Where I 'm From Poem

Introduction

In any attempt to increase awareness and encourage self-development, it is crucial to engage participants in activities that call for introspection and self-reflection. It is also important to provide opportunities for participants to make connections across, and even within, identity borders. The "WIF” activity can provide a non-threatening starting point for encouraging self-reflective thought and introspection. It is a safe way for participants to think about and share the influences that have shaped their identities. Also, it continues the connection-making process as participants find unexpected similarities and differences between themselves and others in the group.

Task

You are going to write a poem about where you are from, you will need to follow a certain format.

Process

 “Where I’m from” Poem Preparation Worksheet

 Step 1: Answering the following questions will prepare you to write your “Where I’m From” poem

  1.  Describe where you live.  What does it look like? What does itsmell like? What does it feel like?

This could be your actual house, or it could be another place that represents where you are 

from.)

 

  1. What objects or belongings can be found in your home or room? (List at least three)

 

  1. What are the names of people in your “family” (they could be alive or deceased, they do 

not need to be blood-relations)

 

  1. List two or three family traditions.

 

  1. What phrases, words or sayings are important to you or to your family members?

 

  1. What are some beliefs that represent where you are from?

 

  1. What foods are important to you or your family?

 

  1.  List 2 or 3 important childhood memories.

 

  1. Describe the weather where you are from?

 

  1. What do people do where you are from?

 

  1. What are your favorite things to do?

 

Step 2:  Look at the example of the “Where I’m From” Poem to create your own.

Conclusion

Where I'm From

I am from clothespins,
from Clorox and carbon-tetrachloride.
I am from the dirt under the back porch.
(Black, glistening,
it tasted like beets.)
I am from the forsythia bush
the Dutch elm
whose long-gone limbs I remember
as if they were my own.

I'm from fudge and eyeglasses,
          from Imogene and Alafair.
I'm from the know-it-alls
          and the pass-it-ons,
from Perk up! and Pipe down!
I'm from He restoreth my soul
          with a cottonball lamb
          and ten verses I can say myself.

I'm from Artemus and Billie's Branch,
fried corn and strong coffee.
From the finger my grandfather lost
          to the auger,
the eye my father shut to keep his sight.

Under my bed was a dress box
spilling old pictures,
a sift of lost faces
to drift beneath my dreams.
I am from those moments--
snapped before I budded --
leaf-fall from the family tree.