tripping up
when i was young
it was a well-known fact
that i was the girl
who tripped over the pattern
on the kitchen floor
always falling in puddles
bumping into walls
stubbing toes and once
breaking my arm
while getting out
of the bathtub
these days
i’ve learned to navigate
a little better as i stand upright
but i find things in my basement
i’d forgotten i had
and i see myself spending years
tossing promises and
possessions
making space
that i fill with more
space
hollow bones
unchartered maps
vessels to carry me
forward
and this weekend
i installed a new floor
just like the old one except
i turned the pattern on its side
and now i wonder
what will happen
next
.
.
.
October 16th, 2012 at 9:18 am
i like the trade. a lot.
October 16th, 2012 at 9:24 am
Vivid, as always. The hazard of always moving forward is running into something you would never see if you just stayed in the same place.
October 16th, 2012 at 10:02 am
All I can say is that I so enjoy your posts!
October 16th, 2012 at 10:47 am
i bet you’ll be just fine and fall in love with the new lines…..xo
October 16th, 2012 at 11:39 am
Things could get interesting. Smiling. :0)
October 16th, 2012 at 12:39 pm
and it looks awesome!
October 16th, 2012 at 12:59 pm
Anything you do looks awesome 🙂
October 16th, 2012 at 2:27 pm
I always wanted to write a character in a novel who sees everything as a metaphor for life. I imagined her as someone deeply present, forever in love with life (who else could connect everything) but now I think she’s real and I feel silly that it never dawned on me she’d be an excellent poet for what else could she/you be. It is a joy, as always, to read your work.
October 16th, 2012 at 3:09 pm
But you have to keep moving, no matter which way the patterns point…this was a terrific idea for a poem and the execution way fine. Much enjoyed!!
October 16th, 2012 at 3:13 pm
The ending really sticks with you. “Next” It’s like a statement on it’s own. A declaration. Love it!
October 16th, 2012 at 3:14 pm
Delightful poem… as always, a pleasure to read your work.
October 16th, 2012 at 3:15 pm
Kelly, I really like this. Wonder if you will trip over the new pattern too?
October 16th, 2012 at 3:38 pm
Wonderful – I like the twist the poem takes at the end.
October 16th, 2012 at 3:47 pm
Clever you! In my youth as soon as I walked in the door my step father used to say: “Come in, sit down, before you knock anything over or break anything.” He used to call me Calamity Jane …with good reason…lol
Loved this… loved the thought of turning the pattern of the tiles on its side… I wonder what will happen too. 😉
October 16th, 2012 at 4:11 pm
I used to sell ceramic tile so I know you made more work for yourself setting it on the diagonal. Like you did this poem, and made it even more interesting for the effort.
October 16th, 2012 at 4:13 pm
tossing promises and possessions..filling up space with more space…really resonated with me….turning lines sideways can be so interesting if the light is right..thanks
October 16th, 2012 at 4:29 pm
An intriguing metaphor for our progress towards maturity and beyond. I wondered about the leap of mood in the stanza “i’ve learned to navigate
a little better as i stand upright
but i find things in my basement
i’d forgotten i had
and i see myself spending years
tossing promises and
possessions.
October 16th, 2012 at 5:14 pm
ha i hope the new pattern doesnt completely mess with you….the finding things in the basement is a cool stanza for me as there are things in my parents basement i find often…old memories….some i pass to my boys….sometimes we have to change th pattern as well to appreciate life in new ways…
October 16th, 2012 at 5:14 pm
Interesting and clever Kelly.
October 16th, 2012 at 5:24 pm
What ever you do DON’T TRIP!!! 😀 … Lovely piece 😉
October 16th, 2012 at 5:25 pm
I love how you switch things up for a different point of view
October 16th, 2012 at 6:09 pm
I can relate – teased about being “Grace” (not!) Loved the lines of hollow bones, unchartered maps and vessels – just beautiful – and graceful too! 🙂 K
October 16th, 2012 at 7:54 pm
Hopefully it works out for you and the pattern doesn’t screw with you, falling down all the time would just not be sublime.
October 16th, 2012 at 8:09 pm
“and i see myself spending years
tossing promises and
possessions
making space
that i fill with more”
I can relate to this, the story of my life! Clean and toss only to collect more and repeat the process. Wonderfully descriptive poem and one many can relate to.
October 16th, 2012 at 8:57 pm
You led the reader down a path not distinct and did so with veracity and purpose. This piece takes us from the known to the unknown and leaves us wondering… wondering…
October 16th, 2012 at 10:04 pm
tossing promises and possessions … love it! As I always love your words!
October 16th, 2012 at 10:40 pm
smiles…you know…i really like people that stumble over kitchen floor patterns..just saying
October 17th, 2012 at 2:53 am
very interesting 🙂
October 17th, 2012 at 10:03 am
Will you still trip over the pattern on the floor? Who knows? Oddly enbough I’m preparing to lay new tiles in my own kitchen…. What a coincidence? Think I’ll go without a pattern……! 🙂
October 17th, 2012 at 10:39 am
No part of Nature abhors a vacuum more than humans, however clumsily we select and discard memories, ceilings, floors—I love the title here, it’s perfect.
October 17th, 2012 at 10:48 am
This was a wonderful read! LOVED it ….
October 17th, 2012 at 3:39 pm
[…] to tango with joy […]
October 18th, 2012 at 6:15 am
Well now this…this is one of my favourites and as for what happens next, isn’t the best part not knowing?
October 18th, 2012 at 6:30 am
Before I get to the theme, I love your use of space in the physical presentation of this piece, Kelly.
You have struck a chord of memory and self-image with just about every reader in this piece. I defy anyone not to recall their youthful clumsiness of the physical AND emotional kind. And I defy anyone not to feel a little trippy, in a good and present way, while and after reading it.
Wonderful stuff, Kelly!
October 18th, 2012 at 9:09 am
being here is like inhaling sweet air, like refilling my tank. there was a week there a few years back, when i stepped away from the tending and caregiving. soon i will again. (but then come the holidays and all that craziness.) anyway, did you install a handrail? as a child, i could see an escalator and fall. fell down every one i ever got on. hubs always scoffed and laughed and even harumphed as i struggled to step onto every single escalator i encounter. . . until a trip or four ago when he (inexplicably because that’s the way it always happens, isn’t it?) fell down – wait for it – an escalator. experience breeds understanding. every single time.