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My Aunt

My aunt! my dear unmarried aunt!
Long years have o’er her flown;
Yet still she strains the aching clasp
That binds her virgin zone;
I know it hurts her,—­though she looks
As cheerful as she can;
Her waist is ampler than her life,
For life is but a span.

My aunt! my poor deluded aunt!
Her hair is almost gray;
Why will she train that winter curl
In such a spring-like way?
How can she lay her glasses down,
And say she reads as well,
When through a double convex lens
She just makes out to spell?

Her father—­grandpapa I forgive
This erring lip its smiles—­
Vowed she should make the finest girl
Within a hundred miles;
He sent her to a stylish school;
’T was in her thirteenth June;
And with her, as the rules required,
“Two towels and a spoon.”

They braced my aunt against a board,
To make her straight and tall;
They laced her up, they starved her down,
To make her light and small;
They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins;—­
Oh never mortal suffered more
In penance for her sins.

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back;
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track
“Ah!” said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,
“What could this lovely creature do
Against a desperate man!”

Alas! nor chariot, nor barouche,
Nor bandit cavalcade,
Tore from the trembling father’s arms
His all-accomplished maid.
For her how happy had it been
And Heaven had spared to me
To see one sad, ungathered rose
On my ancestral tree.

poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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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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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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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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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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I am your maternal Aunt from Ohio!

A letter came without the sender's address.
She's written 'I am your Aunt but I cannot prove it.
Do not think that I am senile,
Still I can trace Judas who made the crown of thorns
For our Good Shepherd!
Do not think that I am mean
The Plumbago mine to whom I give
Before I take oaths in the Heaven.
Purposely I omitted my address on the envelope
Because I know you rascal never step into this lonely Aunt's habitation!
And you scribble the whole life until you go to the Hell!
I am your Aunt Hellen!

For the young couple in the Wedlock Mike & Sue!

*Is this the Canadian Aunt once poor deceased Mom mentioned in my faded dream?
But she must have gone to the heaven already.I have doubts whether she writes her last will the Plumbago mine for me? Now I remember once a palmist in my country predicted, one day I own a sudden wealth in a strange soil.O I can make pencils for poor children free!

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Old Aunt Mary's

Wasn't it pleasant, O brother mine,
In those old days of the lost sunshine
Of youth-- when the Saturday's chores were through,
And the 'Sunday's wood' in the kitchen too,
And we went visiting, 'me and you,'
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?

It all comes back so clear to-day!
Though I am as bald as you are gray--
Out by the barn-lot, and down the lane,
We patter along in the dust again,
As light as the tips of the drops of the rain,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!

We cross the pasture, and through the wood
Where the old gray snag of the poplar stood,
Where the hammering 'red-heads' hopped awry,
And the buzzard 'raised' in the 'clearing' sky
And lolled and circled, as we went by
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

And then in the dust of the road again;
And the teams we met, and the countrymen;
And the long highway, with sunshine spread
As thick as butter on country bread,
Our cares behind, and our hearts ahead
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

Why, I see her now in the open door,
Where the little gourds grew up the sides and o'er
The clapboard roof--! And her face-- ah, me!
Wasn't it good for a boy to see--
And wasn't it good for a boy to be
Out to Old Aunt Mary's?

The jelly-- the Jam and the marmalade,
And the cherry and quince 'preserves'' she made!
And the sweet-sour pickles of peach and pear,
With cinnamon in 'em, and all things rare--!
And the more we ate was the more to spare,
Out to Old Aunt Mary's!

And the old spring-house in the cool green gloom
Of the willow-trees--, and the cooler room
Where the swinging-shelves and the crocks were kept--
Where the cream in a golden languor slept
While the waters gurgled and laughed and wept--
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

And O my brother, so far away,
This is to tell you she waits to-day
To welcome us--: Aunt Mary fell
Asleep this morning, whispering-- 'Tell
The boys to come!' And all is well
Out to Old Aunt Mary's.

poem by James Whitcomb Riley
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Drop Your Buns Aunt Betty

Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.

Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.
You owe us that!

Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back.
We ate your baked cookies,
And they went rather fast.

Drop your buns Aunt Betty.
Would you like a bowl of soup,
To boot that mood that has you pooped.
From all that mixing in the kitchen fixing food that you do.
There's some noodles with onions and peppers in it too!

Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And that package on your back...
And relax.

Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
We know they are delicious
Since they're made with cinnamon.
We're not a bit suspicious
Of the love that's in them.
Drop your buns Aunt Betty,
And grab a little snack and relax.

You owe us that!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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.
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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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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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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Saints

In our family, there were two saints,
my aunt and my grandmother.
But their lives were different.

My grandmother's was tranquil, even at the end.
She was like a person walking in calm water;
for some reason
the sea couldn't bring itself to hurt her.
When my aunt took the same path,
the waves broke over her, they attacked her,
which is how the Fates respond
to a true spiritual nature.

My grandmother was cautious, conservative:
that's why she escaped suffering.
My aunt's escaped nothing;
each time the sea retreats, someone she loves is taken away.

