I’m not usually one for poems (words and writing not ever being my passion or strong suit, as you can probably tell, I am more a lover of pictures) but I came across this post by xenogere and its a good little exercise if you are feeling creative and sentimental. His posted introduced me to the poem “Where I’m From” by George Ella Lyon and to the sequent template and spins offs across the web in tribute. So here is mine…
I am from games machine,
from Nintendo and Sony.
I am from London.
(amazing, dirty, green in summer).
I am from the tomato plant, rose, pea pod,
the evergreen, daisy, ladybird spots.
I am from Christmas day at home, Boxing day at Nans
and quick to temper, quick to forgive,
from Mum and Dad and Nanny D.
I am from the cautious application of finances
and pickiness with food.
From don’t touch frogs with bare dry hands or you’ll burn their skin
and stand still when bees are nearby.
I am from C-of-E but not really.
From priests who cannot answer children’s logical questions.
I’m from east of the capital with still within it,
sons and daughters of foolish inventors,
from cucumber and cauliflower.
From sitting too close to the hearth and smouldering,
from a great grandmother who burned off her hair
and a love of cats who bite in play.
I am from relatives I don’t know, old photos in the loft and Vinyl records gathering dust.
From hording old scraps least they should be needed tomorrow.
I am from all this but all this is not all that I am.