Just Memories
In life the only thing we can call our own is our memories.
I’m Irish and I’m a proud Irishman.
Oh, not for the usual sentiments.
The source of my pride runs deep. I can
Trace the direct line of my descendants.
My grandfather, the poor soul, came from Cork
With fifteen US dollars in his pants
And a big dream when he entered New York.
No large reception for this immigrant.
Just a sister who arrived earlier
In nineteen hundred through Ellis Island.
He met Mary Delea my Grandmother
Married and blessed it with a wedding band.
They had two girls, two boys, one was my dad.
They’re gone now, memories are all I have.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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An Old Fashioned Wedding
Interpolated in 1966 revival]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
Blessed in the good old-fashioned way
I'll vow to love you forever
You'll vow to love and honor and obey
Somewhere in some little chapel
Someday when orange blossoms bloom
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
A simple wedding for an old-fashioned bride and groom
[ANNIE:]
I wanna wedding in a big church with bridesmaids and flower girls
A lot of ushers in tailcoats, reporters and photographers
A ceremony by a bishop who will tie the knot and say
"Do you agree to love and honor?" Love and honor, yes, but not obey
I wanna wedding ring surrounded by diamonds in platinum
A big reception at the Waldorf with champagne and caviar
I wanna wedding like the Vanderbilts have, ev'rything big, not small
If I can't have that kind of a wedding I don't wanna get married at all
[Coda:]
[FRANK:]
We'll have an old-fashioned wedding
[ANNIE:]
If it's not a big wedding I don't wanna get married at all
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Proud
I lost my virginity in old Mexico
My lover was was nothing more than a lovely soul to me
She was a beauty to me
Love was not free
I think of that time
In nineteen sixty nine.
Then in Japan I walked through the streets
And found love again
It is no sin
It was nineteen seventy
And so heavenly.
Then in seventy four
I wanted more and married
A beautiful puerto rican lover of life
I made her my wife.
My family never came to the wedding
They shunned my bride
But love was alive
And she suffered living
In the town that I called home.
Now I have my son and two grandchildren
Irish and puerto rican proud.
Hey you!
Get off of my cloud!
She Wrote About Our Mother.
She wrote about our mother and it took me far away
And many, many years in time back home to Claraghatlea
And as I read her letter I fought to choke the tears
For Millstreet, Cork and Ireland and happy childhood years.
She wrote about our mother long under Tanyard soil
And memories flooded back to me of one with ready smile
Of woman who worked hard for us for no reward or pay
The heroine of our childhood years of happy by gone day.
She wrote about our mother with sense of love and pride
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside
For one who done her best for us her very best she tried
And I still feel she is with us her spirit never died.
A letter from my sister in east Rockaway in New York
Reminding me of childhood years in Millstreet County Cork
She wrote about our mother whose passing left a void
And memories flooded back to me and tears welled up inside.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Springtime and Old Irishmen
As an Irishman,
tis my prerogative
To be an authority on all things
Great and small
As an "old" Irishman
it's my fate
Of late (and as always)
To simply know it all
As an old Irishman of visage worn
Of craggy face, rheumy blue eyes
With clothing crudely rent and worn
Prone to ale, stout and whisky sighs
As an old wise, wizened Irishman
Who loves the winter as a wondrous thing
But as sure it is, I'm an old Irishman
I treasure most…the Irish Spring
As a wise, wizened, oft inebriated Irishman
Given well to know that one's only given so many things
I relish the pleasure of the Springs I have left
Until this old wrinkled Irishman takes wing
As when this old Irishman
leaves the moor and the glen
There's but a few things I'll rue
To not see nor to hear once again
ne'er again see na' more The hind end of Winters…
ne'er hear "Danny boy" pluck again at me heartstrings…
And Na' more to smell the cold Irish sea
Nor know the fresh faces of fine Irish Springs
poem by David Whalen
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A Pastoral
Just as the sun was setting
Back of the Western hills
Grandfather stood by the window
Eating the last of his pills.
And Grandmother, by the cupboard,
Knitting, heard him say:
'I ought to have went to the village
To fetch some more pills today.'
Then Grandmother snuffled a teardrop
And said. 'It is jest like I suz
T’ th’ parson—Grandfather’s liver
Ain’t what it used to was:
'It’s gittin’ torpid and dormant,
It don’t function like of old,
And even them pills he swallers
Don’t seem no more t’ catch hold;
'They used to grab it and shake it
And joggle it up and down
And turn dear Grandfather yaller
Except when they turned him brown;
'I remember when we was married
His liver was lively and gay,
A kickin’ an’ rippin’ an’ givin’
Dear Ezry new pains ev’ry day;
'It used to turn clear over backwards
An’ palpitate wuss’n a pump
An’ give him the janders and yallers
An’ bounce around thumpty-thump;
'But now it is torpid and dormant
And painless and quiet and cold;
Ah, me! all’s so peaceful an’ quiet
Since Grandfather’s liver ’s grown old!