Still she won't experience
the sea as evil. To her, it is what it is:
where it touches land, it must turn to violence.

poem by Louise Gluck
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Four Woman

My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is woolly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is AUNT SARAH
My name is Aunt Sarah
My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is SAFFRONIA
My name is Saffronia
My skin is tan
My hair is fine
My hips invite you
my mouth like wine
Whose little girl am I?
Anyone who has money to buy
What do they call me
My name is SWEET THING
My name is Sweet Thing
My skin is brown
my manner is tough
I'll kill the first mother I see
my life has been too rough
I'm awfully bitter these days
because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My name is PEACHES

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aunt Evangeline Approves

My Aunt Evangeline has come
To visit Melbourne town,
Garbed for its Glad Centenary
In frill and festal gown.
And Aunties says in mincing tones
As she surveys the scene,
Quaite pretty work. But just one touch
Of Ort, Ai think would help so much.'
Says Aunt Evangeline.

'Now, take those sweet Venetian masts,
Which clowns call 'lolly sticks,'
Some naice ort-muslin maight be used
In colahs that will mix.
Then what they need is pampas grass
Dyed pink and puce and green
To stick in those - ah - funnel things
Such deah, sweet memories it brings,'
Says Aunt Evangeline.

'Crepe papah, swung from pole to pole
Festooned with Christmas
Maight add a touch of tasteful
Mai deah, it's taste that
So on these fraightful buildings,
Paint a pretty watah scene,
With storks and - ah - conv
To please ortistic folk laike us.
Says Aunt Evangeline.

My Aunt Evangeline says, 'H'm!
Theah's something lacking yet
Something appropriate . . . Of course!
Whai how could Ai forget?
Ten thousand aspidistra plants
So graceful when they're green
Along those guttahs in the street
And on those pylons. They'd look sweet!'
Says Aunt Evangeline.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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My Aunt Minnie would always be punctual and never hold up production, but who would pay to see my Aunt Minnie?

quote by Billy Wilder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Four Women

Nina simone
My skin is black
My arms are long
My hair is wooly
My back is strong
Strong enough to take the pain
Its been inflicted again and again
What do they call me
My name is aunt sarah
My name is aunt sarah
My skin is yellow
My hair is long
Between two worlds
I do belong
My father was rich and white
He forced my mother late one night
What do they call me
My name is siffronia
My name is siffronia
My skin is tan
My hairs alright, its fine
My hips invite you
And my lips are like wine
Whose little girl am i?
Well yours if you have some money to buy
What do they call me
My name is sweet thing
My name is sweet thing
My skin is brown
And my manner is tough
Ill kill the first mother I see
Cos my life has been too rough
Im awfully bitter these days
Because my parents were slaves
What do they call me
My
Name
Is
Peaches

song performed by by Nina Simone
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Trouble

Running around the yard like little animals
Playing tag, hide-and-seek and football.
Great memories I shared with my cousins.
Getting in trouble by grandma,
As Aunt Mandi bailed us out.
She would always say we weren’t hurting anything.
Now it’s less play and just trouble.
Grandma yells at mistakes we make
And Aunt Mandi just watches the troubles we have.
It’s a lot harder now with no fun.

poem by Leigha Taylor
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My Greatest Aunt

I'm so blessed
To have an aunt like you
Who is kind and always there
Whenever I feel depressed
And long for a real friend.
Knowing you're here for me,
Thank you for the endless love.

But the truth is, I feel sad
'Cause you're far away to me now.
You know how much I miss you,
Care for you, and love you.
Although I'm sad,
I never feel bad.
Just as long as you're safe now,
I'll be happy for you.

I'm certain,
God will guide you all the while
And through the years to come
For you are, a wonderful person.
Even your newest friends in town
Will stand tall, as they're proud.
They've found a true treasure
in their lives, that's a friend!

Although you miss your children
Please, worry no more
'Cause you raise them well
To become better people.
For this, I can say that
I'm your greatest fan
And you're my greatest aunt.

poem by Alon Calinao Dy
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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.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Widows

My mother's playing cards with my aunt,
Spite and Malice, the family pastime, the game
my grandmother taught all her daughters.

Midsummer: too hot to go out.
Today, my aunt's ahead; she's getting the good cards.
My mother's dragging, having trouble with her concentration.
She can't get used to her own bed this summer.
She had no trouble last summer,
getting used to the floor. She learned to sleep there
to be near my father.
He was dying; he got a special bed.

My aunt doesn't give an inch, doesn't make
allowance for my mother's weariness.
It's how they were raised: you show respect by fighting.
To let up insults the opponent.

Each player has one pile to the left, five cards in the hand.
It's good to stay inside on days like this,
to stay where it's cool.
And this is better than other games, better than solitaire.

My grandmother thought ahead; she prepared her daughters.
They have cards; they have each other.
They don't need any more companionship.

All afternoon the game goes on but the sun doesn't move.
It just keeps beating down, turning the grass yellow.
That's how it must seem to my mother.
And then, suddenly, something is over.

My aunt's been at it longer; maybe that's why she's playing better.
Her cards evaporate: that's what you want, that's the object: in the end,
the one who has nothing wins.

poem by Louise Gluck
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Great Aunt Meeka We Adore You

We adore you Great Aunt Meeka

Who always has a kind word to share,

You are always there for us,

Showing how much you care.

All the children and toys of Earth

Want to wish you the best for the coming year,

For you are the most treasured Aunt who is very dear.

Written Dec.4,2010

By Suzae Chevalier
Copyright 2010 Chevalier Originals, Inc.
www.greatauntmeeka.info

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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