Aunt Jess
Our 'Aunt' Jess died just days ago; her partner phoned last night;
the funeral was private, perhaps for reasons which
we now might guess; a village can be peaceful,
but that's no guarantee they'll be accepted -
those too full of life to be discreet.
So, rest in peace, we say and mean;
most of us, thank God, not knowing un-peace in
its most extreme;
and now we'll never know the story which she only partly told
and which I could not bear to probe,
that night when she and I, then younger, talked about
that topic which some tiptoe gingerly around,
some leave unsaid. And why, I asked,
did someone tell me that she'd changed her name
eight times when still a child?
Some live lives so livid red
that perhaps they're best not told; or if they are,
then carefully. In '44, towards the end of 'Hitler's war',
great bands of Jews from Eastern Europe,
from the camps, or outhouses of village farms,
cellars, sewers, God knows where, set out together from the East
ahead of those advancing Russian tanks,
and through the very heart - if that's the word -
of Germany; by night; and gathering on route
just like some ragged snowball, groups of the unidentified
and paperless; but soon too many souls there
not to draw a sentry's eye. Of that exhausted day
in Christian church when only she survived - and why -
you'd not believe, and I'll not tell.
So she, long orphaned, finally arrived,
and though few knew it, became a live memorial
to the eight families who, over the years,
had shielded her 'our child'. Destined, it seems, to live;
as lively aunt to child as anyone could wish.
And when I'd heard from others close,
and gently guessed, more from her silences,
just what she'd suffered 'at the hands of men' -
so choice a phrase - or how survived,
I could not be surprised she chose to live
at ease with lover of her kind.. Aunt Jess,
should I be sorry that I didn't ask you more?
I did not like to pry; and you
so needed to get on with life.
So yes, Aunt Jess:
please rest in peace.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Related quotes
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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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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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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Still Invoking the Protector of Angels
With your newspaper folded
And set aside,
It was your last night of reading
And trying to live your life as normal.
Later that night,
You would fall twice to the floor
Trying to make it to a bedside commode,
And I knew you wouldn't leave your bed again.
After that, you lived a few more days
Uncomfortably in your bed,
Eating and drinking very little,
Gazing upward and to the wall,
Most certainly seeing angels.
On your last full day on earth,
A nurse-aide came to the house
To give you a bedside bath and it was like the lady
Who anointed Jesus with perfume for his burial;
She was very gentle and kind but there was a tear in your eye.
Aunt Maxine arrived, a planned visit,
To see her sister, your wife, after a long absence
Caused by distance and age;
This alone was sad with so much of mom already gone
With the trial of fire she's endured with her Parkinson's disease.
At 11: 00 P.M. that night,
Everyone went to bed;
I gave you medicine mixed in pudding
After telling you I had pudding for you to try.
You swallowed your pudding and told me it wasn't bad.
Even in these last few hours you had sweetness for others
But nothing left for yourself.
I woke up at 1: 30A.M.
And you were breathing heavily and strained
With your oxygen off; you were rocking and saying no
Aunt Maxine woke as well.
I reconnected your oxygen and called a nurse
To reevaluate you for pain.
The nurse arrived about an hour later
And prepared ativan and morphine
Which she gave you;
The nurse didn't seem to think you were in great pain
But the way you were holding onto your bed rail and rocking and saying no
Made me sick to my heart that you were.
After the nurse left and aunt Maxine went back to bed,
I kissed your forehead and told you, you were a good boy;
So characteristic of your humble sweetness,
You merely replied, "I hope so."
I then lied down on the floor near your bed
And prayed to Jesus that your journey would not be long
And with terrible pain.
I somehow fell asleep in my sadness and fear
And with your oxygen machine at my one side
And mom's monitor on the other.
At 7: 20 A.M. I heard Aunt Maxine with Mom,
I think Aunt Maxine called for me to come get mom.
I rose from the floor
And I didn't hear you struggling;
I immediately went to your bed;
Your oxygen was off again,
Your chest was calm and still
But your hand remained clutching the bed rail.
I'm certain, there were times
In the last nearly fifty years
When I was a burden to you, sweet man,
But you were definitely
Not a burden to me
In the last two and a half.
