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At My Aunt's Unveiling
AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING
At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.
Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.
My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.
I had only been a taker all the years.
My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world
There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.
There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.
I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew
‘What does it all mean’
When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Aunt Tabitha
THE YOUNG GIRL'S POEM
WHATEVER I do, and whatever I say,
Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n't the way;
When she was a girl (forty summers ago)
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.
Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!
But I like my own way, and I find it so nice
And besides, I forget half the things I am told;
But they all will come back to me--when I am old.
If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt,
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;
She would never endure an impertinent stare,--
It is horrid, she says, and I must n't sit there.
A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own,
But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;
So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,--
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they did n't do so.
How wicked we are, and how good they were then!
They kept at arm's length those detestable men;
What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay--
Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?
If the men were so wicked, I 'll ask my papa
How he dared to propose to my darling mamma;
Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows?
And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose?
I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin,
What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!
And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad
That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!
A martyr will save us, and nothing else can;
Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man!
Though when to the altar a victim I go,
Aunt Tabitha 'll tell me she never did so.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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Sleep Deprivasion(Kids of The Street)
Sleep deprivasion caused by hunger, hunger for food for a kid who hasn't eaten in days.
Sleep deprivasion caused by nature, filthy blankets wet from rains.
sleep deprivasion caused by nightmares, dreams of an alcoholic father and an abusive aunt, cause of my running away.
Sleep deprivasion caused by pains, sharp pains from my chest caused by the cough I'v had for 6 months.
Sleep deprivasion caused by fear, fear from being attacked and raped by the older boys. rulers of the streets.
Sleep deprivasion caused by memories, memories of a life I had before mom passed on.
Sleep deprivasion caused by reality, truth of never amounting to anything. untamed words said by my aunt.
sleep deprivasion. A killer for kids on the streets. our solution became glue.
poem by Obedia Nong
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Gigolo Aunt
Grooving around in a trench coat
With the satin on trail
Seems to be all around in tin and lead pail, we pale
Jiving on down to the beach
To see the blue and the gray
Seems to be all and its rosy-its a beautiful day!
Will you please keep on the track
cause I almost want you back
cause I know what you are
You are a gigolo aunt, youre a gigolo aunt!
Yes I know what you are
You are a gigolo aunt, youre a gigolo aunt!
Heading down with the light, the dust in your way
She was angrier than, than her watershell male
Life to this love to me - heading me down to me
Thunderbird shale
Seems to be all and its rosy - its a beautiful day!
Will you please keep on the track
cause I almost want you back
cause I know what you are
You are a gigolo aunt
Grooving on down in a knapsack superlative day
Some wish she move and just as she can move jiving away
She made the scene should have been-superlative day
Everythings all and its rosy, its a beautiful day
Will you please keep on the track
cause I almost want you back
cause I know what you are
You are a gigolo aunt...
song performed by by Pink Floyd
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wanting, not the want is the cause.
Hunger for porridge, hunger for desserts,
Or hunger for wine makes one steal.
Hunger for shelter, hunger for power,
Or hunger for sex makes one steal.
Hunger dies not. So is the stealing.
19.04.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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If Heaven has a Number
I pick up the phone, dial 0 for the operator
And ask if heaven has a number
Does heaven have a number because I need to speak to God to ask For his forgiveness?
Does heaven have a number, because I need to speak with my aunt To ask her does she feel better?
Does heaven have a number, because I need to speak with my aunt
To tell her I love her?
Does heaven have a number, because I need to speak with my aunt
To know if I will be accepted
As one of God's children?
Does heaven have a number, this at last I need to know because, I Need someone in my life who cares, who loves me for me, like my aunt
Did, because I am all alone on this big Earth
So...........
Does heaven have a number?
poem by Katrina Thompson
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I am not hungry
I am not hungry
Hunger is not mine
I am free from hunger.
Hunger is a butterfly
Come to it and welcome it
Wonderland you reach
Without hunger
You could not move an inch
And how you changed yourself
Hunger will tell
Wait a minute.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Drop Your Buns Aunt Betty
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.
You owe us that!
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty.
Would you like a bowl of soup,
To boot that mood that has you pooped.
From all that mixing in the kitchen fixing food that you do.
There's some noodles with onions and peppers in it too!
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back...
And relax.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.
