An Old House Of The Family
an old house of the family
we always come here
our umbilical cords were tied
on one of those hard beams
from the eldest to the youngest
they always look for that which
dried and yet keeps on living.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Just Because I'm the Youngest
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
Doesn't mean I can't do anything.
Doesn't mean i'm a spoiled brat.
Doesn't mean i'm a jerk.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
I'm not stuck up.
I'm not afraid to get hurt.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family...
Doesn't mean I can't be a tom'boy.
Doesn't mean I get what I want.
Just because i'm the youngest in my family~ let me be me.
poem by Ebil Parker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Praises to the Eldest
Praises to the eldest of siblings!
You know...
The ones parents experiment with?
The ones some plan for...
And rush to grow up,
To get it right with the other 'younger' kids!
Everything is tried on the eldest first.
Whether it is good or bad,
The eldest is going to get it first...
Not the one to get it last!
That comes after the eldest...
Has to grow up fast!
Blamed for something that was not done.
Doing chores while the younger ones have fun.
Being held accountable,
And being told to become more responsible!
Getting sick?
Forget it.
Pretending not to be,
Is what the elder one...
Chooses the younger ones not to see!
He or she has to prove how strong he or she has to be!
And making demands the eldest has to do.
They know when they've been ignored like a pair of old shoes!
And don't be a male in a family of females.
There is nothing right the eldest one can do!
The younger ones will accuse the eldest.
And get away with it too!
Like lieing about what the eldest one does.
Because the eldest one,
Is the one born that everyone likes to pick on...
To abuse and use!
Until the eldest one decides to leave the nest...
To do what he or she chooses to do best.
Growing older alone...
And finding themselves in a home,
The eldest one had said...
Never again they would return,
To hear the bitching, groaning and moans.
And finding themselves with no one there,
To care what the eldest does.
With who...
Or if anyone is there to share!
But...
It is soooo peaceful!
'Thank you,
Father God!
THIS has indeed been earned! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Yes We Are Brothers
YES WE are brothers
we come from one gene from one
body and we are born in the same house
where we all live
we admit our umbilical cords were tied
on the same beam of the old house
where papa and mama died
time is unforgiving and strange feelings
are giving us miles and miles of mountains of
series of distances of hills where we can no longer see each other eye to eye
with honesty
and longing
yes we are brothers but like the rest of the brothers of the world
our worlds are torn apart
ripped by our very own hands
and we have become rugs and tiny pieces of papers
shred and thrown away from shut windows of our
sinking worlds
yes we are brothers by blood
but in spirit no more
now we are strangers not knowing anymore our real names
not able to trace our roots
somehow we end this strife
by closing our separate doors
our hands are knives
our minds explosives
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Eldest Born Knows
And like the eldest born knows,
Experiments take place.
And like the eldest born knows,
Expectations have their weight...
Since a quickness to do,
Eliminates time thought wasted.
And like the eldest born knows,
Appreciation isn't stated...
To keep the others safe.
No one protects the eldest.
Only fate awaits.
It becomes taken for granted,
The eldest is used...
To abuse with an escape,
With lies that are told by others...
Who will never know what it is like,
To take what the eldest does.
The eldest has to learn quick,
To do everything and take care of business...
Alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nowhere Lane
we are...
the ink barely dried
on the page,
the cup chipped
on the windowsill.
wood stacked against
the porch,
the shadows on the
empty swing.
the kiss lost,
and the ring.
red dirt dried
on the shovel,
the old boots left
by the door.
the creaking of the
screen door opening,
the box tied and
packed away.
hunger sap dried
on novel sheets,
the half smoked cigarette
lying in the ashtray.
the sound of the empty room,
in that old house on nowhere lane!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Last Man Standing
My eldest is in China
On the way to the Li Jiang
She’s seen the Terracotta Warriors
In a place that called Xian.
My youngest, she’s in Sydney town
Her love in life is reading books
She has a sense of fantasy
And red curled Irish looks.
Me? I am in Pearl Beach
For others paradise
But I am on my own up here
And lead a damaged life.
I suffer from depression
And that’s very clear to see
For though the sun is shining high
It looks so dark to me.
I have many close that hold me
I am lucky in that way
They love me just for me being me
And don’t seem go away.
But the track of time’s unwinding
Each year, past friends are lost
Sometimes illness, now a suicide
And ‘gainst their names I put a cross.
For I am the last man standing
I’m like those soldiers made of clay
I am the last man standing
I am not going to go away.
I am the last man standing
For I have a hand of cards
That others wish that they did have
But being the last’s becoming hard.
For my eldest is in China
My youngest still in Sydney town
Although they are away from me
My heart is with them now.
