiku-nz/haiku-poems-articles/archived-articles/monthly-article/
        .
        .
        Isn’t it wonderful that haiku come alive with the reader! 🙂
        .
        warm regards,
        Alan

  5. This topic has really produced some stunning work!
    .
    Karen, your’s is brilliant on so many levels:
    .
    .
    leaves falling
    turning away to gather
    notes from my desk
    .
    — Karen Harvey
    .
    .
    And does show that two ‘ings’ can make a right for a haiku. 🙂
    .
    It’s a stunning and almost unnerving hinge line:
    .
    turning away to gather
    .
    warm regards,
    Alan

    1. Thank you so much for the personal feedback Alan. There is so much to learn about such a tiny poetic form. It seems that studying with a great haijin helped.

    2. Wow! I’m glad you liked it. Thank you so much for you comments Alan. Right from the start I had a very strong image of autumn leaves falling outside the window and the loose leaves, pages ready to be gathered up from the desk.

      I so enjoy Jim’s prompts here. It pushes me to write more often and I enjoy the feeling of community.

      Warm wishes to you and Karen.

      1. HI Karen,

        .
        I will give your warm wishes to the other Karen! 🙂
        .
        warm regards,
        Alan

        p.s.
        .
        Yes, Jim is brilliant with this series and how he covers aspects of the poems and office life too!
        .

    1. .
      I really liked your poem!
      .

      unopened lunch box
      from the office window a view
      of a ration shop queue
      .
      — S. Radhamani
      .

      It delivers a punch through unsaid social commentary. Very strong poem.
      .
      warm regards,
      Alan

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