Where I'm From
Don't you just love a good poetry prompt?
I normally only post once a week on Fridays, but here’s a little bonus.
posted a fabulous poem this morning based on “Where I’m From,” by George Ella Lyon.I remember my daughter coming home from school years ago with a poem written using Lyon’s original as a template and thinking how cool it was to see what images and memories populated her version. But I’d never tried it myself.
I gave it a shot today on a cold, snowy Monday when inspiration was not in great supply. It made for a challenging exercise, both in terms of memory and poetry. Maybe you want to give it a try, too? It doesn’t have to take too long. In fact, I think maybe the best results come when you don’t think too hard about it and write what comes to mind first.
The original poem is here and I even found a nifty template online that’ll help you organize your thoughts here.
I’d love to read what you come up with. Here’s mine:
Where I’m From
I am from a homemade swing with
creaking ropes.
From powdered milk and orange juice
concentrate from a can.
I am from a wood stove in the basement,
and a homemade ringtoss game.
I am from hemlocks crowded together
whispering, and white pines with branches
too high to climb.
I am from chilly aunts and an uncle for the ages.
From called for but couldn’t come,
and you can’t get there from here.
I’m from Sea Fair, born on the Atlantic,
and Burton, blown up at the mill.
I am from a blacksmith’s forge and
from my father who swam like water.
I am from dark at four o’clock,
and birch bark valentines.
I’m from strawberries down the road,
mostly eaten on the way back home.
I am from a ramshackle cabin at the lake,
and bare feet stained with pitch.
From home cooking and TV dinners
at parent/teacher conference time.
I am from those moments muffled by snow,
and the mornings that smelled of the sea.
Inspired by Scoot's note, which led me here to see your beautiful poem.
I am from words written on a page—
Words that built a soul and imagination,
Words that taught the Eternal Word,
Words that danced on the page and in my brain,
Words that taught my pen to write,
Words that sang and words that drew
A wonderful world, both real and dream.
These words still fill my every day,
Though leaping less within imagination's realm.
I am from words, yes, and words will always fill me,
Reminding me that only one Word will ever satisfy.
I am from a Portuguese bear with a well chewed nose,
from home-made caned chairs and well loved green sofas.
I am from regular moves
And new views.
I am from sycamores
Who guided me to and from school.
I am from overflowing bookcases and photo collages,
from Jelly and ice cream,
and from too much family in too small rooms,
from over explained context! and play dissections.
I am from carol singers,
from trifle and crumble,
and from parlour games.
I am from the moments imaginations flew,
and we built universes of endless possibilities.