Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

CreationEarth Nature Photos

Best Uncle Poems

Below are the all-time best Uncle poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of uncle poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Uncle poems, articles about Uncle poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Uncle poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

Definition & Discussion of Uncle Poems
Read Uncle Poems
New Uncle Poems

See also: Best Famous Poems

New Uncle Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Uncle poems are below this new poems list.

Uncle Milty and Me by Morgan, Richard
Birthday of my uncle by Musinga, Seth Yuhi
Old Uncle Tod by Mkenzie, Nichola
My uncle, my hero by van Akkeren, Huberta
My Uncle Ardean's Lost Chords by Johnston, Brian
Dedicated to Uncle Lester Deschler by Horn, James
Uncle Solerino had a daughter by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
Uncle Scrooge had lost his wallet by CHAKRABARTY, RAJAT KANTI
My Uncle Gladys by Fisher, David

View all new Uncle Poems

Poems are below this ad.

The Best Uncle Poems

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Love Sleeps, Never Dies

An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Bitter face
Red nose
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire

Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions

The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family 
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?

The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"

Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"

She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended

Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing

Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad

She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night

The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday

The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"

In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"

Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor

He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart

Copyright © arthur vaso

More great poems below...

Details | Uncle Poem | |

hahahahaha i have no idea what to title this

help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks 
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank 

motivation just married mr lazy 
and confidence started acting really crazy 

cousin common sense is on vacation out of town 
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found 

uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away 
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay 

my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore 
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore 

my partner pride is always full of himself 
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else 

grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word 
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard 

the only friends that ever come to town 
is anger and disgust and they always hang around 

my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call 
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all 

Copyright © John Castro

Details | Uncle Poem | |

A Legend In His Own Mind

Who was that masked man?!?
Brian Williams, rides again.

He was in Amilia Earhart's plane;
even rode with the Dalton Gang.

The day the Titanic went down;
In the rescue boat when Rose was found.

He went on expeditions with Louis and Clark.
Once gave his seat to Rosa Parks.

He was actually the first man in space.
That shadow on the moon........ It's his face!

The earliest woman, they deemed to be
bones in the desert they named Lucy.
She was his niece, tho she drug her knuckles,
so he really is a monkey's uncle!

He walked miles and miles on the Trail of Tears;
wondered the desert with Hebrews for forty years.

He dated Cleopatra; drank wine with Moses;
gave the Queen of Sheba a camel and roses.

He's walked with Bigfoot in the hills;
been bitten by vampires, but magically heals.

He has had great adventures of every kind.
He's Brian Williams; a legend in his own mind.

Maybe I can be one of those news cast stars.
This is Arlene, reporting from mars........ 

Couldn't resist this little tribute to the wild stories of reporter Brian Williams who was fired for seemingly padding up his stories....

Copyright © Arlene Smith

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Ice Cube Pie

I always wanted two slices of ice cube pie
“You only get one”, was the standard reply.
I don’t know why I did
But since I was a kid
It was my favorite treat on the Fourth of July.

The pastry is known by all our relations
Since the recipe’s passed down for generations.
Every bite you’ll savoir
Exceptional flavor
But remember, don’t settle for imitations

Long ago, my great Aunt tried experiments
By leaving out one of the ingredients.
Once Uncle took a bite 
He stared out in fright
And barely survived that bad experience.

My oldest son, Johnny became quite wise
He grew up like the others, before our eyes.
His passion for confection
Was a gainful connection
When he opened the first ice cube pie franchise.

Soon after that, we made our first million
And played in the sun with friendly Brazilians.
But to our surprise
We saw ice cube pies
On bamboo platters next to our pavilion

Right away we knew this was an infraction
Without delay our family took action.
We found a private eye
Who loved our ice pie
But his research left him broken in traction.

It was apparent to us that that kind of job
Was endorsed by the brutal ice cube pie mob.
But we didn’t frown
Or give up and back down
We were going to prevail; oh, yes siree, Bob!

With a meeting of minds we gathered resources
And then undersigned the following courses.
To make sure our ices
Sold at cut-rate prices
To knock competition off its high horses.

So back at the shop we assembled platoons
To build enough pies to reach to the moons.
And made plenty dough
That allowed us to mow
Down the cube racket’s, knuckle dragging goons.

We now manage an ice cube pie monopoly
Sales started smooth, but then turned choppily.
So we eased the frustration
With another vacation
But guess what we saw in downtown Mexicali?!

Copyright © David Fisher

Details | Uncle Poem | |

The Verdict

Well, GI Jack is welcome back, he left his legs in 'Nam.
He wakes at night in sweat and fright, then drinks another dram.
He doesn't know quite where to go, so seeks his uncle, Sam.

