many of my friends have done this.. and I felt a need to do it too .. I cant recall where I saw it first.. nor do I have the link to the template.. Maybe I need to try to find it .. before sharing my poem.. but it seems I just want to go ahead and share .. and will come back and edit later .. ok no need.. i got off my lazy ass and HERE is the template.. and now I remember .. I saw this on Lori's blog (aka The Shrone) first .. so here is my poem .. ok wait before you read.. I will say this .. I could have probably done three versions and I may yet.. but this is the first one..
I am from white cotton sheets hanging out to dry, from Quaker oatmeal left on the stove for breakfast and buckets of rocks picked up after school before home work or tv.
I am from the house that looked like a barn, half underground, built by my father, federal blue bedroom walls and cold ceramic tile floors.
I am from the wild cherry cut down to make a bedroom suite never to be , roses struggling in the red clay to thrive, tobacco leaves scattered on the barn floor, fruit trees in the orchard, iris beds getting more attention than us kids , the rolling yard where grass was premium.
I am from turkey on Thanksgiving and ham on Christmas and Easter and blue eyes for ten generations from Richard Duane and Nancy Lee and my Mawmaw that always called me Bess even though it wasn’t my name.
I am from denial, and love that was unspoken.
From walking on one shoe bringing bad luck and snapping turtles not letting go until it thunders.
I am from Southern Baptists, fire and brimstone ,preaching of a God in which I don’t believe.
I am from the rolling green pastures of Erin and the Trail of Tears, thick chicken and dumplings and meatloaf with ketchup.
From parents who grew up poor , hording , living in self imposed poverty, the dreams my mother holds for me , never coming true, and the torture of trying to find my way alone.
I am from the middle pages of the photo album, the pictures of me a third of those of my sisters , invisible, trying to find a place in the cedar chest , on the wall , or in the tins with every one else.
I am from white cotton sheets hanging out to dry, from Quaker oatmeal left on the stove for breakfast and buckets of rocks picked up after school before home work or tv.
I am from the house that looked like a barn, half underground, built by my father, federal blue bedroom walls and cold ceramic tile floors.
I am from the wild cherry cut down to make a bedroom suite never to be , roses struggling in the red clay to thrive, tobacco leaves scattered on the barn floor, fruit trees in the orchard, iris beds getting more attention than us kids , the rolling yard where grass was premium.
I am from turkey on Thanksgiving and ham on Christmas and Easter and blue eyes for ten generations from Richard Duane and Nancy Lee and my Mawmaw that always called me Bess even though it wasn’t my name.
I am from denial, and love that was unspoken.
From walking on one shoe bringing bad luck and snapping turtles not letting go until it thunders.
I am from Southern Baptists, fire and brimstone ,preaching of a God in which I don’t believe.
I am from the rolling green pastures of Erin and the Trail of Tears, thick chicken and dumplings and meatloaf with ketchup.
From parents who grew up poor , hording , living in self imposed poverty, the dreams my mother holds for me , never coming true, and the torture of trying to find my way alone.
I am from the middle pages of the photo album, the pictures of me a third of those of my sisters , invisible, trying to find a place in the cedar chest , on the wall , or in the tins with every one else.
11 Comments:
At 3:41 PM,
Heather Cox said…
Great poem! I'd lost my copy and couldn't remember where I got it so thanks for that too.
At 5:32 PM,
ThreeOliveMartini said…
thnks for swinging by my blog.. i added you to my blog roll and when i get off my lazy ass i will link you in my sidebar if you dont mind.. love your template!
At 5:49 PM,
none said…
Your childhood sounds sad. I like your poem.
At 8:32 PM,
Azathoth100 said…
It's an awsome idea. I like the poem, and the glimpse into your past. Keep finding your way....
At 5:01 AM,
Marvie said…
Very poignant... I look forward to reading the other two versions if you decide to do them. Thanks for sharing it. It was hard for me to put it out there for others to read, but it sure felt good to get it all out of my head and heart. I never thought something like this could be healing, but for me it really was.
At 9:37 PM,
Unknown said…
I'm from eastern North Cackalackie...lol...
That a very good poem...thanks for sharing.
Op~
At 10:37 PM,
Peggy said…
Love the poem. I've bookmarked the template to do in the near future.
At 10:11 PM,
Burfica said…
wow I need to do that, I'm gonna go look at the template now. hehehe
At 11:02 AM,
noricum said…
An off-topic comment... did you see the t-shirts mentioned at this blog?:
http://alison.knitsmiths.us/blog_2005_accessories.html#001307
At 7:47 PM,
LadyLinoleum said…
Awesome Beth! Very poignant and lyrical. Love it!
At 8:31 PM,
kitten said…
wonderful.simply wonderful.
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