Poems About Music

I Am from Poems (Poems about Root and Heritage)

George Ella Lyons’ poem “Where I’m from” has a lot of impact. It is a poetic snapshot of the poet’s favorite childhood memories, read interesting I am from poems here

Poems about Where I Come From

Below are poems the tell you about root heritage and who you really are.

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.

By,  George Ella Lyons

I Am from the Kitchen

I am from the kitchen

From knives and forks

I am from the mirror

Smooth but beautiful

I am from the roses

The pine trees near my home

Whose long-gone limbs I remember

As if they were my own.

I am from love and art

From my father and mother

I’m from chaos and laughter

And from caring too deeply.

I am from use your inside voice

And itsy-bitsy spider

I am from giving presents on Christmas Eve

I am from Lapeer and French

Tacos and cornbread stuffing

From my grandmother being a quilter

Who has long since passed away

The old pictures

On the wall

Shining with the heart of our family.

By, Anonymous  


I Am Sweet and Cute

I am sweet and cute.

I wonder about Mars.

I touch rainbows.

I worry about getting old.

I want to be a wizard.

I am thoughtful and contemplative.

I want a unicorn.

I worry about death.

I am thoughtful and contemplative.

I understand the truth of facts.

I believe in magic.

I dream of Hogwarts.

I am sweet and cute.

I pretend to have magic.

I feel the air around me.

I hear bells.

I see dancing unicorns.

I cry during sad movies.

I am sweet and cute.

I understand the vastness of the universe.

I dream of becoming a millionaire.

I say things that I shouldn’t.

I hope to be a good person.

I am sweet and cute.

By, Anonymous 


I Am from Poems

I Am

I am
gap tooth black girl
back corner of class
scribbling left-handed
poetry on blank paper
save the school’s
curriculum for later

I am
overflowing tales by moonlight
trickling off the tip
of my grandmothers tongue
you will find my mother
tongue here

fast and fluent Yoruba
criss crossing English
hidden messages in
prose and proverbs
call it Yorubanglish

I am
the miracle of melody
nestled deep in the groove
of rich hi-life rhythms
a child
of the marriage
of hip-hop and afro beats

you can hear our voices
pulsing beneath the skin
of a talking drum
commanding hips to move
without caution
but caution
this is where a woman is born
where she learns the infinite
connection between her waist line
and the baseline

I am
sky high gele
bold and beautiful
meets stretch skinny jeans
we redefine style
wear our stories around our necks
and from our ears
so we never forget
the voices of ancestors

I am
what they never
taught you in history books
legacies of age old traditions
incantations of ancient griots
a nation of story tellers
the beautiful and the broken
the struggling and the surviving
the ones they said
would never make it

this is who
I am

By, Titilope Sonuga


Where Come From

I am from cardboard box rockets,
from books and unicycles.
I am from a tumble-down shack, white paint peeling,
a kitchen floor perfect for hopscotch on winter days.
I am from the ancient elm outside my window
whose leaves waved “come play” like a good friend– now gone.

I am from bare feet and grand forts built in the summer heat,
from grandfathers, Ralph, and Mike.
I am from half-truths and whole lies,
from missed opportunities and possibilities.

I am from the produce box my father carried on his shoulder,
from a kaleidoscope of vegetables for dinner.
I am from a grandmother who had twelve children
and little time for poetry,
and from birds of prey perched on my father’s fist.

Each week, the bookmobile delivered a new adventure
tucked between pages.
I am from these moments—
the good, the bad, and the in-between
that both tethered me
and gave me wings.

By, Danna Smith

You can write a “I am” poetry about a hypothetical or made-up character in addition to using it to communicate about oneself.

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