When We Were Wild Things

This poem is a riff off of another poem by George Ella Lyons.  As a teacher I would use the lesson the author provided and help students create “I am From” poems, which were always beautiful.  I never took the initiative to write one myself… I would model lines here and there, but was always too busy with writing conference to take it to publication.  I have been longing to write one, so here goes!  Following this poem is a link to the lesson and original poem.

country field flora floral
Photo by SplitShire on Pexels.com
I Am From

I am from sunny summers,
Barefoot bike rides,
With pants rolled up.
And I am from forever fields,
Taller than me,
Laying there 
In that grass - 
the air still and heavy.
The sun warm and sleepy. 
The sounds of birds
And insects -
Always the sound of insects,
The thick swarming of mosquitoes.
Always mosquitoes.

I am from the side
Of a pond, cat-tails dance,
Fingers in the water.
A frog's call enticing us,
Urging us, "Catch Me."
And I am from the skip of a stone.
The surface of the water 
Glassy and dancing with
Flecks of golden sunlight,
Broken now and rippling.

I am from late night games
Of kick-the-can, 
And neighborhood kids 
Who scatter and run,
In Land of the Midnight Sun.
We were from "Crack the Whip,"
Lines that snake and curl. 
And I am from forts,
Secret forts,
Built by the sides of those ponds,
In the dark part of the woods.

I am from long summer days
Spent feral,
A wild thing,
We were all wild things. 
Until, one by one,
Our mother's stood in doorways
And called.  
It was time to go home.


George Ella Lyon: Where I am From poem and lesson

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