A wonderful group of poems from a class in Colorado! Notice the images of nature, sounds, sights…an aid to surviving winter in cold and even warm states.
Erin Robertson’s poems from class Boulder, Colorado, Wild Writers
Am From by Veda Cromer, age 12
I am from worn soles,
from shampoo and conditioner.
I am from the leather couch,
damp, tepid, smell of fresh laundry.
I am from the fire,
clouds, and rain.
I’m from storytelling and justice,
from Winnie and Kofi.
I’m from procrastination and hard work,
from being proud and speaking up.
I’m from my spirited mother and her conspiracies.
I’m from Longmont and Ireland,
homemade tacos, chop.
From the guy who hit on my mom and then tried to sell us grilled cheese,
the blue eyes,
pictures on the piano,
ivory tusk in my dad’s office.
I Am From by Satya Villacorta, age 13
I am from cups of tea,
from Aussie and Lululemon.
I am from the sunlit gardens and welcoming living rooms –
bright, modern, the smell of coffee.
I am from rosemary, lavender, and the apple tree,
soft, fresh, and clean.
I from holidays and achievers,
from Megan and Abel.
I’m from the talkers and laughers,
from kindness and “use your words, not your fists”
I’m from Christmas, with giving.
I’m from Colorado, Michigan, and Peru,
pizza, pasta, pie,
the north and west of the US,
the shelf in the living room, the pile under the couch, or the box in the garage,
the gold watch from Mormor, the soccer jerseys from decades.
I Am From by Maddy Arnold, age 14
I am from toy horses and sneakers,
from markers and animal grain.
I am from old wood,
bright, comfortable, with a warm fireplace.
I am from trees,
sticky bark and branches reaching towards the sky
I’m from Christmas cookies, carefree, fun people,
from Chad and Melissa.
I’m from adventures and love for animals,
from turn out the light and hurry up!
I’m from believing in the power of all living things.
I’m from Colorado and small cities,
banana bread, Oreos.
From the wildlife in our backyard,
the hyper sister.
The old pictures in the narrow hallway,
Revisiting old memories and stories, people and places.
I Am From by Lucie, age 14
I am from journals filled with poetry,
from saddle soap and horse grain.
I am from the mountain house –
big, bright, and busy.
I am from palm trees and pine trees,
prickly, soft, swaying, and rigid.
I’m from fries and applesauce and many hugs,
from Celia Grannum and Jean Perarnaud
I’m from creating community and moving often,
from Let’s go! and Slow down!
I’m from nature learning, trusting guidance.
I’m from London, Barbados, France, forests, beaches, skyscrapers,
homemade bread and lamb stew,
from the unexpected dance career, flying across the stage,
the taking time to run the trails,
dusty photos on the table just inside the door,
pictures of people I haven’t spent enough time knowing.
I Am From by Lovecloud Lemley, age 10
I am from a flower,
from balms and sprays.
I am from the mountains and seas,
cold, cool, the smell of damp earth.
I am from bright blue rivers,
cold and refreshing.
I’m from food and flavor,
from LeiLani and Indigo.
I’m from bikes and surf,
from don’t tease your brother and eat food.
I’m from Colorado.
I’m from Boulder.
I am from by LeiLani Lemley
I am from kimchi,
from garlic and red crushed peppers.
I am from silent – sterile – classical music,
I am from the ocean,
I’m from secrets and hidden treasures,
from anger and tears.
I’m from broken hearts and culinary delights,
from don’t smile too much and don’t say anything.
I’m from Asia – Buddhism – meditations.
I’m from Seoul, Korea,
from the heartbreak, but healing deeply,
focusing on loving, laughter, happiness.
I Am From by Lila Weich, age 13
I am from coconuts,
from salt water and surf wax.
I am from Luna de Miel –
warm, sunny, and humid.
I am from palm trees,
tempting me to reach the top.
I’m from watching sunsets and going to the bakery,
from my mom and my dad.
I’m from loud laughs and playing cards,
from going surfing and going climbing.
I’m from the snow, and the warm ocean water.
I’m from Costa Rica,
pancakes, and burritos,
from the beautiful people who made me me,
the long hair and bald,
Costa Rica and Colorado,
surfboards and skis.
Listen to CMarie Fuhrman read “A poem to acknowledge that the land itself — along with the people whose language, culture and religion were born of it — is rarely acknowledged.”