Poems – 9/2020 on

The New Poem Feed

Our Website welcomes new poems!

As of end-September 2020, we’ve switched to configuration where each Poem gets its own post. This will make the poems more readable and allows for each poem to get it’s own URL for easy sharing.

All new poems will be posted below

Here is a group of poems from Laura Seguin

Secondary Teacher at A.N.Myer Secondary School

6338 O’Neil St. Niagara Falls, ON, L2J 1M7

Fantastic group!!

I Am From

Reece Dunn

I am from gymnastics leotards

From midnight glow perfume and starbucks pink drinks

I am from the candles my mom always lights, warm, cozy and always smells like the season

I am from sunflowers,

that symbolize my purity, joyfulness and courage 

I’m from pond hockey on Christmas Eve and insane competitiveness

From Susan and Adam

I’m from the camping trips and shifts at the family restaurant 

From the I love you’s and the how was practice

I’m from the Catholic church, baptised at the age of two

I’m from the Netherlands

Homemade mac n cheese, and chocolate chip cookies

From the crazy drives with Lucas 

The mermaid games with Scarlett

The pictures of my family in the waterfall up north, 

Living freely, like the water. 

I am from this moment.

I am From

Quinn Diceienzo

Where I am from (Life)

I am from piano

From Yamaha and Sauter

I am from the suburbs, sturdy, calm, and bright as can be

I am from daisy’s, the white petals flowing in the wind.

I’m from cooking and baking, from Renata and Ricky

I’m from fighters and servers, 

from not taking anything from anyone and always holding your ground

I’m from no holy one, and none representing nor repressing me

I’m from Canada, an Irishman no less

From escaping the soviets in world war 2, to the ruffian Italian, fleeing from a ruthless dictator.

I am from my grandma’s house, which holds countless mementos,

Some holding years of info, slowly piecing our bloodline together.

Secondary I Am From

I am from the suburbs

From birds chirping to squirrels scurrying along the streets I call home

From music and the excellence of classics,

From Frank Sinatra and his son, two of the most influential singers of the 20th century

I am from daisy’s and mums, their pedals floating elegantly in the wind

From moms loving embrace, to grandma cepelinai baking, the smell enchanting the whole apartment

I am from busy cars, the horns-a-honking with impatient drivers inside

From uncles few but smart saying “when the whole world turns their back on you, you turn your back on the world!” 

and, of course, coming to the fact that the quote was from the Lion kind and not from your uncle’s wisdom.

I am from this world we call our reality

 and never caring what anyone says and keeping your head up.

I Am From

Ava Wortel

I  am from bookshelves filled with brilliant literature, from Mr. Clean and lysol wipes. I am from the secret room in the basement (creepy, mysterious, and dark.) I am from begonias, red, white, and pink flowers planted in the front garden. I’m from annual Halloween parties and bad eyesight. From Laura and Kathy. I’m from seasonal photoshoots and reading. From “Make wise choices” and “Eat your vegetables!” I’m from Christmas mornings and Easter dinners. I’m from Ontario and Dutch ancestry, pasta and banana bread. From the time my mom ran her first marathon, from the collection of video games my dad has obtained. On the walls of the stairway are decades worth of photos, each on their own spot on the wall holding wonderful memories.

I Am From


 am from a football

From aero bars and McDonald’s toys

I am from the side of the street with the big fence 

With a peaceful, mature, big backyard

I am from lavender

That smells great and looks stunning

I’m from movies at Christmas and independent family members

From my grandpa and my grandma

I’m from the sounds of swearing and loud noise

From always staying true to myself and being me 

I’m from occasionally going to church and eating the little cookies

I’m from Niagara and Algeria 

I’m from my grandpas polenta and my dads roast beef

From the war my grandpa was in

The days of my dads long hair

The upper attic of my grandparents house

And how much it means to my family

I Am From

Kathryne Dockstader

I am from made up games only the neighborhood kids understand,

From Freezies and front yard sprinklers,

I am from the dark scary streets of my neighborhood,

Scared to walk alone at night, but still feeling safe,

Loud video games and creaking stairs,

I am from neat flower beds, dogs in the frontyard, freshly cut lawns,

A nice place to be during the day, friendly and beautiful,

I’m from Nana’s stuffing and explaining to Nana and Papa why Kookum and Luxote don’t celebrate Thanksgiving or holidays,