Then Grandmother wiped a new teardrop
And sighed: 'It is just like I suz
T’ th’ parson: Grandfather’s liver
Ain’t what it used to was.'
poem by Ellis Parker Butler
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Spanked
Heh!
Im all feed up, watchin tv
Some place to feast my eyes, oh
I always drift on commercials, yeah yeah
This one blew my mind, oh
Hey, tell me who youre gonna call, when you need that affection
You got to have it quick (got to have it quick)
There just aint no love line in her direction, oh
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, ah yeah
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, uh, whoa, aw
Three dollars, first minute, gosh, man, after that, it cost ya four
And shell be up for negotiations, if you call back for more
Now who youre gonna call when you need that special (special) little something
You can say what you like, its all confidential, oh
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, huh
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, whoa
(solo)
Hey!
All you bad bad boys - with your mind blown
All you bad bad boys - got one man horny, spanked
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, ah, hey
All you bad bad boys - call her up on the spank line, uh
All you bad bad boys - yeah, its a spank line, ha ha ha ha
All you bad bad boys - just call her up, call her up
One man horny, spanked
All you bad bad boys - one man horny, spanked, bad bad bad boys
All you bad bad boys - just call her up, its a spank line
song performed by by Van Halen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memories
Memories of good times
Memories of bad times
Memories of our love
So many memories
Memories of us crying
Memories of us laughing
Memories of our commitment
So many memories
Memories of us hugging
Memories of us kissing
Memories of those late nights
So many memories
Memories of how we met
Memories of how you left
Memories of what you said
So many memories
Why did you leave me
with so many memories
Did you ever realize
that my memories are yours
Everything we did together
stays within our memories
I remember getting hurt
Do you hurt too
Let's make a new memory
that we can both share
Let's love again
in our memories
poem by Adam McKim
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Boys & Girls
Boys and girls come out to play, playing till theyre old and grey
Time to leave the old school suit, grown ups can be real cute
Do you think theyre wiser than in the past
How long do you think its gonna last
I dont have to prove to you adults can be kidding too
Boys and girls I love you dearly
But I hate to have you near me
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls stay home today
Think theyre more mature that way
Secret friends can soon be found
Indiscretions underground
Maybe growing up can seem more graceful
If they make their style become more tasteful
With your looks you could go far
But better watch the calendar-iahhh
(the sound of a church wedding)
Boys and girls I love you dearly
But I hate to have you near me
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls I love you dearly
But I hate to have you near me
Boys and girls I love you dearly
But I hate to have you near me
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
Boys and girls - ahh
song performed by by Human League
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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War Nurse
She was just another war nurse
She could strike a noble pose
Caring for our young boys when a bullet laid them low
She would hover over them and cry
And pull the cover over them when theyd die
She was just another lonesome lady, lover, sister of the gun
And though france would call her darling,
She was a nurse neath the rising sun
She knew no hells or heavens, or harbors or havens
She was every mother, sister, wife and lover
Whose love a soldier boy was savin
She believed in the birth of the broad sword
She was not a shielded one
Though france would call her darlin
She was nurse neath the rising sun
She was a soldiers shrapnel sweetheart, direct from the combat zone
She was a reincarnation o fthe virgin mary
She was the hooker down in san antone
And though her heart was somewhere in iceland
Commanding the dawn patrol
Blessed in this blood and stitched into these bones
The war nurse left her soul
Blessed in this blood and stitched into these bones
The war nurse left her soul
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Those That I Went To School With
Some of them with the departed and the others growing old and gray
Those that I went to school with in the long gone yesterday
From the boys and girls I went to school with many years before I reached my prime
I am separated by distance and by long years of time.
Some of them live far distant from Hibernia's windswept shore
And from the Town in View of Clara hill overlooking Claramore
And some of them remained in Duhallow married and there raised their family
And some of them remained unattached single and fancy free.
Most of those I went to school with I have not seen for years
And for the past and for what has been I've shed nostalgic tears
Like every other migrant for the past forever gone
But the present is what matters and we keep on keeping on.
