PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Finding my crib beneath my bed

At the age of fourteen. Never

Throwing anything out. Piles.

Piles upon piles of junk

“Aren’t you glad I saved it?”

This is where I’m from.



I’m from creaky floorboards,

Mice squeaking in the night.

I’m from the middle of the woods,

Seeing families of deer each day,

From piles of pine needles, bent trees and

Fallen branches across the fresh cut grass



I’m from fingerprinted walls, drying paint, fruit

Stencils along the hallway, moldy basements, a broken swing-set.

From paths that lead to rusty cars or rusty street signs,

Broken bird’s’ nests and robins’ eggs.



I’m from a land of laughing gas

That makes me laugh like assorted animals

Varying from hyenas to monkeys. From laughing

To hear “did you eat feathers for lunch?”

Or even just laughing at the things dad say

“Put on your shoeses”. From cracking up at anything and everything.



I’m from speaking French or speaking English with a French accent

From naming unknown species and dressing for Halloween as a wallibeater.

Making crazy songs and lyrics to join them, and dancing too.

From having wacky nicknames like you shpoog, apple pie, hal bop,

Little green baby bird, from being a shnooze and giving puhs.



I’m from rooms with oriental rugs, cases of

Blue and white china, wade figurines, les santons

And of course the millions of turtles everywhere.

I’m from hiding behind the chair in

The living room, the room no one is allowed to go in.

From playing apples to apples, and Balderdash.



I’m from a place where I sometimes fit in,

But no matter I always kind of stick out.

A place where I try to be

Something else, but I’m always from me.