As I mentioned in my last post, I’m focusing on my book to honor Copper, our senior puppy who received angel wings in March, while also trying to visit you. This has been my mindset for the week, but I’m pulling my hair out because of glitches.
Third time’s a charm, they say, and Life is NOT about throwing in the towel!

Anyway, one of the posts I had the pleasure of visiting was Vicki’s, and it truly intrigued me. Please pop over to her lovely sight for inspiration and enlightenment: https://victoriaponders.com/2025/04/28/echoes/. She was originally inspired by Lori’s post: https://loripohlmanwriter.com/2025/04/25/polished-maple-tables/ in which I also visited, feeling the same rush of inspiration. They both spotlighted the following poem and the concept of writing our own version:

Where I’m From
By George Ella Lyon

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 am 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 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

To read more information and for helpful tools in writing your poem, please visit Vicki and Lori’s wonderful posts. And now, I offer you my version. I didn’t use Lori’s template, but I ran with the concept. Thoughts appeared one after the other, so mine is a bit lengthy, but I don’t feel like cutting anything out just yet. Subtle rhymes also slid their way in, and I’m unsure if they were supposed to. Nonetheless…

I am from

I am from my mom’s emotions
that had a mind of their own
so wild at times emulating a summer storm
I am from my dad’s humor
where smiles bloomed
but his temper too in my less patient moods

I am from flower petals I did not plant
Mom’s were nurtured – my thumbs weren’t green
yet the petals’ beauty is always seen
I am from butter, sugar (granulated and brown),
vanilla, baking powder and soda,
and nuts, yes, sometimes this is the case,
and chocolate chips in their tantalizing ways

I am from the moon in her mystery
The sun in his radiance
The lake in its serenity

I am from the well-liked and the shunned
the self-doubt lodged on my shoulders
the redwoods standing tall
I am from planned and spontaneity
clarity and ambiguity

I am from the Big Bear cabin on the corner
from laps and splashes in Orange County pools
I am from “When you have children, you’ll understand”
I am from two sanctuaries for finding God
to discovering faith near mountains and sand

I am from me
unique, quirky, strong, kind,
a used-to-be people-pleaser
the third of three daughters
I am from knowledge still pouring in
like a flood of surging waters
I am from gratitude for every little blessing
from those I love, from being loved
I am.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

© Lauren Scott, BaydreamerWrites.com – All rights reserved.
This blog content cannot be used to train AI.

Thank you for taking the time to visit. I wish you a Marvelous May,
and a wonderful weekend. ❤️