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,
from city,
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,
spicy, bubbly.
I am from the ocean,
raging waters.
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, 
kimchi, tteokguk,
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.”

Winter brings a new, much needed poem. Thank you Grace George!

I Am From

            Grace George

I am from the aroma of perfume,

from classic Chanel to athletic Lululemon,

I am from the caring, calming, bright sunroom.

I am from the weeping of willows in elaborate gardens,

and blossoms of roses with thorns that prod deep into the surface.

I am from a gift received every Christmas Eve morning,

and dimples to show radiant smiles,

from a mother who’s been by my side since the day I was born and a father who’s built up my character.

I am from extensive card games and going out for birthdays.

From stand up tall and because I said so.

I am from the sturdy and solid Cross.

I am from sunrise to sunset,

from the sweet taste of tiramisu to the tangy brine of caviar.

From salty fishing trips and mashed up ice cream that I came to love from grandpa.

I am from the simple things in life.

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Four separate poets with four powerful poems: image, memory, senses and honesty.

Angelica May

I am from a man and a woman, who wouldn’t care for their own. 

Siblings unknown, few stories to be told, the main being driven in a ditch. 

Which I find quite interesting to be told. 

I am from a place hoping to find a shelter, to call home. 

Going from place to place, waiting for someone to love. 

I am from open arms, the smell of cigarettes and mint. 

And the hint of alcohol. 

My mother and father care for me, and love me, which I return with the same. 

I am from intrusive thoughts and therapy. 

I am from sleeping peacefully to staying awake till morning. 

I am from memories that are soon forgotten or waiting to be seen. 

I don’t remember much, but I do know the thoughts will always be with me. 

I am from worrying about things and being sick, to feeling safe without a hint of being sick. 

I am from fluffy cats, that go and come, but always have my back. 

 And doggos that always bark and play, but always lay in the hay. 

I am from figuring things out, but still learning and trying new things along the way. 

I am from closed doors, waiting to be opened each day to be found and unlocked. 

I am from curiosity and honesty, good or bad it always leads to something new. 

I am from a canvas waiting to be painted, to be viewed as beautiful or unique. 

From doodles of weird things to pieces of art. 

I am from shapes, lines, scribbles, letters, words, and numbers, waiting to be reshaped and formed in this interesting world. 

Where I’m From

James Hancock

I’m from the small town of Conway Springs Kansas

A place filled with the hardy air of the Conway Schools

I’m from playing Broforce, and reading Gordon Korman books

A place where we celebrate the fun family Christmas traditions

I’m from a family where respect for others is a top priority

But a place where respect is something I am not always treated

I’m from a grey house I lived as a child

A place where I played Half Life 2 for the first magical time

I’m from playing games like Fortnite with friends when I feel lonesome

A place where I watch Casual Caden and Pheonix Resale when the times are tough

I’m from a place of no pets or any animals in my house

But a place I still feel a warm embrace when I eat mac ‘n’ hotdogs

I’m from a place where my childhood stuffed bear still has a home

A place where outside we have such cute little garden gnomes

I’m from a place where the smell of a home cooked meal is a warm welcome

A place where I still laugh at funny images of great people I look up to

I’m from a place where my best friend Konner, always has my back

A place where my grandma tell me a good job and education is what I need

I’m from a place where an “I love you” from someone you didn’t know did means everything

A place where even when someone says awful things about you, you can still bounce back

I’m from a place where the loss of my great aunt Alice still stings to remember

But a place where I’m safe, and the comfort of video games help me escape

Naika G

I’m from tall mountains and sugarcane fields
from fresh bread dipped in cloth strained coffee 
I am from clear blue skies and clearer waters
from poofy dresses and hair bobos on Sunday mornings,
if you know, you know
I am from double-dutch and hand games,
crowded block parties on hot summer days
Razor scooters, painful ankles
Power 105.1 by day
106.7 Lite FM by night, “with Delilah”
I’m from braiding salons, Shine n’ Jam, and mousse
from coils that defy gravity, sorry for the times I’ve forgotten your magic
I’m from stories passed down through generations
words from mouths to ears, pen to paper, keyboard to screen
words in red that remind me who You are and who I am
words in journals chronicling every joy, every pain
every heartbreak, every healing 
words that I’ll never grow tired of hearing, seeing, writing
I am a story, plot ever changing, I’m ever growing  

Darrek Bishop

I Am From

I’m from many places.

I come from far and wide,

Yet I’ve moved little.

I’m from a small town,

Where everyone knows each other.

We are in the middle of everything,

But many know nothing of us.

I’m from a good school,

Where people are shaped,

Though who they choose to be,

 is up to them.

I’m from many households,

From which I travel between often.

I’m from love and warmth.

A family who loves others,

And gets love back.

I’m from pain and blood.

The amount I’ve given is a lot.

Everyone in my family,

Has something that ails them.

I’m from all of this.

I’m from the good and the bad.

It shapes me everyday,

And I love it. 

A single, sweet poem by Savannah Morris, on the theme of “Changing”. A fine way to head into winter soon!

Changes, Changes, and Changes

I am from the small house there in my neighborhood

Swinging on a dusty tire swing hanging from our fortress 

Pedaling back and forth on the streets

My room has tea and crackers for Mr. Bear

Dogs jump up leaving scratches at grandmas

I am from a new house as the old gets sold

Three new friends made from courage

I am from a field once played on before

The stick hits the ball with a winning score

Leaving too shy to chat with the team

This seemed not for me

            I am from the playground meeting new people

Losing touch after the year flies by

I keep the friends from previous years more close

            I am from a paint smeared on canvas

Finding what I can do

Yarn full of knots moved in and out with a hook of inspiration

            I am from struggles in school keeping up and saying I am like others

Scared for math waiting outside, shaking that I might hear my name aloud

            Family drifts away and new ones roll in

I am from cousins, aunts, and uncles who care

Keeping those that I know close

Leaving old to new

I am from the white and black house filled with creeks and shutters

            Finally knowing why, I didn’t feel the same as changes were made

By: Savannah Morris

Two fine poems from individual writers…a perfect way to begin the weekend!

I am Brodie Bieber

I am from clothes hangers

from avocados and bikes.

I am from the green front door

and the tiles on the lawn, scattered the perfect distance leap back and forth.

I am from the big cedar tree

whose arms jutted out and legs tunneled into the ground

I am from screwdrivers and guitars

from uncle Bill and Gran Edna.

From blonde hair and horse rides

And bright baby blue eyes.

I am from memorizing 3:16

And finding God in late night songs

I am from pork chops and tacos

From dad in Papua New Guinea 

And Morfar’s rock.

I am Sniffy, that ragged old dog was my light in the darkest of nights.

I am from the moments of joy, loneliness and pride

I am the places I’ve been, the people I’ve known and the lives I’ve touched.

Rhiannon Chianese

I am from

I am from many locations.

From house to house,

Cities to towns.

Holidays claimed by each parent,

Swapped and traded like playing cards.

I am from broken love,

A marriage that never came to fruition.

Spilled milk on the carpet causing an uproar,

Apologies written in the form of a check,

Manipulation hidden so well that you can’t ever speak up against it.

I am from isolation.

In a big house all alone, 

No note on the kitchen table,

No one calling the phone.

I am from frozen dinners.

Made in the dirty microwave,

Seasoned with my sniffles and tears,

Half-cold, eaten with the television on full blast to stimulate the essence of another soul. 

I am from pre-determined failure.

Genetically rigged, physically and mentally. 

Causing my fundamental years to be spent in hospital beds and pain,

Struggling in school due to the inability to concentrate,

Making it against all odds when no one believed in me.