An excellent I Am From poem, by Finley P. It will warm all of you in this winter time.

I AM FROM

Finley P.

I am from my dad’s driftwood cribbage board and late night games,

cardboard Halloween costumes: racecar and astronaut.

I am from lemonade stands, plum trees, and popsicles on the sidewalk,

rainy days for lounging and having a good time and 

my aunt’s beautiful, lakeside wedding.

I am from getting lost in the world of Harry Potter, 

skiing on the mountain with my uncle and

learning chess with my grandpa.

I am from short but sweet trips to the coast, 

snuggling up to Great British bake off with my mom,

having a second family across the street, 

spending hours on end with my Legos.

I am from my dad’s flat, square, cut-up eggs, my mom’s chocolate cake and playing the Wii with my brother. 

I am from practically living at the library.

Megan McDonald sent in an I Am From prose poem…and how it flows with its images and honesty and beauty of long lines!

I Am From

Megan McDonald

I am from the West Coast, from beaches and trees and forward-thinking ideas. From Washington that raised me and California that changed me. From houses and apartments, never alone but sometimes lonely. From suburbs and cities and far away forests, nowhere ever quite the right fit. From numbered streets, sirens, barking dogs, and construction noises. From birdcalls and squirrel chirps, and the quiet sound of waves lapping against the shore. From the places I’ve traveled, the people I’ve learned from, the foods that I’ve tasted, the scents that I’ve smelled that always make me remember.

I am from a long line of wandering souls. From those of the Overland Trail. From gold rushes and Southern roots that were deep but easily loosened. From immigrant ships departing for the known and unknown. From pierogis and bakeries and flower headdresses. From numerous churches I’ll never step foot in. From farmers and musicians and cabinetmakers and milliners. From soldiers and pacifists. From ponies in Europe and burros in the desert. From long-held grudges and moving on.

I am from a one-child family that sometimes forgot that I was a child. From a home with a soundtrack of Joni Mitchell and Dave Brubeck albums, discs of vinyl gold that were to be handled more carefully than feelings might be. From backyard Easter egg hunts and neighborhood picnics, birthday parties and sleepovers. From riding my bike with the neighborhood kids until we all got called home as darkness fell. From a family so loud there was nothing for me to do but be quiet. From summer weeks spent with my grandmother and missing her for thirty years. From gifted classes that taught me how to be weird but not how to be okay. From a tangle of anxieties and what ifs and shoulds. From Cabbage Patch Kids and jelly shoes. From fried chicken family dinners with too much pepper on everything. From butterscotch candies my grandfather hid in every nook and cranny he could find. 

I am from grey and white with purple inside. From skeins of yarn that weave their way through days and tie everything in knots. From colors and threads and old lady hobbies. From weaving looms and spinning wheels and letterpresses and accordions. From huckleberry pies and curried pumpkin soup. From two young adults who look like me and are trying to spread their wings as the world has canceled the wind. From a partner who lets me be myself even when that isn’t my best. From being a caretaker for two adjacent generations that don’t believe care needs to be taken. From humbling moments and sucking it up and starting all over. From why not and better late than never. From proving it to myself and finally being okay.

Welcome to Winter: 3 poems, so full of imagery, story. A way to celebrate Martin Luther King.

Where I Am From

Nancy Langley

I am from dark and light

Dim and bright

From left and right

From blindness to sight.

I am from silence and noise

To echoes and poise 

From my soul

I am from great joys

I am from below

In the darkness so

And up above

Where sprinkles glow

I’m from good and bad

happy and sad

From loving laughter

Too raging mad

I am from water and blood

From a great flood

To a spark

Ignited in the mud

I’m from spirit to flesh

Born in the countryside

Growing up running free

Eating chicken, fried

I am from tears of joy

Shared with family & friends

From my imagination

playing pretend

I am from my youth

Speaking truth

Through my experiences

A well known sleuth

I am from my sense

From great dense

On a conscious level

In my defense

I am from this host

A soul residing within

Waiting for the cycle

To repeat again

There is no end

I Am From

Lillian Greene

I am from Running shoes,

I am from Sunflowers in a vase on the table,

From the Carnations in the front yard.

I am from cooking together and brown hair,

From Crystal and Andrew and Grace

.I am from telling stories and being early

From always be yourself and You never have to be the best but you have to try your best.

I am from family get-togethers.

I am from Indiana, Pretzel, jello and fresh fruit.

From moms glistening hair to dads shining eyes

I am from picture albums stacked high in the closet.

