I AM FROM…

My journal writing class uses Pat Schneider’s book, Writing Alone and With Others. She has terrific exercises to get the old brain working.

Our most recent exercise was based on a poem by George Ella Lyon, from her book by the same title, Where I’m From.

WHERE I’M FROM

I am from clothespins,

from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride… George Ella Lyon

You get the idea… in class we had limited time to play around with it, I continue to fiddle with it.

I am from fish,
From Salmon and Dungeness Crab.
I am from sea crust on my father’s clothes.
I am from sand in my shoes and Oregon wind in my hair.

I am from a long line of bullshitters,
brazen and bold.
I am from little money but grand dreams.

I am from love and laughter.
I am from home sewn.

I am from picnics,
at ocean’s edge and
lakes, cold water jewels
nestled amongst dunes
and rhododendrons.

I am from back seat of a Nash Rambler
I am from berry picking days in summer heat
I am from chicken-shit fed sweet peas,

I am from a sister who has always held my hand,
who makes me laugh,
and loves me unconditionally.

I am from home canned pickles,
sweet berry jams and venison steak.

I am from Laura Ingalls Wilder books,
flashcards and May Day festivals.

I am from Weekly reader, red rover,

red rover, and baton twirling

I am from Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star

played on an Alto Sax.

I am from attention getting

no talent.

I am from orphaned young

I am from confusion and pain

I am from finding my way