Look! My greyness, it is passing
Now I can see the sun!
I know they love me for being me
Not for what I have not done.
For this thing called life is fragile
But it has a strength within
Not brittle like those warriors
But as fine as porcelain.
poem by David Keig
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Tramped
we all hear the
sounds of the stamps
of your children
traveling on foot
from the wombs
of their mothers
they are all gone now.
we shall kiss the lips
of the flowers
of the umbilical cords
that set them free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Hard Livin' Without You
Nothing to say no place to hide
I can't find a good reason even to lie
All of our dreams are gone
I may not be right but I'm surely not wrong
And it's gonna be hard
So very, very hard living without you
Well don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Nowhere to go, no place to run
We started out just having fun
Well, I never cared too much
Not till the going got so very rough
And it's gonna be hard
So very, very hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Well, don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Baby don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Well, don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Baby don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
song performed by by Zebra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hard Living Without You
Nothing to say no place to hide
I can't find a good reason even to lie
All of our dreams are gone
I may not be right but I'm surely not wrong
And it's gonna be hard
So very, very hard living without you
Well don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Nowhere to go no place to run
We started out just having fun
Well, I never cared too much
Not til the going got so very rough
And it's gonna be hard
So very, very hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
Solo
Hard living without you
Well, don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Baby don't you know that it's
Hard living without you
Don't you know that it's
(Repeat)
song performed by by Zebra
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Twa Sisters
There liv'd twa sisters in a bower,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
There liv'd twa sisters in a bower,
Stirling for aye:
The youngest o' them, O, she was a flower!
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
There came a squire frae the west,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
There cam a squire frae the west,
Stirling for aye:
He lo'ed them baith, but the youngest best,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
He gied the eldest a gay gold ring,
Stirling for aye:
But he lo'ed the youngest aboon a' thing,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
'Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
Oh sister, sister, will ye go to the sea?
Stirling for aye:
Our father's ships sail bonnilie,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.'
The youngest sat down upon a stane,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
The youngest sat down upon a stane,
Stirling for aye:
The eldest shot the youngest in,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
'Oh sister, sister, lend me your hand,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
Oh, sister, sister, lend me your hand,
Stirling for aye:
And you shall hae my gouden fan,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
'Oh, sister, sister, save my life,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
Oh sister, sister, save my life,
Stirling for aye:
And ye shall be the squire's wife,
Bonny Sweet Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.'
First she sank, and then she swam,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
First she sank, and then she swam,
Stirling for aye:
Until she cam to Tweed mill dam,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
The millar's daughter was baking bread,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
The millar's daughter was baking bread,
Stirling for aye:
She went for water, as she had need,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
'Oh father, father, in our mill dam,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch,
Oh father, father, in our mill dam,
Stirling for aye:
There's either a lady, or a milk-white swan,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.'
They could nae see her fingers small,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
They could nae see her fingers small,
Stirling for aye:
Wi' diamond rings they were cover'd all,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
They could nae see her yellow hair,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
They could nae see her yellow hair,
Stirling for aye:
Sae mony knots and platts war there,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
Hey Edinbruch, how Edinbruch.
Bye there cam a fiddler fair,
Stirling for aye:
And he's ta'en three tails o' her yellow hair,
Bonny Sanct Johnstonne that stands upon Tay.
poem by Andrew Lang
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Not So Perfect Family
The perfect family
Or so it seems
All the children
Shining like beams
They are smart, athletic
Witty and fun
Loved by all
Hated by none
The dads a teacher
The mom runs the store
They volunteer in the community
Always helping the poor
Their accomplishments
Shine in public light
Nothing they do wrong
Everything right
This is the model
Many inspire to be
Although this family isn’t perfect
That they’ll never see
How do I know
You may not have guessed
Im part of that family
And let me tell you
We’re no better than the rest
Dads never home
He only has time for his friends
Time with the family
He has yet to spend
Not the marriage she wanted
She’s always sad
Mom’s always invisible
To my dad
Except for the times
When he comes home late at night
The smallest thing in the world
Can cause the biggest fight
Three younger sibling
Two always cry
Have to be strong for them
In the face of loves lie
Why be together
When distant at heart
For all these years
They should have been apart
But that they wont do
For the youngest three
Who still live at home
Life unimaginable, it would be
So my parents pretend, everythings okay
Although trapped together forever
To give us the lives we live
Feelings of true love, for them felt never
The perfect family
Not quite what it seems
This thought to us children
Nothing more then a dream
poem by Brianna Trombley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wife Of Usher's Well
There lived a wife at Usher's Well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them oer the sea,
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
Whan word came to the carlin wife
That her sons she'd never see.