You owe us that!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Hunger Hunger To Worship
hunger hunger building up in heart
hunger hunger mounting building up in soul
hunger need hunger grows grows needs to be sated
hunger need hunger need to worship to worship God
hunger ache pain growing need to rush run to God
to rush back to God’s arms as we met in gift creativity
our souls are out back out upon swift flowing healing water
we are together carried over all all lighter darker ink water
we are together giving always giving love throughout time
hunger hunger to love worship universe creator our God
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Born With The Hunger
Hear the coyote howl
He's found his pray at last
In one moment of weakness
The chase is over so fast
He celebrates his kill
No mercy in his eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
Midnight is on the prowl
And I hear it call my name
Danger lurks in the shadows
But it's all part of a game
Until I quench this thirst
I will not close these eyes
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
You and I, we're the same
We both carry this flame
To depths of our souls
Once the fever awakes
We can never escape
It's beyond our control
We're both born with the hunger
Oh with the hunger
Temptation bites your lip
One kiss ignites the fire
So begins the seduction
As we succumb to desire
Your body aches for more
Why are you so surprised
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger never dies
When you're born with the hunger
The hunger - it never dies
Never dies
When you're born with the hunger It never dies
When you're born with the hunger Oh, it never dies
He celebrates the kill
You're born with the hunger
It never dies
song performed by by Cher
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The hunger
the hunger thinks the rice
can chew both skin and bone
the hunger thinks it's nice
to eat although forlorn
the hunger thinks the corn
can swallow ears and eyes
deaf blind hunger born
self eaten within it dies
the hunger thinks the food
is just a body's unfair breath
the hunger knows the interlude
no food the body eats itself
the hunger thinks the body rotten
is just a place to survive and eat
the hunger of the lost and forgotten
makes its way to the last heart beat
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Poverty
he is arrested today on a charge of grave threats
against his very own aunt who owns a store selling rice and salted fish
and sugar and coffee and eggs and mongo beans
he has nothing to eat and hurt his back and cannot really walk straight
like an ordinary man
yesterday he asksed a little help from his aunt for he was so hungry and had not eaten his breakfast as last night it rained so hard and his lamp went out andcould not catch the american frogs on the pond that taste like chickens for his supper with his mother and two other siblings who are very hungry too and there are no more bananas and potatoes in their farm which did not yield a good harvest of rice as the cost of fertilizer has gone more than twice their price last month and they have nothing to spray to kill the army worms
and the clerk asks if they have no chickens and there is none as all died
because of bird flu that came too early this year
and he was too angry because his aunt would not give them a little rice
or at least let them borrow for the meantime that they have no work
because the municipality is laying off all the casual employees that dig
the ditch along the muddy road
and so he threatened his aunt as he was so hungry and he took the chupa of
rice and a cup of mongo beans and a piece of salted fish for home
and so he is arrested today not just for grave threats but also for theft
he is the thief
that hunger and anger have successfully molded before our very eyes
that know no pity no compassion, and we shall now ask:
what is the verdict your honor? is he guilty as charged?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Saints
In our family, there were two saints,
my aunt and my grandmother.
But their lives were different.
My grandmother's was tranquil, even at the end.
She was like a person walking in calm water;
for some reason
the sea couldn't bring itself to hurt her.
When my aunt took the same path,
the waves broke over her, they attacked her,
which is how the Fates respond
to a true spiritual nature.
My grandmother was cautious, conservative:
that's why she escaped suffering.
My aunt's escaped nothing;
each time the sea retreats, someone she loves is taken away.
Still she won't experience
the sea as evil. To her, it is what it is:
where it touches land, it must turn to violence.
poem by Louise Gluck
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I am your maternal Aunt from Ohio!
A letter came without the sender's address.
She's written 'I am your Aunt but I cannot prove it.
Do not think that I am senile,
Still I can trace Judas who made the crown of thorns
For our Good Shepherd!
Do not think that I am mean
The Plumbago mine to whom I give
Before I take oaths in the Heaven.
Purposely I omitted my address on the envelope
Because I know you rascal never step into this lonely Aunt's habitation!
And you scribble the whole life until you go to the Hell!
I am your Aunt Hellen!
For the young couple in the Wedlock Mike & Sue!
*Is this the Canadian Aunt once poor deceased Mom mentioned in my faded dream?
But she must have gone to the heaven already.I have doubts whether she writes her last will the Plumbago mine for me? Now I remember once a palmist in my country predicted, one day I own a sudden wealth in a strange soil.O I can make pencils for poor children free!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Aunt Evangeline Approves
My Aunt Evangeline has come
To visit Melbourne town,
Garbed for its Glad Centenary
In frill and festal gown.
