Write your own “where I’m from” poem
Buy Elimite Online Prevacid Without Prescription Ultram No Prescription Prevacid For Sale Ultram Generic Buy Prednisone Online Toprol XL Without Prescription Amoxil No Prescription Elimite For Sale Cipro GenericI stumbled across this site some time ago: http://www.georgeellalyon.com/where.html.
It’s a poem where the writer explains where she’s from. Not by saying a name of a city or country, but rather by displaying images, smells, sounds.
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.
I really like this “definition” of “where I’m from”, because it makes sense to us TCKs. We’re not tied to a certain country (like some people expect us to be), we define ourselves in a puzzle/rubick’s cube/tapestry kind of way. We are a collection of experiences, sights, sounds, smells, tastes, etc.
Then in the website she proposes people to write their own “where I’m from” poem. I think this can really help us, because we start to think and explore where we are really from.
I particularly like what she says at the end:
Remember, you are the expert on you. No one else sees the world as you do; no one else has your material to draw on. You don’t have to know where to begin. Just start. Let it flow. Trust the work to find its own form.
So I propose each person writes their own poem and posts it here!
Maira Bay de Souza
Born in Brazil, then moved to England, then back to Brazil, then to Wales, then Back to Brazil. Moving to Canada in mid-2010. MSN: mairabay AT hotmail DOT com Skype: mairabay I'm also on Facebook, MySpace etc, just look for my name (try Maíra and Maira).8 Comments to “Write your own “where I’m from” poem”
October 31st, 2008 at 12:49 pm
I’ll start with mine:
I’m from snow and squirrels
but also from palm trees and white sand
Salty sea water and fresh summer breeze
The smell of recently cut grass in a cold morning
The taste of berries long forgotten
I’m from swimming, biking, ice-skating and climbing trees
I’m from “Please”, “Excuse-me”, “Thank you”, “I’m sorry”
I’m from kissing and hugging - but only when you really mean it
I’m from fountains, museums and interesting buildings
Green parks and gardens, filled with colourfull flowers
Tulips, daffodils, dandelions, roses
Running in a big back yard full of tall trees
Misterious stories, castles and secret passages
Ponds and lakes that look like mirrors
I’m from warm coats, gloves and scarfs
Central heating and fireplaces
I’m from Rock, Grunge, Punk, Indie
Flannel shirt, torn jeans and All Star Tennis shoes
Confusion and loneliness
I’m from peace, love, kindness
I’m from airplanes, maps and walking
I’m from the world!
(Is this spam?)
October 31st, 2008 at 1:43 pm
What a great idea, Maira! I’m voting this 5 stars
I’ll be thinking of my poem too.. hmm maybe I’ll even draw something. haha, look at what you’ve done!
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October 31st, 2008 at 1:46 pm
I love this this idea
I’ll definetly give it a try 
Just might take some time!
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November 1st, 2008 at 10:14 am
Hmm, well, inspiration really hit me on this one(so i started writing right away lol), so here is my unedited poem i just finished about 2 minutes ago. enjoy.
I gaze to night stars
radiant beams of the past
and look down on my own
what is this-
what is me made?
and what is me in the making?
I look to the desert of the east
the sand still courses through my veins
I dare not to hold it too tightly-
or it will slip though my callused fingers
and be gone like the desert fox.
a thousand faces stand before me
monuments to the past like gravestones-
but ones that do not just tell names
stories to be written in books abound
In the places where i was found.
The airplane hisses through the cold morning fog
fighting the will of the earth to stay
on the ground-to remain the same
but fly it must- to lead me
out of the desert to the jungles
of new bamboo islands
I collected the rain from there-
It too runs in my blood
churning the sand like a hurricane’s flood
but once again the sound
the engines tell me to fly
To another place dry
a place dry with life of dark wheat pastures
I knew something deep called me
the sleepy sands and floods often
do- but my time was up.
I took the pasture for my skin and left
for the future you know
the winds took me to a place
of immense feeling- of thousands of trees
piney woods with the smell of honey
in the autumn breeze
but i wanted to go back-
the call of the winged engines i lack.
But where? I am a sand jungle pasture with a thousand faces looking at the stars
in a forest of pine
this cannot be found anywhere
but in my mind.
(Is this spam?)