One can't ignore - his ma was poor, and life was sometimes cruel,
yet Jack was brave and well behaved and surely no one's fool	
so joined the ranks that man the tanks, as soon as he left school

He learned to kill our foes at will (ordained a sacred rite),
and packed his bag and wrapped his flag and went away to fight.
And yes, the tide was on our side (for, clearly, might makes right)

Through tangled days in jungles' maze, he sought the enemy
behind the trees where, ill at ease, he fought the Yellow sea -
Upon the waves of sunken graves he sailed a killing Spree

The napalm dropped and cooked the crops, burnt huts along the way
and tanks, with ease, mowed down the trees and villages of clay.
Yes, turret guns were loads of fun with roaring roundelays

While on the hunt with other grunts, he burned some babes alive
and wondered why frail things must die, while evil's phantoms thrive -
When folly ends, he'll make amends if only he'll survive
With booby traps (sticks dipped in crap)... yes, Charlie fought unfair.
He hid in holes like snakes and voles and snuck up everywhere
and like a mite beneath the night, caught Jackie unaware

At battle's end, Jack sought his friends - their souls were washed away
and only he and destiny were left in disarray -
With bed and pan, just half a man, the man of yesterday

When Jackie woke, beyond the smoke, his frame no longer whole,
he found instead a medalled thread, some wraps to hide the hole,	
and realized another prize: a chair on wheels to roll

Across his chest (you've surely guessed) his medals shone, arrayed.
His head felt light, as well it might, at Victory Day Parade
for when he rolled, while others strolled, his boots no longer weighed

Well, Jack stayed home (no roads to Rome)  to start his life anew
receiving dole (that took its toll) which fell in Sam's purview,
but soon enough, when times got tough, his uncle, Sam, withdrew

To walk the streets with fine elites (or someone else who begs)
or find a job (or even rob) requires both your legs,
and those that don't and those that won't are those we call the dregs
For getting by he tried to ply and mine his medals' worth -
A tinny cup, a hungry pup near loamy pits of earth,
and best of all, per protocol, beneath a bridge, a berth

He clutched a sign 'A dime to dine?', if anybody cared,
but soon he found, as time unwound, that victors seldom shared.
And Jackie's pride was slowly fried by vacant eyes that stared

He took to drink to break the link with thoughts of what he'd done,
though threads of doubt began to flout the yarns Big Brother spun
of freedom's ring and other things like what it was we'd won

He told the breeze his vague unease; his words infused the air
and like the fogs above the bogs, soon floated through the square
where people sat at tea to chat, and thought 'How could he dare'

But freedom's price is never nice: like storms before the flood
the Daily Rag was on a jag, was looking out for blood,
deemed Jackie's thoughts untamed and fraught, then dragged him through the mud

By snooping clues, they plucked his views like grapes upon the vine.
Big Brother came, blamed Jackie's name for thinking out of line,
shut Jack away from light of day while letting freedom shine

The Junta Brass, with eyes of glass, were dressed in fine array
to hear the words (though slightly slurred) the witness gasped to say,
while Justice snored (the water board awash with Perrier)

Well, Jack was charged with laws enlarged in secret dossiers
within the guise of spreading lies and leading thoughts astray -
The Jury's out... the rabble shout 'well someone's gotta pay'

The Judge (who fears the mind’s frontiers), he turned his head to yawn
while making haste through courtroom waste, though slightly pale and wan -
The voodoo Lune withdrew as soon as Night condemned the Dawn

While in his cell, the verdict fell - the sighs of Silence, rife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the Reaper played a fife
While in his cell, the verdict fell - the price was Jackie's life

While censor’s cooks are roasting books (and truth) on stakes ablaze,
well, Jackie's head (though chopped and shed) still thinks about the praise
for deeds once done in victories won when cruising in a craze,
and then again about the sin of thinking, nowadays,
where, absently, humanity is served in urns on trays -
And, reconciled, it simply smiles at fortune's funny ways

A  mind was caught while thinking thoughts neath Sammy’s prying gaze
and forced to stop by concept cops, else join the castaways.
For now it's law to hold in awe the brave new world's malaise
and dance like mimes to rigid rhymes (which no one disobeys)
and celebrate with white-washed pate, adorned with dead bouquets -
With freedom’s death, time holds its breath, and waits for better days...

