Lauri had this on her blog and I loved it. You can look at her post to see where to get the form to do your own poem and read other poems by other people. They are all cool. I will probably work on mine some more, but this is what I have so far.
Where I'm From
I am from cigarette scented pickups. From black and white TV and
Pyrex bowls – yellow for the popcorn and red for the Jell-o.
I am from the squeaky, the dusty, and paneled.
From three bedrooms, green carpet, and doors that open
From room to roam and dirt and trees.
I am from swinging in a tire,
playing Wonder Woman
Reading in the sun, drawing and
listening to John Denver.
Cowboys and Indians and
hide-and-seek in the dark.
From piano lessons,
and Christian school.
I am from cherry trees, grapes vines and rhubarb.
From pony hair, cat hair and chicken feed.
Gardens and worms and wild asparagas.
I am from reunions, Rosehips, and
From Vera and Delmas and Beryl. Two girls and four girls and one boy.
The end of the line.
I am from the teasing and the stoic. I am from praying and bickering
From I’ll give you something to cry about and
if your friends wanted to jump off a cliff…
I am from Jesus saves and lots of rules.
From Sunday morning,
From loving the least of these and everlasting life.
I’m from Pueblo and the Arkansas Valley,
from the dust bowl and a soddy.
From ranches, farms, and railroads.
From Macaroni and cheese and Chicken and dumplings,
bread without salt and canned apples.
Frozen Kool-aid, Banquet chicken and Cheerios.
From the illegitimate son of a sailor, The War of 1812,
and an orphan raised by natives.
A bronc - bustin', homesteading grandma.
A migrant worker grandpa. A WWI vet who just missed hitting the frontlines
and survived the epidemic.
I am from heart attacks, brain cancer, and aneurisms.
From strokes and ninety-five years.
I am from old scrapbooks, grandma’s stored-away boxes,
from funeral receipts, birth bills and marriage licenses stuffed
in a bag. And
memories that need to be mined before it’s too late.