Nineteen Years Is Long Enough (Revised)
For the first time in nineteen years I'm planning
Christmas with my parents, to be with them as
one singing Carols, preparing delicacies to eat -
but particularly singing songs mother wrote,
presenting the play she designed for us ages
ago when we twins were just six years old
Back then my brothers and dad spoiled things -
but this time we can present mother's songs less
their interference, and afterwards I can go for a
spin on brother-in-law's motorbike, making up
for events we missed when small - yes, this
Christmas will be a grand reunion ball
For the first time in nineteen years I shan't be
home; it's either or, never parents and hubby
together, and though he was angry hearing
my plans - after nineteen years he cannot
really complain - it is the first time I shall be
with them - I think it is fair,
Nineteen years is long enough
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Please Come Home For Christmas
Written by charles mose brown and gene c. redd
Bells will be ringing the glad, glad news
Oh, what a christmas to end the blues
My babys gone, I have no friends
To wish me greetings, ooh, once again
Choirs will be singing silent night
Christmas carols by candlelight
Please come home for christmas
Please come home for christmas
If not for christmas, by new years night
Friends and relations send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
This is christmas, yeah, christmas my dear
The time of year to be with the one you love
So wont you tell me youll never more roam
Christmas and new years will find you home
Please come home for christmas
Please come home for christmas
If not for christmas by new years night
[instrumental interlude]
Therell be no more sorrow no grief and pain
And Ill be happy, happy once again
song performed by by Vonda Shepard
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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Please Come Home For Christmas
Bells will be ringing the glad, glad news
Oh what a christmas to have the blues
My babys gone (my babys gone) I have no friends
To wish me greetings once again
Choirs will be singing silent night
Those christmas carols by candlelight
Please come home for christmas (please come home)
Please come home for christmas (please come home)
If not for christmas by new years night
Friends and relations send salutations
Just as sure as the stars shine above (yes they do)
This is christmas, christmas my dear
The time of year to be with the one that you love
Then wont you tell me, youll never more roam
Christmas and new year (christmas and new years)
Will find you at home
Therell be no more sorrow, no grief or pain
Ill be happy (happy) that its christmas once again.
song performed by by Fiona Apple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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English Jan
She still has her English accent the one known as English Jan
And she never was a mother nor a wife to any man
She ages without dyes or makeups her hair is silver gray
But do not say about her she has known a better day.
She migrated to Melbourne from Blackpool her Hometown by the Irish sea
When she was in her early twenties in nineteen fifty three
Fifty one years in Australia yet she remains undimmed by time
And more than forty years have passed since she was in her prime.
For forty years a school teacher her retirement she enjoy
And she will make the most of every day until the day she die
She plays bowls on a saturday and on sunday evening after eight
She socializes with her friends and always until late.
On sunday mornings at the Corner cafe she is one I always see
And she does always say hello and smile and wave at me
So down to earth and carefree and untainted by conceit
And one of those good people I feel happy for to meet
She does not use dyes or makeups and she ages in the natural way
And she is one of those nice people who makes a new friend every day
From the English Town of Blackpool by the cold Irish sea
She migrated to Melbourne in nineteen fifty three.
poem by Francis Duggan
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1984
Nineteen eighty four
Someday they wont let you
Now you must agree
The time they are a telling
And the changing isnt free
You read it in the tea leaves
And the reacks are on tv
Beware the savage jaw
In nineteen eighty four
Theyll split your pretty cranium
And fill it full of air
Theyll tell you that youre eighty
And really you wont care
Youll be shooting up on everything
Tomorrows never there
Beware the savage jaw
In nineteen eighty four
Come see come see
Remember me
I played in an all night movie role
You said it would last
But I guess weve enrolled
In nineteen eighty four
Who could ask for more
Nineteen eighty four
Who could ask for more
Im looking for a vehicle
Im looking for a ride
Im looking for a party
Im looking for a side
Im looking for a treason
That I knew in sixty five
Beware the savage door
In nineteen eighty four
Come see come see
Remember me
I played in an all night movie role
You said it would last
But I guess weve enrolled
In nineteen eighty four
Who could ask for more
Nineteen eighty four
Who could ask for more
Nineteen eighty four
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nineteen-Fifty-Two
I wish things were,
the same now, as then,
i wish I was there, instead of here.
In nineteen-fifty-two,
things were simple, and so care-free,
you alway, had something to do
You could see a movie,
or buy, a comic or pop for the price of a dime
everone's favorite saying, was groovie.
Drugs were no problem, at all,
crime also, was very down
young Willie May, was even playing ball.
