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A Letter to My Aunt

A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry

To you, my aunt, who would explore
The literary Chankley Bore,
The paths are hard, for you are not
A literary Hottentot
But just a kind and cultured dame
Who knows not Eliot (to her shame).
Fie on you, aunt, that you should see
No genius in David G.,
No elemental form and sound
In T.S.E. and Ezra Pound.
Fie on you, aunt! I'll show you how
To elevate your middle brow,
And how to scale and see the sights
From modernist Parnassian heights.

First buy a hat, no Paris model
But one the Swiss wear when they yodel,
A bowler thing with one or two
Feathers to conceal the view;
And then in sandals walk the street
(All modern painters use their feet
For painting, on their canvas strips,
Their wives or mothers, minus hips).

Perhaps it would be best if you
Created something very new,
A dirty novel done in Erse
Or written backwards in Welsh verse,
Or paintings on the backs of vests,
Or Sanskrit psalms on lepers' chests.
But if this proved imposs-i-ble
Perhaps it would be just as well,
For you could then write what you please,
And modern verse is done with ease.

Do not forget that 'limpet' rhymes
With 'strumpet' in these troubled times,
And commas are the worst of crimes;
Few understand the works of Cummings,
And few James Joyce's mental slummings,
And few young Auden's coded chatter;
But then it is the few that matter.
Never be lucid, never state,
If you would be regarded great,
The simplest thought or sentiment,
(For thought, we know, is decadent);
Never omit such vital words
As belly, genitals and -----,
For these are things that play a part
(And what a part) in all good art.
Remember this: each rose is wormy,
And every lovely woman's germy;
Remember this: that love depends
On how the Gallic letter bends;
Remember, too, that life is hell
And even heaven has a smell
Of putrefying angels who
Make deadly whoopee in the blue.
These things remembered, what can stop
A poet going to the top?

A final word: before you start
The convulsions of your art,
Remove your brains, take out your heart;
Minus these curses, you can be
A genius like David G.

Take courage, aunt, and send your stuff
To Geoffrey Grigson with my luff,
And may I yet live to admire
How well your poems light the fire.

poem by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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 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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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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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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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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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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On A Famed Poet

Forgive me if his greatness I cannot seem to note
His poems never rhyme but he is a famed poet
By literary experts considered to be knowledgeable and wise
And for his poems he has won many a prize.

Though poetry is not very popular today
The poet of the poetry lovers the experts do say
In University literary magazines students his verses read
And they all agree he's a fine poet indeed.

Of poets and poetry I must confess so little I know
My favourites old rhymers from ages ago
On the poetry I do not like most experts agree
That it is well written and quite good poetry.

Forgive me if the worth in his verse I can't see
His non rhyming poetry does nothing for me
Of reading blank verse I do quickly grow tired
My truth is by such stuff I do not feel inspired.

The experts on his poetry great interest show
And his stature as a poet only seems to grow
Of him great things are written and great things we hear
And good luck to him on his literary career.

poem by Francis Duggan
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Aunt Jane

When Aunt Jane died we hunted round,
And money everywhere we found.
How much I do not care to say,
But no death duties will we pay,
And Aunt Jane will be well content
We bilked the bloody Government.

While others spent she loved to save,
But couldn't take it to her grave.
While others save we love to spend;
She hated us but in the end
Because she left no Testament
To us all her possessions went.

That is to say they did not find
A lawyer's Will of any kind.
Yet there was one in her own hand,
A Home for Ailing Cats she planned.
Well, you can understand my ire:
Promptly I put it in the fire.

In misery she chose to die,
Yet we will make her money fly.
And as we mourn for poor Aunt Jane
The thought alleviates our pain:
Perhaps her savings in the end
Gave her more joy than we who spend.

poem by Robert William Service
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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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Rameela Aunty of Lily Avenue Wellawatte.

The angels came and a lovely dignified lady is...sadly gone
Her gentle voice and loving words hear not another morn
Golden memories are silver souvenirs that... will linger on
With a love she shared with grace a strength to move on
The fragrance of faith and love embedded in the hearts
As she spun velvet words deep into her young ones heart
will be missed by many....
Mel Nad Marie...granaunt and great gran aunt
Fazli Sameer paternal aunt.
passed away 9th October 2010

poem by Shirani Ibrahim
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My Aunt

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!
Long years have o’er her flown;
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone;
I know it hurts her,—­though she looks
As cheerful as she can;
Her waist is ampler than her life,
For life is but a span.

My aunt! my poor deluded aunt!
Her hair is almost gray;
Why will she train that winter curl
In such a spring-like way?
How can she lay her glasses down,
And say she reads as well,
When through a double convex lens
She just makes out to spell?