Copyright © Terry O'Leary

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Hook Line and Sinker

Me, my brother Tom and Uncle Pat were on a fishing holiday
three men in a rowing boat way out in Dublin Bay
we anchored up and cast six rods over a sunken wreck
hoping for the catch of our lives to haul onto the deck
hours passed with the floats just bobbing up and down
Tom fell asleep and Pat sat watching with a frown
a ferry passed by and the swell nearly made us capsize
as I held onto the sides Pat stood there with staring eyes
his float had gone and the rod had bent double
I woke Tom up and told him we were in trouble
Pat grabbed the rod and with all the strength he had
he struck the line which went straight down, oh man this was bad
the boat began to list quite far and water was gushing in
we started bailing out, but Pat held firm he stood there with a grin
he had a bite that was pulling hard the line shot under the keel
only one fish had the strength for this, it was a giant conger eel
Tom rummaged through the tackle and handed Pat a knife
we shouted ‘cut the line’ or this fish could take a life
but he heaved and reeled then shouted ‘get the gaff’
we saw his head and great big teeth and said ‘you’re having a laugh’
Tom grabbed an oar and whacked it’s head, the oar it broke in two
Pat’s foot was in the firing line and the eel snapped at his shoe
the eel it thrashed; we kicked and lashed the eel half out the boat
but the eel was having none of it and was going for Pat’s throat
the screams were heard by other boats who came to our rescue
the next we knew the eel was dead killed by god knows who?
a harpoon in it’s head stuck out and we were showered in blood
Pat saw blood gushing from his foot, then fell with a sickening thud
we climbed aboard the other boat, the eel it was their prize
we lost our boat and rods, half a shoe plus two toes, It’s the truth, I tell no lies….

© 21/2/2014

For Caleb's Contest...Now it has been judged I can say it is all true....

Copyright © David Williams

Details | Uncle Poem | |

For Nineteen Years

They are poor…they’re removed, they struggle through life,
Every day is a burden on the edge of a knife,
They’re stuck in the circle, that’s all that they know,
And there’s not work around, and nowhere to go.
But a man full of promise says he does understand,
‘My names Uncle Sam, please take hold of my hand,
I’ll break the circle, and then I’ll bring you back,
After a year from somewhere in Iraq.’

She stands at the cemetery gates.
A small bunch of roses and holding back tears.
Just three hundred steps to a name etched in stone
That’s all she has now… for nineteen years.

On the mantelpiece over the burning wood fire,
A son’s photos, citations from her country’s desire  
as she sits and she weeps on the madness of war,
And his last words she heard, “What am I fighting for?”

She stands at the cemetery gates.
A small bunch of roses and holding back tears.
Just three hundred steps to a name etched in stone
That’s all she has now… for nineteen years.

2nd January 2010 ©Lindsay Laurie

Copyright © Lindsay Laurie

Details | Uncle Poem | |


Our two party system isn’t working
Plastic figures, disaster lurking
Conservative or liberal isn’t the call
It’s the ultra rich against us all
For the people is what it’s not
All candidates have already been bought
Platforms built on promises and lies
Hear the people, ignore their cries
Wave that flag as if you’re proud
Then bow and worship the corporate crowd
You no longer serve, you’re out of place
You are an elitist group, a public disgrace
You’ve subsidized the rich with your insanity
Then crippled the growth of humanity
You’ve killed our children in endless war
The media smiles and keeps the score
We sing of amber waves of grain
You’d sell it all for personal gain
You left our budget in disarray
You’ll tax our grandchildren for it someday
No water boarding terrorists you warn
Then murder a child who is still unborn
You have no ethics, you have no shame
You have no morals, you accept no blame
Washington is a place I’m told
Where politicians are bought and sold
Where dreams and ideals are destroyed
A city where honesty is null and void
A place where hope has been dethroned
You won’t get nominated unless you’re owned
A place where once” In God we trust”
Now we look in sheer disgust
Country burning from your sparks
You replaced Uncle Sam with Karl Marx
Our nominees we cannot select
The media decides who we elect.
Politicians with great orations
Puppets to the corporations.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.

Details | Uncle Poem | |


I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.

She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.

But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.

Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.

Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/'ve got the rent."

She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.

I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.

I still remember her caring for was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.

Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.

Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.

Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!

1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest

Copyright © Daniel Cwiak

Details | Uncle Poem | |

America: A Rant with Attendant Anecdotes, Amplifications, Dogmas, Harangues and Digressions