Children had respect, even for their parents
three-D was really in,
and everyone had good merit's
In nine-teen-fifty-two,
Ike was elected president
and I wasn't feeling blue
I know the past
is gone, you can't go back
time really goes on fast
I wished then, I could've made a forecast
nineteen-fifty-two, only now a memory,
looking back, life has been good, at last.
Calvary
Friendless and faint, with martyred steps and slow,
Faint for the flesh, but for the spirit free,
Stung by the mob that came to see the show,
The Master toiled along to Calvary;
We gibed him, as he went, with houndish glee,
Till his dimmed eyes for us did overflow;
We cursed his vengeless hands thrice wretchedly, --
And this was nineteen hundred years ago.
But after nineteen hundred years the shame
Still clings, and we have not made good the loss
That outraged faith has entered in his name.
Ah, when shall come love's courage to be strong!
Tell me, O Lord -- tell me, O Lord, how long
Are we to keep Christ writhing on the cross!
poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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Please Come Home For Christmas
Please Come Home For Christmas
Bells will be ringing this sad sad news
Oh what a Christmas to have the blues
My baby's gone I have no friends
To wish me greetings once again
Choirs will be singing Silent Night
Christmas carols by candle light
Please come home for Christmas
Please come home for Christmas
If not for Christmas by New Years night
Friends and relations
Send salutations
Sure as the stars shine above
But this is Christmas
Yeah, it's Christmas my dear
It's the time of year to be with the one you love
So won't you tell me
You'll never more roam
Christmas and New Year
Will find you home
There be no more sorrow
No grief and pain
And I'll be happy, happy, once again
Ooo, there be no more sorrow
No grief and pain
And I'll be happy, Christmas, once again
song performed by by Eagles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Calmly We Walk Through This April's Day
Calmly we walk through this April's day,
Metropolitan poetry here and there,
In the park sit pauper and rentier,
The screaming children, the motor-car
Fugitive about us, running away,
Between the worker and the millionaire
Number provides all distances,
It is Nineteen Thirty-Seven now,
Many great dears are taken away,
What will become of you and me
(This is the school in which we learn...)
Besides the photo and the memory?
(...that time is the fire in which we burn.)
(This is the school in which we learn...)
What is the self amid this blaze?
What am I now that I was then
Which I shall suffer and act again,
The theodicy I wrote in my high school days
Restored all life from infancy,
The children shouting are bright as they run
(This is the school in which they learn . . .)
Ravished entirely in their passing play!
(...that time is the fire in which they burn.)
Avid its rush, that reeling blaze!
Where is my father and Eleanor?
Not where are they now, dead seven years,
But what they were then?
No more? No more?
From Nineteen-Fourteen to the present day,
Bert Spira and Rhoda consume, consume
Not where they are now (where are they now?)
But what they were then, both beautiful;
Each minute bursts in the burning room,
The great globe reels in the solar fire,
Spinning the trivial and unique away.
(How all things flash! How all things flare!)
What am I now that I was then?
May memory restore again and again
The smallest color of the smallest day:
Time is the school in which we learn,
Time is the fire in which we burn.
poem by Delmore Schwartz
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A Son Has Fallen
The battle is distant...and fading away
my senses are drowning.. i lay afraid
falling rain mingles with saltwater tears
the setting sun beckons dark-water fears
A feeling of rage welling up inside
going to explode.. can't run.. can't hide
wave the flag and fight for freedom
invisible dragons in this alien kingdom
Drifting between the present and past
flash-backs...snapping so fast
nineteen years and ninety-nine days,
march before me...thru this ghostly haze
I stare up.. into a spinning sky
so many questions.. why god why
can it be over.. i'm so far away
friends.. family.. i laughed.. i played
The smell of our kitchen.. on a holiday
drifts...thru the jungles damp decay
late night talks.. by the fires ashes
midnight screams.. my brain flashes
I cannot move.. i just lie here waiting
for another round of fighting and hating
nineteen years and ninety-nine days
sunny afternoons.. cartoon matinees.
Mother wakes me.. don't be late for school
reality shakes me.. in my bloody pool
if I could move.. i'd curl up and cry
heaven help me.. it's my time to die
My eyes jump open.. to catch the rain
i swallow hard.. to stop the pain
the hundred yard dash.. the winning medal
the sickening smash of flying metal
I've been good.. as far as I could tell
Mother.. why do good boys go to hell
nineteen years and ninety-nine days,
i end all alone.. in a confusing haze
Anne.. i wish I could reach your letter.
you asked how I'm doing.. i've been better
your perfume survived the heat and sweat
stirring memories I won't forget
this deadly day was sharp and brutal
i cling to my hope.. but know its futile
i'm spinning inside hells kaleidoscope
sprayed blood.. ripped flesh.. blunted steel
the sun has fallen,
and leaves no trace.
the rain and blood,
dance on his face.
nineteen years and one hundred days
a son has fallen,
in the mud he lays.