From annoying cousins and bragging grandparents,

I’m from racism and hate, being looked at differently or called “Indian,”

I’m from pow wows, Indians tacos, and fry bread,

Mac and cheese, and hot dogs on Sundays,

From yelling and fighting but hugging and forgiving,

The longhouse and messy car rides back home eating corn mush,

Culture and community, my smudge bowl and medicines to keep a good mind and a happy heart. 

I Am From

 – Divya Singh

 am from lines of shiny, glamorous saris

From dosa and idli

I am from rows of marigold flowers, engulfing the house with its addictive smell

I’m from Diwali and surprises

From my mumma’s laughs and my papa’s informative stories

I’m from eating all the ripe mangoes in one day and to fight for what you have and stand your ground

From “Knowledge is your best friend,” and “Bolo sache darbar ki jai!”

I’m from the pujas of every day with the mantras and sweets

I’m from Missisauga’s busy traffic and India’s vaulted alleys, samosas filled with aloo, and spicy butter chicken with naan

From the arguing between my brother and his funny faces

The scolding of my mom when I take the paneer off the table, the mantle full of family photos and baby pictures, hung with my medals for academics and 1st place badges for track-and-field

I’m from these memories, tuning into gold as I live

I Am From

Mckailah Wright

I am from New books, 

From Neilson Chocolate milk Cartons, and Barbie dolls 

I am from the droplets of Niagara Falls, 

loud, crazy 

Beeping cars, fresh water smell, bright lights, sweet candy and rough pavement. 

I am from Pink and Purple Clematis plants, growing along side my house

I am from long road trips and being curious 

From Chirstine and Gloria,

I am from the late night snacks and laughing too loud. 

From “Chocolate milk solves everything” and “Life isn’t a race” 

I’m from no religion, unknown 

I am from Canada Origins, crumbly cakes, potato leek soup.

From the worst cooking grandmather and late nights with my mother. 

Stuffed into a scrapbook, 

showing where I came from. 

I am From

Maia Walker

I am from my favourite pair of fuzzy socks

From my flowery perfume and eos lip balms

I am from the busyness and chaos because of sports all the time

Basketball games, and soccer practices

And the adrenaline I feel while in a team huddle before a big game

I am from sunflowers

That express and reveal my happy, passionate, and bubbly personality

I’m from the tropical Florida breeze I feel rushing through my hair in the summer and the long car rides home listening to music

I’m from my Moms constant support and my Dads encouragement 

From the motivation my sisters give me and the tough-love push from my parents

From the “How was practice?” and the “How did the test go?” 

I’m from my catholic church, where I was baptized 

I’m from Italian heritage with tons of pasta

Pizza, and lasagna

From the late night movies with my family and 

The blaring late night karaoke parties with my sisters

I am from running through the ice cold rain with my best friend at night, freezing and shivering but having no care

I am from the pictures and memories of friends and family that I hold within me that show me what love is.    

One at a time, these poems continue to amaze. Thank you Noritra!

Where I’m From  

Naritra  Chatterjee

 I am from the dazzling chromatic ribbons of culture

From incense and sandalwood that burn my nostrils  
I am from the scarlet and flaxen powers that coat my face
(Crumbling, earthy)

I’m from the magic of Bengali, 
    mellifluous, and soft, like how honey tastes. 
I’m from এখানে আসুন ,and আমার কথা শোন
From homemade food, cooked in pots

I am from generations of thinkers, and entrepreneurs. 
People who love me, and don’t, that’s where I’m from

I am from the shyness that always caused rough starts
From the longing to touch others’ hearts.
I am from being different, but just wanting to be the same
All the loneliness that ended up in this art

I am from the inky treasures that adorn my walls,
Easy solitude in the spines of gentle seaside hues, soft blues,
 greys and browns. 