This ain't my first rodeo, so knowing the score more than four
I declare in this manure-flinging system of elected despotism
we ain't got no permanent friends, just permanent interests.
America's a dazzling chupacabra of a conceit
conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition
that shades of equality increase the gross market share.
We supplant the visible etchings of the colonial lash
with the invisible ones of debt by procuring more *****we don't need.
Breathless canaries in a cultural coal-mine,
fascicled to Breaking Bad, Mad Men and the Simpsons,
shackled to Amazon 's 'Customers Who Bought This Item Also Bought'
we're driven out toward the oceans beneath Europa's baker's sugar crust
where freedom exists on a mono-cellular level
but knowing we 're not alone doesn't amount to manure 
cuz they ain't Christian microbes so they ain't gonna be no use to us.
Like wind before the thunder the supple susurrus of my heart 
sends frissons of pleasure jolting though my *****
bloated to such Brobdingnagian dimensions
as to feel at home in the hallowed aisles of Costco or Sam's Club.
Our finger wagging Uncle has overstayed his welcome,
So **** your tired, your poor -
you're taking away jobs from real Americans.
**** your huddled masses yearning to breathe free -
your emergency room doctor visits are costing taxpayers $2286 a pop.
**** the wretched refuse of your teeming shore -
we already have enough garbage to fill our landfills
Just gimme my VIZIO 80” Razor LED™ 3D Smart TV  for my eye candy
Gimme my  Google Nexus 8 cell phone cuz Steve Jobs can suck my dick
Gimme my Fidelio X1 headphones so I don't miss the subtle nuances in Willie Nelson's 
Gimme my Nestlé Crunch Girl Scout candy bars for my sweet tooth and latent pedophilia
Gimme my Dial Triple Moisture Body cuz my balls got a stank like 3 day old crawdads
Gimme my Quilted Northern Ultra Plush toilet tissue cuz my ass needs TLC and backdoor action
Gimme my Fruit Smoothie Shakers so I don't have to get gouged by some turban mofo at Jamba Juice
Gimme my Gillette Fusion ProGlide Power Razor so I don't look like Jesus-F-Christ or a sandnigger
Gimme my Lash Factor Eyelash Conditioner cuz flirtatious love winks should be unconditional

America's soul is shrinking and vanishing like glaciers.
Grackles ebonize the sky where once proud eagles soared.
With God's help, America will rise again like the body of Christ after a good whooping!
Come on y'all - don't let my patriotic rant spoil a perfectly good Klan rally.

Copyright © Beryl Dov

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Apple Pickin' Time

Come an' pick yerself an apple,

Come an' pick a heapin' load;

Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel

An' a couple fer the road.

There's a dozen different sizes,

Pink an' yella, red 'r lime,

Shades that match the pale sunrises

Of the apple pickin' time.

Go an' make an apple pie,

Make it thirty miles high,

Then you'll be in apple heaven

Till the day you up an' die.

Come an' pick yerself an apple,

Come an' pick a heapin' load;

Come an' pick a bloomin' bushel

An' a couple fer the road;

Some for Gran and Uncle Pete,

An' a few fer fighting crime;

'Cause the fella down the street

Knows it's apple pickin' time.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Uncle Jim

He lived in a small place down by the river
Raised a few chickens and a garden to tend
Neat and clean but we knew he had little
But to us children he was a dear friend

Always ready to come play our silly games
Or happy to listen to our childish tales of woe
He knew when and where the fish were biting
His wonderful tall tales he was glad to bestow

He rode into town on his old cow names Irene
She didn’t seem to mind at times being a horse
If it rained he carried a big black umbrella
It was a sight to see, we loved it of course

You can imagine , our parents thought him odd
And I guess he was if the whole truth be told
But he was a special part of out young lives
We wouldn’t have traded him for a bucket of gold…

Believe it or not, this is a true story..

Barbara Gorelick- Sketch a Character contest

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick

Details | Uncle Poem | |

You Can Hug Anyone You Want To

(This poem was inspired by my friend's grandma who said, and I quote, "You can hug anyone you want to." I dedicate it to all the sweetie poets who give "hugs.")

You can hug anyone you want to.
It's something everyone can do.

(There are many reactions from one act.
Proceed with caution so you don't get smacked.)

You can hug any way you like.
Keep it loose, or grab 'em tight.

Hug with a manly guttural noise,
or hug like a lady with grace and poise.

Sometimes just one hand will do.
Hug the way that best suits you.

Hug to ward off tears and sorrow.
Hug like you're going to die tomorrow.

Hug sister Suzy. Hug uncle Al.
Hug anyone to make a new pal.

Hug 'em big. Hug 'em small.
Hug 'em one. Hug 'em all.

Hug 'em in a group or two by two,
so the pleasure's not all about you.

Hug with a spin. Even make it an art.
Just make sure you hug with your heart.

It's as simple as a shoulder shrug.
Everybody could use a hug.

You can hug anyone you want to.
Watch your back, cuz I might hug you.