'I wish the wind may never cease,
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood!'
It fell about the Martinmass,
Whan nights are lang and mirk,
The carline wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o the birk.
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates o Paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh.
* * * * *
'Blow up the fire, my maidens!
Bring water from the well;
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.'
And she has made to them a bed,
She's made it large and wide;
And she's taen her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bedside.
* * * * *
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
''Tis time we were away.'
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clapp'd his wings at a',
Whan the youngest to the eldest said,
'Brother, we must awa.
'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
'Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother's fire!'
poem by Andrew Lang
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Twenty Thousand Miles
We came here to Australia
From a place that’s called Sudan
I‘ve got three beautiful children
And a badly damaged man
My youngest child is six years old
And doing oh so well at school
My eldest she is now fifteen
And she says I am a fool
My husband he is trying
To settle in down here
He was an ardent Muslim
Now he seems to like his beer
His English is not good you know
And I know that he does try
But it’s hard here in Australia
Without the Sudan sky
We do not know where we fit in
We’re not welcome on these shores
But back in earth burnt Africa
We could not take no more
My cousin she was raped then burned
My father torn apart
One of my children blown away
Now – you listen to my heart
My pulse is strongly beating
But it bleeds inside for them
We have left that cold, dark continent
And now want to start again
My teenage lovely daughter
Is now active in a gang
She’s rude, aggressive and I fear
She’s for gaol in this land
My husband finds it hard you see
He’s not listened to no more
He has no pride in what he is
And sleeps nightly on the floor
My younger two are all my pride
I try to hold them very near
But how this country treats them
Is something that I fear
Myself? I am above this
I am tall and straight and proud
I just want us here and happy
That is if we are allowed
To get on with life and settle in
To greet each day with hopeful smiles
For why else would a family
Travel twenty thousand miles?
poem by David Keig
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Nicknames
nicknames are thrown
around in my family;
our own terms of endearment
word could not describe.
it is that closeness
towards each other
through words that evoke
a special experience
with a brother or sister
or just a plain description of
his uniqueness.
a brother is called La Ting
because of his bald head when a
baby.
eldest brother is labelled Ming
instead of his real name Thai
because of his intelligence
when a child.
Ming means clear-minded.
Another is called Lung
instead of Ing because of his
Chinese horoscope sign dragon
which in Mandarin is Lung.
mom's favourite animal sign
is dragon so the name sticks.
youngest brother is Bee,
my own spontaneous invention
when I saw the cute little child
in mom's hands many years back.
I am so glad and proud
that this is the only creation
in my life that has been used
for so long and that it
has surprisingly given
brother all the good luck;
he turns out to be a bank's manager.
he should have me to thank
for all his fortune.
another brother is called Chi
instead of his real name Kui.
i could not fathom the
reason for this and wonder
which brother first started
calling him that.
eldest sister is Pui
instead of Hua because
of her plumbness when a baby.
and oh dear, we are naughty
when it comes to our neighbours.
many of them have secret nicknames
coined from the way they
talk, walk, and even look
and we really hope they would
never ever find out these names.
Our family just bubble in
our neighbourhood because of
our incessant inner creative jest
to coin all those secret words.
perhaps, we are nicknamed too
which we never
bother about because
we know nicknames are
given out of endearment.
at least, that is the case with us.
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Black House On The Corner
I passed by that house everday,
wondering what lurked inside of it,
was their some kind of ancient evil inside,
or a normal family that we never saw,
a house of macarbe,
it was painted black like the devil's sin,
it was surrouned by devilish-looking,
figures that stood outside on the line,
was also surrounded by a black pointed fence,
rumors of the devil himself living there,
the devil in the flesh,
satan living on my street corner,
The black house on the corner,
can't you see it,
you must walk past it everyday to,
dosen't your mind wander,
when you walk by The black house,
don't you to know what lays inside of the house,
maybe a ton of dead bodies under the floor boards,
a madman butcherd up his family,
could that be true,
or are our young minds racing again,
with impure and insane thoughts about,
who or what lives in the black house on the corner,
the black house,
painted with the devil's sin,
We were told to stay away from the black house,
that so many evils lived inside of it,
but us being kids we didn't want to live,
we wanted to see what was inside of the black house on the corner,
But we are to afraid to go forward,
we are to afraid to step through the gate,
and walk up the beaten path to the door bell,
it looks so old and so evil,
The black house on the corner,
we shall never know what evilness,
or what macabre force resides within,
the black house on the corner,
whatever you do,
don't go into the black house on the corner,
stay away from,
the black house on the corner,
it holds so many evils,
the black house on the corner,
poem by Robert Rumery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Needless To Worry
I’ve almost spent my days
In worrying on things along my way.