November 1st, 2008 at 2:29 pm
I’m from tropical rain
Falling on a soggy leaf roof
Kerosene lamps, mosquito nets
Making mud cakes with little brown friends
In the dust under their hut
I’m from nostalgic smells:
Mountain rice cooking over an open wood fire
Pungent fermented soybean paste
Tobacco pipes, betel chew, rice whiskey
And real bodies unaltered by soap or cosmetics
I’m from starry nights when a million sparkles
Were not dimmed by artifical light
Spooky stories told by toothless old ladies
In an Asian tongue
I’m from Buddhist prayers sing-songing around me
A lone blonde, pale-skinned child
Rows of blue and white uniformed students
Saluting a red, white and blue flag
That had no stars
I’m from a handsome first love
With jet-black hair and pearly white teeth
Flirting eyes and a light touch
That left my knees weak
And still drifts in and out of my dreams
I’m from Maesariang, Thong Sawat, Yuang Phae
Nawng sao khon ngaam kin miang baw
I’m from there.
I’m not from here.
(Is this spam?)
November 2nd, 2008 at 10:20 am
Where am I from?
What a question.
Thank you for asking.
I am from billions of stars in the desert
From dry red mountains at sunset,
From hard-eyed women looking at me.
I am from cries for help,
Starvation and disease and famine,
Comprame, senorita, comprame!
I am from South America
I am from a land of sophistication,
Five hundred year old paintings in thousand year old buildings,
Wealth, fashion, and splendor.
Flirtation, arrogance, and laughter
Indolence, beauty, and pride.
I am from Europe.
I am from the sound of violence
Lions and hyennas fighting for their lives
While their human counterpart look at them
Understanding without knowing.
The laughter of children
Black bodies twisting and capering all about.
Dancing to a soundless beat.
I am from Africa.
I am from the land of heat
Brown men sweating in the sun
Thousands of miles of desert turned green in one instant
I am from the land of passion
Of mosques and burqas
Little children. “Can I have some chocolate yes?”
I am from the Middle East.
I am from a thousand smiles and laughs
From a thousand heartbreaks and unshed tears.
I am from cheap packaged foods on long boring rides.
“Thank you for flying American Airlines!”
I am from late-night talks with Embassy friends.
This sucks! I hate my parents! Why do we have to move?
I am from trips to the jungle
And the sea and the desert
I am from my mother, brown-eyed and brown-skinned
From my father, blue-eyed and white-skinned,
From my friends and from strangers alike
You’re so lucky to move around!
Maybe, maybe not.
I am from joy and nostalgia,
From loneliness and hope,
Sadness and happiness alike
I am from nowhere.
Or maybe everywhere.
(Is this spam?)
December 28th, 2008 at 7:21 am
I am from a country, burnt
Blazing heat, green grass turned brown.
I am from pomgranates and olive trees
From sleeping on the rooftop
The sky above aglow with stars.
I am from cool summer mornings
Woken by the cries of a dove
The call of the muezzin ringing through the air.
I am from sea water so clear and sand so bright.
From heat and dirt and smell in the streets.
I am from the taste of black tea, sweet and strong,
From biscuits and fruit in the morning sun.
I am from people warm and heartfelt
From laughter and a sense of security.
I am from borders and soldiers, check-points and guns.
I am from a country torn apart.
I am from fear
when rockets are fired and children shot nearby my family.
I am from a country cold at first.
Grey and dark and deprived of sun.
I am from bread and breadrolls, crispy and soft.
From applecake and nutella, mint tea, talk and candlelight.
I am from playing in the mud, from forests so green.
From castles and churches. From climbing trees. From golden ground.
I am from books and stories and far away worlds.
From libraries and words and knowledge.
I am from feeling different.
I am from pain and fear and loss and tears.
I am from healing and growing and happiness.
I am from long white clouds chasing across the sky.
I am from the sea – glistening in sunshine,
Grey-green-white, foaming in rain.
Feijoa and kumara, cheesecake and coffee.
Colours so bright and hills so steep.
I am from countless umbrellas broken in the wind.
From single-glazed windows and freezing cold nights.
I am from laughing with friends and from my heart singing
From feeling at home so far from “home”.
I am from heartbreak.
I am from cream teas and lemsip. From parks and green grass.
From porridge and carpets, and talking telescopes.
I am from Mama und Papa
And Baba u Mama
And sisters and friends. And a tiny tiger.
I am from airports and flying
But not from take offs and landings and turbulence.
I am from memories.
I am torn.
I am not from where I’m from.
Where am I from?
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May 12th, 2009 at 6:16 am
你是哪裡人?
台北人
¿De donde eres?
Taiwán.
Two terms
Because people who don’t even know where I’m from
I’m not letting them know my entire life and everything
I’m afraid to open that Pandora’s Box!!!
(Is this spam?)