- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Where I'm From
I am from the cushion upon a couch
From chilly burgundy tiled floors
that freeze every toe.
I am from the lily,
the strikingly white petals that match my skin tone.
From, “Make sure you’re covered in SPF 30.”
And my ignorance that made Mom gasp,
“Now look what you’ve done to yourself.”
Clearly she’s worrysome,
but it’s all out of love.
I am from Christmas and generosity,
thanks to Billy, Aunt Janet and the Shaw’s.
They’ve taught me to pass along a smile,
big enough to change all of the world.
Whether it be a knock-knock joke
or a foolish face,
laughter was always the key.
I am from the short tempered and
“You’re on thin ice!”
From discretion of what to say next.
Due to fear,
that I might do something wrong
I am from the inability to be hurt
by Daddy’s words any longer.
The raised voices and arguments
don’t see an end.
It’s like living a World War III my whole life.
I am from the pack rats and procrastination.
Magazines,newspapers, and old mail
left on the table for months.
From, “I’ll do it later,” and “not now.”
My soul resides in nature.
Mountain tops, ocean sides,
or lost in my back woods’till dusk.
And into the night,
daydreams are put on paper.
When morning comes,
music gives my words life.
I am from the golden cross which hangs around my neck,
it hold some views that don’t belong to me.
Born at Brattleboro Memorial Hospital,
and heritage from England.
From snacks in the fridge and butter with every meal.
From silverwear and glasses that Grandma stole,
the jingle in her purse as we leave dinner anxiously.
That shelf in my brother’s closet
holds family pictures, mementos, and achives.
They tell a story from when I was too young to remember
but the faces of loved ones linger in my memory.
This is what’s left--
the timeline to my ineffable life.