4/19/08

Sibling Assignment # 61 : Where I'm From

I gave the sibling assignment this week. " Take the poem Where I'm From by George Ella Lyon and do your own version of where you are from. You will soon find Raymond Pert's here and Silver Valley Girl's here. I posted the original poem during National Poetry Month a year ago. You can read it here. Where I’m From

I’m from Sunbeam mixer
from whipped cream to Tom and Jerry batter,
I’m from fruitcake to Grandma’s banana bread,
potato chip casserole and navy bean soup,
Bazooka, sunflower seeds, and black licorice pipes,
Grape Crush, Shasta, and Canada Dry.
I’m from a bed by the back porch
planted each May
with pansies and petunias from Blum’s Nursery,
and the old metal clothesline
from the front of the lilacs
with the strong scent of spring and childhood.
I’m from Grandma’s rich soil with pickling cucumbers,
dahlias, a snowball bush, and fresh green beans. I’m from Camp Fire mints, YMCA toffee peanuts,
trick-or-treating and Father Daughter banquets.
From Sunnyside Chili Feed, to the church oyster stew feed,
Kellogg Elk’s Roundup and Smelterville Frontier Days.
I’m from Teeter’s Field and the swimming pool.
And up the river and “I’m going to Dick’s.”
and Beautiful Bill, Boo Boo, and little Pooh.
I'm from the roads are slick and
“you just got put back in the will.”

I’m from Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire
and sister’s photo ornament hung from the tree,
and a Christmas program and a brown bag of candy.

I’m from Right Guard, Palmolive, Nivea, and VO5,
Breck girls, Clairol girls, Cover Girl
and “only your hairdresser knows for sure.”
Fried eggs and MJB coffee,
Missouri pudding, Bogie Bread, and Olympia beer.

Dr. Suess, Nancy Drew, Erma Bombeck,
Calling All Girls, Seventeen, The Prophet, and Rod McKuen.
From the arm I cut running through the window,
the foot my brother cut while cleaning the garage,
the chin my sister cut trying to shave and
the eye my dad lost to a splinter of wood.
In the storage closet were boxes from The Crescent
with the angel chimes and
bows saved over from a year before,
along with dolls, the Sorry game, sponge curlers, and a make-up mirror.
and memories sharpened by the black and white photos
in a heavy, worn box stuck way in the back.




-by inlandempiregirl
To find other Sunday Scribblings about compose go here.

Photo Hunt: Thirteen


I am rejoicing because I have thirteen daffodils for spring bouquet #2! For other photo hunts on thirteen go here.

Celebrating National Poetry Month: #19

photo by Jared Nixon, flickr

The Swingset
Wood rots,
ropes fray,
metal rusts,
memories stay.
It stands there
deserted in the midst
of many times climbed
and swung from
Sometimes it was a ship
escaping from the storm.
Other times, many times,
it was the Saab convertible a friend and I
drove to McDonald's.
Now years of playing cease.
It's just the goal for flashlight tag,
where people sulk after losing
or preen after winning.
At times I want to shed
my childhood,
but somehow I can't cart it away
to the dump, where
swingsets are shredded, where
times past
can't ever
return.
-Grace Walton