The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 5/25/08

[BlueIris]

"Where I'm From"

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush,
the Dutch elm
whose long gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I'm from fudge and eyeglasses,
	         from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know-it-alls
	         and the pass-it-ons,
from perk up and pipe down.
I'm from He restoreth my soul
	         with a cottonball lamb
	         and ten verses I can say myself.

I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
	        to the auger
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.
Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments—
snapped before I budded—
leaf-fall from the family tree.

—George Ella Lyon

[BlueIris]

1. But, but this is one of my most Lounge-friendly poems ever!!

[BlueIris]

2. Kick.

[CaliforniaPeggy]

3. My dear BlueIris!

Oh, this is lovely!

Everybody must be busy cooking or something...

I love the old-time feeling of days gone by...

Thank you!

:hug:

[BlueIris]

4. Thanks, C-Peg!

[BlueIris]

5. Kick.