I am from sunny days and cool nights, a land of two seasons,
from Cadbury chocolate,
homemade bread and Sears’ catalog attire.
I am from rain at midnight on a tin roof, crows in the morning.
from Cadbury chocolate,
homemade bread and Sears’ catalog attire.
I am from rain at midnight on a tin roof, crows in the morning.
I am from mango trees and the Jacaranda in full lavender bloom,
Lake Victoria ablaze with the rising sun
and the tepid waters of the Indian ocean.
I am from crowded holiday tables and laughing out loud, from preachers
and missionaries and 2nd generation Navy “Mac”.
I am from prayers at mealtime and hugs at the airport.
From Girls have to know how to change their car’s oil too and Easy on the throttle.
I am from women who pray and men who cry.
And from those who have called down angels.
I'm from the shores of Scotland and the homeport of Blackbeard.
I am from samosas and collard greens. I am unsweet tea in the land of sweet.
From a hobo train ride home for Christmas,
motorcycle rides across the dusty savannah,
and the tenacity to never accept “I can’t” and “that's impossible”.
I am sea trunks in the attic, old black barrels untouched in 20 years,
our own National Archives, pictures lining the hallway
and roots that span the oceans and continents.
Lake Victoria ablaze with the rising sun
and the tepid waters of the Indian ocean.
I am from crowded holiday tables and laughing out loud, from preachers
and missionaries and 2nd generation Navy “Mac”.
I am from prayers at mealtime and hugs at the airport.
From Girls have to know how to change their car’s oil too and Easy on the throttle.
I am from women who pray and men who cry.
And from those who have called down angels.
I'm from the shores of Scotland and the homeport of Blackbeard.
I am from samosas and collard greens. I am unsweet tea in the land of sweet.
From a hobo train ride home for Christmas,
motorcycle rides across the dusty savannah,
and the tenacity to never accept “I can’t” and “that's impossible”.
I am sea trunks in the attic, old black barrels untouched in 20 years,
our own National Archives, pictures lining the hallway
and roots that span the oceans and continents.
psst...where are you from? Unleash the poet within...I double dog dare you!
16 comments:
Awesome Dori,
I too tried to do this once but just could not get it together. Yours sounds much better than mine would. What a life you've had. This is a morbid thought, but what a cool thing to read at a memorial. Sorry, but we've been making plans lately and thought it fitting to mention. It really walks people through your life in big and small details :)
beautiful, i might take you up on that dare!
I really enjoyed this, Dori; thanks for posting it.
As I said in my email...simply beautiful. (((((HUG)))))
That, was a superb blogging effort.
Wow, that was beautiful. I was thinking how in the world would I be able to come up with something like that, me being non-poetic and all. Then I clicked on the link and hey, whaddya know? I'll give it a shot. Except I think your life has had much more excitement.
What a lovely poem...beautifully said!
Love it!!! Thanks for sharing
Wonderfully written, like all of your works - makes me wish I could do the same my love!
go to wordle.net and look at the gallery for two recent posts by anonymous "I am" and "Dada Yangu". Hopefully you can find them. One was made by posting in the text of your post and the other by linking to your blog. Fun with words. Now I have to try your poetry link...
www.wordle.net/show/wrdl/1220154/Dada_Yangu
Aw...I have the *coolest* big sister!
Just gave you an award :)
Wow that's beautiful :) Just read it at MisKris's place. You are very clever!
OH! Lovely. I may have to do this. Hmmmmm?
I am so gonna do this when I feel better and can think with a clear head! yours is great and ever so poetic,I love it!
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