May 10 2008
Where I’m From
(My friend, Red, did this and it’s a wonderful exercise. It is based on the poem by George Ella Lyons and is explained here. I highly recommend trying it. Sarah )
I am from fresh, white sneakers, from cold coca-cola and jiffy pop
I am from the small town with perfect lawns
and friendly gossips.
I am from the royal oak trees, pink, fragrant roses and soft blue sky,
the lazy clouds that hang low and become faces, dogs and wizards
I am from Irish tempers, quick and hot and belly laughs that wet your pants
from Patsy and Lucky and cantankerous Lottie
I am from blue collars and steelmen with strong, dirty hands and hearty appetites for food and cold beer
From an answer for everything and being just like your father
I am from altars, incense, holy water and jaunty Sunday hats.
From parables repeated by brides of Christ and
from hushed prayers that rattle beads
I am from the green hills and heather teeming with faeries and leprechauns, potato salad, hotdogs and hamburgers
From the motorcycle man who syphoned gas from trackers
the roller rink darling who lied about her age
the brother who died too young and too alone
I am from boxes in the attic that sealed in the smiles
and forced poses
The faded black and whites glued to table tops
the grainy grins that fight the years
Early bedtimes and late night ice cream cones
lake side vacations and car trips
lazy summer days eating red, ripe tomatoes that dripped down our chins and faces
from public fireworks and sweet watermelons
and images never lost, buried deep inside.
copyright 2008
