The other day I came to Mojavi's Simple Things and was led to a beautiful poem and open project. Fred, a teacher, has taken George Ella Lyons' poem Where I'm From and asked his students to write their own story, using Lyons' poem as a base.
He then opened this project to the world, inviting people to participate via the internet. I copied the poem, and the template, intending to have a go over the next day or so. Then bombs exploded in the city of my birth and I have been thinking a lot about where I'm from. And I found I had tears in my eyes as I wrote.
I invite you to have a look at the original poem and the template and try writing your own poem. Play around with it. Share it with me if you wish. Or not.
Thank you for this gift Mojavi, and may your god go with you.
Where I'm From
I am from a blue coin purse, Matchbox cars in a drawstring bag, running along the railing in a new country, and the sari pin with mismatched stones - one blue, one turquoise.
I am from the homemade school uniform that came down to my knees, the handknitted jumpers and the maryjane schoolshoes.
I am from the summer-sweet apricot trees, from my very own Faraway Tree conquered at noon with gumboots on the wrong feet.
I am from lick the bowl and summer canasta and The Perry Bladder, from Lace, and Moon.
I am from the non-campers and the Home for Deaf Dogs and not with the good scissors.
From half-pint and you'll grow into it, eat your peas and I've told you a million times not to exaggerate.
I am from god bless and gobblers. The Sunday School bible of the most glorious blue. From goodnight and may your god go with you.
I am from this green and pleasant land, egg and chips and roast lamb. From Wait and See Pie and beef stroganoff with a ring of peas.
From the Domesday Book, the Cockney girl and the Oxbridge boy, the Nightingale who died before her time and Gethin pulling brother Harry off the barbed wire at the Western Front, both dead.
I am from the Jacobean wine chest filled with dusty projector-less films that once showed a tantrum at Regents Park Zoo, the wooden slide my uncle built and the nose bleed.
I am from beauty, rich and rare.