Copyright © Juliet Ligon

Details | Uncle Poem | |

A Unique Job

It was very hard for me growing up As had to raise my two months old cousin. Me! An adult at the age of six, yup. After three years, my aunt gave birth to twins. Then, three years more and their sister was born To get trained after getting a degree In the populated house, was forlorn. Thought for a job to have my own life’s spree. Then, the uncle and aunt died suddenly Leaving my four cousins under my care. And my dream to have my own died wholly Though my head said, “No, It’s not fair, not fair”. But my heart won over my head duly Now the four cousins are my life only
+++ Based on a true story December 8, 2014 Form: Sonnet: (Tetrameter) Second Place Win Counted on (Total 140)

Copyright © Dr.Ram Mehta

Details | Uncle Poem | |


He says     Do you remember the time we…
And she smiles
Shared memories have no need for words

Young and brave    they chased their future
Found their own crystal Eden
ringed by sparkling waters
It’s in her blood     this river of life

A current that has carried them
through love    laughter    spats    and making up
Carried them through life’s precious moments

Watching children grow
Bicycle riding in trees
Anniversary cruises to beaches kissed
by the whisper of waves

He prepares to leave Eden
for true paradise    where his Lord awaits
She waits    steadfast by his side
Her place of thirty-eight years

Their shared laughter bubbles along
like a singing brook that cannot be stilled

And she smiles
For she knows someday in Heaven
he will be thinking about her and say
Do you remember…
Her heart will hear his voice    and she will smile
as she sips coffee watching a pearlescent sunrise

Shared memories have no need for words 

I just returned from a visit to Florida where my beloved aunt and uncle are 
preparing for new journeys. He has been put on hospice and she is facing a 
life without him. This is for Bob and Gail. I am blessed to be a recipient of 
their love and joyous laughter.

Copyright © Monterey Sirak

Details | Uncle Poem | |

The Mirror Of Time

I hold three magic rocks, in my hand. Rolling them over and over and over. Leaving this 
reality behind, far behind I stepped into the magic mirror and there I was back in 1959.  It 
was the same month, November.  I looked around and it was the same as I remember it had 
been then.  Mom looked so young and beautiful and said, "The school bus will be here in a 
few minutes."  I looked at the calendar and saw that it was November 25th, the day before 
Thanksgiving.  I said, "But mom, I haven't been in school in forty years."  I got this strange 
look from her but she didn't say anything.  Walking toward the door I caught a reflection of 
myself in the hall mirror.  I was so young.  My hand immediately went to my face and I 
stopped and stared at myself for a few minutes. I said, "Mom, can I stay home and be with 
you today?"  Again I got that strange look from her, then she smiled and said, "Sure, it's 
your last day before Thanksgiving anyway, why not?"  She and I sit down and talked for 
hours.  Then I said, "Do you mind if we go next door and visit with Maw Maw and Paw Paw?  
I haven't seen them in so long and I've missed them terribly!"  Again another strange look 
from mom. Next door I saw Maw Maw and Paw Paw as they had been in 1959.  I wept and 
they all looked at me so strangely.  I hugged them and kissed them all and we talked for 
hours.  Dad finally came home from work and I ran and hugged him so hard. "Dad why did 
you have to leave us in June?"  Again I got strange looks from everyone.  My tears were 
falling.  I saw Aunt Frances and Uncle Bill who lived beside Maw Maw and Paw Paw. "I've 
missed you both for so long." Strange looks again!  They didn't understand because to them, 
it was just another day in 1959.  The day grew late and I knew my time was soon ending.  I 
got near the magic mirror and mom and dad were standing there so young and healthy. I 
said, "Mom I'll see you on the other side of the mirror, but dad, I'll see you another time, 
another place."  They didn't understand.  I stepped back through and my reflection was as it 
had been before.  Mom was sitting in her chair at age 84.  I said, "Mom, do you remember 
the day before Thanksgiving, 1959, when I stayed home from school and we spent the day 
together?"  She said, "Yes, it was so strange that you could never remember anything about 
it.  It was as though you had amnesia.

