23 May 2007

Where I am from

Earlier this year I followed a comment on another blog and found this post by Heth. I followed the link she provided to the format for the poem and have been working on my own since then. Some parts were hard to come up with and others were much easier. I hope you enjoy learning...

Where I'm From

I am from aprons,
from Ajax and chewable aspirin.
I am from a rented old farmhouse,
later razed and rebuilt to rise Phoenix-like from the damage of another tenant.
I am from the pear tree near two old barns,
the dogwood by the drive whose inviting branches I climbed regularly.

I am from spaghetti for supper on church nights
and chili on Halloween;
from Wendell and Lettie and Bessie.
I am from reading everything you can get your hands on and
reading late into the night.
From see you in the funny papers
and you’ll catch your death of cold.
I am from Amazing Grace (oh, how sweet that has always sounded),
from a Bible all my own earned by memory verses
learned over a hot, hazy summer.

I’m from Highland Springs and good, hardy stock –
some Irish, some German –
from vinegar pie and fried green tomatoes.
From Great Uncle Ira who was gassed in World War One,
from Uncle Cotton’s fruit stand,
and a cold Brownie soda with Uncle Jack.
I am from a Sears & Roebuck boot box of faded
black and white photos
of some whose names are not recorded and of others
loved and lost to Oakwood Cemetery,
whose undulating grounds were explored Sundays after dinner,
keeping fresh the memory of our own and others’ family and friends.



5 comments:

Janelle said...

I love your poem, absolutely love it! All those images paint such a real picture.

I'll have to go check the original format, but yours reminds me of the song "This Old Porch" by Lyle Lovett. Some of the lyrics:

This old porch is like a big old red and white hereford bull
Standing under a mesquite tree
Out in agua dulce
And he just keeps on playing hide and seek
With that hot august sun
Just a-sweatin' and a-pantin'
Cause his work is never done

And this old porch is like a steaming, greasy plate of enchiladas
With lots of cheese and onions
And a guacamole salad
And you can get'em down at the lasalle hotel
In old downtown
With iced tea and a waitress
And she will smile every time

And this old porch is the palace walk-in
On the main street of texas
That's never seen the day
Of g and r and xs
With that '62 poster
That's almost faded down
And a screen without a picture
Since giant came to town

Simply Me Art said...

Thank you so much for stopping in. Love your site. As the mother of two and a neighborhood full of kids i know the Bandage situation. I can never have enough. Jamie

Christy said...

What a great poem! Thanks for linking.

Crafty Mama said...

Lovely poem! Thanks for sharing!

Christina said...

What a sweet poem!