This is where I’ll put I am From poems. Go to the About page to find out how to submit a poem. (If you don’t know this kind of poem, read the poems below.)

Where I’m From

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I’m from fudge and eyeglasses,
from Imogene and Alafair.
I’m from the know-it-alls
and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I’m from He restoreth my soul
with a cottonball lamb
and ten verses I can say myself.

I’m from Artemus and Billie’s Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments–
snapped before I budded —
leaf-fall from the family tree.

~George Ella Lyon

 

Where I’m From

I am from
My green blankey and
Climbing out of my crib
From playing mermaid in the bathtub.

I am from walking my dog,
And the noise he made when I step on his tail.

I am from my sheep nightlight
And Blue’s Clues and the Berenstain Bears.
I am from spinning until
I can’t tell where I am and
Seeing the world upside-down.

I am from long days at school
And hurrying home to watch Pokémon.
From chocolate-chip cookies at
Grandma’s house.

I am from July days in the pool
And running through the sprinklers.
From my imaginary friends and
The games we used to play like
Doctor and patient and teacher and student.

I am from trips to the grocery store
And that time I fell out of the cart onto the
Sticky linoleum floor.

I am from the tap tap tap
Of my tap shoes that one week
That I decided to be a dancer.
I am from trying new things.

I am from rainy days
And board games,
Saturday cartoons and Cheerios.

I am from walks on the beach
And the sand on my feet,
And not wanting to go home after vacation.

I am from Barbies and Polly Pockets
From playing with my sister,
The other half of me.

I am from books and flashlights
And pens and paper.
From silence to screaming.

I am from tears on my pillow
And unanswered cries.
From holding your hand
And that look in your eyes.

I am from past and present
And dreams of the future.
I am from hard work and
Harder play.
And I am from writing down my thoughts
On a midsummer’s day.

~WriterDancerLover

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