My Son, the Poet

Canaan has been writing poetry for his English class. I think his teacher has required them to write nearly 15 so far. This is the last one he wrote and I loved it. I love the memories that he shared....

Where Im From
By Canaan Bobb

Im from sawdust,
fresh from a long day of sawing.
Im from ashes from our furnace,
still red-hot in a bucket.

Im from fall leaves,
covering the valley.
Im from copperas mountain,
red from the setting sun.
Im from the creek at the bottom of the hill,
catching minnows and playing in the clay

Im from Orange Clean,
gritty and smelling like citrus.
From the despised Woodmizer,
Orange and muddy all around

From Dad’s great sayings,
like “That’s for doin’ nothin’ so don’t do somethin”
or the famous 3 worst things
“Lying, being lazy and lying about being lazy”

Im from my Uncle mark,
and him telling me how cars work, at his automotive shop.
Im from Nan telling me stories
of my uncles when they were my age.
Im from cousin Tyler,
and our first true obsession,
everything Batman.

Im from my Elway rookie
on my 10th birthday,
Im from my collection of all things sharp,
from Swiss Army Knives to my machetes.
From my very first gun,
my beloved .22 rifle,
shooting squirrels in the front yard.

Im from the stories of how I got my name.
It’s a long story,
but basically my parents decided to be jerks.
From the origins of my Dads nickname, Shag.
He had some nice hair in high school,
if you know what I mean
Im from the woods behind my house,
all 40 some acres of mostly oak and maple,
where I would go on hikes with my rifle,
hoping to kill anything,
maybe even a bear.

Im from many things,
all memorable,
that made me who I am today.
It’s a pretty sad story isn’t it?