When I was eight years old I went to visit my brother who was working on a movie of the week with my mother and I saw how much fun he was having and I decided I wanted to try it too.
quote by Mackenzie Astin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
For Bill - My Brother
Who was aged five when I was born
My brother
Who hid my toys and broke my dolls
My brother
Who avoided his sister at school all day
My brother
Who tolerated my teenage years
My brother
Who as an adult became a friend
My brother
Who mellowed with each passing year
My brother
Who supported my desire to immigrate
My brother
Who was there when others weren't
My brother
Who buried our parents while I was gone
My brother
Who cherished every visit I made
My brother
Who had his ticket to visit me here
My brother
Who unexpectedly died this year
My brother
poem by Evelyn Macdonald
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Brother The Class Clown!
Brother The Class Clown!
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted May 8 2006
Dedicated To My Brother.
My brother was born an accident!
He was always in accidents.
He burned his hand with a torch
Because he did not look before he was bending,
Just last week working.
He fainted with a swollen head and eyes
at the Air Force base in March,
Because he did not take any allergy medication.
He got a rusty nail in his foot
Because he did not see it.
He walked up a crane and
So he sprang his foot many years ago.
He has a broken nose,
Since I do not know when.
My brother is an accident waiting to happen!
poem by Lori Triggs
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lover, Brother
Are you my brother or lover, brother?
don´t be my mother lover!
kiss you my brother lover
can´t be your mother, brother
never found you in the arms of another
Are you my lover, brother?
don´t touch my mother lover!
kiss you and not another
find out the love to your mother, brother
don´t even mistreat my brother, mother
Are you like my brother, lover?
don´t hate my mother lover!
kiss me instead of my mother, brother
not even be afraid of my brother, mother
we are the same but another
Are you my friend sweet brother?
please get in touch with my lover!
but do not kiss each other, brother
´cause he´s my lover, brother
treat him as your brother, my lover
Why aren´t lovers like brothers?
why mothers not like lovers!
kissing my man and not another, brother
but love you too my mother, never another
together we can treat us like brothers, brother.
@floydfloydson
(c) uni-verse.de 12.20.2011
poem by Floyd Floydson
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Broremann The Boy
The boy was eight years old and pretended to have one leg
shorter than the other, by walking with one foot in the gutter
and the other foot on the pavement. He tried to run that way
but it was difficult lost his balance and fell. A strange boy
often alone dreaming about what to do, he had told his mother
he wanted to be an actor and play many roles and be everything
at once. Either that or to an opera singer be, famous, traveling
around the world. His mother didn´t think much of his plans and
anyway this was his last day in this town tomorrow he was being
sent to farm, that had cows, horses, and sheep. He had no say in
the matter his mother was sick and had to go to a sanatorium
He didn´t mind it so much liked horses and could be a cowboy but
he had to go to school to and the children was sure to mob him for
talking city like. Down at the docks a big ship was birthing she came
all the way from Conakry in Africa. The boy decided to be a sailor,
and walked home to tell his mother.
Broremann is best translated as “little brother”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I would go visit my mom on Sundays, and my brother was working on stuff. I'd go in there and sing a little melody, then we started working with words and the next thing you know it was just born organically without really trying.
quote by Taryn Manning
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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End Of The Week
I get out of work
And then I throw away all of my cares
I get out of work
And then I wash the week out my hair
Monday, tuesday, wednesday, thursday
Its hard as could be
But by old friday evening
Were free, were free, were free
End of the week
The weekend started
Been working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Youre tasting freedom
No one to push you around
End of the week
And life has a reason
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Street are alive
You know everybodys going somewhere
You put on the slide
You gotta beat the crowd just everywhere
And all the music all the dancing
Get you so high
And all that sweet romancing
Oh my, oh my, oh my
End of the week
The weekend started
Working so hard to play
End of the week
Its time to party
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
Feels good now
Feels good now
End of the week
End of the week
Its real good now
Real good now
End of the week
End of the week
End of the week
song performed by by Donna Summer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Awaited Visit
A True Story;
As experienced and written by Ron Tranmer
I decided to go to a rest home
to see an old friend one day.
I stopped to speak to a lady
who I noticed was looking my way.
She was happy that I came over.
There was something she wanted to say.
She smiled and said from her wheelchair,
"My boy will come visit today."
It's been quite a while since I've seen him,
He's always quite busy you know…
He doesn't live too far from here,
And he knows that I love him so.
Each morning as I rise from bed
My prayer is the same as I say,
Father In Heaven, I ask but one thing,
That my boy will come visit today.
He was always such a good boy.
And the only child we had.
He was only 10 years old
When I lost my husband…his dad.
He married soon after college.
And got a great job with good pay
He calls me at times on the telephone,
But I know he'll come visit today.
I'm lonely here in the rest home.
How I long for my son to come by.
They tell me my health is now failing,
But he'll visit before I must die."
I leaned over and gave her a hug
And the tears on my cheeks wiped away.
She smiled and said, there's no need to cry,
My boy will come visit today."
poem by Ron Tranmer
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Then I got together with my brother and a friend and we decided to play dates. The more we played, the more we wanted to do it. And it got to a stage where we wanted to do it all the time.
quote by Ray Davies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That child
Eight years old and already hate life
Abused by her adopted mother
Raped by her adopted brother
She is just a child and she cant be more.
The bruises on her back keeps her silent
She cries at night till the pain is numb
And when he is on top of her she drifts away
Away from body away from spirit.
Nine years old and it continues
To protect her blood brother from the same
She pretends nothing is wrong
For him, trying so hard to be strong.
She cared so much for her blood brother
She took his bruises upon her self
And he was only a year younger
And they both were just kids.
