Where I'm From
I am from dinosaur vitamins
from band-aids and H2O2 rinses.
I am from rusted swing sets
and broken plastic wiffle-ball bats
that have been tucked away
and have long since
been forgotten.
I am from churches with tall steeples
and playgrounds with old metal slides.
From Coleman and Donna
I'm from storytelling
and Wajee Adventures.
I’m from eating elephants
one bite at a time,
and aiming for the stars
but hitting the barn door.
I'm from happy gatherings
'round the fireside long ago.
From homemade Mac and Cheese
Nanny Rolls, beans and weenies,
and the best ham I've ever eaten.
I'm from empty seats,
From tearful partings,
and a broken circle that will be complete
someday.
I'm from sleeping in big boxes
And picnics in the top of the
Climby-Tree.
I'm from Albums covered in ash
Filled twice over with black, white, and yellow photos
of those now passed
but have yet to leave us at all.
I'm from broken pencils
and dried out pens.
From journals and notebooks
filled from cover to cover
in attempts to recreate
times that are now
nothing but fading memories.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Typewriterwriter
I don't write about death because I want to die, I write about death because when death takes me I'd like to think that I am in the care of a wonderful friend. Writing is a language everyone can understand. Even when our words are confused and twisted, we find someone who translates perfectly. I speak for those who are scared and trapped and those whose voices have been stolen from them. God speaks through me and gives me strength to give to others. I will write until my end.
View all poems →Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.