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Ashes

I met her in an orphanage.
She gave me her autograph one day
And said 'uncle please does write something'.
Then I wrote few lines to be pleased her.
I saw the true love of Moths and flames.
It's a swarm of suicides.
'Uncle it's very short' she insisted.
I added one more line.
Love is sad.

Dedication to my poetess friend Sandra.Fowler

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The Width of Wind

I have seen the harvest what they have hardly reaped?
And came the ferocious wind then taken the grain away to a certain end.
The poor farmers cried aloud and nobody was heard.
Again they plow but who could fights against the invisible wind?

Dedication to my fellow poetess friend Sandra.Fowler

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Let Bygones Be Bygones

My pillow of dreams whispered in the middle of the night.
Do not sleep and write your love story.
The companion must have sniffed something of my whereabouts.
Why I come late to the bed nowadays?
Yes, I cannot hide anything to my contemporary.
This was just a beginning with a lass.
She must be in her teens.
I have totally forgotten of my age
until the very first day when she called me uncle.
I was disgusted.
Truly I felt a contrast and a contravention the theory of love.
Our random visits to lonely parks
and we exchanged books and chats
nothing beyond that.
She gave me a birthday gift
Ken Kessey's new edition ' One flew over the cuckoo's nest'
and I gave her a second hand book of Kafka's 'The Castle'.
I was very cautious with my new name uncle
and the life goes on like a fairy tale without any obstacles.

*Dedication to an unknown lass whom I met only once in my lifetime.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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The one-eyed curtain raiser in the tragic theatre of life

While the well-to-do audience were watching the scene by scene
This poor fellow holds the knotty string and whenever he hears the bell
He gets ready to raise or put down the velvet curtain.
Only in the tricky interval he gets a brief rest in his life-drama.

*Dedication to my poetess friend Sandra.Fowler for her good health.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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As My Uncle Used To Say

I've thought a power on men and things,
As my uncle ust to say,--
And ef folks don't work as they pray, i jings!
W'y, they ain't no use to pray!
Ef you want somepin', and jes dead-set
A-pleadin' fer it with both eyes wet,
And _tears_ won't bring it, w'y, you try _sweat_,
As my uncle ust to say.

They's some don't know their A, B, Cs,
As my uncle ust to say,
And yit don't waste no candle-grease,
Ner whistle their lives away!
But ef they can't write no book, ner rhyme
No ringin' song fer to last all time,
They can blaze the way fer the march sublime,
As my uncle ust to say.

Whoever's Foreman of all things here,
As my uncle ust to say,
He knows each job 'at we 're best fit fer,
And our round-up, night and day:
And a-sizin' _His_ work, east and west,
And north and south, and worst and best
I ain't got nothin' to suggest,
As my uncle ust to say.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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My Uncle Gay

I can not say in a way,
That would for anyone be understood.
But I have an uncle named Gayhall,
Who stands for me very tall.

A minister he is,
With a wife Pamela and two adorable kids.
Well...
They are no longer 'kids'.
Two beautiful women I 'should' say.
Nicole and Tiffany...
Each with a uniqueness,
Anyone can see.

Although my Uncle Gay,
Has been sick of late.
I hate the fact that he's like that.
But what can I do,
Besides pray from my Uncle Gay?

I 'see' him getting better,
Each day as I 'visualize'.
I want his health to return to him.
Because he is very special,
In my eyes.

I love my aunts and uncles...
As 'if' they were mine!
And...
Hey,
They are 'mine'!
Well...
Let me define what it is I want God to do!

'God,
I know for a fact...
You are with me all the time!
But...
Will You heal my Uncle Gay?
Right 'now'!
And...
Today! '

Dedicated to:
My Uncle Reverand Gayhall Pertillar.
Harrisburg, Pennsylvania

'Love you, Uncle Gay...
Pam and 'kids'.'

Nephew Larry

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ballad of Uncle Mukungu

He's my uncle and to my father a brother,
To many a darling or to all and sundry rather;
A pot of knowledge unique, and of humor and quit,
And queer a sight, a wonder as right.

This mine uncle as much do I love,
For he be within and near must cause me to laugh;
And you, liking or not whether,
Never can stand my uncle's weather.

I won't tell all- my uncle's long,
A story you would love as of humor strong;
I will do you a bit, and perhaps a bit more,
Of Mukungu's sweet and sometimes some sore.

At class three a dropout my uncle became,
And thus many had it- uncle has lost his aim;
But no! Who harbored thoughts so was but mistaken,
Listen to Mukungu and your ribs will be shaken.

His talk will behind leave no bit of sagacity,
That bit by bit and all kills ambiance of solemnity;
To imbue the air and emotion with humor high and enough,
To bury hate option and hatch of uncle to love.

Uncle is a guru of eating great,
And many a cuisine none he does hate;
And thus he's indefatigable bull of village,
Cuts through others like a sharpest edge.

