Paint Chip Poetry Prompt #25

It’s week 25 of the paint chip poetry prompts. I feel good about keeping this going and not giving up. Those of you who have participated have been my motivation. Thank you for playing along.

The Challenge

This week’s challenge is an opportunity for nostalgia as we write about “My Hometown.” Unless, of course, you are one of those who still live in your original hometown and never plan to move away. That could be a whole other angle on this prompt. You could write about yesterday.

There are some great words in the line up today, and no weird phrases, so my challenge is to use all seven of these words in your homegrown poem: jasmine, spotlight, fog, bubblegum, pyramid, scarecrow, and sand. You can rhyme or not; it’s up to you. Free verse is a great option for sharing fond memories, but some of these words have wonderful rhyme choices.

My Poem

My Old Hometown

The first thing that comes to mind
when I think of my childhood hometown
is dusty dirt roads with soil
finer than sand at the seashore.
Pedaling my banana seat bike up hills
and down, dodging dust devils and pot holes.
Warm wind in my hair and sun on my face, chewing
bubblegum and loving life.

Rural life was peaceful and blessed. I remember
the garden in our back yard, with fresh veggies
ripening on the vine. We didn't grow jasmine
or sweet William, no daisies, just beans and 
carrots, tomatoes and dill. We didn't have 
a scarecrow to keep away the birds, but our 
cute, noisy little dog did the trick.

Tucked away in the mountains, our wee town
was miles from civilization. Coming home
from the big city meant traversing
a winding road socked in by fog. There might
be a deer around any curve, or a coyote
slinking across the road. I remember one time
we'd been to a scary movie and I imagined
nightmares in every rock and crag.

We had no great wonders of the world in
my hometown, nothing to rival the pyramids
or attract tourists, although the San Diego
Wild Animal Park was just down the road a piece,
where a spotlight shone on the zebras and
antelope at night, and you could see them from 
the roadside turnout. Our closest claim to fame.

Fond memories of my California hometown, good friends 
and church ties; Collier Park pool and Dos Picos Park; 
the home of the Bulldogs, our high school mascot. These
images make me smile wistfully. I often wish we hadn't 
moved away when I was just a tween, to subsist in an 
equally small, rural town that will never seem like home.

Your Turn

Now it’s your turn to write about your hometown, or maybe someone else’s. Or perhaps you want to wax philosophic about hometowns in general? The choice is your. But remember, use all seven paint chip words. Post your poem in the comments, or post it on your blog and share a link in the comments. If you post on your blog, I’d appreciate a link back here so others can find the prompt and join the fun.

Shared for Open Link Night at dVerse Poets Pub.

I am a Jesus Freak, and I don't care who knows it. I am a wife, mother, sister, aunt, daughter, and friend. My blood family is only part of the larger family of Christ that I belong to. I love to write, especially about my dear Savior.


27 Responses

  1. There’s both fondness and wistfulness In your words. I never stayed anyplace in my childhood long enough to form that attachment–it’s something I envy sometimes. (K)

  2. I enjoyed the picture you painted of your old hometown, Linda, so different from the scenery I know. I love the image of you on your bike pedalling up hills and down ’dodging dust devils and pot holes’, and the dog acting as scarecrow made me smile.

  3. Such a wonderful trip down memory lanes. There is something special about a person’s home town that can never be replaced in the heart.

  4. I love this insight into your past and do think where we grow up plays a powerful part in our poetic lives. So clever the way you weave the words in and no Pyramids! Just a really famous zoo nearby, great!

  5. Guess My Hometown

    My hometown is neither little nor big
    See if you can guess it, now on with this gig
    No need to look far and no need to squint
    Just pay attention to all of my hints

    My town got its start as a port on the lake
    Where fog rolled in and immigrants claimed stake
    The border war of 1835 would seal its fate
    The state to the south would be shipping its freight

    The skilled craftsmen there made glass from sand
    And many other artifacts were crafted by hand
    The fulcrum of a pyramid can balance quite great
    Creating scales very famous, no springs, honest weight

    The spotlight of wartime ushered a new era for keeps
    And Willys Overland became home of the Jeeps
    The citizens work hard, but they also play and have friends
    To relax they chew bubblegum and watch the Mud Hens

    There’s a song about a man, left alone by Lucille
    He had four hungry children and a crop in the field
    Another songwriter spent a week there one day
    They roll back the sidewalks precisely at 10, he did say

    My town is too north for jasmine or palm trees to grow
    But many countryside cornfields contain a scarecrow
    If you haven’t guessed it by now, you probably never will
    My hometown is Toledo, part of my heart is there still

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