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Kitchen Door

06 Apr

From the driveway through the garden, to the house,

through the Spring flowers and early vegetable crowns

dotted by Irish moss and creeping winter savory

curved a peaceful path of stepping-stones.

 

There had been children, pets, bears, skunks, mice and moose.

From wood line, through the garden, or from unsettled foundation stones.

None unwelcome.

They would strut, skitdattel, and vamoose unchallenged;

if you leave out the occasional, “shoo!” with an apron.

 

There had been games, challenges, aching legs, pride slid under,

broken flowers, no flowers, whiffle ball whistles, and cries of“foul!”

It all felt the same, a few tumbles of joy and pain resolved in her ooozs

and aaaahs, as lightning and thunder was always explained

in sliding sliders, straight into her arms.

a family kitchen, was  re-arraigned for such an aim.

 

They hopped, skipped, and jumped open space

 between each stone. Sometimes with each other,

sometimes stick tapping and clacking, straggling alone.

Or, as they got older, quietly tiptoeing behind her,

as she cleared her path and  swept the stones,

they would make a loud bee buzzing sound,

scaring the “bejesus” out of her.

and maybe a little extra, waving a finger of shame.

 

I follow the stones, still well placed,feeling  the charm

and seeing her face aged and etched by the seasons.

The children’s path, though well-worn

still has the strength to hold my feet and carry me

sliding, shuffling  across the porch to the kitchen door.

 

 

[re-blog-Edit] Chapter II Love: Hot Water, Crackers, and Ketchup Soup

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40 responses to “Kitchen Door

  1. skipmars

    April 6, 2014 at 12:29 pm

    Excellent word play. Wonderful use of the stones as, may I use the term, touchstones with a vivid past. This plays on my own memories of those gone on. How a chair, or a sound, or even a smell brings it all back in an instant. Like the drone of a passing propeller-driven airplane on a beautiful afternoon.

    I really like this work.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:48 pm

      I thank you with a bow 🙂

      Like

       
  2. Kerry O'Connor

    April 6, 2014 at 12:30 pm

    I love the way you have used lists to build up the memories associated with the path, and the final lines.. the path still carries the speaker forward.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:48 pm

      Thank you Kerry 🙂

      Like

       
  3. skipmars

    April 6, 2014 at 12:43 pm

    I have borrowed from my own memories stirred by this poem. It is a compliment to your work, and I trust you will not be angry with me for doing so.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:50 pm

      🙂 🙂 🙂

      Like

       
  4. Geeta Nair

    April 6, 2014 at 1:17 pm

    Loved the way you played with words.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:50 pm

      Thank you Greeta.

      Like

       
  5. brian miller

    April 6, 2014 at 1:28 pm

    smiles…makes me think of grammas house….of that safe place always open …and a well worn path…and childhood memories….

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:52 pm

      I’m sure your path is being well worn and recognized on your way back 🙂

      Like

       
  6. Gabriella

    April 6, 2014 at 1:45 pm

    I enjoyed the memories this house evoked and how they came about. The last stanza is my favorite too!

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:53 pm

      Merci 🙂

      Like

       
  7. Nataša Dolenc (@Natasek86)

    April 6, 2014 at 1:56 pm

    beautiful life 🙂

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:55 pm

      Like a hot fudge sundae 🙂

      Like

       
  8. Gede Prama

    April 6, 2014 at 2:00 pm

    And I love all the posts in this blog really interesting touch words, thank you friend 🙂

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 3:04 pm

      Thank you.
      )

      Like

       
  9. Sumana Roy

    April 6, 2014 at 2:36 pm

    a life worth living…..love the clatter and the quietness…wonderful reflections..

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 2:56 pm

      yes, and it still is 🙂

      Like

       
  10. humbird

    April 6, 2014 at 2:52 pm

    Such fun you’ve described here…Just imagine these images…laughing 🙂

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 3:02 pm

      Oh ya, and once in awhile, where ever they are, I catch the little rascals( in their 30’s-40’s) still walking with all they carry up the path 🙂

      Like

       
  11. Björn Rudberg (brudberg)

    April 6, 2014 at 3:25 pm

    This brings up memories of paths I have walked barefoot.. jumping on the black stones.. watching out for ants.. and never never stepping on the grass between…

    Like

     
  12. Sherry Blue Sky

    April 6, 2014 at 3:55 pm

    Oh what a wonderful poem of love and memory, crossing that pathway………..I adore it! Sigh. That’s what it is like to be us, isnt it? remembering all of that life and love and glory, as we traveler our slower and more solitary path? Very poignant and it really speaks to me……..

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 7:43 pm

      Thanks Sherry… I always enjoy your visits 🙂

      Like

       
  13. McGuffy Ann

    April 6, 2014 at 4:15 pm

    I love the entire feel of this piece. Nicely done.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 7:43 pm

      Thank you.

      Like

       
  14. Mary

    April 6, 2014 at 4:25 pm

    ZQ, this is a very touching poem today. One of your best, I think. Loved all of your memories shared.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 7:44 pm

      Thanks Mary, that’s special 🙂

      Like

       
  15. Truedessa

    April 6, 2014 at 6:35 pm

    Sounds like a path filled with good memories..

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 7:45 pm

      Wonderful time up and down it 🙂

      Like

       
  16. Audrey Howitt

    April 6, 2014 at 8:06 pm

    This made me long for my time with my grandmother–this is such a wonderful piece–and like everyone else has noted–wonderful word play here!

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 10:37 pm

      Thank you AH 🙂

      Like

       
  17. Talon

    April 6, 2014 at 10:25 pm

    You made it all come alive, ZQ. I could see the path and the wonderful memories scattered among the stones. That they led to the kitchen and the heart of the home makes them even more special.

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 6, 2014 at 10:38 pm

      Thank you Talon. 🙂

      Like

       
  18. CC Champagne

    April 7, 2014 at 2:14 am

    I’ve been absent from poetry for a while, and one of the poets I’ve really missed is you! I remember your poetry being much darker though, so this is a very pleasant surprise as you took me on a journey to… I don’t quite know where (the fairytale world of Astrid Lindgren is the closest I can think of). Beautiful! Well written! Though I have to say (and it’s not meant as something negative) that I miss a description of smells (for me childhood memories are always connected to smells, but that could be just me). Anyway, I have missed poetry, and I have missed your poetry. Will soon be back to wander through what I have missed on here… *smile*

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 7, 2014 at 10:34 am

      Welcome back I missed you too!

      Like

       
  19. dsnake1

    April 7, 2014 at 10:22 am

    i love this poem. i like the rhythm and cadence of the words, and the imagery you have painted. certainly one of the favorites from you. 🙂

    Like

     
    • ZQ

      April 8, 2014 at 8:10 am

      Hmmmm, Che-Cheong, Thanks!

      Like

       
  20. Kerridwen (@TigersSterne)

    April 8, 2014 at 6:33 pm

    So much movement here, very nice! Gives rhythm.

    Like

     

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