The poems this week in our on-going Memoir Series took us back to our childhood homes. And whether we wrote of a room, or house, or neighborhood, we exposed a bit more of ourselves in an effort to write our “histories”. My belief from the start of this project was that every story was worth being told and who better to tell it! I applaud all who have undertaken this excursion and I promise that when we are all done, we will  have personal poetry collections of which to be very proud. Stories waiting to be read!

So, now the the BEAUTIFUL BLOOMS:


Oh my, the emotions accompanying this prompt. I enjoyed each and every read. You all wrote wonderfully descriptive and emotion-provoking poems. I’ve had an incredibly hard time narrowing my choices to one once again. Some of you described your dwellings in descriptive detail, while managing to convey a sense of who you are, and where you fit in your memories. A few focused on only one or two details. Laurie Kolp focused on one power-laden, passion-provoking aspect of her home. Her brilliantly titled, “Walled” haunted me all week. Laurie, I offer you my “Bloom.”

Walled (by Laurie Kolp)

When a childhood home is an ant bed
red with fire, hot-headed desire turns
joy to angst. You hide in your
yellow room, write stories
about someone else
hoping to be-
come yellow
like the


I was drawn to this poem from the first time I read it (having read it approx. ten more times since). The title immediately caught my eye. We lived in a yellow house as well. But, the details included played as brush strokes against life’s canvas. I got the sense of being in the house, so described. And the essence I hoped our poets would convey was well expressed here. The last lines were what fluttered in my heart when I proposed the prompt.

“Now it is blue and different and strange
And now I can only reminisce about when it was still mine.

Most of us are far removed from it, but no matter how the domicile had changed, our recollections put us back in our rooms . For that, I award my BEAUTIFUL BLOOM to Lauren for her piece:


My house
Big and yellow
A yard in front with trees to climb
In back, a porch we built,
A swing set we built. In back,
A river that flooded and attracted geese.

My house
A living room with a high sloping ceiling
A big staircase with a white intricate railing.
Memories of body parts stuck between designs
And people sitting on the stairs at parties
A Christmas tree stood in the middle (or so it seemed).

My room
Had just one extra step up
Smothered in pink and white
Instead I spent hours in my brother’s room
With cars and legos and forts in early mornings
Plus his smaller smiling face.

My house was my house
Until I was almost ten
A tearful good-bye marked the end of a chapter
Yet half my life still lingers there.
Now it is blue and different and strange
And now I can only reminisce about when it was still mine.

Congratulations to Laurie Kolp and Lauren on your selection this week.

To our poets, thank you for you exceptional work. I am extremely encouraged by your enthusiasm for this Memoir Project. We will continue tomorrow with a new reminiscence to explore!