I’m from the tang of sweet acidity and vanilla halls
From the glimmering world of wishing wells and fairytales 

I’m from the ultramarine of fantasy oceans,
The velveteen sheen of the stage curtains just before showtime

From the thrum of the violin, vibrating inside me
To all the music, that is my life

For I’m from that feeling of utter aliveness, a rush of flow of ruthless energy.
From that deep thrilling undercurrent of danger, that makes me feel richer and better and more alive than anything else.

I am from the choices and changes of a story I’m still writing. 


Here is a single poem that captures so much, is so moving, imagistic. What a good fall we are having at the i am from project!

I Am From

Ly Cooley

I am from Saigon, Vietnam

A city that no longer exists.

I am from my mother’s orphanage

From the lost children of the Vietnam war

Whom live between two identities

Accepted by none.

I’m from the sole tattered photo my mom owns 

Of her dad.

An American soldier, lost to the war.

I am from my mother’s pho cart 

Two years old, and tucked underneath

Shielded from the sweltering sun.

I am from my dad’s Cyclo rides

From his sweat drenched shirt

And the daily struggle to provide.

I’m from chain smoking and skipping meals

And from Sunday night confessions.

I’m from my dad’s daily visits 

To his favorite Pho stand.

I’m from my parent’s hopes

As we await our fate

To come to America.

I’m from clasped hands and prayer beads

From broken English and interviews

From our elation of the news

We are finally approved!

I’m from the plane ride to New York

Three-years-old with curious eyes

A bright future.

I am from never fully grasping

My parent’s sacrifice

Yet always holding it close

Feeling the ripples of their trauma along the way.

I’m from new beginnings and identities

From first-generation college student

From breaking generational curses and therapy

               I am from the pile of books in the corner of the hallway

               Still waiting for their place.

               I am from medicated oil, and a hot bowl of Pho

               My mom’s miracle cure all.

               I am from yesterday’s prayer and tomorrow’s hopes.

I am from the accumulation of all of our dreams.

A whole class contributed to this October poem..Thank you everyone.

Where I Am From
By Notre Dame Moreau Class Section 34-092021

I am from fields of corn as far as the eye can see.
I am from pinecones and evergreens; poison ivy and mosquito bites.
I am from Commerce and Detroit, from Detroit Tigers games and summer boat rides.
I am from Edgewood, Kentucky; a community bonded over faith and family.

I am from a place where my escape is being able to ski with friends in the winter.
I am from running, morning races, and evening workouts. I am from the scent of new Nike shoes and
muddy dirt trails.
I am from sitting by the fire pit with friends and family alike, talking about whatever, looking at the stars,
and singing along to country all through the night.
I am from the most popular sport in the world, the sport that gave me the opportunity to create
lifelong friends and experience unity.
I am from the fin/Users/julielandsman 1/Library/Containers/com.apple.mail/Data/Library/Mail Downloads/8858B82E-4C36-4F2D-8934-5775A9F4B409/Moreau Class Section 34-092021 Where I Am From (Text).txtely sewn leather baseballs which alters its spin through different grips.
I am from working to improve, trying to perfect my craft each and every day, and conditioning myself so
there are no excuses, so that come match days, I could make my team, coach, and family proud.

I am from oak wood church pews with a crucifix on the wall.
I am from E-Street radio while driving east down I-90.
I am from catching up at the dinner table from a long days work.
I am from mommaís homemade meals, from lifted F350s hauling cattle at 15 over, and the Kendall
County Fair. I am from empty cups of sweet iced tea + Whataburger trash that filled the trashcan in
the house.
I am from classical music and NPR, from analog entertainment only, piano practice, and reading by the
light in the hall.

I am from long car rides packed in for hours, bonding ñ and arguing ñ with my family.
I am from a crowded dinner table, food spilled here and there.
I am from basketball in the driveway with my brother; from disputes over the score and almost every
I am from my momís hugs before goodbye and my dadís ëI love youí as I walk out the door.

We have three more poems this week..from Paul, Jill and Cathryn! A month rich with language..Thank you!

I am From 

Paul Giovanello

I am from notebooks, 

from pages of lists and scribbled creativity.

