That’s Where My People Come From

I want to write poems for the
people who live in the little pink houses,
that’s where my people come from.
It’s an act of honoring the fathers and
mothers who gave me roots so I could fly.
The poetry need not be easy but dependable,
such as a chain and a swing that will hold
the weight of you and someone you love.
 
little_pink_houses
 
 

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,028 other subscribers

4 Comments

  1. pastordt on January 15, 2015 at 4:11 am

    Was it pink when you lived in it? Mine was gray, I believe.

  2. Jewels on January 15, 2015 at 4:42 am

    I love your dependable words, John. If they were too snooty, I wouldn’t understand them. As it is, they comfort and often make me see/appreciate with new eyes something that was always there.

  3. ElenaLee on January 15, 2015 at 4:57 am

    There was a tiny pink house on my great-grandpa’s property, near the irises and the vegetable garden and the pump with a red handle. Thank you for showing this honor and respect for “ordinary” people, places and happenings.

  4. Annie B on January 17, 2015 at 10:46 pm

    Mine was a little white house.

Leave a Comment