All I want to do is talk with you again
About music or cars or politics or the weather;
I merely desire to see you sitting at the kitchen table
Or setting your newspaper down to make your way to the porch.
I'll try to hold onto this love for as long as I can, dear friend.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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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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The Loved Stranger
I remembered I'd promised my Aunt Adele before she died
that I'd get in touch with her family in Oz
just to put matters to rest, since they'd not spoken for years
since she upped and went off with this Pom
and left the family without its clever high-earner...
I wasn't looking forward to it with all that bad blood -
'Enough for a vampire's transfusion' said my uncle, the culprit -
but a promise is a promise. I had Auntie's old phone book;
worked out the time here that would be Sunday afternoon in Oz.
The voice was open, strong, friendly - I guessed I'd hit
that great moment when they'd had the barbie,
the few beers after the few beers,
the guests had just gone off
and the washing-up could wait until after a beer...
He was really glad I'd phoned -
he'd been away from the family most of his life, one reason and another -
so we didn't have much to try to piece together
which was probably a good thing, could've been
a pretty forced, stilted conversation -
so we got chatting about one thing and another,
our different lifestyles, our families -
and you know how it is, strangers on a train and all that,
got quite carried away, about how much we enjoyed life,
loved our wives and families, wouldn't change a thing,
what life had taught us - almost anything, everything really
like we were old friends who hadn't met up for years..
It was quite late on in the conversation, when we were working out
if we couldn't fix up a family visit, and he'd said,
no, they'd never lived in Adelaide (after which city
Aunt was proudly named - 'greatest city on earth' they said,
not having travelled further than Sydney -)
when I realised I'd phoned the wrong number; but
felt good and he too I guess.
So I had to choose the moment
to laugh and say hey this is an expensive call,
talk to the wife and call you back, Jacko...
I've never known my family so bloody merry
as when the story got around.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Declaration Of Life
Declaration of life
Is a written paper
That I keep in the drawers of my desk
It is a declaration of life that is truly an amazing gift
Sign, sealed, and delivered by God
At the time I was born
And at the time I had entered his world
I had grown and seen all his world
Today I am a believer
I am the one who is falling into God's footsteps
And God is life
This day was made for me
Bring it on I will
I will look on your side of the world
Because there are places
Which are brighter
Filled with thy love and peace
God tells me I will take care of you
Many years to come
Declaration of life
Live my child
Live well my child
Enjoy it my child
Drink my child
Eat my child
Sleep well at night my child
And don't forget about me my child
Child I am the one who signed the declaration of life
In your heart, mind, and soul I live
Child take time to consider grace
God the landscape grows green with your love
Eternity isn't something we wait for-it's what we breathe
God
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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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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A True Ghost Story
My grandfather's house at Maypajo
It was built in year nineteen o' five
Of the sturdy wood 'kamagong'
And for ninety long years it survived.
It had delicate capiz- shelled windows
And hard wooden planks for its floors
Wide beams on ceilings that show
Fine architecture and Spanish decor.
In the twenties it held various parties
And its rooms may have held many guests
My aunts and my Mom were real beauties
And I'm sure many gents laid their quests.
But the second World War had been deadly
The Japanese fired many a mortar
Its plastered walls bared testimony
To the ugly devastation of war.
That house witnessed many departures
As its tenants soon married away.
Grandfather, its permanent fixture
He would walk its rooms night and day.
But the years saw him slowly yielding
To the rigors of approaching old age
Like his old house that was depreciating
He was closing and turning Time's page.
At death bed he had wanted to see
(For the house in his will was not clear)
His second daughter, my dear Aunt Nellie
Was summoned for some things she should hear.
But alas, it was rather too late
And the dying man's word left unsaid
For Death was the guest who can't wait
When Aunt Nellie came, he was dead.
Aunt Nellie claimed the property
Said she had the title to her name
Though her four siblings begged to disagree
Her lawyers legalized it all the same
The house boldly stood through the years,
But there were some weird happenings
The neighbors and people had fears,
Some saw an old man at night... walking.
Some said when they looked for my aunt
An old man peered through the window
Informed them that the house was vacant
And to church my aunt with her son did go.
