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Memoir Poems
Memoir Poem by Curtis S.
I am from marble chess sets to Ethan Allen. I am from the green textured look of my mother's homemade pillow.
From our Sansevieria, Purple Columbines, and the roots beneath my feet, I am from the unidentified Palm in our living room, Forget-Me-Nots, and the smell of herbal tea in my mug.
I'm from sleeping on the trampoline in the chilled air gazing at all the stars, to laughing and splashing in the rain from Evatt my brother to Peter my father to Sally my mother
I am from compassion and from friendly competition in Ping Pong, and tennis, to water skiing. I am from my own beliefs and not one religion, though I do not despise people who believe differently than I.
I am from the moist green rural, areas of Vermont, England, Germany, and Poland.
I am from grandfather's warm Sunday pancakes, to Mom's fruit pie and when we're in Maine fresh Blueberry Cobbler.
I am from the target hanging on the wall to the first time that I shot.
The shot of me with my bass at the show of the derailed, the cabinet above our stereo that holds family treasures.
from my dad's pottery all those bowls mugs vases and lamps all the photo books my grandmother made, the bin in my closet that holds art and writing journals from every grade.
Me
by Joe L.
I am from piled wood waiting to protect me from the scratching hands of Jack
Frost.
I am from the pigskin sailing through the clean, crisp mountain air.
From ceramic bowls of chili spilling as another Bowl is won.
From 6:30 Christmases and the phrase, "Five more minutes..."
From the loving embrace of my Father's Mother, with the taste of sugar still on my
mind.
From the golden spill on light as I drift through the air on a mechanical elephant.
From the comfort of Harry and Percy's thoughts as I peacefully sip my tea.
From the warm presence of my dog near my feet as I slip in and out of pleasant
dreams.
From the cozy aura of the amber flames licking at the limbs of a once mighty
giant.
From the endless sea of food that is served on the third Thursday of November.
From the soothing rock of the lake as I snooze in the afternoon sun.
From gazing at the Sony like a moth as "Mario Wins!"
From the gooey chocolate chip cookies, cocoa and dripping snowy mush on the
hardwood floors
Spring and Summer? Not so much.
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