Her father—­grandpapa I forgive
This erring lip its smiles—­
Vowed she should make the finest girl
Within a hundred miles;
He sent her to a stylish school;
’T was in her thirteenth June;
And with her, as the rules required,
“Two towels and a spoon.”

They braced my aunt against a board,
To make her straight and tall;
They laced her up, they starved her down,
To make her light and small;
They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins;—­
Oh never mortal suffered more
In penance for her sins.

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back;
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track
“Ah!” said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,
“What could this lovely creature do
Against a desperate man!”

Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,
Nor bandit cavalcade,
Tore from the trembling father’s arms
His all-accomplished maid.
For her how happy had it been
And Heaven had spared to me
To see one sad, ungathered rose
On my ancestral tree.

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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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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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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Great Aunt Meeka We Adore You

We adore you Great Aunt Meeka

Who always has a kind word to share,

You are always there for us,

Showing how much you care.

All the children and toys of Earth

Want to wish you the best for the coming year,

For you are the most treasured Aunt who is very dear.

Written Dec.4,2010

By Suzae Chevalier
Copyright 2010 Chevalier Originals, Inc.
www.greatauntmeeka.info

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Woman Of Rhyme

She is not what you'd call beautiful though still in her prime
And to those who know her she is known as The Woman of Rhyme
In Local Literary circles not even one of note
As she does not fit the bill of the Modern Poet.

But the rhyme from her gushes and it races along
And in five minutes flat she can pen you a song
And though not classified as a poet her verse is not doggerel
And with her gift of rhyme one might say she does well.

Some fifty years ago she would have known fame
And her's would have been a great Literary name
But rhyme it would seem has passed it's use by date
And what's now seen as old fashioned was once seen as great.

Even the best of the Local modern poets seem strangers to renown
But then such is life in a football mad Town
In the pubs the names of famed poets and artists they never recall
Their small talk mostly of sports, footballers and football.

For what she is good at she is not recognized
But having said that I am not really surprised
since rhyme verse has long passed it's glorious time
And none to applaud the young Woman of Rhyme.

poem by Francis Duggan
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For my aunt and cousins

Oh please 
oh please 
Just set me free
Give me some peace and humanity 
Let me see my family
Love me like you did before

Oh please
Oh please
Give me some innocence
Let me go build blanket tents
And run around the house looking for stars
Riding a rocket to mars

Oh please
Oh please
Bring us all back
To that happy family
When we sat around laughing
You avoiding them is bringing me agony

We were happy
A happy family
Loving and laughing
Every chance we get
But then hatred filled the world
And tore our family causing war
Distancing me from everyone
No wonder I'm the cousin that's 'no fun'

But what happened to my aunt
Why can't I see her every chance I get
And ya know my cousins too
I love them as much as you

Aunt... Was who I grew up with
Riding around in rocket ships
Being a child for as long as possible
She kept me alive
We went riding around on late nights
Eating ice-cream
And gossiping from what's in vogue
Listening to all the new music
Oh I remember being happy 

My cousins... And....
Gave me innocence
And let me live without regrets
Even when I am 13
I still act like a robot machine
I sail the endless ocean blue
And was a cowgirl on the moon
We could lay in the grass
Or climb trees
Talking about little kid things
I forgot about all the world
And lived by my 2 little boys

I remember
I remember
All those times
But you look at them with despise
So you just tear all my dreams apart
Not letting me live by their beating hearts
Now my 'girl times' are gone
With the women who made me belong
And my innocence will never come back
And I can't see the little boys smile or laugh

Goodbye aunt 
And thank you for the happiness
Goodbye cousins
And thank you for the innocence
Goodbye world
I never even belonged here

poem by Scarlet Shay
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Modern Poets And Modern Poetry

Modern poets and modern poetry seem far too complex to understand
For such as I a common labourer from the boglands of Ireland
Though whether it be good or not so it is not for me to say
As I'm not a poetry critic and so I'll keep my tongue at bay.

Maybe some of these modern poets are special and the poems they write are great
And maybe they are superior thinkers writing from exalted state
Most poetical critics now acclaim them and prefer the modern style
And 'twould seem that modern style poets are now the in thing and their efforts seem worthwhile.