Copyright © Marty Owens

Details | Uncle Poem | |

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,

I, a Red Skin dog, as some may delight to call me,
I have heard the tales of horror, from my dark skinned foes.
I have heard the tales of terror, from others who became my friends.
And I have walked with a dark skinned woman of their tribe.
We walked in the beauty of her courage, together. Tearless. 
Tearless we both were as she spoke, for tears, only gods could cry for her.
I am a Red Skin dog.
And yet we walked together and we talked – together, fearless,
I and this swaying ebony sapling, sprung from the roots of my foes tribe.
We talked of the pitiless reality of that life she left behind, of that time
That she has left, far, far behind, like a useless scar
That has toughened over. And made her stronger. 
I learned from this daughter of my foes
That true courage is never fearless, but always stronger. Victorious,
Stronger she was by far, to this Red Skin dog
Than the thousand sons who died, in her honor. So they say. Ridiculous,
But I have heard the balance of their sins.
And for all the tales I have heard from those angry young men, and their vengeful fathers
Her horror was a thousand times more sinister. A thousand times more callous.
Horror took up residence in her home but never in her heart.
But for others, I cannot speak.
“…splinters and bursting fragments…in my mind
Ai! Tearing! Memory of tearing flesh, swallowing tears and mucus, blood and bile
…bruising and ripping garments…off my body
…filthy, familiar hands tearing at my dress…
…my legs split and broken like a wild pig slaughter, my screams smashed from my lips,
With the butt of a rifle, just used to kill a Red Skin dog…
Aieee! Clean this floor mama, mop up this spew!
It cannot be mine!
This child is not mine!
It is not mine! It is the devils own creation born in hell fire!
Born in my death! 	
Aieee! I am dead, I cannot be alive. 
I am dead and the Red Skin dogs have eaten my corpse.
Those spirits in their wingless chariot flew over the land and sea, to rescue me?
Rescue me from that black devil who said he was like Jesus to me.
I thought you were my uncle-brother…
Who else could have found us here?
Hidden away from the Red Skins and their Wingless Angels.
Only you my uncle-brother
Only you could have found us
Only you could have killed us.
And now the progeny of your evil deed suckles at my breasts
As I lie dead in the home of those Red Skin dogs you fought.”

Copyright © Michael Dom

Details | Uncle Poem | |

The Rail Ties That Bind

A little girl
She comes to a land of ghosts
Almost empty streets
She wonders
Where are all the people
No one here looks like her
Within her heart
Emotions stir

It is so cold
Where oh where, is the mountain of gold
Her mom and dad they are so bold
People of action
Not of words

Hong Kong 
Left behind
A new future to find
They endured the sad
A world not kind

Their crowded apartment
A benevolent uncle stole
To leave the country they paid a toll
Plane tickets in her fathers hand
Brought his family to a new land
The little girl did not understand

The language she knew
Was Chinese
She spoke it with such ease
She thought, she must throw it away
The bits of her culture slowly stripped day by day

Forced to grow up, with blinding speed
She looks after, siblings needs
No time for her
She couldn't play
Duty and honour
The Chinese way

Mom and dad, working night and day
They do so much, for little pay
Food on the table
Their sacrifice
A warm home 
Within a land of ice

Through the years
A life is built
Yet the little girl, she is filled with guilt
She knows, there's been a sacrifice
Beneath the surface, of all that's nice

Many, many, years ago
Her grandfather was here
Away from her dad, for many years
Cooking for men, who worked the rail line
A small comfort when they would dine

Disposable humans
They took the risk
The horrors so many
To long too list
They needed their families
So far away
Yet the politicians, turned them away

The abuse he suffered
With all his friends
It seems now the Government 
wants to make amends
The past and future, are combined
You can't move forward
Without looking behind

The little girl, now grown up
For the past, she gives her thanks
Dreams from ties
She rides their rails
Blood and sweat 
from hammering nails
She hears echoes, from the past
It seems their gifts, were forged to last

My wife went to a forum where the government 
apologized for the awful things that were done
to the Chinese people who came to work in
Canada. So many Chinese men left their homes
in search of a better life for their families. They
were forced into slave like labour to build our
cross country railway. Many of them lost their 
lives in the process. They were not allowed to
bring their families. When the earlier generations 
came they were charged a head tax to move to Canada.
This discrimination was exclusive to Asian people.
This is a sad chapter in our Canadian History.

Copyright © Richard Lamoureux

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Wonderful worthing Promenade part 2

Candy floss, seaside rock, smoothies, and flags sporting
Union Jacks
Replace the old traditions of striped deckchairs 
And Kiss-Me-Quick hats.
Chipwicks for our salt and vinegar fries
And their pole-and-line freshly caught local Cod;
The Vintners Parrot: For thick sizzling steaks,
Cabernet Sauvignon, roasted hams cut high off the hog.

Grandads wearing knotted handkerchiefs, their pleated trousers
Rolled up to their knees,
Splashing with squealing little children 
Who squabble and inhale upon the bracing sea breeze.
Linos, gritty blankets, wicker picnic hampers,
Out of reach - forever lost - far bobbing balls;
Whilst over it all: The song of the swelling sea
With its constantly reverberating roars.

Red parboiled fathers of odd shapes and all sizes
Squeezed into ill-fitting string vests;
Lumpy roly-poly mothers in one-piece bathers,
Highly irritated - doing their very vexed best!
For in the absence of pollinating plants, flowering bushes
And budding trees:
A droning procession hovering across your checkered tableclothes -
Swarming across sugared cakes, potted meats and creamed cheese.

Little George thrashes away with his crabbing net;
Maisy, beside herself, aboard the plodding donkeys slow, agitated gait;
Great aunty Mabel daintly glowers, and then -
Demands the absolute necessity of reclining prostrate!
Punch swings his cruel bat at Judy;
Fat old uncle Phil gives a loud gluttonous snore;
His long past-caring wife of forty years turns her back to him...
Reopening her paperback romance on page twenty four.