‘89
poem by George Vuyakovich
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Singing Merry Christmas
Another time of year
Has come
To be loved in a special
Way
We will try to do whats
Right
On this very merry christmas
Day
Candles burning
Children singing goodnight
Theres no worries
Because santas on his way
So merry christmas to you
Merry christmas to all who share
On christmas day
Merry christmas to you
Singing merry christmas
Although many years
Have passed
Im sure the (? ) of christmas
Remains the same
Candles burning
Children singing goodnight
Theres no worries
Because santas on his way
So merry christmas to you
Merry christmas to all who share
On christmas day
Merry christmas to you
Singing merry christmas
Through all the people I know
And all the people I care for
Well make christmas last
Forever
So come along everyone
And sing this song with us
Singing merry christmas
To you
Merry christmas to all
Who share on christmas day
Merry christmas to you
Singing merry christmas
Singing merry christmas
To you
Merry christmas to all
Who share on christmas day
Merry christmas to you
Singing merry christmas
Santas on his way
Santas on his way
Singing merry christmas
song performed by by New Edition
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In The Fields By The Sullane
In the fields by the Sullane that flows through Macroom
The wildflowers of Nature are now in full bloom
And the ageing migrant remembers today
The place where he lived in as a boy near a town far away.
His soul mate and the best friend he ever did know
His Aussie wife passed on a few years ago
Their grandchildren teenagers and time ticking on
And his best Seasons to the forever long gone.
To the young mind the far off hills always look green
And he left friends and family when he turned nineteen
The wanderlust in him for the big World out there
From the fields by the Sullane he would live elsewhere
Forty eight years out of Macroom in time quite a span
In this Southern Country a gray haired ageing man
The years telling on him the years never lie
Far from the Sullane he is destined to die.
To this Southern Land his best years he did give
And on his retirement pension he now has to live
The passing of time has left him walking slow
The one from the fields where Sullane waters flow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Lie
For William Verdun Harris
My late brother.
It started years before I was born,
but the lie came into being after.
I knew nothing of it, why should I?
You never question your parents,
what they tell you, you believe.
Therefore, the lie grew and grew
as years folded into one another.
The lie became accepted as the truth.
Its hurt would not be felt
before four score and more had passed.
A Christmas card with a note from an Aunt.
Your half brother Bill would love to hear from you.
Half brother? I have no half brother.
He is your adopted brother
and my adopted uncle, so I was told.
No, he is your half brother.
I investigated what was said.
Soon the truth of the lie was revealed.
The lie had split two brothers,
to the other sides of the world.
Through urgent phone calls, I found him.
I had to see him, too many years had passed.
Who knows how long we had?
Travel plans were made,
the journey was now set.
After forty-two years, we came face to face.
Hug, tears and a family get together.
Those lost faces from the other side of the world.
We talked and talked into the night,
so much to learn and so little time.
Two weeks went quick and we parted again.
The telephone a communication line,
but how do you make up so many years,
with such little time?
The answer is you don’t.
The next year we extended our visit,
but still it wasn’t long enough.
We would never get another year,
within months my brother was gone,
and for months, I missed his calls.
But the lie was never retracted,
and my sister never got to know,
the other brother that she had.
She still believes the lie,
and won’t accept the truth.
She does not talk to me,
not out of anything either of us has done.
The long distant lie is at fault,
the guilt no one could admit to,
because they felt it would bring great shame.
Now a family lies in tatters,
a sad story all that remains,
about a lie, which almost the truth became.
What will the future bring, that’s something we can never tell.
I for one, hold no one with any ill will.
poem by David Harris
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The Date Of Christmas DaY
The Date Of Christmas DaY
A.D.Four plus thirty-three= A.D.Thirty-seven.
The millineum year Two Thousand Thirty Seven has not yet occured.
Inn mye humble opinion never will it ever bee.
Iff Christ was born in September Thirty-Seven,
we should have Christmas on September Three.
December TwentY-fifth is the dead works day of druids.
They still dance the maypole day in May.
May ONE could be the birthday of GODS son.
The time is tricky anyway after more than a few years.
Everything gets blurry after way too many beers.
The moral of this story just accept that it was done.