But for me it's old style ballad, give me good old fashioned rhyme
To the modern style of poetry I'd prefer it every time
Like I say I'm just a labourer from the boglands of Ireland
And the complex modern style of poetry is far too hard for me to understand.

poem by Francis Duggan
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A Parole Hearing For A Murderer

So you’re eligible for parole in two- thousand and thirty three
The woman you raped and tortured to death can never be
You’re in prison and living free and eating good meals
The precious life you took didn’t get such good deals

If you’re good in prison you might finally be free
I hope you still hear her screams and dying plea
I hope you still see her tortured frail body in your mind everyday
It’s still sketched in mine, no matter how much I pray

Why should you ever be free, when she is gone forever
It was your turn to rob and kill, you thought you were so clever
You lowered yourself to all man kind the day you murdered my aunt
She was a kind elderly lady, your freedom I hope they don’t grant

I still see your face in that court room, looking oh so tough
I hope your new life haunts you too, that the going gets rough
She wasn’t your only victim, you made me your victim too
You made many victims and probably don’t have a clue

The images they showed in court, I’ll never be able to forget
No matter how long you live in prison, you can never pay this debt
She will never have to look at you, in heaven is where she lives
You are a thief of lives and heaven is where ones love gives!

Dedicated to my aunt Lois Hunter murdered mothers day 2003
By Dogs4donna

© 2007 Dogs4donna (All rights reserved)

poem by Donna Nimmo
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Family Bussiness

[Intro: Kanye West]
How's your son? (all, all, all the things, things)
He make the team this year? (all, all, all the things things)
Aw th-, they said he wasn't tall enough?
(all, all, all the glitter in that gold)
Yeah me we gon' cook this up (now gold is not a reality)
(real is what you live to be)
[Verse 1: Kanye West]
This is family business
And this is for the family that can't be with us
And this is for my cousin locked down, know the answer's in us
That's why I spit it in my songs so sweet
Like a photo of your granny's picture
Now that you're gone it hit us
Super hard on Thankgiving and Christmas, this can't be right
Yeah you heard the track I did man, this can't be light
Somebody please say grace so I can save face
And have a reason to cover my face
I even made you a plate, soul food, know how Granny do it
Monkey bread on the side, know how the family do it
When I brought it why had guard have to look all to it?
As kids we used to laugh
Who knew that life would move this fast?
Who knew I'd have to look at you through a glass?
And look, tell me you ain't did it, you ain't did it
And if you did, then that's family business
[Hook: Choir]
And I don't care 'bout (all the, all the diamond rings, diamond rings)
They don't mean a thing (all, all, all the things)
All these fancy things
I tell you that all (all the glitter) I'm waiting for
Now all I know I know all these things
[Verse 2: Kanye West]
This is family business
And this is for everybody standin' with us
Come on, let's take a family Grammy picture
Abby, remember when they ain't believe in me?
Now she like "See, that's my cousin on TV"
Now, we gettin' it and we gon' make it
And y'all gon' hate it and I'm his favorite
I can't deny it, I'm a straight rider
But when we get together be electric slidin'
Grandma, get 'em shook up
Aw naw, don't open the photo book up
I got an Aunt Ruth that can't remember your name
But I bet them Polaroids'll send her down memory lane
You know that one auntie, you don't wanna be rude
But every holiday nobody eatin' her food
And you don't wanna stay there cuz them your worst cousins
Got roaches at their crib like them your first cousins
Act like you ain't took a bath with your cousins
Fit three in the bed while six of y'all
I'm talkin' 'bout three by the head and three by the leg
But you ain't have to tell my girl I used to pee in the bed
[Interlude: Choir]
Rain, rain, rain go away
Let the sun come out and all the children say
Rain, rain, rain go away
Let the sun come out and all the children say
[Verse 3: Kanye West]
I woke up early this mornin' with a new state of mind
A creative way to rhyme without usin' nines and guns
Keep your nose out the sky, keep your heart to God
And keep your face to the risin' sun
All my niggas from the Chi, that's my family dog
And my niggas ain't my guys, they my family dog
I feel like one day you'll understand me dog
You can still love your man and be manly dog
You ain't got to get heated at every house warmin'
Sittin' here, grillin' people like George Foreman
Why Uncle Ray and Aunt Shiela always performin'?
The second she storms out then he storms in
Y'all gon' sit down, have a good time this reunion
And drink some wine like Communion
And act like everything fine and if it isn't
We ain't lettin' everybody in our family business
[Interlude: Choir]
(all the, all the diamond rings, diamond rings)
They don't mean a thing (all, all, all the things)
They don't mean a thing
(all the, all the diamond rings, diamond rings)
They don't mean a thing, a thing
[Hook: Choir]
And I don't care 'bout (all the, all the diamond rings, diamond rings)
They don't mean a thing (all, all, all the things)
All these fancy things
I tell you that all (all the glitter) I'm waiting for
Now all I know I know all these things
[Females:] (oooh) All these things (these things)
[Males:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[F:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[M:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[F:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[M:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[F:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)
[M:] All these things (oooh) all these things (these things)

song performed by by Kanye West
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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