I Am From

Adeline Noland

I’m from backyard grass,

From picture books and princess castles

I’m from daydreamers, mischief, and our cracked kitchen floor.

I’m from dandelion wishes and flower crowns

I’m from the house we moved away from

Mac and cheese and meatloaf

 I’m from swimming in our backyard pool

From forgetfulness and head in clouds.

From “Remember to…” and “Don’t be rude”.

Even now

I’m from scrapped knees and forgotten daydreams

Learning how to ride a bike, imagining I could fly

From playing make-believe and sharing almost everything.

I’m from stick together

Most importantly

I’m from the tattered and taped memories of who I used to be

This lovely single poem arrived by Kaylee Morgan Coby. To start your weekend and winter days

Where I’m From 

by Kaylee Morgan Coby

I am from card games  

From movie snacks and drinks 

I am from the swimming pool in my backyard 

(Blue, temperate, 

with a glistening shimmer from the sun.)  

I am from Lakebay, quaint and peaceful, 

the barnacles  

whose sharpness hurt my feet 

as if they were made of the quills on the back of a porcupine. 

I’m from Friday Night Lights and A Walk to Remember  

from Angela and Bill. 

I’m from the conservatives and right wingers,  

from get it done and do it right. 

I’m from distance and wrongdoers 

and the dream of success and proving them wrong. 

I’m from Washington and Arizona 

Pool darts and recliner chairs. 

From the lotions and potions that I created and played Dr. Mary with. 

Tubs in my mama’s closet 

Are filled to the brim with pictures and trinkets, 

Smudges, blurriness, and silly faces. 

A world of marching band show shirts and prom photos with old crushes 

Ready to sift through while I smile remembering the past. 

I am from the past— 

With all the memories and the characters 

And all the things that make me the me I am today. 

Mrs. Kaylee Coby

ESS Inclusion Teacher

Carl Hayden Community High School

kcoby@phoenixunion.org

(602) 764-1100 extension 43404

Sometimes you get a collection, all at once, from a class that shows how rich and diverse we are. These poems from Brett Smith’s class in Susquehanna Township High School is just such a collection Thank you all!

I Am From

By Hayden Miller

I am from falling in love with cars from little toy Hot wheels

To wanting to be a mechanic 

I am from camping for many years

To making many friends

I am from swimming in a cool dirty creek in the blistering hot sun

To going back to the camper for my fishing tackle

I am from fishing with my Top-Tops 

To learning life lessons from him

I am from Sunday dinner at my grandparents’ house

To watching Sunday night football

I am from a man named Willy with his business 

To getting taught about cars

I am from following in my fathers’ footsteps 

To learning about working hard in life

I am from going to the beach with my Grandparents

To learning what family is all about

I am from baking cookies with my mom and Mammy

To making great laughs and memories

I am from camping in 1-foot-deep mud for Boy Scouts

To learning about how hard life can be

I am from hanging out with my sister everyday

To her moving out, missing her

I am from small, faint memories of my great-grandparents 

To never seeing them again

This is where I’m from

Saba Ali

Pennsylvania U.S.A

I am from uno, charades, and hide and seek

I’m from the mess with flour everywhere

I am from good cooks

I am from a higher power

I am from prayer hands

I am from same traditions each holiday but different faces each year

I’m from my journeys around the world

I am from good natured people

I am from going with life’s rich tapestry

I am from 10 A.M. Caillou

I am from happy fairy tale stories

I am from jeopardy marathons

I am from the generation of iPhones

I am the official teenager growing a little wiser

I am from lessons and reflections  

I am from late night talks

I am from whispering so we won’t get caught

I am from the itchy plant of poison ivy, the dirtiness of the planting soil

I am from the trees, the tulips

I am from the bubbles in the bath

I am from the photo albums stored away

I am from medical masks 

I am from the trees and freedom to the small room I call home

I am from isolation 

I am from these moments

I Am From by Selena Lukens

I am from creaky floor and leaky spouts. 

I am from the screams and shouts with other kids inside the house. 

I am from the long car rides to the swimming place. 

I am from the salty smells and late walks till the sun goes down. 

I am from a loving family even more when someone leaves.

I am from the crowded halls where people yell and run for fun. 

I am from the bad vison test where I get my glasses that are such a pest.

I am from the chaotic rooms where you get in trouble for the bad things you say. 

I am from the campfires under the stars where I ride horses and swim.

I am from the choir songs I sing in the morning. 

I am from the hot summer days swinging and sliding till the day would fade. 

I am from the crazy rides all day and night.