This Christmas try to worship on December Twenty-One.
Drink less eggnogg and have more FUN.
On this millineum day in Nineteen Fifty-Four;
Eye was not yet one year Young.
poem by Charles Hice
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On Receiving A Christmas Card From Nora
A Christmas card from a friend far away
It takes me back again to boyhood day
She was a woman when I was young boy
Some forty years ago how time does fly.
She was a good friend to our family
And nice to know she still remember me
A friend and neighbour of the very best
And one of the kindest souls of Millstreet West.
That Christmas card from Nora took me far away
Back home to Millstreet Town and Claraghatlea
And Christmas was a special time of year
A time of Santa, Christmas fun and cheer.
A Christmas card from friend of years ago
And no friend like old friend we used to know
And a card from dear friend is a gift of joy
And it took me back to when I was a boy.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Expecting You
I am a woman and i know the father of my child,
But holding up the silver side of love to tell you my story;
For i am nineteen years old and, i am like a woman of words already!
One mile from 'Mile-Seven',
One word from 'Mile-Eleven',
And like a small world from 'Mile-Twelve'! !
But invisible with my passion to him who impregnated me;
For i am nineteen years old and, i am like a woman of words.
I am now in a world of my own and,
It is just like another day without the rain;
But are you ready to follow me into the woods with my child? !
For i have been expecting you lately on this issue of mine,
Because i am a woman and i know the father of my child;
But holding up the silver sde of love to tell you my story!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Old Rupert
She has had him since he was a pup some thirteen years or so
And between Genevieve and her border collie the bond of friendship grow
In his prime in the late nineties going back ten years ago
Old Rupert not the dog he was the years have left him slow
A beautiful black and white dog his muzzle has turned to gray
But he still digs for rabbits when he gets the chance his natural dog way
He comes home to Genevieve with an earthy coat and earth around his face and jaws
And she scolds him as she brushes him and washes the earth from his paws
To dig for rabbits to a dog is not doing any wrong
And for this Genevieve is quick to forgive him the bond between them strong
Old Rupert is not hard to please his needs in life are small
A walk or a drive in the car are things he loves best of all
Genevieve has had since he was a pup in nineteen ninety four
He was a fine dog in his prime going back ten years or more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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My Friends Back In My Prime Years
My friends back in my prime years I never did disown
It's just that I live far from them and apart we have grown
We drank and played football together but our separate ways we've gone
And we have forged new friendships and life of course goes on.
My friends back in my prime years may now look a bit gray
And they might not know me or I might not know them if by chance we met today
In my memory they have remained young but in reality
The years have left their mark on them as the years have left their mark on me.
Old father time the aloof one to anyone doesn't bow
And some of my friends of my prime years may be grand parents now
Perhaps they now are showing their age and time has left them slow
They could run fast as I recall some twenty years ago.
My friends back in my prime years I may now not recognize
For time leaves it's mark on all of us I've come to realize
I drunk beer with them in the pub and with them played football
And that was many years ago as I can well recall.
poem by Francis Duggan
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It Must Have Been Years
A radio plays 'white christmas
Its been doing that for years
If someone leaves the station
Oh please dont talk to strangers
Cant you see theyre not like us
The vacant flesh of u.d.s
Stand leaning by the walls
You can feel them thinking over
Ways of merging with the thoughts
You never dare to dream
It must have been years
It must have been years
They want to relive all my memories
Give me 'the service daily
Maybe it was mother
I cant seem to remember
Much at all these days
Picture open doorways
No pick-ups by the taxi boys
Just a bed near the window
And an old lamp by my pillow
And the things I have to do
It must have been years
It must have been years
The driver wants to touch me
He mentions all the old cop bullshit
I try to back away
But hes so strong I just cant move
Maybe I dont want to anyway
The time to leave is always 'soon
I wonder if Im lying
A vague feeling of panic
As a man leaves saying thank you
I blame it all on you
It must have been years
It must have been years
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why this date each year
The dawn of this date
The eighteenth March
Drowns me in sadness
As on this day in the year nineteen sixty
My mother, in her early thirties
Left us for heavenly abode
Making me and my sister
Suffer all these years
The lack of mother's love
I did not know that day
How much I missed her
But, as I became a parent
And as I started observing
The demonstration of love
By my wife to our children
I realised that
This day marks the heaviest loss
I could suffer
How I wish that every one
Here on earth
Is fortunate and lucky
To enjoy mother's love
As long as possible
And how I wish that every mother
On this earth
Stays alive and keeps showering
Her love on to her children
As long as possible
You understand as to why I question
Why this date each year
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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