Poem of the Week By Claire Conroy

Biography:

Beat Poet Laureate of Maine 2024-2026, Claire Conroy has self-published two books of poetry (“Listen” in 2018 and “Silent” in 2022) and a chapbook (“Rumors From Dead Lips” in 2024).  Born in Portsmouth, NH, she is a proud board member of the Portsmouth Poet Laureate Program and is the host of their open mic, The HOOT. She has been published in over 20 anthologies and has been translated into Hindi by Devesh Path Sariya.  Claire holds poetry workshops in Sanford, Maine where she lives.

Backstory:

I was at a poetry reading when I learned about “I Am From” poems, and was immediately inspired.  I feel a very deep connection to where I am from (Portsmouth, NH/Seacoast of Maine & NH) being that a dozen generations of my family lived and died here.  I wanted to use the “I Am From” format to release my feelings and memories.  I wanted to paint a picture with words of how and where this who became me.

I Am From

I am from a place where the river meets the ocean.
I am from a place that thrives off the sea.
I am from generations of salty characters.
I am from those who gave whatever they had.
I am from 1970’s cartoons on Saturday mornings.
I am from getting kicked out of the house til the streetlights come on.
I am from drinking out of the hose in the backyard.
I am from cutting through the neighbor’s property.
I am from being chased by geese.
I am from bicycle rides across town alone at seven years old.
I am from vacations to the White Mountains.
I am from fishing in ponds and sleeping in tents.
I am from dirty feet and peepers and Mountain Suds.
I am from Summer days covered in sand.
I am from blue lips refusing the cold.
I am from Autumn school days of falling leaves.
I am from deep Winter snows.
I am from work in the Spring, hands deep in the dirt.
I am from laundry drying on the line.
I am from darning socks and handmade presents.
I am from rotary phones, typewriters and letters in the mailbox.
I am from “Can You Draw Tippy?” advertisements.
I am from finding out the hard way.
I am from every book I have ever read.
I am from the suffering of my past lives.
I am from the mistakes of my ancestors.
I am from cobblestone nights filled with stars.
I am from the flowers.
I am from crazed tears that rinsed my guilt.
I am from questionable choices I made anyway.
I am from inside, trapped in my skin.
I am from poet farmers.
I am from shipyard workers.
I am from mothers with tired hands.
I am from bootleggers and vikings and indentured servants.
I am from Portsmouth, NH.

© 2025 Claire Conroy