This writing exercise is based on the original poem ‘Where I’m From’ by George Ella Lyons. It was prompted by Mama Kat and if you click on her name, you will be directed to her writer’s workshop where a template is available for you to try it out for yourself. If you write your own poem, be sure to add the link to your post in the comments section below.
Where I’m From
I am from rag dolls my mother made, from Crayola crayon sets, from ducks and chickens in the yard.
I am from the many homes I lived in, each with yellowing, multiplying spider plants hanging from sideboards (I hate those plants now).
I am from an oak tree in the park, daisies, ponds, the kumquat tree, proteus and veldt.
I am from family parties and drunkenness, from my brother, auntie and I sneaking down the stairs on Christmas Eve.
I am from the smoky living rooms and late nights at the weekend.
From the woods where the fairies live, and land of the Tokoloshe.
I am from my father who used to argue with a vicar friend about the absurdity of Christianity, and my mother who used to be a Sunday school teacher.
I’m from a fishing town, from fishermen and herring girls, from dock towers, lighthouses and forts, from fish and chips.
From the great, great grandfather who was marooned on a desert island, the grandparents who were evacuated as children in World War II, and the brother who fought in Kosovo.
I am from box of photographs that are slightly blackened from the fire the year my first daughter was born.
Can I say: I love this! Where was this idea when I was struggling to find an exercise for a small workshop. Thanks for sharing. I’m off to a retreat this weekend, but I believe I’ll try this. When I do, I’ll link to your post. Thanks.
I loved the way your wrote the exercise. Thank you so much for sharing.
Beautiful, and so full of rich, colourful images. JH
I’m cursing you, Sophie, because I had a really busy morning planned and I’ve just spent the last hour on this. Needs polishing, but it was so interesting (and very thought provoking) to do.
I am from cups of tea, from Puffin books and Sindy.
I am from the big green back garden with the hammock stretched between two trees.
I am from the sweet chestnut tree, the dog roses and the oak with the uncomfortable swing.
I am from Christmas in Cwmbran and summers on the Isle of Wight, from my Welsh father and my midlands mother and my peripatetic, home-loving sister.
I am from long bedtime stories and sitting in the pub car park with crisps and lemonade.
From Jane is such a happy child and you’ll sit there till you’ve finished that meal.
I am from the Jews and the Communists and the Methodists – sprinkled with a little C of E.
I’m from Swansea by the sea and England’s urban sprawl, Mummy’s chicken gravy and Nanny R’s sugar sandwiches.
From the grandparents who married in secret, the mother who didn’t take Thalidomide and the sister who went to uni.
I am from framed photos and shelves of albums and a half finished, half forgotten family tree.
Bless you,
JH x
Oh my word, so beautiful and evocative!
Thank you for sharing!
“From the woods where the fairies live, and land of the Tokoloshe.” Ahhh fairies!! This was such a sweet line!
Lovely! So lovely I had to give it a try. Thank you.