Where I'm From

I hate poetry.

When I hear students say they hate reading, I tell them that they aren't reading the right stuff. When I say I hate poetry, I don't really mean it. I'm just trying to say that I'm intimidated.

But through the National Writing Project, I'm slowly getting over my fears and actually making myself create a poem. This is a work in progress.

My inspiration is George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From"

Where I'm From

I'm from overcast skies that constantly drizzle
Apple trees, blackberry bushes, and sparse strawberry patches
all yield tiny, firm, disappointingly bitter fruit
Afternoons spent roaming below towering evergreen trees
or hiding under stacks of kitchen chairs as Mom scrubbed the linoleum

I'm from piano practice and ballet lessons
Weekly Sunday school, followed by family brunch
From Go to your room, a crack of the wooden spoon
Always seeing someone you know at the grocery store
Where family isn't defined by blood relations

I'm from the Monticello Hotel and Lake Sacajawea
where life-size lit-up Santas wave Merry Christmas
The 4th of July means a log roll contest precedes the fireworks
Squirrels are protected from cars on the Nutty Narrows Bridge
The sour scent of paper pulp on clear days

I'm from a stone's throw away from the Columbia River
with field trips to tree farms, salmon hatcheries
and stories at a Native American longhouse
Where oversize flannel shirts are always in style
Along with Gore-Tex and Birkenstocks (with or without socks)

I'm from the land of Kirk Cobain, Microsoft, and Pike Place Market
Starbucks and its competitors peddling caffeine on every corner
Preferred pastimes include hiking and kayaking
Locking doors is only an option
Surveys declare One of the healthiest places in the country
Outsiders praise the mountaintops and green trees
Locals know the true beauty isn't in the scenery