I found this nifty idea at the site of Straight Up and Slightly Dirty (who could resist that blog title?), and here is the original poem along with a brilliant fill-in guide.
I have stolen this idea for my poetry class; if all goes well, I might have some amazing stuff to share in the next week. (This is me being optimistic about 29 teenagers in a creative writing class, in the midst of holiday breaks). Meanwhile, this is who I am:
I am from Laundromats,
from All Temp-A-Cheer, Clorox, and weathered clothespins.
I am from the single-wide trailer with a splintery porch,
a closet-sized bedroom and paper-thin walls.
I am from the crooked apple tree in front and bushy wild rhubarb in back.
I am from the flea market after church and forever bargaining,
from Grandpa Doc and Grandma Minnie, and the Parkers in Texas.
I am from the glasses by junior high and gray hair by 21;
From elbows off the table and chew with your mouth closed.
I am from the Church of the Nazarene on Sundays,
Jesus Loves Me and clay pigeon candle holders;
From bookmarks for memorizing Genesis through Malachi.
I’m from Dutch immigrants in Oak Harbor, oliebollen and Waldorf salad.
From the times Grandpa went AWOL, Hey, Mr. Bakery Man!
and stories about sleepwalking.
I am from shoeboxes in Grandma's cedar chest,
filled with pieces of gold & silver
disguised as photos and letters.
I am from the glasses by junior high and gray hair by 21;
From elbows off the table and chew with your mouth closed.
I am from the Church of the Nazarene on Sundays,
Jesus Loves Me and clay pigeon candle holders;
From bookmarks for memorizing Genesis through Malachi.
I’m from Dutch immigrants in Oak Harbor, oliebollen and Waldorf salad.
From the times Grandpa went AWOL, Hey, Mr. Bakery Man!
and stories about sleepwalking.
I am from shoeboxes in Grandma's cedar chest,
filled with pieces of gold & silver
disguised as photos and letters.
