Young Writers Society

And crisp 600 thread count sheets.

I’m from the rusting sputters.
(Out of a car going
Putt, Putt in the frigid winter air.)

Whose chipped, peeling paint patterns
Peel away like slices of an orange.

I am from Limbs that scrimp and save

After that new tow, already forgotten,

I’m from apologizes and stony silences comma
From foreign and new ways,

I’m from new cars now old and dying,
Small, box apartments and grand suburbs
Hidden away in a photo album,
Tucked in a safe corner,
Obscured from plain sight.

Old times brighten the air like a tangy fruit freshener,
While happier times remained a misty air,
To hit upon us a ray of light,

yea it was for class
and thank you for your suggestions

Weeeird... I had to do an assignment for school just like this a few days ago. Do you perchance live in New Mexico? I had to mimic George Ella Lyon. I was going to post mine, but now I guess I won't. Be sure you give her some credit for the idea.

I agree with Hannah about the part in parentheses. It is too similar, and I think it looks better without it anyway.

I like your memories though. They're very poetic and original. That part is entirely your own!

Just a little note, the "Putt Putt" part should be italicized.

As for the punctuation and grammar, you seem to have the common mistake of thinking every line must be capitalized. This is very untrue. You see, it's very similar to writing a story. You wouldn't capitalize words after a comma like "She went, And there she was, The place she'd been seeking." When you turn your poem into sentence format, that's how it looks. It's awkward and disrupts the flow. So I've gone through and made all the letter that should be lowercase how they ought to be:

I am from half-frozen microwave meals,
from blankets woven for years by hand
and crisp 600 thread count sheets.
I’m from the rusting sputters.
(out of a car going
putt, putt in the frigid winter air.)
I’m from the back lot of life
with its cracked grainy asphalt
and torn monkey bars.
Whose chipped, peeling paint patterns
peel away like slices of an orange.
I remember their pattern like
the scars on my hands.

I’m from Scrawny Ally-Cats and Strollers,
whose lives have now been deemed unnecessary.
I am from Limbs that scrimp and save
to buy that cheap, new polyester sweater,
after that new tow, already forgotten,
tucked away on a dusty shelf.
I’m from apologizes and stony silences
from foreign and new ways,
a new beginning replacing one
known for eons, gone
in the blink of an eye.

I’m from glazed doughnuts and packaged fortune cookies,
from the mountain of corners cut by
adults for the children they love,
set off for a life, alien to their predecessors.
I’m from new cars now old and dying,
small, box apartments and grand suburbs
hidden away in a photo album,
tucked in a safe corner,
obscured from plain sight.
Old times brighten the air like a tangy fruit freshener,
while happier times remained a misty air,
to hit upon us a ray of light,
a sunspot cast about by the stormy waves.

I am from hope
that rises from its ashes
And unfurls its wings
to fly again.

Hello! I'm wondering if this was an assignment for a class or something? >_< I hope it is, because it's /super/ similar to 'Where I'm From' by George Ella Lyon! I think I might have done something similar in school, or maybe just made lists rather than poems. I'd probably advise you to not use the parentheses in exactly the same way and relatively the same place as in the original though. ^_^

After that new tow, already forgotten,

Tucked away on a dusty shelf.

I’m from apologizes and stony silences