Lashings of mountainous vanilla Cornish heaped onto a crisp
Yellow cone;
The decorated sandcastle competitions: Adorned strange starfish, seaweed hung, 
Complete with available cutlery brought from the home.
Just evocative memories are jolly August-Bank-Holidays once played out 
Over this tremulous sounding stage...
Now: only the anglers, the joggers and cycling keep-fitters...
Marking-time throughout electronic clicks from loudly brazen, flashing arcades.

Half-oval shaped Lido cafe for morning coffee:
Bring the fidgeting kiddies - bring the dog.
Beech house fronted terrace for live nightly music -
Excellent southern brewed ales of cold frothy amber grog.
And if in your ambles your appetite has been well whetted 
By the smells from a flotilla of mouth watering fares:
Coast Cafe De Artistes just east of splashpoint -
Seaside bistro of the most "de la extraordinaire"!

Austere gas lamps flicker to awaken in the groping twilight
As dimming outlines begin to hurriedly fade;
Black asphalt drifts into the distance of your lost horizons -
Thus witness the charming elegance of nightly Parisian masquerade.
The drawing radiators are starting to bang and gurgle;
Chambermaids pull firmly across upon splendid silken cords...
When the stiff colonel tops up with another whisky and soda -
And the Storm petrel over beautiful Worthing promenade twitters and calls!

            (.....Oh how i so very much adore you magnificent old Worthing town!! )

Copyright © john fleming

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain

Blissfully ignorant and supine,
Lost in the economy line,
voters don’t have a clue
that liberty is through.
Apathy dictates all else is fine.
People keep telling me how foolish I am,
but frankly I don’t give a dam.
I’m going to tell you what I see.
You don’t have to agree with me.
In hatred’s name Moslems prayed at the mosque,
boarded planes and three thousand we lost,
Soon we elected a Moslem president,
his books words and actions self evident.
To prove he was islam’s extremist hero,
He allowed a triumphant mosque at ground zero,
Freedom of religion is what they subtly called it,
by a government that continues to overhaul it.
The American people look on as if still numb,
singing his praises as if deaf and dumb,
while a pseudo democratic uncle Sam,
in a forced health care plan,
continues to turn out liberty’s lights
by destroying other religion’s rights.
Thus the American people’s democracy,
is morphed into a dictatorial hypocrisy.
While blindsided by a frantic economy,
we apathetically lose our autonomy.
Allowed by deaf and blind voters in a loud voice,
Fooled by not freedom but license they call choice,
sly appointment of people who fulfill the plan,
A long range one by the “new” Uncle Sam.
a champion of abortion, killing future contenders
him and Herod; another of the great pretenders.
“Enlightened Americans have one point two children per family,
because of abortion, birth control and contraception
Moslems have seven; which is the anomaly?
We Americans treat babies as an infection.
Laugh if you wish; I’m just exposing the path,
You “enlightened” Americans: you do the math.

Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Our protector in the skies

A friend, an uncle, a pawpaw, a father, a husband, a son
   These are a few of the titles you've earned
Precise, concern, loving, pride, hope, appreciation
   These are a few emotions from you we've learned

You as a friend
   Irreplaceable position
Your intentions so precise
   To have you back is what they are wishing

You as an uncle 
   A teacher and confidant
You always showed concern
   To have you back is what they want 

You as a pawpaw
   Always appear to be so strong
Always loving in your eyes
  For Logan & Lucas, having you is what they long

You as a father 
   A superhero, our eyes fill with stars
Holding us with pride in your soul
   You'll always be in our hearts although you seem so far

You as a husband
   Caused frustration but still showed love
Leaving hope in her mind
   She loves you, always watch her from above

You as a son
   Not much time was spent
But appreciation you learned
   To be with her is where you went

Now our eyes behold your pictures
   Our minds contain your smile
Our memories hold your laughter
   You'll be with us every mile

When harsh winds are blowing
   We will lend and eager ear
In hopes to hear you speaking
   Hear your voice that we hold dear

When it's dark and we feel frightened
   We can close our eyes
And you'll be right there beside us
   Our protector in the skies
In cherished and loving memory of my daddy: John L. Swinger
May you rest in peace, until we meet again
 Love, Miranda M. Lambert 
Originally written on : 02/12/2011 at 10:21 am

Copyright © Wandering Butterfly

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Dragon Alert - DWTS

Drago’s gone to Hollywood, land of fancy cars,
Gonna crash a party — Dancing With the Stars.
It’s his favorite TV show, watching twirlers whirl,
You can surely guess, his favorite dancing girl.