Perfect artist he is and scientist as well,
He'll sing a song and tell the stars fell;
He has his language and in he's a virtuoso,
Moreover he acts and he's a star so.

poem by Willy Munyoki
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Spectacle

My little sparrow flies all over the middle east sky
and she tells'A sparkle round the clock there,
they are at the frontier face to face'.
For what?
A friendly chat?
No my dear they are willing to see the blood each other.
A tyrannize movement!
I passed a message to my little sparrow
'If possible ask the raincloud to make an incessant rain and
a typhoon to scatter all these inhuman invalids
and moisture their heads, brains and souls'
She replied ' I'll try my level best uncle'
Now she calls me uncle,
Oh! I am ageing?

Dedication to the poetess Huda.Orfali

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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A Bond Made In Heaven

we have a unique bond,
strengthened over a period of time,
over four years to be exact.
a gentleman,
an uncle in a million.
a great poet,
a friend,
and an advisor,
I am truly blessed
with the best uncle anyone could wish for
a man of compassion
for whom I have great respect
my uncle dearest
and I his niece
never a word out of place
thank you Uncle dearest
for keeping me in prayers
and always wishing for me the best

poem by Persian Khushi
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Autumn creeps stealthily like a serpent

My yoke fellow who talks about Fall and yellowing of the foliage.
He always carries his untidy diary and there are few blank pages left behind.
He wants me to scribble something on those torn pages.
I write; Hey! Chum you may call it Fall but I pronounce as Autumn.
Anyway this is the season between Summer and Winter.
My dear yardmaster, your yardstick is not enough to measure this lengthy journey.
Only the invisible who knows about the Unit?

Dedication to my poetess friend Sandra.Fowler who paints 'Autumn' in her poems attractively without any brush marks.

[ This notion pushed me today while I was jogging along the Manhattan beach.]

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Uncle Toad Said

Uncle toad sittin by the old south gate
Waitin them boys they bin stayin out late
Uncle toad thinks theyre way out of line
Maybe they think he is past his prime
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad lived in the wood out back
Lived in the shade of a utility shack
He looked in at the big brick housr
At the girls as quiet as a mouse
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad tucked in the compost pile
Out by the back door look at him smile
He said kid stop drinkin that brew
Plan while ya can or the jokes on you
Uncle toad said better straighten up right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the swimmin pool
Sits in the sun when the weather turns cool
Sits in the sun when the girls walk by
Maybe they think hes a little bit sly
Uncle toad said you had best get it right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight
Uncle toad sittin by the cool mill race
All day long with a grin on his face
He said boys you had better not try
Kissin em girls cause I wont stand by
Uncle toad sittin by the wrought iron fence
Lookin at the moon like it dont make sense
We say toad heres lookin at you
Hopin you get your wish too
Sway to the left, sway to the right
When uncle toad spoke it was not a pretty sight

song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gray Music

You wrote your Yiddish signature in rain.
I could not match it in a thousand years.
Old words are classic to my memory.
Because of you, my feet have wings this day.

Gray music paints a picture of rare worth,
A Slavic image of an April mood,
Breaching the barrier of your last breath,
I should not wonder, Friend, you said it would.

'For a poet who was born in April and died in April'.

Copyright,2009, Sandra Fowler

poem by Sandra Fowler
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Uncle’s Car Key

A single key in a little bunch
The key to life it is not
So little a key but have this punch
When uncle’s blood is hot.

Some men I know can lend this key
But some are worse to stand
A friend it is that lets me be
But uncle’s spite must land

This key to Golf I turned upwards
And got rains of hot words
My uncle raved and ranted as hell
In words thoughtful as they tell

This his point was stressed again
As the old year passed with glee
My resolution strong and comes like train
To avoid uncle’s car key

poem by Tonimario Onyedika Oboshi
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Beyond the Blue ridge mountains Shenandoah river

My dream boat without oars
Drifts along the river
But still far away
From that beautiful place called
'Almost heaven West Virginia'
Life is short
Shorter than a needle
But it's very painful
When the tapering end stings your heart.

* To my fellow poetess friend Sandra Fowler.
I was really intoxicated by John.Denver's song
'Take me home, Country Roads.'

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Brother! It seems to be an off-season

The magical song birds flew away from the uncle's orchard without informing him.
The trees some were uprooted and old as same as uncle's gray beard.
I remember the bygone days when the fruits were laden and ripen on the tree tops how they danced merrily?
But now no more any singsong or a friendly chat and only you hear is the faint whisper of decaying leaves over his pet dog 'Marco's' silent tomb.

*Hey! My dear friend nothing could be hold firmly as everything disappears like in a sad dream.
This poem is a dedication to my friend George.Murdock in gratitude.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Uncle's Shave.

Uncle’s Shave.

You used to watch Uncle
shave in front of the small mirror

propped on the edge
of the kitchen sink,

his face lathered
in white soap,

his cutthroat razor
held just a short distance

from his skin
by his right hand,

as the other hand
held the skin taut

in preparation
of the razor’s slide.

You stood behind
fascinated,

your young eyes
searching the mirror’s world

of Uncle’s face
and the performers start.

