The Conversation In The Drawing Room
—That spot of blood on the drawing room wall,
No larger than a thumbnail when I looked a moment ago,
Is spreading, Cousin Agatha, and growing brighter.
Nonsense. The oriole warbles in the sunlight.
The fountains gush luxuriantly above the pool.
The weather is ideal: on the paths a sheen
Of summer provides a constant delight.
I am thinking of affiliating with a new theosophist group.
—Once you could hide it with a nickel.
Now it strangely assumes the shape and size of a palm,
And puts out fingers, Cousin Agatha. Look, examine it!
Some aberration of the wallpaper, no doubt.
Did you have an omelette for lunch, and asparagus?
Mrs. Pisgah’s husband spoke from the beyond during the séance
Last night at Madame Irani’s. He seemed to have a cold.
The tamborine did not function with its usual zest.
—And a wrist, Cousin Agatha, and an arm!
Like those maps in a cinema that spread
Like wind blowing over a field of wheat, Cousin Agatha!
I have warned you, Hobart, about reading The Turn of the Screw
And that story of Balzac’s, whatever the name of it is,
Just before retiring. They always have a decidedly bad effect upon you.
I believe I will put another aspirin in the lily’s vase.
And now I must go to take my nap in the sunroom.
—Cousin Agatha, it moves like a fish, wet,
Wet like a fish, becomes a moving thing
That spreads and reaches from the wall!
I cannot listen to you any more just now, Hobart.
Kindly speak to Marie about the place cards for this evening.
Ah, there is the oriole again; how beautiful the view
From this window!—Yet why, one wonders, must Hobart begin
Gasping and screaming in such a deplorable fashion
There in the drawing room? It is scarcely considerate.
Youthful animal spirits, one supposes, combined
With a decided taste for the macabre. Where is the barbital?
Marie can never learn to leave it here, by the incense burner.
Ah, now he has stopped and only thrashes about, rather feebly, on the floor.
It is a beautiful afternoon; I will get up about three-fifteen.
Everything is blissfully quiet now; I am ready for sleep.
poem by Weldon Kees

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Related quotes
I have a cousin named....
I have a cousin named tru,
Who is always more excited than you,
He jumps an dhe bounces,
in so many houses,
I have a cousin named tru,
Who might belong in a zoo,
He moos and he poos,
while on the news.
I have a cousin named tru,
Who will try o say boo,
when you come out the lou.
I have a cousin named tru,
Who probably won't say goo,
Because he's ay older than two,
Whose name is not sue.
I cousin named tru...
I love you tru!
The Electric Train Set
The electric train set
Was laid out upstairs
in a large room
in your cousin’s house.
It compared unfairly
with your own
hand wound train set
at home, shut up in a box.
Your cousin pushed buttons
and the train and carriages
raced around
the long winding track
as you both looked on,
each with your own
deep down thoughts
and boyish dreams.
No labour involved,
no fingers needed
to wind the train,
no small circle
of metal track
as yours had at home,
but a room spread of track
in wider circle
from here, there and back.
You eyed your cousin’s train set
with a mixture
of envy and awe
as you watched it
race speedily around the floor.
poem by Terry Collett

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Dream: Agatha Christie's Tennis Match
Agatha Christie wrote 6 novels
under an assumed name. In one
of them her character has a dream
that she is playing tennis alone
opposite her husband and his
secret lover. Agatha Chrstie's
first husband was unfaithful to her.
She divorced him and found happiness
with another. Perhaps the dream
helped her to act more quickly to
end the unhappy yoking.
poem by O. Anna Niemus

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Cousin....
you know my name, cousin.
you always call me by my name
always in the shallow part of the river
placid, i am, like a linen spread in bed
before sleep time,
we are bathing
and we tell stories about our ancestors
those brave warriors from the north
moving south, finding some fortune long denied them by fate
one day
you prefer to dive with me in the Deep
to find some pearls
the whirlpool sucked you in
and i tried to help, but you allowed it just the same to claim you
up there is the storm of sinking ships
down in where we are is the peaceful ocean floor
i touch your hand and then you breathe again
but it is too late then, you ask me who i am?
but i cannot speak anymore
for now i belong not to the earth but to the sea, the deepest sea
cousin, i am not your cousin.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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Only 25
Today I was thinking of my cousin he was only 25 when he died.
His life was over before it even really got to start.
You see, in a moment of passion he didn't wear a condom.
And in that moment he contracted AIDS.
He lived for seven more years and then one day he just died.
He was only 25.
Note: This poem was not just a tribute to my cousin but a message to the young and old please don't let my cousin and millions of others death be for nothing. In that moment stop for a moment and put on a condom. Sex doesn’t kill people but AIDS do! !
Jesus Said
The thief of lives
stole my cousin's
breath away
sleep now dear cousin
forever in peace
in fields of swaying daffodils.
Jesus said
there is room
in my father's house
for everyone
and I am the way.
His words comfort me.
poem by Vince Gullaci

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Joke 11 The Umpty Tump
City cousin to country cousin on seeing a molehill for the first time: 'What's that? '
Country Cousin: 'An umpty tump'.
City cousin: 'What's an umpty tump? '
Country cousin: 'A tump that the umpty makes.'
City cousin: 'But what's an umpty? '
Country cousin: 'Him that makes the tump ye daft fool! '
poem by by unknown author