My own brother's nanny had witnessed it
In a story that turned up our hairs
She turned to see an old man without feet
In slow motion descending the stairs!
We showed her Grandfather's old photo
And she point blank said 'That's him! '
The man she saw in white tuxedo
Had been roaming the house at whim.
Though I have never seen a ghost
And consider them just halloween fun
This true story is fearful at the most
In that house, the old man there walks on.
-
This is a true story, and the house, though sold and renovated,
still has its 'permanent tenant' and many have seen him.
Copyright Cynthia Buhain Baello
February 6,2010
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Dan and Mary Ellen
With fondness I remember my aunt Mary Ellen the woman married to my uncle Dan
She was my role model and mentor long before I grew into a man
She taught me old songs from her childhood and poems to me she did recite
And she gave me valuable insights on Nature before I learned how to read and to write.
She and Dan in life did have their crosses their only child a girl in her childhood died
Their happiness at the birth of their daughter by the reaper's scythe to them denied
But Mary she got on with her life and her cross she bravely did bear
And her sense of loss never made her feel bitter and she never said life was unfair.
A lover of old poems and stories she knew the words of many a song
That she used to sing by the turf fire on Winter nights cold, wet, windy and long
She recited poems of the bards of Sliabh Luachra old greats from the centuries ago
So wise and knowledgeable for one self educated and so much about life she did know.
With Dan whom she spent many Seasons in the grave-yard at Cullen she lay
I mourned at the news of their passing though from Lisnaboy I live far away
They were generous with their wisdom and their knowledge of life they passed on down
And at peace their bones now rest in Cullen some seven miles from Millstreet Town.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Poem for a mother whose lost her son
I held him safe within my womb
And kissed him in the birthing room
I held his hand in sickness too
And now I don't know what to do
My son, my child, my flesh and bone
Has died and left me all alone
And in the night when no one sees
I cry and end up on my knees
I cry to God and ask Him why
My precious son he had to die
And when the morning light appears
That's one more night I've spent in tears
And as the years they slip away
I learn to live just day by day
I turn to God who was so far
I look to where the answers are
I put my hand into His hand
He pulls me up and now I stand
I hear my Father say to me
'My Son He died upon a tree
I know the pain that mothers feel
When life turns black and robs and steals
And takes a portion of your heart
And tears your very soul apart'
Oh Lord I pray, please make me whole
Replace the joy that life has stole
This pain, this loss, is part of me
But still I'm longing to be free
I choose to walk out through the door
And melancholy reigns no more
I leave behind the shades of grey
To walk in light, to kneel and pray
' Come to me child, I've heard your cry
I saw your tears when your child died
Rest in me and find your peace
Replace your pain and find release'
Despite the fact we had to part
You still live on within my heart
There'll never be a day go by
A tear wont fall from your mother's eye
poem by Frank McEleny
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I Have Survived
I am scared you might see the scars; I try so hard to hide
Caused by the ones murdered me, drove me
By cursing, swearing
Haven't always been scared, reserved
They killed me, but now I'm alive
They hurt me, wounded me
But I survived
How is it possible to breath
When you already died?
But now I'm concerned
Even though the hate has died
It bones still linger on my mind
Its ghost still haunts me in the night
But it's alright, I can fight
Because I survived
Haven't always be scared to trust
Life is a game of Russian roulette but
I survived, now I live and breathe
Not ready to die because
I am alive
I have survived
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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Peace On Earth / Little Drummer Boy (feat. Bing Crosby)
David: Hello...... you're the new butler?
Bing: Hahaha! Well, it's been a long time since I've been the new anything!
David: What's happened to Hudson?
Bing: I guess he's changing.
David: Yeah, he does that a lot, doesn't he? Uhm... Oh, I'm David Bowie, I live
down the road.
Bing: Oh!
David: Sir Percival let's me use his piano if he not around. He's not around, is
he?
Bing: I can honestly say I haven't seen him, but come on in! Come in!
David: But uh...
Bing: Come on in!
David: Are you related to sir Percival?
Bing: Well, distantly...
David: Oh, you're not the poor relation from America, right?
Bing: Ha! Gee... news sure travels fast, doesn't it? I'm Bing.