Of those I went to school with good memories I retain
Though most of them I realize I will never meet again
We've gone our separate ways in life but memories of them I do recall
And happy memories of what was the best memories of all.
poem by Francis Duggan
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One Hundred Times
The time is now
One hundred to be precise
One hundred verse
I call my own
To think or not
To drink or not
Bedeviled once again
Many more memories
Gripping inside me
At least my words
I write with my pen
Or an index finger
To be excact
Not just mouthing off
Like I used to do
Talking trash
Just like you
Are they just simple minds
That read these memories?
Perhaps a genious or two
How about a hypocrite
Without a soul
No matter what you think of this
Alcoholics pen
I will come back and
Stike the keyboard
Once again
poem by Matt Mondschein
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Precious Memories
Those precious memories hidden deep down in my soul
Waiting for those memories to come clear to me and possibly unfold
It is so hard for me to remember my loving father and mother over the years
It hurts me so hard to try to remember my childhood scenes of them because it rarely appears
Those tearful, but precious memories flood deep inside of my heart
I only wish I could remember those precious memories, but they have started to fade and fall apart
Oh, it is hard to remember what was on my life's pathways, I fear that they never will be retold
But I know that those precious memories are still hidden somewhere down within in my soul
poem by Frank Pulver
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Dedication for a Plot of Ground
This plot of ground
facing the waters of this inlet
is dedicated to the living presence of
Emily Dickinson Wellcome
who was born in England; married;
lost her husband and with
her five year old son
sailed for New York in a two-master;
was driven to the Azores;
ran adrift on Fire Island shoal,
met her second husband
in a Brooklyn boarding house,
went with him to Puerto Rico
bore three more children, lost
her second husband, lived hard
for eight years in St. Thomas,
Puerto Rico, San Domingo, followed
the oldest son to New York,
lost her daughter, lost her "baby,"
seized the two boys of
the oldest son by the second marriage
mothered them -- they being
motherless -- fought for them
against the other grandmother
and the aunts, brought them here
summer after summer, defended
herself here against thieves,
storms, sun, fire,
against flies, against girls
that came smelling about, against
drought, against weeds, storm-tides,
neighbors, weasels that stole her chickens,
against the weakness of her own hands,
against the growing strength of
the boys, against wind, against
the stones, against trespassers,
against rents, against her own mind.
She grubbed this earth with her own hands,
domineered over this grass plot,
blackguarded her oldest son
into buying it, lived here fifteen years,
attained a final loneliness and --
If you can bring nothing to this place
but your carcass, keep out.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The River
I come from down in the valley where mister when youre young
They bring you up to do like your daddy done
Me and mary we met in high school when she was just seventeen
Wed ride out of that valley down to where the fields were green
Wed go down to the river
And into the river wed dive
Oh down to the river wed ride
Then I got mary pregnant and man that was all she wrote
And for my nineteen birthday I got a union card and a wedding coat
We went down to the courthouse and the judge put it all to rest
No wedding day smiles no walk down the aisle
No flowers no wedding dress
That night we went down to the river
And into the river wed dive
On down to the river we did ride
I got a job working construction for the johnstown company
But lately there aint been much work on account of the economy
Now all them things that seemed so important
Well mister they vanished right into the air
Now I just act like I dont remember, mary acts like she dont care
But I remember us riding in my brothers car
Her body tan and wet down at the reservoir
At night on them banks Id lie awake
And pull her close just to feel each breath shed take
Now those memories come back to haunt me, they haunt me like a curse
Is a dream a lie if it dont come true
Or is it something worse that sends me
Down to the river though I know the river is dry
Down to the river, my baby and i
Oh down to the river we ride
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marry Anniversary
This a special day
many have gone
lots more to come
special moments, eventful times
memories of the years that past
from the first we met, I knew
there would not be any like you
to change my world, spark my life
create amazing adventures
survived the bad times
struggles, fights, make ups
seeing your smile and sparkling eyes
still melt me after all these years
this day brings fond memories
of our wedding day
seeing you in that beautiful wedding gown
the same one your mother was married in
seeing you walk in your fathers arms down the aisle
was like living a dream of happiness
what the future had for us
stronger and wiser we are
I wouldn't change anything
to be with you has been amazing and wonderful
spending our adult lives together was a trip
a journey many have failed, but we prevailed
I would do it all again over and over
walking arm in arm till the end of time
there no one as beautiful or as special as you
from deep in my heart and in my soul
Your the one I am forever in love with
in our later years I cherish every moment together
the many kisses, the dances, the tears and the smiles
waking up with you next to me is heaven
Many more years for you and I
Love you more now then the day I said I Do
Marry Anniversary, My dear Love
poem by Michael Peterson
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Girls Want To Be With Girls
The girls don't want to play like that,
They just want to talk to the boys.
