Spinsters Legacy
Great Grandma’s walnut cabinet.
In my house still holds pride of place,
displays her treasures even yet.
Fine china that we could not replace
A solid silver tea service.
Presented to her when she wed,
Objets D’Art beyond all price.
Rare curios she collected.
It has passed down the family.
Mother to daughter faithfully
by each one cared for carefully.
Until at last it came to me.
I have no children never wed
so this tradition ends with me.
I have decided when I am dead,
this piece of local history.
Should be on show for all to see
I have bequeathed it clear and free.
To a museum locally
in honour of her memory.
I have no living kith or kin
with me will die the family tree
I had a brother Benjamin
but he died young, a tragedy.
(11-Aug-07)
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Grandma's Treasure Box
Each of us
when we reached 14
would make the Visit to
Grandmothers house
to see what was inside
her Treasure Box;
the Family Treasure Box
where each year
one of us
got to see
what she had
hidden there..
My Dad had been;
my older brother
had been
and now it was my turn
to see that part of
Family History.
No one who'd seen
could talk of it.
No one could reveal to anyone
what was in Grandma's secret box.
No one did.
No one would risk
Grandmother's upset.
She lived beneath
the 'L' in Chicago
refusing to move
and they built
the tracks
right over her house;
each time one passed
it rocked her house
like rolling thunder;
Varoom, clacky clack
another one
going by.
Stubborn was not the word
for Grandmother.
She still wrote letters
30 years later
to every Mayor
complaining about the
tracks and the trains
saying she wanted them torn down.
Every month a letter.
Grandmother never
gave up;
never forgot;
fierce in her loves
fierce about her neighborhood
fierce about things which displeasured her
fierce about family
fierce about everything.
I sat with her,
apron on:
she served me pie.
'Sonny' she said
now you at the age
where you need to
learn grown-up things.
Like your Dad and brother
your turn now come
to see what drives
this family;
our family heirloom so to speak.
You'll see now.
As you grow up
you hear people talking about it
but we are the only family that
has it in our treasure box.
Lot's want it
but we the only one's
that has it.
She walked me up her tiny
narrow stair case to the attic
my head spinning,
wondering what it could be.
What did we have in our family
that the whole world wanted?
The treasure box was small;
a faded gold color
with a hand-carved lid
covered by Grandma's
liver-spotted hand
which shook in the dim
light.
She shifted the box,
opening it with a tiny key
smiling faintly
her eyes moistening
as a sliver of sunlight
reflected into the opening box
and I could just begin to
see what was inside.
'There it is'
she said
'What is it? ' I said,
staring at a piece of cloth;
satin sheen
with a lace border.
'Every since your great
grandmother got
it has been the luck of this family
and so people's all over the
world hear about but
we the only one's who got it.
'What is it?
Your great great grandmother's;
cut from her mother's wedding dress
and from that day
this families' luck changed.
I looked at her eyes
looking for an answer there.
'Grandma what is it?
You heard of the Silver Lining'
Yes, I said.
Well this family has the only one.
It is the Silver Lining from your great, great,
grandmothers wedding dress.
Grandma had it
and she believed it had saved our family
all these years.
'I took it out when
your mother had her cancer
and she got better
and it took away her pain.
I took it out when your younger brother
had his accident, and he lived.
I took it out when your grandfather went to war
and he came home safe.
I take it out when ever this family needs things.
It is our Silver Lining.
Now you must never speak
or tell what is in the treasure box
or it will break the spell.
I never did to this day
Today I have the Treasure Box
waiting for my child
to have a chance to see.
Grandma's gone
leaving behind her Silver Lining
for the rest of us.
And on some days
I do take it out
when things look
like they might go bad.
Just for luck.
Everyone
is always
looking for a Silver Lining
and some luck.
All the Grandmothers
gave us ours.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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More McCornack Family Memories
Looking through old photos
Of family members from the past
Sure do bring back memories
That will forever and ever last
Grandma with her great grandkids
A sweet smile upon her face
Puts me back to yesterday
So much history I can trace
For I see the house she lived in
When different events took place
There’s Grandpa enjoying family
He too has a smiling face
Oh look at my brother Robert
So young he was back then
So handsome and charming
With his shy and happy grin
Friends and family members
Are carved in a photo album
Old folks when we visited them
Always gave us so much wisdom
We can’t turn back the clocks
But albums are like treasuries
They are passed down forever
To share the family memories!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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My 'So Called' Family
They were cool
They were real
Now they take us for a fool
Hey, I'm jus telling u how i feel
Around my family I have to act fake
I'm not talkin bout my mother or my so called brother
for cry sake
To my family I'm jus anotha
They'll smile to ur face
and talk behind ur back
but they'll neva kno their place
and why I try to keep this family in tack
We're tired of this
drama, on my mother'z side
To me, it felt we all got dissed
Since my grandmother died
My grandmother was the glue that holds everythng 2gatha
but when she passed it all fell apart
and that's when I said bye to my family 4eva
If only they could find the love in their heart
Then they would understand how I feel
Then there will be no more pain
and only love to steal
and they could be flushed down the drain
poem by Cece Chisolm
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Along The War Avenue Of honour
Along the war Avenue of Honour a plaque to a dead soldier nailed to every tree
Brave young men who died in battle their reward for their bravery
They died in the war said to end all wars in the killing fields of World war one
But many wars since and far too many bloody battles and peace in the World not yet won.