I’m worried about my husband
What if he finds someone?
I’m worried about my daughter
Can she pursue her career?
I’m worried about my eldest son
What if he encounters a troublesome?
I’m worried about my youngest
Can he cope with his classmates?
I’m worried about money.
I’m so concerned about the health of the family.
I think of the weather and calamity.
Too much to say I’m afraid of the disaster.
This is really true all of these I’ve encountered.
Not now that I’ve been closer to Jesus.
I stopped worrying on any issues.
No matter how dark the world is
With His guidance I can handle this.
I believe the Lord controls the affair
So I must not committed to be afraid.
The Lord is big enough for me
He’s the only one who knows what the future will be.
I will not be a prisoner of worry again!
poem by Rose de Ramar
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Warm Milk At Bedtime
Coy covetous cat
snuggled up in bed
secure
in warmth love.
Darkness
a goose-down quilt
cover
her slender form.
Youngest son
on left
husband
eldest son
on right.
You can almost
hear her purring.
She can drink
this kind
of milk forever.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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William House and Family
Come all kind friends, both far and near,
Come listen to me and you shall hear --
It's of a family and their fate,
All about them I will relate.
They once did live at Edgerton,
They once did live at Muskegon,
From there they went to Chicago,
Which proved their fatal overthrow.
It was William House's family,
As fine a family as you see --
His family was eleven in all,
I do not think it was very small.
Two children died some years ago,
Before they went to Chicago,
Five children there he had with him,
When death his home there enters in.
The small-pox then was raging there,
And Oh! it would not their house spare,
For all but one was sick of them,
A dreadful house it must have been.
The eldest girl was married then,
The eldest boy was in Michigan,
The second boy he was at home,
And took care of them all alone.
His father and his mother dear,
And dear sister, too, I hear,
Were very sick and in his care,
And no kind friends to help him there:
Two little brothers, and a baby too,
Made six in all -- what could he do,
He had to take care of them all,
The baby, too, was very small.
As he would go to his father's bed,
And try to soothe his aching head,
"My son, I pray you leave me, do
Go take care of poor mother, too."
"Your mother and sister need your care,
And your little infant brother there;
Oh! Charlie, Charlie, take care of them,
My son, do all for them you can."
It seemed as though he did not know
That his poor soul so soon must go,
And leave his little ones he loved,
To go to that bright world above.
But God he called his soul away,
It had to leave, it could not stay --
He never more on earth will be,
His soul is from sin and sorrow free.
Charles helped the sexton, I am told,
To lay his form in the coffin cold --
How sad, how sad, poor soul was he,
When last his father's form did see.
Minnie May House she had to go,
And leave her friends that loved her so --
She was a girl in her teens,
A lovely flower as e'er was seen.
Minnie and her mother lay on one bed,
And when Charles said, "our Minnie is dead,"
His mother then she did grow wild,
And early after knew her child.
They buried Minnie by her father's side,
And left them there where they had died --
Charles took his mother and brothers then
And brought them back to Michigan.
For the mother and the baby too,
Kind friends did all that they could do,
But those poor souls they could not save,
For now they're sleeping in their grave.
Oh! what a noble son was he,
His age was then only sixteen --
Charles House's name I have told before
God bless his soul forever more.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Sad To Be Without You
Sad to be without you
Sad to laugh withot you
Sad to live without you
Because I feel that
The umbilical cord
Broke after you died
And I was left behind
Feeling sad that
I was not connected
To that umbilical cord
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Wife of Usher's Well
THERE lived a wife at Usher's well,
And a wealthy wife was she;
She had three stout and stalwart sons,
And sent them o'er the sea.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely ane,
When word came to the carline wife
That her three sons were gane.
They hadna been a week from her,
A week but barely three,
When word came to the carline wife
That her sons she'd never see.
'I wish the wind may never cease.
Nor fashes in the flood,
Till my three sons come hame to me,
In earthly flesh and blood!'
It fell about the Martinmas,
When nights are lang and mirk,
The carline wife's three sons came hame,
And their hats were o' the birk.
It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates o' Paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh.
'Blow up the fire, my maidens!
Bring water from the well!
For a' my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.'
And she has made to them a bed,
She 's made it large and wide;
And she 's ta'en her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bedside.
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said.
''Tis time we were away.'
The cock he hadna craw'd but once,
And clapp'd his wings at a',
When the youngest to the eldest said,
'Brother, we must awa'.
'The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin' worm doth chide;
Gin we be miss'd out o' our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.'
'Lie still, lie still but a little wee while,
Lie still but if we may;
Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes,
She'll go mad ere it be day.'
'Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother's fire!'