Parts of our identity develop out of our origins -- whether through the nurturing (or lack of) of our family or through the nature we inherit genetically from our ancestors is up for debate. Sometimes we define ourselves as a form of resistance to the things around us we want to reject. Other times, we take the best of the people and places we grew up to mature into a stronger person. Our poems came from explorations of these relationships.
We hope you enjoy our poems and would love to read your comments. Also, feel free to imitate our imitations and send us your own identity and origin poem.
The poems below are expressions of our identity in relation to our origins as inspired by poems from Kevin Young, Jessica Greenbaum, Giovanna Capone, and George Ella Lyons. Through the writing of these poems we explored the origins of our own knowledge (in this case, knowledge of ourselves) and practiced using various literary devices. All poets are students from my 10th Grade Humanitas English classes.
Here's my origins poem:
ReplyDeleteBACK TO THE FUTURE
I wish I could have ridden
on my great uncle's junk
truck with my teenage dad
we could have struggled
to carry rusted iceboxes
and flat tires through
the depression together
I wish I could have
snuck love poems in
my mother's purse
when she was in
a different high school each year
we could have played
Back To The Future
Instead I have given
change to every store-
front solictor I've seen
and verses for all dark-
haired women kissed
I have been the combination
of my parents almost
half a century
And here's my identity poem:
ReplyDeleteTHE GREAT DIVIDE
COMES TOGETHER
I lie next to a woman
born 2,000 miles south of L.A.
We talk about what we have
in common from our childhoods --
watching The Flintstones --
only in her casa -- Los Picapiedra
Listening to the radio
as teenagers we both loved
"From The Beginning" -- but
Laura didn't know the title
until she heard it from me
When we visit her relatives
in Los Angeles -- I'm a foreigner
in the city of my birth
feeling conspicuous about my poor
pro-nun-ci-a-cion
I punch KLVE
in her Metro -- I imagine
watching my wife
cumbia in high heels
When I choose to wrap
my eggs in
a tortilla con salsa -- I know
I'm really eating mi amor
Desnuda piel against naked flesh
brazo over arm
pierna on leg
we naturalmente create a nueva race