Uncle watched you
in the mirror,

his lips breaking
into a small smile,

the razor held
just above his ear,

his eyes staring above
the shaving foam,

taking in
your fascinated gaze,

the open mouth,
your hands copying

Uncle’s motion
in pretend shave.

Uncle drew the razor down
his cheek in slow motion,

the face becoming visible
as the soap gave way,

the hand dipping
the razor in water

to rid of foam,
to begin again,

more soap removed,
more skin revealed.

You copied Uncle,
but not so skilled.

poem by Terry Collett
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A Little Poem Story

A little poem telling a story about the poetess who were falling in love
A little poem smiled
She knew that the poetess was writting love words shyly
One..Two..Three.....Seven.....a lot of love words she wrote
They were beatiful, they were mysterious
A little poem felt the poetess’s emotion
The poetess was loving an awesome man deeply
A man who had filled in her absolute majority life
Like a candle in the dark., he lighted the poetess’s days
A little poem knew the poetess’s feeling
And the awesome man had to knew too
A little poem waited for that special day
One..Two..Three.....Seven...a lot of days passed
But a little poem never leafted from her place
The poetess never allowed a little poem to talked to the awesome man
The poetess leafted a little poem in her drawer
The poetess leafted her love words and nobody knew
A little poem had the blues
Love is about braveness
Love will become love when it expressed
“May be the poetess didn’t know about it”, she thought.

poem by Deasy Anggraeni
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Uncle Sam

Here they come again hop scotching up to my door
One by one again knockety knock knocking upon my floor
Swinging on my gate they gain entry by the yard
Pulling at my hair they scream paint your thoughts upon my card
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time he gives me things to do
cause hes a wonderful man
But Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
To be with my uncle sam
Silly little sniggers from the women liberators
But Ill stand and hold my post
Polished buttons and erect Ill raise the flag
Ill show those women whos the most
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time, gives me things to do
Hes a wonderful man
But Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
But not tonight Ive got studies to examine
Tomorrow ah ah ah
And tomorrow Ill be watching all the queens men
A talent contest on monday with my uncle sam
Who now takes up all of my time he gives me things to do
cause hes a wonderful man
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to see my uncle sam
Im sailing across the sea to be with my uncle sam

song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Man Called Uncle

now those newsprints all over your face
well maybe that's why I can read you like a book
just when I thought I was getting my taste a bite
I go and lose my appetite
look at the man that you'd call uncle
they'd like to sink their teeth in to you
for the pride and the pleasure
and the privilege of having you
if I say you're the one do you think that I'm serious
you get that kind of talk from older men
if I say I love you then I must be delirious
so why are you trying to put my temperature up again
look at the man that you'd call uncle
having a heart-attack 'round your ankles
when you wake up with x-rated eyes
when you wake up still shaking
how could I apologize as your check you affects
and you check your reflection
I'm so affected in the face of your affection
look at the man that you'd call uncle
having a heart-attack 'round your ankles
I could swear I could promise
that I'll always be true to you
but we may not live to be so old
I could even say I'm going to do something new to you
now the girls I see just leave me cold
look at the man that you'd call uncle

song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Allanah Rae

My dear Allanah,
Great niece I love.
Forgive Uncle Larry,
For not knowing how to spell your name,
Right!
Well...
Most of your life.
Your parents are too creative!

And this poem tonight I write for you,
I'm hoping you and I remain close and tight!
Aiight?
Give me five!
Upside.
Down low.
Too slow!
Hahahaha...

Remember you had said to me,
'Wassup with this?
You can't write me a poem? '

Allanah,
I thought I did?

One day you too will grow older.
And hopefully me you will forgive.

Hmmm...
So what shall I say?
I always say you are great.
And that is true.
Although you get a little bored with school.
So did I.
Uncle Larry did too.
I loved math.
Even though I didn't understand it.
Until I earned a dollar!
Hollah...

Did you enjoy your trip to Florida?
I heard you had cried before boarding the plane.
That's strange.

My first trip I sipped on scotch,
Mixed with ginger ale.
I'm glad you are young.
So you can not do the same.
You will prevail as things change.

Tell your sisters T'Ana and Chi'Ann,
I am 'still' their biggest fan!
Since you know how nosy they are.

But 'you' Allanah 'is' my Star.
Or is that 'are'?

I love the way you dance and sing.
But whatever you choose to do,
I know you'll go far!
Like me you enjoy doing most everything.
Hey...
Why not become a psychiatrist?
And,
I'm not trying to say nothing else about it!

So here it is.
The poem I promised I would write.
And everyday I want you to say your prayers at night.

Remember your wishes and dreams can come true.
And also remember,
Uncle Larry loves you!
You are my 'Rae'.

Dedicated To:
My Great Niece Allanah Rae Pertillar

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My White Uncle

Thanks to my white uncle in the U.S.A,
For today i am now living together with him.
After the hard journey of my life in Africa,
Today i am enjoying my days with my uncle.

My white uncle did his best to get me into the U.S.A.,
And out of Africa with love we do share our ideas together;
All the same, it is very nice to have a great person like him.
I am dark in comlexion and he is fair in complexion,
But the ture love of life is about colours;
And together we are very glad today.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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