Sharna Burgess. Duh!  It’s a redhead every time.
Chasing Reds will kill him!  Way before his Prime.
That’s exactly what his favorite uncle said.
“But wait a minute” Drago says, “Uncle Jack’s not dead!”

Point well taken Drago, but this we know is true,
taking after Uncle Jack is nothing you should do.
This we also know though, Uncle Jack is not in jail,
but not for lack of trying, and breaking hearts along the trail.

REAL DRAGON’s headed there! (If the rumor’s true)
Is he after Rumor Willis? (He likes her daddy too)
But if he’s chasing Sharna things will get their worst.
Sharna will belong to the dragon gets there first.

(They think!)    But, maybe not, you know?
The Stars are already matched, with pretty dancing pros.
I think if those two Dragons make it on the show
Dancing With the Stars will be “Dancing on Some Toes.”

Copyright © John Wulf

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Surfing USA

Drip drip dribble dribble
google harps- here's a fiddle
How does fuzz evolve to stubble
Here's Fred Flinstone- Barney Rubble

WON 5 DOLLARS!- now I'm even
Online poker- guy named steven
Shop for blankets- buy throw pillows 
Google hammock- weeping willows

Go to restroom- better lock it
Here's the key- brains your pocket
Keyboard's pencil- screen's your pad
Don't be a stranger- email dad

SEND to stepmom- SEND to cousin
Be specific- there's a dozen
SEND to grandma in the grave
SEND to bastard uncle - Dave

Where's Japan and where's Korea
Google maps is glad to see ya
Chat with Bennett- bash Obama
Poke your next door neighbors momma

Friend Dee Snyder- Twisted Sister
like a miss -  poke your sister
Like a sir - unfriend a mam
Search Hulk Hogan- Uncle Sam

Write your daughters third grade teacher
Bash a priest- praise a preacher
Write your mom  a prison letter
You know momma!- probably better

When your hand gets tired of typing                                                                                                                 Log on Youtube- watch some fighting
UFC- sometimes delightful
This guys girlfreinds being spiteful

Cat's in mirrors- fight their face
See some guy get sprayed with mace 
Watch that clip from Tropic Thunder
Rock the Casba- Land down under

Fight the system- Fight the power
Search for bloopers- Austin Powers
Play online and fight for glory
Man this game is too damned gory

Watch the packers play the Bears
POKE from brother- INBOX sister
called your phone- you must've missed'er 

Supposed to work - be there at eight
It's almost nine- you're pretty late
Get to work- just tell them something
Man what happened?...It was nothing

Copyright © Ronald Wheeler

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Fat Free

What's for dinner?
Poor people
With no fat on their bones
you can eat them 
and eat them.
They're practically fat free

I heard they can make you sick.
Not if you feed them cheese.
One block of cheese,
and they make a fine commodity.

You sure,
my uncle says ya hafta 
dip em first in powdered milk.

Na, as long as ya feed em cheese
yer good.
Okay, gimmee three.

Copyright © Dan Helppi

Details | Uncle Poem | |

Forgotten Times

Momma's in the kitchen frying chicken
Daddy's got the game on the old TV
Two brother's playing and fighting in the parlor
It's just the way things used to be

Momma stayed home and raised us kids
Never had much except love if I recall
Daddy worked everyday but Sunday
Then again, I guess we had it all

We got our clothes from people up the street
Their kids were older and always well dressed
They would send a box down once or twice a year
And we'd thank God, we were so blessed

Shared a bicycle between five brothers
Had all we needed and so much more
Never saw a government check until we enlisted
I guess they forgot to tell us we were poor

Lived in an alley full of kids
Second house in a row of seven
Learned to work for whatever we wanted
This was our little piece of heaven

No one stole from one another
Respected all and what they worked for
Slept like a baby, three to a room
Never bothered locking a door

We have so much now it's mind boggling
In a way I guess we lost our senses
Corrupted with greed, we became reclusive
Instead of bridges, we built fences

Return with me to those forgotten times
When we treated our neighbor just like a brother
Never got judged by the way we dressed
And people cared about one another

Remember Jackie Gleason and the Honeymooners
Lawrence Welk on a Saturday night
Breyer's ice cream from the corner store
Lassie and Dragnet in black and white

Uncle Miltie and Bishop Sheen
Robin Hood starring Richard Greene
Superman and a matinee
With Dinah Shore, see the USA

Riding grassy hills in a cardboard box
Taking little brother for long summer walks
Forgotten times spent with a friend
Times we thought would never end

A life full of riches doing all that we could
A life full of struggles, even the bad times were good
Somewhere in the distance a lone church bell chimes
While I close my eyes and dream of forgotten times.

Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr.