Patchwork Pieces
(Make up My Life)
When people meet my mom they say I look just like her
I have her face and her hair and her hands
People who know her will say
I have her mother's eyes and favourite animal
If you meet my sister you will say oh! You're siblings? because other than our faces there isn't that much to put us together
when you see my brother you will laugh, because really? do both your other siblings look like your father? There must not be much the same other than the look of your eyes
meeting my father is seeing how we have the same hands and silly grin
so when you see my family
please don't just say, you look so alike! talk to me.
find that I have her voice because it was her who told me how to say her words
know I have her terrible humor that sneaks up behind you until you get hit straight in the face by it
let the world know I have her love for books and of other people
look and see that my father and I share the same quick witted stories that no one can ever figure out what they started as
go find my sister with her passion and her music taste that we blast in the car
meet my brother and learn about his anger that he never quite seems to show but is constantly under the surface
then
and only then
can you start to learn what patchwork peices make me.
Please give a detailed explanation about the meaning and main idea of this poem.
The meaning behind this poem is that people are always made of bits and pieces
you may not realize it but the laugh you shout and the grin that pops up far too fast are remnants and peices of people who have been in your life. It's not just the hair I got from my mother, it's the snarky underhand jokes, I may have not gotten my father's eyes but I got his laughter and frustration
I am a patchwork quilt of prices of people that I have met and seen and that I have loves enough to take as my own
Please explain your writing and thought process regarding this poem.
When I wrote this it was early in the morning and I was mourning the person people thought I was
they saw the bits and pieces passed down and learned from all sorts of people but never how I made them my own, and never how much I loved them.
Why did you choose to write this poem?
I had an idea and wanted to show my thoughts
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