Kentucky’s “Where I’m From”: A Poetry of Place explores the Commonwealth through memory poems.
Don’t panic — a “Where I’m From” memory poem isn’t as difficult as you may think. It follows the structure and style of Kentucky Poet Laureate George Ella Lyon’s original “Where I’m From” poem and is simply a list of what’s important to you.
The popular poem is used all over the world as a template for others to write their own memories. Schools, businesses and gatherings of all kinds have found that creating and sharing “Where I’m From” poems is a great way for people to become acquainted.
Kentuckians are urged to create and share a “Where I’m From” memory poem.
The arts council has three requirements for “Where I’m From” submissions:
1. All poems must be written following the structure and style of the original.
2. All poems must include the writers’ names, communities or schools, and counties.
3. Poems must be submitted in a Microsoft Word or compatible document. County contacts must submit multiple poems in a single document.
This is NOT a competition; there will be no winners or losers. Contacts in each county will collect “Where I’m From” poems and submit them to the Kentucky Arts Council.
Northern Kentucky contacts are: Carrie Herrmann at the Boone County Public Library, director@bcpl.org in Boone County, Cathie Connie at cathiecon@gmail.com in Campbell County, and Dave Schroeder with the Kenton County Public Library in Kenton County, dave.schroeder@kentonlibrary.org.
“Where I’m From” poems may be written or performed. Audio and video, (including live action and animation,) poems must be uploaded to YouTube or SoundCloud. Poems will be included on the website once a month. The deadline to submit is December 1.
The arts council reserves the right to limit its webpage publication of poems due to space restrictions or inappropriate content.
Here is George Ella Lyon’s poem:
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.