Wars started by silly ageing men who send the young for them to die
Ageing men who themselves will die of old age and their twilight years they will enjoy,
ageing males heroes of their people we honour cowards as heroes one might say
The young men will go to war for them and the young men with their young lives pay.
The war supposed to end all wars long over almost nine decades since have gone by
But many wars have been fought since then and war pilots dropp their big bombs from the night sky
But suppose that's what will always happen when we give all of our power away
To silly and ageing male war men who with hair dyes cover their gray.
Along the war avenue of honour long dead soldiers names on every tree
Young noble men who died in battle far from homeland and family
In what was to be the war to end all wars yet we don't have much wisdom to show
For the loss of so many fine young men well over eight decades ago.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Death of a family
Drinking and fighting.
Fighting and drinking.
When does it ever end?
What ever happened to the word 'Family'?
Does it exist any more?
Mother against daughter.
Daughter against Mother.
How can you hate your own blood?
When the Matriarch of our
family died, the beautiful rug
that was our family unraveled with
her. Now, I feel as if the family
rug has unraveled down to me.
I am now left to mourn the tragic
death of my great grandmother and
my family. Is there anybody out
there who can save me from this
ocean of despair?
poem by Jamal Brown
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Family Gatherings
Meeting at my Grandma's house at noon
Its the same thing everytime
Kids get in line to eat before anyone else
the kids sit at a separate table than the adults
After lunch everyone goes outside and plays something
If not outside then everyone sits in the family room
Conversations about anything and everything go on
This tradition makes my family what it is
Everyone cares about everyone and we would not trade these lunches for anything
Tradition is what my family is about.
poem by Jacob Wortman
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Lamentations of a Daughter- (1)
Elder brother works in the fields
Younger brother is being nursed by mama
What place does a daughter like me have?
As a daughter, I am a worthless branch on the family tree
Only good for my husband's family when I marry out
And only if I bear a son
I know not to expect affection from my natal family
I know not to crave attention from mama or baba
I know to keep quiet when the men are in the room, and to stay out of the way
Yet my heart aches for love
poem by Sae Amakura
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The Demands
her demands are clear
she need the money now
because her feet are rotten
her daughter has to enroll
for a college education
she is selling land
owned by her forefathers
she does not need anything now
except the money
there is no importance of memory
of family treasures of blood
of veins
there is nothing sacred about
a family tradition
it is her life, her rotten life
her prodigality, her rebellion,
it her insanity
her own perdition
her hatred
and nothing more
i am perturbed i am shaky
about my very own
sister.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Jessica
Jessica with the smiling face,
Reflecting all my grandma's grace
Reminding me of my mothers charms
I love to hold you in my arms.
Your mother was my darling girl,
When she was born the world did whirl,
Now that you are here, my dear,
The circle is complete and clear.
Each generation blends together,
The daughter then, is grandma now,
This baby girl will one day be,
Mother of the family tree.
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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She Gave Birth in a Fox-Hole
Victoria Elizabeth Borg
Born June 22,1920 in Agana, Guam
Died Pearl Harbor Day 2009
Victoria sang many lullabies
to her
5 children
5 step-children
26 grandchildren
36 great grandchildren
2 great-great grandchildren
and a host of heavenly nieces and nephews.
She was married to Tomas T. Calvaron and his 5 children
on the island of Guam in 1943.
After giving birth to her daughter Rosalita
in a fox-hole during World War II
she made it through
to have 4 more children.
In 1950
she was widowed and remarried to her
brother-in-law.
She passed on to be with the Lord
surrounded by her children and granchildren.
We
her many friends and family members
will keep her memory in our minds
and her love in our hearts
until we meet again.
poem by Bob Genevro
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Peaceful And Warm
I went driving through my old hometown
It was Thursday the bright sun on the horizon
I was surprised to see no one had burned it down
It seemed so peaceful and warm
Floods of memories came back to me
All the things we got away with when we were younger
And I felt kind of like a refugee
Like a scattered pile of leaves in a storm
Peaceful memory like lights on a Christmas tree
Every hometown should be peaceful and warm
Every father mother sister brother friend of the family
Peaceful and warm
Somehow now and then didn't seem to blend
'Till a farmer plowing his field waved hello
Another working man doing the best he can
I hope he is peaceful and warm
Peaceful memory plows in the green field sea
Every hometown should be peaceful and warm
Every father mother sister brother friend of the family
Peaceful and warm
On the Kansas banks of the Muddy Mo'
I threw rocks in the river and dreamed of running away
In a wind of change only a father knows
In a world so hectic so cold
I guess my old hometown's kinda dead and gone
Miss the sign on I-29 and you blow right by
But it's a place I can go remember where I come from
It will help me keep me peaceful and warm
Peaceful memory the only thing that's free
Take them and try to be peaceful and warm
Every father mother sister brother friend of the family
Peaceful peaceful and warm
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandma's Quilt
God blessed me with a grandma of many talents,
And one of them always left me thoroughly amazed.