I am from the tasty foods and holiday cheer.

I am from the baby crying till my ears would cry to his first word it was a beautiful sight.

I am from helping them learn to read and write.

I am from the cabins and the bunk bed fun 

I am from the friends I made the ones who leave and the ones who stay.

I am from the guys I knew the ones that were good and bad ones too.

I am from the big steep hill where I smell the creek where I stick my feet.

I am from doing her hair to her screaming in my ear to cartoon fun. 

I am from the tears I shed from when she left to live her life away from mine. 

I am from a little place I call my own where I keep my toys and games where I sit and dream. 

I am older and still insecure I am from the lonely, closed doors.

I am from the test I just took and the first time I drive is more than scary. 

I am from the people I know everyone even the ones that I barely see.

I Am From by Isis Carrington

I come from an island in the Caribbean

Known for African and Indian cultures

And their large and famous carnivals.

I come from there is a beach everyone goes to

Some swimming, enjoying the sun

Or even relaxing in the sand

I come from crystal clear water

You can see the fish without even being in the water

I come from waterfalls just as pretty as the Niagara Falls

Watching people jump down from the mountain

Enjoying the water, as a way to escape their troubles

I sit and observe hoping one day I will be doing the same as them

I come from the hottest of weather I’ve ever had to deal with

The island so close to the equator

I come from fresh food like fruit and vegetables

Fresh fish from the ocean to fresh fish in the market

I come from playing outside with friends until the streetlights turned off

I come from neighbors knowing everything about everyone

Nice neighbors, rude ones, the neighbors who don’t really care

I come from an island call Trinidad

The island where I grew up and learned everything I know

I Am From

Simon Siwakoti

Where In my home 

I am from my loving parent.

From the black and white books and story’s that come with it. 

I am from the house on the end of the street.

That look big on the outside but is small from within. 

I am from the trampoline in the side that bring so much joy. 

Joy that no one can have. 

I am from a house that had garden full of fruits and vegetables.

A House that is surrounded by fences.

I am from a house with fence so no animal might steal my food. 

The house next to a forest that looks terrifying at nighttime.

Seeing the trees getting moved by the wind. 

the entrance to the basement that no one open dirty and old.

I am from a house that has a finish basement.  

That look empty like it just got done. 

You could see the color popping off the wall.

from a house with 2 different console that I don’t that much.

with so many games to much can’t decide.

I am from a house with big tv.

I like to watch all day and all night. 

All the thing I wanted watch can be watched from phone to my laptop 

I have book that I like laying around.

First the first book I got to the book one I just bought.

I am from a house with one sibling. 

That is annoying. 

Where I am from.  

 

I Am From by Akima Merritt

I am from darkened skies,

ones that blow cold, snowy air through the illuminated streets.

I am from blood,

when it threatens to pierce through the skin and left hues of red and blue assorted over pale skin.

I am from backyards that housed ‘cat-rats’ and dead birds.

I am from tan walls that chime with melodies of the damned,

containing and trapping young pleas inside while he watches from above.

I am from tiny hands,

baby fists,

that held onto my blue jeans when I gathered them from the bittersweet joys of school.

I am from smothering hands that don’t know to tame themselves,

and the cruel films my mind plays on repeat instead of allowing rest.

I am from the pains in pits of your stomach

that causes flames to envelope your entire being.

I am from the cold that hugging,

and holding,

drives into wounded flesh.

I am a pretty boy,

but in the way a pretty girl is pretty only when

her pretty pretty face is ruined.

I am a boy in a body that protests against me,

causing tears and pain with every pretty little word that rolls off of your tongues.

I want to be a mom.

I will be a mom.

A mom with kids who don’t feel as if

my emotions

are their responsibility.

Kids who can feel free to read whatever they like

sing whatever they like

listen to whatever they like

like whoever they like.

Kids who will be able to be whoever they like.

When the crimson finally washes out of the white fabric,

when the bodies in the walls finally decompose,

my children will run free with joyous child-like lives.

They will not be from the rotting corpses that one spends its entire life burying.

My Past

Norah Baatote

I am from generations

of outsiders from

foreign lands

I am from mosque’s,

Qurans, and good food

I am from “do this”

and “we shouldn’t do this”

or “good Muslim girls 

don’t do that”

I am from culture,

religion, and prayers

chickens, lambs, ducks

and pumpkins

I am from the

South and North

the hot and the

extremely hot

I am from people

of everywhere

my fathers’ experiences and 

stories of his

childhood life

I am from traveling, beaches,

and markets

riding horses and donkey’s