I am From

2 Comments

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  • Childhood

    I am From

    I’d love to be back in the country
    With fried chicken and collard greens drenched in hot sauce
    Where my family and I sit around the table and talk about our day and how they can get better
    Yeah it’s true, I’m from Charlotte, North Carolina

    When I sit alone, I think about the world goes different ways instead of one way
    The world changes its way everyday in everyday
    The troubles in the world affect everyone
    The election is a big impact on the world
    Cause we don’t know who we want to change the world

    My family is from the country
    Where you hang your clothes outside to dry
    Where you don’t disrespect anybody
    Where family is your main priority in life
    North Carolina is the place
    Where family reunions are always big
    Where we leave nobody behind

    I love to sing
    I love to dance
    I love to act
    I know I can’t be anyone else
    I love to write poems and stories
    I love to play the steel pans
    Just to hear those wonderful sounds
    Made in Trinidad and Tobago
    I love to listen to the music
    And be able to sing it loud and proud

    I hope someday that the world will
    Someday join together in peace and harmony
    I hope that the world someday
    Bring together families of different color,
    Race and ethnicity without a problem.

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    kdavidscott1 commented on I am From

    05-25-2009

    Very Vivid - and expressive of the southern mentality and lifestyle and oh so true...again I loved it.... KD

    kdavidscott1 commented on I am From

    05-25-2009

    You are a beautiful writer - you have a very bright future - I love your mind set and etc... please continue - I would love to read some of your stories - have you published a book yet if not you should - if you need help my number is on my profile any writer can call me and I would be more than willing to assist.... Much love and respect, KD

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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