David: Oh, I'm pleased to meet you. You're the one that sings, right?
Bing: Well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: Oh well, I sing too.
Bing: Oh good! What kind of singing?
David: Mostly the contemporary stuff. Do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: Oh, I think it's marvellous! Some of it's really fine. But tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: Oh yeah, sure. I like ah... John Lennon and the other one with eh...Harry
Nilsson.
Bing: Mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: Yeah, I'm not as young as I look.
Bing: Haha, none of us is these days!
David: In fact I've got a six year old son. And he really gets excited around the Christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: Do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, Christmas time?
David: Oh yeah, most of them really. Presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: What??
David: Oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: Haha!
David: Actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. We
sing the same songs.
Bing: Do you?
David: Oh, I even have a go at 'White Christmas'.
Bing: You do, eh!
David: And this one. This is my son's favourite. Do you know this one?
Bing: Oh, I do indeed, it's a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on Earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps we'll see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on Earth, can it be
Every child must be made aware
Every child must be made to care
Care enough for his fellow man
To give all the love that he can
I pray my wish will come true
For my child and your child too
He'll see the day of glory
See the day when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on Earth, can it be
Can it be
Bing: It's a pretty theme, isn't it?
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Child Widowed at Eight
As I crossed
The threshold
Of my new home,
As a bride
My eyes fell
On a woman draped
In white…
Standing against
The sunlight,
Highlighting
Deep furrows
On her brow…
I felt embarrassed,
And overdressed.
Later asked my spouse,
'Who is that woman,
Why didn’t she take
Part in the celebrations? '
'She is my aunt,
She is widowed,
Was a child, merely eight
When she lost her mate,
Ever since she has been
Ostracised,
Portent of bad omen...
But she is the only woman
I have known as a mother,
She nurtured
And told us stories
We grew up on laughter…'
Condemned
To life sentence…
Did anyone ask
How it felt
Yes, at eight…
Did she feel bereft?
Did she understand
Why her head had been shaved,
Colourful bangles pulled out of her hand,
Light, colours, laughter banned?
I could see,
The child
In her
Had survived,
When she played
With my first born
And sang lullabys, put her to sleep
When she cried…
She had moved on…
What was gone was gone
She had not even known…
At times, she dyed
Her Sari palest of blue
Her favourite hue…
Everyone mocked,
Pretended to be shocked…
And asked have you forgotten?
No she has not, I said,
'Yes, she is human-
Now a woman.
Her heart still beats,
She has needs.
She still breathes…
Let her live,
As she too feels…
Why is she being punished?
And expected to extinguish
The spark divine?
She not commit
any crime.
She doesn’t deserve cruelty,
Please treat her with sensitivity
And some generosity.
She has not known love, motherhood.
She lost her childhood…'
I was peeved…
This exploitation and
And many questions
Nagged me for weeks.
One day, my mate
Said, come Ma pack.
I am sorry,
I delayed
Taking you away.
Tears streaming down her cheeks
She nodded, 'I am glad,
You finally asked.'
She looked at me
As if for assent…
'Give us a chance
To let you be…'
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Matilda Who told Lies, and was Burned to Death
Matilda told such Dreadful Lies,
It made one Gasp and Stretch one's Eyes;
Her Aunt, who, from her Earliest Youth,
Had kept a Strict Regard for Truth,
Attempted to Believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her,
And would have done so, had not She
Discovered this Infirmity.
For once, towards the Close of Day,
Matilda, growing tired of play,
And finding she was left alone,
Went tiptoe to the Telephone
And summoned the Immediate Aid
Of London's Noble Fire-Brigade.
Within an hour the Gallant Band
Were pouring in on every hand,
From Putney, Hackney Downs, and Bow.
With Courage high and Hearts a-glow,
They galloped, roaring through the Town,
'Matilda's House is Burning Down!'
Inspired by British Cheers and Loud
Proceeding from the Frenzied Crowd,
They ran their ladders through a score
Of windows on the Ball Room Floor;
And took Peculiar Pains to Souse
The Pictures up and down the House,
Until Matilda's Aunt succeeded
In showing them they were not needed;
And even then she had to pay
To get the Men to go away,
It happened that a few Weeks later
Her Aunt was off to the Theatre
To see that Interesting Play
The Second Mrs. Tanqueray.
