Aunt Clarice
I have many aunts.
But not one named Clarice.
And I doubt very seriously,
If any of my aunts would change theirs...
To grant me my wish!
Unless...
One knew I've already written a poem,
Entitled...
My Aunt Clarice.
And they thought it to be beautifully written.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Related quotes
The Visiting Aunts
This is a memory from my childhood, when I was about Nine years old.
The visiting Aunts have come through the door,
They haven't been here for six months or more,
Their presence is such an incredible bore,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts are so out of date,
I soon noticed that when they came through the gate,
Their dresses date back to nineteen-o-eight,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts have kisses that smother,
With whiskery chins as one will discover,
Each one is just as bad as the other,
Well I think so!
The visiting Aunts look all around our place,
Tutting and waving their hands, so the lace
Which encircles their wrists shakes a pace,
Why don't they go!
The visiting Aunts are staying to tea,
They're both very fat and will eat more than me,
There'll be nothing left, just you wait and see,
I told you so!
The visiting Aunts they gossip away,
About this and that and 'not in our day',
They never will listen to what others say,
I really feel low!
The visiting Aunts say it's a disgrace,
The way I'm allowed to get dirt on my face,
And go running around with an undone shoelace,
Well, I can't tie a bow!
The visiting Aunts have had 'forty winks',
Mother had said they will go soon, she thinks,
They're both motionless like a couple of sphinx,
Why don't they go!
The visiting Aunts are off down the lane,
Thank goodness they've gone now, they're really a pain, .
I hope that they never visit again,
Please, days go slow!
poem by Ernestine Northover
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This Poem Should Have Been Written Long Ago By Someone Else
This poem should have been written long ago by someone else
They should have said what needs to be said
Clearly and yet beautifully
They should have known what to do with their words and their intimations -
But instead I old I tired old I I with the I I I always I’ing
Have to write it again-
This poem should have been written by someone else
The way I was when I was young
But even then probably it should have been written by someone else
Younger happier stronger wiser more courageous able to give and inspire others to love life more and make it more good and more beautiful
A real poet a great poet should have written this poem
And then it would be one
Even I would try not to forget.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem That Perhaps Never Should Have Been Written
THE POEM THAT PERHAPS NEVER SHOULD HAVE BEEN WRITTEN
Not the poem of yesterday
Nor the poem of tomorrow
But the poem of today-
What gives life meaning now.
Not the poem as it is read
But the poem as it is written.
Not the certain poem
But the poem that does not know
If it truly is a poem.
The poem that gives hope only when it is written-
The lesser poem-
The poem that perhaps never should have been written.
The poem I am writing now,
Perhaps for myself alone
The lesser poem
The poem that perhaps should never have been at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well, I do have some maiden aunts that are not quite like the aunts in the book, but I definitely do have a couple of them, and a couple of old aunties.
quote by Donna Tartt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Is My Poem
This is my poem of ______. (date)
This is my poem, written by myself.
This is my first poem never written.
This is my last poem now to be written.
This is the poem I would have written
if I had lived yesterday what I lived today.
This is my poem changing white light
into gold-leaf
and blue into violet.
This is my poem like a heaven twisting
and turning inside of me
all night long.
This is my poem of opening a window
to show what was always inside.
This is my poem encompassing everything
hope can bestow or chance agree with.
This is my poem of open-ended freedom.
This is my poem breathing life into motion.
This is my poem written as I wrote it
a living being.
And this is my poem ending;
but only for today..
poem by Patti Masterman
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Can A Poem Be Written
CAN A POEM BE WRITTEN
Can a Poem be written
In Anger Frustration Fear Disappointment?
Can it be written
In Failure?
Can a Poem be written
When no light shines
And the middle of the night is longer
Than life itself?
Can a Poem be written now
When old afraid sad angry foolish failure me
Cannot even dream?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Poem That Is About To Be Written
THE POEM THAT IS ABOUT TO BE WRITTEN
The poem that is about to be written
Will form itself slowly,
Line by line,
Will make of itself a meaning
It does not know.
Will be beyond
All that it could have thought to be – beforehand.
The poem that is being written
Has no name,
No face,
No beauty,
No light,
It is just the poem that is coming to be in the silence,
Where I am alone with my own Seeming.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Charles Bukowski
A Man
(just that. A Man, as it was written by a
Charles Bukowski, it has become a priceless
poem in his poetry collection series)
there is another poem entitled
A Man
(same form, same everything, nothing added, nothing
subtracted, written by a certain Ric S. Bastasa,
and the Great Poets of This Site, twitched their faces,
niked their eyebrows, rolled their tongues in their cheek,
and said,
a flop!
who is he?
well, it is in the name, it has nothing to do with the poem itself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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La Seine
There once was a fellow named Harris,
a comedian whose wife was called Clarice.
They performed on a stage
with old Rolf in a cage
and she took him (so clever) to Paris.
On the top of the Eiffel Tower
when the clock struck the twenty-third hour,
he was left in the rain
looking down on the Seine
but he really had needed the shower.
poem by Herbert Nehrlich
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This Is A Poem Written To Escape Doing Something Else
THIS IS A POEM WRITTEN TO ESCAPE DOING SOMETHING ELSE
This is a poem written to escape doing something else
Perhaps in a way all my poems have been written to escape doing something else
Some lifetime work I never wanted to do?
Some hard business task?
Some duty of life I felt myself not up to yet?
Some meeting some personal confrontation?
But this poem
A small poem indeed
Is written because I fear the longer work I have to do
Will not be alright-
But then don't I also fear this poem too and all the poems
Will not be alright?
All my life I have been escaping into poetry-
Why in my old age how in my old age
Should I
Change this now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Woman threads
Maternal aunts over maternal uncles,
Paternal aunts over paternal uncles,
Sisters over brothers command more affinity.