And Aunties says in mincing tones
As she surveys the scene,
Quaite pretty work. But just one touch
Of Ort, Ai think would help so much.'
Says Aunt Evangeline.
'Now, take those sweet Venetian masts,
Which clowns call 'lolly sticks,'
Some naice ort-muslin maight be used
In colahs that will mix.
Then what they need is pampas grass
Dyed pink and puce and green
To stick in those - ah - funnel things
Such deah, sweet memories it brings,'
Says Aunt Evangeline.
'Crepe papah, swung from pole to pole
Festooned with Christmas
Maight add a touch of tasteful
Mai deah, it's taste that
So on these fraightful buildings,
Paint a pretty watah scene,
With storks and - ah - conv
To please ortistic folk laike us.
Says Aunt Evangeline.
My Aunt Evangeline says, 'H'm!
Theah's something lacking yet
Something appropriate . . . Of course!
Whai how could Ai forget?
Ten thousand aspidistra plants
So graceful when they're green
Along those guttahs in the street
And on those pylons. They'd look sweet!'
Says Aunt Evangeline.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Old Aunt Mary's
Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth-- when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the 'Sunday's wood' in the kitchen too,
And we went visiting, 'me and you,'
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?
It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray--
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
Where the hammering 'red-heads' hopped awry,
And the buzzard 'raised' in the 'clearing' sky
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
And then in the dust of the road again;
And the teams we met, and the countrymen;
And the long highway, with sunshine spread
As thick as butter on country bread,
Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
Why, I see her now in the open door,
Where the little gourds grew up the sides and o'er
The clapboard roof--! And her face-- ah, me!
Wasn't it good for a boy to see--
And wasn't it good for a boy to be
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?
The jelly-- the Jam and the marmalade,
And the cherry and quince 'preserves'' she made!
And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear,
With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare--!
And the more we ate was the more to spare,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!
And the old spring-house in the cool green gloom
Of the willow-trees--, and the cooler room
Where the swinging-shelves and the crocks were kept--
Where the cream in a golden languor slept
While the waters gurgled and laughed and wept--
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
And O my brother, so far away,
This is to tell you she waits to-day
To welcome us--: Aunt Mary fell
Asleep this morning, whispering-- 'Tell
The boys to come!' And all is well
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.
poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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My Aunt Minnie would always be punctual and never hold up production, but who would pay to see my Aunt Minnie?
quote by Billy Wilder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Uncle Norm And Aunt Audrey
As a child I remember those days
when Aunt Audrey would come from faraway.
Aunt Audrey was tall and wore jewelry like rings
she brought gifts and interesting things.
Aunt Audrey lived in Japan, the far east
she had an interesting life to say the least.
Her daughters Marlena and Renee
had played with us for a couple of days.
Then they would leave on a plane
I would see them again at an older age.
Uncle Norm I also saw when I was young
we traveled to Rhode Island when I was age 1.
Then I would see Aunt Audrey & Norm
in the Sunshine State—
they lived in a development with wooden gates.
I celebrate Christmas and the holidays
with them, Marlena and Renee.
Celebrate with them on Christmas day
they have children now who live on
the west coast in the Golden State.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on April 9,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Uncle Norm And Aunt Audrey
As a child I remember those days
when Aunt Audrey would come from faraway.
Aunt Audrey was tall and wore jewelry like rings
she brought gifts and interesting things.
Aunt Audrey lived in Japan, the far east
she had an interesting life to say the least.
Her daughters Marlena and Renee
had played with us for a couple of days.
Then they would leave on a plane
I would see them again at an older age.
Uncle Norm I also saw when I was young
we traveled to Rhode Island when I was age 1.
Then I would see Aunt Audrey & Norm
in the sunshine state—
they lived in a development with wooden gates.
I celebrate Christmas and the holidays
with them, Marlena and Renee.
Cousin Marlena and Renee
have children now who live on
the west coast in the Golden State.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on April 9,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Either way one is restless
Power of hunger in some is so deep
that it is insatiate with rich food.
Power of lust in some is likewise.
It does not rest with an able better half.
Hunger for power or sex in some is so,
And never deplete though fed, till the end.
Power of hunger, power of lust
and hunger for power, hunger for lust
are restless and endless.
28012.2000, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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