She had refused to take her Niece
To hear this Entertaining Piece:
A Deprivation Just and Wise
To Punish her for Telling Lies.
That Night a Fire did break out--
You should have heard Matilda Shout!
You should have heard her Scream and Bawl,
And throw the window up and call
To People passing in the Street--
(The rapidly increasing Heat
Encouraging her to obtain
Their confidnce) -- but all in vain!
For every time she shouted 'Fire!'
They only answered 'Little Liar!'
And therefore when her Aunt returned,
Matilda, and the House, were Burned.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Embrace
(r gibb)
I dont know what you want, I dont hear what you said
Truth behind the lies
cause I cant see whats in your head
And spread your wings and fly, out in a brave new world
Let this be my prayer, to keep you safe when Im not there
Can we love and live apart, I dont know,no, I dont know
How can we divide the heart, I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
Embrace
Through the mists of time, lovers can be friends
The power of the human heart
The secrets in the souls of men
All my blessings in disguise
I dont know, no, I dont know
Reunited we will rise
I dont know, no, I dont know
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
And in the cold night, under the street light
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives, I have faith in you, away from you
Like a lonely child, I will hang on every word
And when the night falls, and when the sky falls,
I long for your embrace
Another daybreak, another heartache
I long for your embrace
Living separate lives
Away from you
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely life
Lonely days and nights
We can live our life
Embrace, embrace
With our separate lives
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Lonely days and nights
I will never send away
Embrace, embrace
The lonely, lonely lives
Embrace the child inside
The lonely, lonely lives
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Peace On Earth - Little Drummer Boy
David: hello...... youre the new butler?
Bing: hahaha! well, its been a long time since Ive been the new anything!
David: whats happened to hudson?
Bing: I guess hes changing.
David: yeah, he does that a lot, doesnt he? uhm... oh, Im david bowie, I live
Down the road.
Bing: oh!
David: sir percival lets me use his piano if he not around. hes not around, is
He?
Bing: I can honestly say I havent seen him, but come on in! come in!
David: but uh...
Bing: come on in!
David: are you related to sir percival?
Bing: well, distantly...
David: oh, youre not the poor relation from america, right?
Bing: ha! gee... news sure travels fast, doesnt it? Im bing.
David: oh, Im pleased to meet you. youre the one that sings, right?
Bing: well, right or wrong, I sing either way.
David: oh well, I sing too.
Bing: oh good! what kind of singing?
David: mostly the contemporary stuff. do you eh... do you like modern music?
Bing: oh, I think its marvellous! some of its really fine. but tell me, have you ever listened to any of the older fellows?
David: oh yeah, sure. I like ah... john lennon and the other one with eh...harry
Nilsson.
Bing: mmm... you go back that far, uh?
David: yeah, Im not as young as I look.
Bing: haha, none of us is these days!
David: in fact Ive got a six year old son. and he really gets excited around the christmas holiday-thing.
Bing: do you go in for anything of the traditional things in the... boy, household, christmas time?
David: oh yeah, most of them really. presents, tree, decorations, agents sliding down the chimney...
Bing: what? ?
David: oh, I was just seeing if you were paying attention.
Bing: haha!
David: actually, our family do most of the things that other families do. we
Sing the same songs.
Bing: do you?
David: oh, I even have a go at white christmas.
Bing: you do, eh!
David: and this one. this is my sons favourite. do you know this one?
Bing: oh, I do indeed, its a lovely theme.
And they told me pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
A new-born king to see pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Our finest gifts we bring pa-ram-pam-pam-pam
Ra-pam-pam-pam, ra-pam-pam-pam
Peace on earth, can it be
Years from now, perhaps well see
See the day of glory
See the day, when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be
Every child must be made aware
Every child must be made to care
Care enough for his fellow man
To give all the love that he can
I pray my wish will come true
For my child and your child too
Hell see the day of glory
See the day when men of good will
Live in peace, live in peace again
Peace on earth, can it be
Can it be
Bing: its a pretty theme, isnt it?
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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