Fragments From Floyd

Where-From Wrap-up

Best I can figure, I've listed all the "where I'm from" poems that were posted on other blogs. If I've missed anyone, please email me and I will add it. Others have told me to expect theirs and so there may be future amendments to this list, so check back. As I mentioned to some of you, I've asked my kids to do this for us for Christmas. You might ask your parents to do one for their children or grandchildren by simply writing it out simply in their own hand.

This was an interesting exercise-- which, btw, I didn't invent but only propagated. Seemed too good an idea not to share, hope you benefitted from time spent. -- Fred

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Fred ~ Alison ~ Malta Girl ~ Kiril ~ Clarence ~ DocRoc ~ Dan ~ Michelle ~ Pica~ Curt~ Bill~ Butuki

And Teacher Patricia is has finished working with her class to complete their 'where from' poems, including hers. Take a look.

Pre-blogger Jessica sent hers and it is posted in the "continue reading" after this post, go read it.

Jessica's WHERE I'M FROM

I am from padlocked gates, from Chiclets.
I am from the tile floors in the wide open livingroom. Shiny faux marble 12x12 squares, the lingering scent of PineSol.

I am from the bougainvillea, the thorny lime tree.
Lime juice to spike the green mangoes, avocados, bananas, papayas, grilled corn, coca-cola, and salad.

I am from Sunday morning waffles and pinchable chipmunk cheeks, from Erica and Stratton and Rude.

I am from Geeks and ex-Peace Corps Democrats.
From "Don't you know you NEVER" and "Dad wants."

I am from Union Churches, visited with mom once or twice a year. Handfuls of English speaking Baptists Lutherans Presbyterians Methodists allying into one acceptably sized congregation.

I'm from the capital city where I've never lived and Ethiopian ingera and wut for extra special meals.

From grandma who skipped heartily and never left Wisconsin and grandma called Mem-Saib who rode a camel in Pakistan.

I am from gentle Mom giving others the sensible benefit of the doubt.

I am from soap operas in Spanish satisfyingly concluded in a 12-week run. I am from firecrackers on Christmas Eve and the singed remnant papers ankle-deep in the streets.

I am from grandma's photo albums, meticulously documented, arranged on the top closet shelf. Wash my hands and sit with them for hours, till it's time to go.

I'm from Gringa in a foreign land and Yankee in my own land. I am from being at home in the role of outsider.

Posted by fred1st at November 17, 2003 07:10 AM | TrackBack