Relation threads through women routs
13.05.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Nothing..
This poem is not about love..
This poem is not about pain..
This poem is not about the things i have learned...
This poem is not for the broken hearted..
This poem is not for the ones seeking help..
This poem is not for the depressed...
This poem is for no one,
Because no one can contain nothing...
This poem is not filled with wisdom..
This poem was not written with love...
This poem was not written for a lover nor a brother...
This poem was nothing special...
Not quite remarkable....
But it is nothing because that what it was...
Nothing and it will never be anything...
poem by Jenna Marie
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A Poem Can Be Written Too Early
A POEM CAN BE WRITTEN SO EARLY
A poem can be written so early
That even the morning light
Won’t see it.
A poem can be written too soon.
A poem can be written before it exists
And so never be
Despite the fact that it is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Atlantic City
On a bus I did ride,
to the NJ Seaside.
Ten years earlier I was also there,
with my aunts with golden curly white hair.
That's when Trump made a splash,
offering old lady a lot of cash.
Madonna was on her Blonde Ambition tour,
dominating all of the world.
Now Great Aunt Mary and Aunt Joanie,
did go with me,
to Trump's casino in Atlantic City.
Gambling nickels was their bet,
I did not gamble-had to pay the rent.
Tiny little red notebook I did buy,
writing stories by oceanside.
Writing on trains and subways too,
all stories still there, there's quite a few.
Now in 2000 I when I went there again
visited Long Island to see my friends.
Went to Javits Convention Ctr in NYC
saw licensed characters who were cute and silly.
Yes this was the year I missed my plane,
Year before Twin Towers fell in sadness and pain.
Would visit NYC again and again,
everything has really changed.
The National September 11 Memorial & Museum
will open up this year,
residents will remember friends so dear.
Now my Great Aunt passed away,
will have to visit the boardwalk once again.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on May 23,2011
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Last Poem Was Written Again And Again
THE LAST POEM WAS WRITTEN AGAIN AND AGAIN
The last poem was written again and again
It said ‘All the poems have been written. There is no new poem to write.’
Writing it again now
I wonder how I dare demand the attention
Of any possible reader.
Aren’t they all as fed up with me
As I sometimes am with myself?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I hate school
I hate school it's a waste of time,
all you do is talk and ryme,
you get loads of homework whats the point,
it teaches you nothing yes nothing is taught,
just teachers yelling at you all day,
oh put on your hat no hat no play,
you get in trouble for no reason at all,
it's for stuff like kicking a ball,
I am about to end this poem,
so listen to me don't go to school,
STAY AT HOME!
poem by Clarice Hughes
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The Poem About The Poem About The Poem
THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM ABOUT THE POEM
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written in dream
And forgotten in sleep
Comes back to me slowly now
As if it had been away on a long long journey
And is reluctant to come home-
I write it
But it really writes me
And when I try to make sense of what it means
It tells me its ambiguities
Are more important and interesting
Than my clarity-
The poem about the poem about the poem
Written now
May not be a poem about a poem about a poem at all
But may merely be my own playing with words
Which take the place in my life
Of really living-
A poem about a poem about a poem?
Surely this is a mysterious thing
If it exists at all.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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In the Spirit of the Vernal Equinox
In the spirit of the vernal equinox,
Arriving on the 20th of March in 2010.
And in this year and on that day,
For us Spring then begins.
To spark the budding of love,
That awakens nature all over again.
Yes...
Spring is near!
In the spirit of the vernal equinox,
An equal twelve hours are shared...
Between daylight and night.
Normally only true on the Equator.
And for the rest of us,
We get more or less!
Depending upon where we live,
In the Northern Hemisphere.
And what that chosen address.
Shared with those we wish to make known,
Our feelings made to them clear.
With an assisted lingering of eye contact,
Obviously fix with just a bit of lust that appears!
Just a bit to test the interest.
Yes...
Spring is near!
In the spirit of the vernal equinox,
Spring is just a date.
Real Spring might arrive sooner or later.
Although some folks may be preheated...
With anticipation,
For a blooming awaited that takes place.
Yes...
Spring is near!
Keeping those with a patience.
But admitting...
The blood within them races and pulsates!
'You bring out the dog in me,
Clarice.'
~And 'WHO' is 'this' Clarice?
My name is Wanda! ~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Have Not Written A Poem For Days
I HAVE NOT WRITTEN A POEM FOR DAYS
I have not written a poem for days
For days I have not written a poem-
And my heart and my soul
My whole being
Longs for a poem.
But is this a poem?
Or am I nothing
But an unending babbler?
A word- struck fool?
A maniac in endless search of meaning?
While all around me,
This sunlit winter green Jerusalem Beauty,
I cannot say -
And as I stop to write,
Do not even now behold.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Can Be Written Anywhere, Anytime
A poem can be written anywhere, anytime-
A poem can be written too early in the morning
While waiting in Talpiot for ‘Rami Levi Supermarket’ to open-
It can be written in one’s head in a frozen Army barracks in Beit El
Or in a small room on Rav Berlin St on an old Smith- Corona
In the first happy years of one’s marriage-
It can be written for years from Haganah St. in French Hill
In the family years and the lonely ones
It can be written walking by the sea in Tel Aviv
With small children in hand-
It can be written on the same shore years later when one’s life has been broken
By Love’s desertion-
It can be written in old age on Rehov Shahal in Givat Mordechai
As one takes joy from the birth of one’s first grandchild-
A poem can be written anywhere anytime-
I have been writing my poems in Israel
For more than half a lifetime-
May those too
Who come after me
Read and Write Poetry here.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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