Thursday, January 1, 2009

My Poem

The Floor
By Kate Troxell

When I was a baby,
My mother set me down
On a blanket, soft and blue,
Cushioning the ground:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Happy to the core.
Something, someone,
Sitting on the floor

Then, just four years later,
My mother set me down,
But I did not stay there,
I got up and ran around:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Running through the door.
Something, someone,
Running on the floor.

Then, many years later,
I was a very old man,
Hobbling across the floor,
With a cane in my hand:
Seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Hobbling still more.
Something, someone,
Hobbling across the floor.

Then one day I fell,
Never to arise,
And there I lay,
Seeing nothing from my eyes:
Not seeing, hearing, tasting, smelling,
Not wishing, hoping, caring, loving,
Not being anymore.
Nothing—just nothing,
Lying on the floor.

Please tell me what you think!

4 comments:

  1. I like it, I'm not sure about the "not being anymore. Nothing.." part. I mean even when someone is dead they are still something, their body still was theirs even if it is separate now from their spirit. I'm not sure how I would do it any different though, you did great. I really like the concept of everything starting from the floor.

    Farrah (Jacynne's mom)

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  2. I liked it. The first part got my attention and I was a little sad at the end.

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  3. I thought the poem was great. Kind of sad, but that sounded just like life.

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