The just want to do what is in their hearts,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls want things that make common sense,
The best for all concerned.
They don't want to have to go out of their way,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls,
And the girls want to be with the girls.
Girls are getting into abstract analysis,
They want to make intuitive leap.
They are making plans that have far reaching effects.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
(CHORUS)
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
And the boys say, "What do you mean?"
Well there is just no love,
When there's boys and girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
And the girls want to be with the girls.
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Not Me, It's You
Mary was on time, as usual.
As per usual, John was late.
“He’d be late for his own funeral! ”
Mary fumed and cursed her fate.
They’d first hooked up in freshman year
at a frat house mixer bar
John got sick from too much beer
and hurled in Mary’s car.
They were pursuing the same major
and they lived in the same dorm.
He was always in her classes,
and they both worked at the Mall.
It was natural that they bonded.
It‘s said opposites attract.
His folks were alcoholics
from the wrong side of the tracks.
Mary came from Celtic stock
Hence her saintly name
She always called upon the Lord
when, infrequently, she came.
They both loved the Smashing Pumpkins
and were devoted to the band.
But it’s not enough to make her want
to wear John’s wedding band.
When at last John made his appearance
her well rehearsed words went askew.
She said, when giving back his ring;
“It’s not me, it’s you.”
poem by John F. McCullagh
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I never saw my grandfather because he had died before I was born, but I have good memories of my grandmother and of how she could play the piano at the old house.
quote by John Forbes Nash, Jr.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is No Fish Story
We had been up and down Redwood Creek
For what seemed to me to be all day
Watching my grandfather fish for salmon
We started at the mouth of the river
Hiked over sand rocks and slippery green moss
The only reason I was there was
The fried chicken and potato salad
My grandmother made the night before
Lunch seemed so far away
My grandfather was out of sight
He had worked his way upstream
When we heard him yell 'FISH ON! '
My grandmother who had been hanging back with me
Left me in the sand
I had to move fast to catch up
Moving around large pieces of driftwood
He had certainly hooked something
His rod bending if half then straightening
As he let line out
With the reel's drag on
I knew how to fish
I just didn't like to
I had no patience
I wasn't like bird hunting
If I got bored bird hunting
When I was by myself
With just my dog
I could take a shot anyway
Just for practice
To get the dog used to the noise
Because I had no patience
At the age of twelve
I had never seen so much line out before
He kept backing further up the wide beach
It looked to me as if the fish knew the way
And was headed back to the ocean
Hook in his mouth
My guess was he was no longer
In the mood for spawning
He had my grandfather on
Nothing personal on either side
My grandfather wanted to land the salmon
The salmon it appeared wanted
My grandfather in the water
This primal tug of war
Went on for some time
The salmon tried everything
It tried going behind submerged trees
It woud take a run
Straight at the beach
My grandfather reeling in the slack
As fast as he could
The salmon would then jump high
Doubling back away yanking on the line
Trying to dislodge the hook
Or snap the line (he'd been on before)
They were both getting tired
My grandfather timed the next
Pull on his fishing rod
With the jump of the salmon
Too close to shore this time
The beast was on the beach in front of me
My grandfather was still reeling in line
He knew it wasn't landed yet
He was hollering for my grandmother
To grab a piece of driftwood
To club the monster
Who was glaring at me with one eye
His other eye was in the sand
My grandfather's shinning metal lure
Stuck out of a bloody mouth
Gills were grasping for oxygen in dry air
I swear I saw in that eye the reflection
Of my grandmother running
A hunk of driftwood in hand
The eye saw it too
With one last flop like a large wrestler
Just before the count of three
He went up into the air
Snapped the line hit the water and was gone
I'm not sure what pound test the line was
Whatever it was it wasn't enough
My gandfather's favorite lure
With his hand-tied leader
Were following their catch
As fast as they could
Not knowing it was they
That had been caught
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Holding on to Memories
Memories young, memories old,
Memories take away the cold.
They warm my heart and my soul
even though some take their toll.
There's a price to be paid in the end
but memories are my closest friend.
Some so happy, some so sad
and all of them I'm glad I've had.
For I am taking a bolder leap,
still holding on to memories I keep.
I look on them and make a vow
to keep them close here and now.
For what is life without these things?
empty hours that boredom brings.
I'll make new memories every day
and know that I'll be able to say
I remember.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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