I am from the triple pane windows that invited light inside our home,

(Tall, transparent, 

allowing each season’s beauty to be visible and admired).

I am from the bluegrass outside My Old Kentucky Home

the weeping willow 

whose branches drooped over the backyard corner

like a stage curtain I could hide behind when I needed a break from the world.

I’m from Grohmans Lane and Willow Grove Circle,

from the Musik Express at Adventureland and fireworks on the Belvedere.

I’m from cardboard boxes and moving trucks,

from friends who became penpals before fading into memories.

I’m from bowling alleys and swimming pools,

from seven fishes and Derby pie,

and the loyal fans of the Big Blue Nation.

I’m from Sunday phone calls with grandparents and eating in restaurants more than my kitchen,

from “make your bed” and “get off the rug,”

and oldies that blared from the station wagon’s radio.

I’m from “Grandpa George went up to heaven” and learning life is filled with sadness,

from the actuary who helped me solve equations

and the matriarch who put a Christmas tree in every room of the house.

I’m from morning devotions in homeroom and prayer circles before lunch,

holding hands with the same kids who made jokes at my expense.

I am from pneumonia, braces, and weekly allergy shots,

from ‘dumbing down” my intelligence so nobody dared call me smart,

my happiest moments and greatest fears.

I’m from the ongoing cycle of weight gain and weight loss,

from Clearasil and acne and a series of bad haircuts,

the scars that stain my face and the words that stab my heart.

I’m from disappointment and rejection,

from being at the right place, but at the wrong time,

then losing my confidence and feeling defeated,

and settling for a prize far beneath my worth.

Inside my thoughts, these moments reside,

a collection of puzzle pieces,

that when assembled together, reveal the portrait of my reflection.

Whether the source of my laughter, 

or the root of my tears,

I am my experiences.

I am my memories.

Kathryn  Goncalves

I Am From

I am from broken plates

From dusty Longaberger baskets to Goya Adobo seasonings

I am from the off ramp of the busiest street

Where you can taste the ambition

And feel the sadness while walking along

The broken bottle streets

I am from the aloe vera plant 

That lays so fair and gentle 

On my mother’s bay window

But if you get close

The thorns pinch you so quick

You don’t time to react

I’m from Garis family reunions and unexpected phone calls

From Retha and Balbina 

I’m from the yellers and drinkers

From “You are my precious princess” and “You are not mine”

I’m from church choir practice every Monday Night 

Where the only more out of tune voice than mine

Were the confessions being whispered


I’m from Providence Rhode Island 

With a mix of Souderton and Praia

Sunday dinners of roast and potatoes

And cachupa 

From the grandfather who jumped 

In the lake and never came out

To the grandmother who sang 

And made food for anyone who

Came on her doorstep

I am from two broken 

Plates that have made me whole

I am from 


Where I’m From

By Jill Lynne Ness

I am from Kraft Mac and Cheese, 

from Kenmore washers and Clorox. 

I am from Hamburger helper, 

from clean, smoothed sheets, and always paired socks. 

I am from the wooly bear caterpillar, 

from the solid oak tree,

I am from Minnesota winters frozen solid, 

from the moth that was set free.

I am from Ness and Schneider, 

from checkers and the it’s not fairs. 

I am from it’s boys against the girls,

from board games, and see if I cares. 

I am from lefse and søtsuppe

from Shirley and Clayt. 

I am from potlucks in church basements, 

from casseroles and homemade cake.

I am from the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit, 

from the Sermon on the Mount.

I am from the Gospel According to St. James,

from more Lutherans than you can count.

I am from Bisquick and Mrs. Butterworth,

from Violet and Cliff.

I am from hymns on the organ,

from 80’s mix tapes and a solo guitar riff.

I am from Anne Dudley and Governor Bradstreet,

from poets and musical ears.

I am from Salem witches and numerous politicians,

from the shampoo with no tears.

I am from skeletons in the closet,

from family black sheep.

I am from story tellers and song writers,

from the memories that they keep. 

I am the wooly bear caterpillar,

my cocoon woven of the memories to which I belong.

In spring, I emerge with wings and a beating heart, 

Encompassing all that I come from.