Welcome to the poetry playground. I love the glee and exuberance of the children in this photo. I look forward to reading your posts.Last month, I challenged our memoir writing group to write a poem for April. I shared George Ella Lyon's "Where I'm From" as a mentor poem. I've had students write these and dabbled in the format, but this is the first time that I've completed one of my own.
I was talking with someone from another writing group that I challenged to write family stories in 2025. She was surprised to hear me say that writing is hard for me. I actually committed to finishing this poem for Poetry Friday so I would have a set deadline for finishing. It's still a draft, but I'm offering it here as my current effort.
Where I’m
From
I am from
the green glider in the front yard,
from Uncle
Wiggily’s board game and Chatty Cathy.
I am from
a simple gray three-bedroom home
with
Daddy’s long-dreamed of family room addition.
I am from
marigolds, princess feathers, red roses,
from the pink
crepe myrtle and showy mimosa trees.
I am from
a garden that occupied ¾ of the backyard
with rows
of potatoes, tomatoes, green beans, and weeds.
I am from
hanging laundry on the clothesline,
from
sweeping the floors and weeding the garden.
I am from
walks to the library with best friend, Dortha,
with a
stop at Rexall Drug for strawberry ice cream cones.
I am from
Hawthorne and William Gay Elementary Schools,
from the junior
high Mustangs and high school’s black and gold
I am from
Mrs. Truttman’s creation of “The Sugar
Plum Tree,”
from Mrs.
Lewallen’s adopted ship and memorized poems.
I am from
Mrs. Frew’s split class with the addition of Charlie,
from
learning some Braille and setting up math problems.
I am from
Mrs. LeFlore’s newspaper from the Middle Ages,
from 6th
grade graduation and “We’ll Remember Always.”
I am from
Mrs. Long’s health classes (Have Another Cancer Stick!),
from Mrs.
Massaro’s French classes and evening program,
I am from
Mrs. Thrasher’s prep for Southeastern’s competitions,
from BFF Jan’s
pledge to write a tear jerker in my senior yearbook (she did).
I am from grandmothers,
Ella Martin and Martha Ada Young,
from Duff rancher
and Scifres preacher grandfathers.
I am from morning
Sunday School and evening Sacrament meetings,
from home
study seminary and Gold and Green Balls.
I am from
Primary on Thursdays and Mutual on Wednesdays,
from salt
dough villages and scattered Israel on a bath towel.
I am from Billie
Thompson’s Beehive class in the kitchen,
from recreational
singing and square-dancing lessons.
I am from
Scifres family reunions at Platt National Park,
from
sleeping on pallets when visiting cousins,
I am from
listening as grownups play Moon in the kitchen,
from
loving the laughter and stories they told.
I am from
a Dad who could fix anything and read my history books,
from a seamstress
Mom who made Velma’s and my wedding dresses.
I am from
Dad’s, “When you’re out of bananas, you’re out of groceries,”
to Mom’s
Labor Day proclamations, “We are turning over a new leaf!”
I am from
biscuits & gravy and chicken & dumplings,
from Aunt
Edna’s fudge and Aunt Ruby Dee’s chocolate pies.
I am from Aunt
Nan’s chilled glasses for root beer floats,
from blackberry
cobbler and Great Grandma’s chocolate roll.
I am from
summers in Tulsa with Velma’s growing family,
from sister
Kay’s love of books passed on to me,
I am from
brother Karl, the best friend any girl could have,
from
siblings scattered across four states, but forever good friends.
I am from
Ellis and Lillian, parents who taught by example,
from front
yard waves with love & tears at the end of a visit.
I am from
parents who loved fiercely, but left us too soon,
from their
love that surrounds, supports and sustains me.
- Ramona Behnke, draft
I apologize for my tardiness in posting, I fought with Mr. Linky and finally settled on using Inlinkz. I hope it works for you.