Ten years old and he still knows nothing
She must be the best secret keeper
Or just a scarred girl who doesnt want her brother to know
Either way she is just a child.
Eleven years old nothing changes
Twelve years old she is getting fed up
The nights when he would come in and do what ever
Forced to mature before her time.
Fourteen she tells her adopted mother
And adopted mother beats her and the girl knows not why
Is it because the mother doesn't believe her
Or does not care enough for her feelings
Sixteen she tries to runaway
Her aunt talks to her so she goes back
Seventeen she moves out and graduate high school
What do you know she graduate with honors.
Eighteen she joins the military
Her blood brother still knows nothing
He see her for her success and not her struggle
That is how she want to keep it.
Her childhood was taking
She just met her birth father
Knows not her birth mother
Her biological brother is all she has
At Nineteen she wrote this poem.
And still remembers that child.
poem by Tressa Carliss
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Last Week
Oh, the new-chum went to the backblock run,
But he should have gone there last week.
He tramped ten miles with a loaded gun,
But of turkey of duck saw never a one,
For he should have been there last week,
They said,
There were flocks of 'em there last week.
He wended his way to a waterfall,
And he should have gone there last week.
He carried a camera, legs and all,
But the day was hot and the stream was small,
For he should have gone there last week,
They said,
They drowned a man there last week.
He went for a drive, and he made a start,
Which should have been made last week,
For the old horse died of a broken heart;
So he footed it home and he dragged the cart --
But the horse was all right last week,
They said,
He trotted a match last week.
So he asked all the bushies who came from afar
To visit the town last week
If the'd dine with him, and they said "Hurrah!"
But there wasn't a drop in the whisky jar --
You should have been here last week,
He said,
I drank it all up last week!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Peace Be With You, My Brother
You have bitten my arm and
Drawn blood
Peace be with you my brother
You have gnawed my bones and
Eaten my leaves
Peace be with you my brother
You have withered my mother and
Stolen the years
Peace be with you my brother
You have taken my wife and
Left with my trust
Peace be with you my brother
And now life is good
Full and drunk
Pain part of the arc
Love is free and easy
Love is pulled from the dark
Sun is warm
Rain is fresh
And years flow
As years and water should
Peace be with you my brother
poem by Guillermo Veloso
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Other Woman
She was enjoying a spring day outside on the stairs
With a book in one hand, the other playing with her hair
When her fiancé walked over, singing like Astaire
That he could not wait until the two became a pair
In love and war all’s fair, and she had won the war
She didn’t get what she wanted, so she wanted more
She was clearly hot for marriage, called him a fool’s clown
But when at last she saw the ice, she decided to cool down
There comes a point
When you think you don’t reap what you've put in
But it’s no fun to become just the other woman
They started great on their way, the years faded like barbers
And they stopped giving free meals to ducks down at the harbor
Two lives were lived under one roof and apart they had grown
Four walls, a bed, windows, & steps, this house was not a home
He stayed out late, working, reassured her to the end
That he was only working and he had no special friend
She met him several times before, but she couldn’t stop
Because her very own divorce was right around the block
poem by P.R. Prosper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Breathlessley Speaking
I hit my brother and
My brother fell fainted and
His son got angry and
He hit me back and
I turned to hit him back and
Then mother-90 years, shouted and
She hit me for her turn and
Thus I got so many strokes and
It did'nt matter much but
Only made me feel sorry, for
Mother broke my only walking stick and
She screamed 'you're sixty and
your brother is seventy and
My grandson is forty and
I don't suppose a battlefield' and
Then my brother woke up and
Our fight started again and'I am Wellesley.
why I hit him 'cause
He has been calling me Breathlessley'.
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ten Pound Note
I was five when mam left us
But before she passed away
She gave me a ten pound note
For a coat on a rainy day
But there was no coat which could last
The rainy days I had to bear
So I lent my money to my brother
Who looked after me with care
My brother spent the money
Everywhere we went
On things I didn’t care about
Like camping in a tent
On bandages and soap
And fishing in the river
And chips when we were hungry
To warm a bellies shiver
He seemed to spend lots of money
I wanted my money back
I decided ten years later
For I never bought that mac
Brother where’s my money now
I loaned you long ago
For years you’ve spent it carelessly
But I still love you though
He was sad as he looked at me
Then he began to say
I promised mam not to leave you
Until your rainy day
Its time to buy that coat now
I’m leaving you today
You’ve grown to be a fine young man
But I must sail away
Your note has never left me
Its folded in my pocket
It sits so very tightly
In our mams silver locket
Its your turn to keep it now
Your note has kept us near
Goodbye my little brother
Let me wipe away your tear.
The Sister's Appeal.
You remember--don't you, brother--
In our early years,
The counsels of our poor, dear mother,
And her hopes and fears?
She told us to love one another--
Brother, dry your tears!
We are only two, dear brother,
In his babel wide!
In the churchyard sleeps poor mother,
By our father's side!--
Then let us cherish one another
Till in death we bide.
poem by George Pope Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Blood That Binds...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.
He Is My Blood...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.
Brother...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.
Lifelong Bonds...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.
To My Brother...
More than the blood of my blood. He is my friend,
my rock...my brother.
Brother, in times of need, never judging, always there.
My Brother, could, would, always make things right.
Brother, never made much ado, about the task at
hand...he just did it.
Brother, who lifted me, when I was down.
Brother, who brought the laughter, amid the pain.
Brother, the word he never spoke...was 'no'.
Brother, who had the answers, to my questions.
Brother, who by example, did walk the path of right.
Brother, in all my years...in all my life, never have
I met another...like my loving brother.