Thursday, February 19, 2009

My new-old friend shared this beautiful poem

Where I'm From
~George Ella Lyon

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.


I love it. He challenged me to write my own, echoing the poem. I will work on it. Will you too?


Marie said...

I have always loved this Allison. I did my own version some time ago:
It was one of the most fun things I ever did. I can't wait to see your version. I bet it's great!

Grammy Staffy said...

I will look forward to reading your poem. I will have to look up Marie's and read it too.

Thanks for stopping by my blog. I hope that you will pop by again and visit. Any friend of Marie's is a friend of mine.

Have a good weekend and happy writing. Lura