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Country Scrumping
Your country cousin took you
Across a field to a vast orchard
Where low hung branches
Made the green apples within
Reach of your young boy’s hands.
Don’t eat too many of them
Or you’ll get gut ache, she said.
Your eyes had never seen so
Many apples, row after row
In long lines down the field and
Fields beyond. You picked an apple
And bit into it. They make cider
From these, she said, picking off
An apple too and biting with relish.
Your younger sister looked nervously
On wondering if she too should pick.
Go on, your cousin said, pick and eat.
Your sister reached up and pulled
And a few apples fell to the ground
With soft sounds of thump on the
Short grass. She picked up one and
Brushed it off on her dress. Have to
Run if the farmer comes, your cousin
Said, and don’t tell of this or we’ll be
For it. For what? Your sister asked.
Your cousin looked around and replied,
A good telling off or a good tanned ass.
You stood all three of you eating, beneath
The apple trees, in the short green grass.
poem by Terry Collett

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Jojo
The red angel,
The white angel,
The blue angel,
The black angel,
It is a very long time that we've heard from you people;
But, where is Jojo my cousin?
The windows of heaven were opened to rain for forty days,
And forty nights without seeing you my cousin;
But two by two they went into the ark.
Oh Jojo where are you?
Like the cold and the heat and the winter and the summer,
You are gone for many days and we are yet to see you again.
Of the seed time and the harvest time,
Jojo my cousin where are you?
Try to tell us your where about when you read this message.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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Cousin Randy
Muir-Trujillo-
He'd disappear for years, then one day he would just show
Dad would buy him shows (shoes?), give him $50 and he'd go
He talked about the good old days of war in Vietnam
Did two tours of duty with his new love heroin
You knew he'd be covicted before he was ever tried
Did his time in Chino, then Folsom and Wayside
But every day was prison, molested as a kid
Abused by his stepfather, hard to believe the things he did
We call him Cousin Randy
Couldn't get up in the morning, couldn't get to sleep at night
Swore the room was full of Demons, but nothin' was in our sight
No one was safe when Randy came out to play
He would leave you for dead and then just walk away
We call him Cousin Randy
One time while at Grandma's, it was getting kind of late
Randy stayed outside 'cause his odor was so great
He walked out the door and I told him "good night"
He charged me, grabbed my neck and he started squeezing tight
Dad and Jim and Grandpa jumped on to his back
He screamed "What's so good about it" before he let up his attack
The neck day, while we were swimming, he tried to drown my sister
Laughing as she struggled, then he pulled her up and kissed her
We call him Cousin Randy. To us, he's just Cousin Randy
song performed by by Infectious Grooves

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cousin Bobbie
I lost you, I lost my cousin,
On that gloomy Christmas day.
The day was supposed to be full of happiness,
but instead was full of dismay.
I was so happy when I ran down stairs that Christmas morn,
And when my mother told me you had died it felt like someone
jabbed me with a thorn.
I lost you, I lost my cousin
On that Christmas day.
So tell me cousin Bobbie why do I still feel so depressed,
about your death.
poem by Angelina DeCarles

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Mariam
Mariam my cousin,
You married on the 2nd of November 2008;
So, welcome into the Club of Married Couples.
Mariam my cousin,
You are a woman of substance to your husband and,
2nd November will be remembered always;
For the beauty of your shape is prepared for your husband.
Play the harp to lover and sing to him a song of joy!
Like Pharaoh's daughter being married to King Solomon.
You are like the four bronze wheels with their axles,
So be very nice to your husband at all times;
For the two tablets of stone is now formed into one.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis

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Lost Love
She was in and out of jail,
She had no friends,
She had no job.Her parents didn't car,
So she did what she thought was best,
She took her life,
On August 10th she was dead.
That was her birthday,
When her cousin Amy came over AT 7: 54 pm,
She was dead,
She died 15 minutes before Amy got there,
When Amy came in she was petrified at what she saw,
She saw her cousin lying in a pool of blood,
Amy immediately called the cops,
Any told the press she never fitted in,
She told them she want welcome,
Who is she you ask,
She is the lonely girl who everyone thought was okay.
poem by Shannon Welch

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An archaeologist is the best husband any woman can have the older she gets, the more interested he is in her.
quote by Agatha Christie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An archaeologist is the best husband a woman can have. The older she gets the more interested he is in her.
quote by Agatha Christie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hatred is pity’s mother.
I took pity on an old man,
My cousin’s father.
Is it the sympathy for the man
Or the rooted hatred for my cousin.
That spurted in me a pity?
30.07.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar

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I had heard before that there were rumors I was gay. It's funny. My cousin gets his hair cut at this place, and one of the guys there told him that Scott Wolf was gay. He didn't realize that he was my cousin.
quote by Scott Wolf

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Beach Boy Blues
(words & music by sid tepper - roy bennett)
Im a poor hawaiian beach boy
A long way from the beach
cause someone shoved his face against my hand
Now Im a kissing cousin to a ripe pineapple
Im in the can
I was minding my own business
But drinking daddys juice
I swear Ill never touch that stuff again
Just like a pig before he gave his all that aluhau
Im in the pen
Got those beach boy blues
Dont the time go slow
Lonely beach boy blues
Only 30 days and 90 years to go
I want a taste of honey
From my wahinis lips
I want to be her ever loving man
But Im a kissing cousin to a ripe pineapple
Im in the can
But Im a kissing cousin to a ripe pineapple
Im in the can
song performed by by Elvis Presley

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I specialize in murders of quiet, domestic interest.
quote by Agatha Christie

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Helping
Agatha Fry, she made a pie
And Christopher John helped bake it
Christopher John, he mowed the lawn
And Agatha Fry helped rake it
Now, Zachary Zugg took out the rug
And Jennifer Joy helped shake it
Then Jennifer Joy, she made a toy
And Zachary Zugg helped break it
And some kind of help is the kind of help
That helping's all about
And some kind of help is the kind of help
We all can do without
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein

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