It was the way she collected square scraps of cloth
To make quilts that seemed worthy of praise.
Each with its own colors and textures,
Of rare beauty in pattern and design,
She formed them with love
Into a tapestry of aesthetics sublime.
These squares of fabric became a work of art
In my grandma’s talented and trained hands.
These treasures have become a fond remembrance,
Over the years since my grandma left for elysian lands.
It intrigues me how these patchworks of varying textures
Became such sources of hospitable warmth and amenity.
They stir my sentimental thoughts about many distinct folk
That I recall from my youth who became my extended family.
They kept me feeling comfortable and warm with attentive care,
Much like the quilts my grandma made with many a fabric square.
poem by Albert Price
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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love Died Young
They met at the local library
One cold wintry day
They had nice conversation
And later met again at
A local party
He had hair of black
Blue eyes and a lovely smile
He was so handsome in her eyes
Her hair was golden like wheat
Her eyes were emerald green
Her beauty was rare
He adored her
They dated for 2 years
Then one day he fell to his
Knees all pride pushed aside
And he asked her to become his wife
She gratefully accepted his proposal
With God as the witness that day
Three years have passed
Two children came to them
A blessing from God
A boy and a girl-twins they were
Then three years later
The wife falls to the floor
She weakly said: “I am ok now” as
A hand was extended to help her to her feet
After the doctor’s exam
She was told she had a short
Time to live for she could not be healed
Love so young how could this be?
Her husband and two small children struggled
Wondering how could God let such a terrible thing
Happen to such a good family
Love died so young the husband
And children found strength to carry on
The mother lives on through them all
But how they long to find out in the end
Why love had to die so young?
©Copyright 2006 Becky LaPrarie
poem by Becky LaPrarie
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Obon
Deceased spirits
Family’s ancestors
Vital part
Family life
Family tradition
How far dispersed
To gather at
Family home
The reunion
Affectionate moments
To spend with
Living family members
To honor memory
Of family who have passed on
To spend time
To spruce up graves
To guide the souls
Of the ancestors
Lantern are lit
In front of family homes
With fruits
And assorted foods
Set on a Buddhist altar
They are welcomed home
Upon rivers and streams
Touching and poetic launch
Of illuminated lanterns
To guide spirits back
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Grandma
his son wants to get rid of
grandma
she removed the stickers
of his childhood from the walls
of his room
his cabinet cleaned of his toys
and he did like it
he has a mind of his own
and does not want to be
grandma's victim
like his papa
he thinks that when
grandma dies or when
she leaves to finally
return to her ancestral house
their family
shall be one again
he wants his pride whole
his ego unfractured
unlike his papa
he does not want any
stories about a boy
who was beaten almost to death
in the name of parental respect
when grandma begins to speak
he shuts his ears
and closes the door of his room
he still dreams of his
stickers and his toys and
a world without grandmas
and now papa must choose
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My family(concept of art)
My family my tree
Deep rooted in my heritage
My family my tree
Who I'm the fruit of her
My family fair sky
Where my sun always shine
My family there are my roots
Where I got MIne and me
My family is my word
My family is my blood
My family is my fine touch
My family
is big heart
Who love with no hurt
My family is my love
for that love I love
And I hate
What I hate so
My family is my moral code
MY culture
And my bank acount
Never been out of cash
My family is my fortess
And my fortune
My family is not
fall out of fishion
My family face
is always fancy
My family is what
You never know
me with out
MY color
My conscious
And my concept of art
poem by Sallam Yassin
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Family by pushkal
Family is a group,
like a coup.
Family contains first a father and a mother.
Both loving only each other then thier children only a little,
Do not remember about others
and can do a crime.
Then the family revolves around
a brother and a sister.
Hitting each other, putting false claims on you,
even then disturbing you.
Putting a nail in u, but u donot notice,
but still it hurts u.
Then there are olds, with lots of experiences,
but no one to listen them.
So which one is left in your family,
no one except family like neighbours an d my maid.
But still they follows elders of my house.
So a family is a group of personalities,
you should never meet.
poem by Pushkal Sharma
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The Light of Christmas
Gather round my family
One more time for me
Celebrate the season
As you light the Christmas tree
The branches need the tinsel
The tree still needs a star
And stockings need their rightful place
For family near and far
It’s more than just a gesture
Or motions you go through
It’s all part of this special time
That we show in what we do
So set the family china
Put the star upon the tree
And know that special twinkle
Reflects your love for me
poem by Robert Longley
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Presenting yourself
Presenting yourself
In all poems
And directing me
To write
This and that
Calling these fine
You made me great.
Living in this earth
I'm thankful to you
I'm just an instrument
In your hand
I'm getting self respect
Honour with family
Kith and kins
Friends and well-wishers
You appreciate me
And you made me great.
Presenting yourself
In everything and
Doing everything
Only for me
You made me great
Thanks and it is
I know not sufficient.
I'm nothing
You are really great.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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