Long Aunt Poems
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AIN'T YA MAMA
I MAY NURTURE YOU NOW AND THEN
WE MAY OR MAY NOT BE NEXT OF KIN
BUT I FIND IT SO MAZING
I AIN'T YA MAMA
NOT YOUR MAMAM
nO, AUNT JEMIMA
NOT TRYING TO BE DONMINATION
COARSE AND DIRECTIVE, COVERT DRECTIONS
DOESN'T MEAN IT'S MY INTENTIION
I AIN'T YA MAMA
nOT YOUR MAMA
nO AUNT JEMIMA
I MAY TIE YOUR SHOES AND OMB YOUR HAIR
COOK YOU BREAKFAST, LUNCH AND DINNER
I AIN'T YA MAMA
NOT YOUR MAMA
NOT TRYING TO BE DONMINATION
COARSE AND DIRECTIVE, COVERT DIRECTIONS
I AM NOT YOUR MAMA
BUT I FIND IT SO MAZING
I MAY NURTURE YOU THEN AND NOW
AS A CHILD HOLD YOUR HAND
PROTECT YOU FROM THE ELEMENTS AND MAN
EVIL TREATS, SPIRITS THIS WORLD LIFE'S SPAN
IN YOUR HEART ON YOUR MIND, CARE FOR YOU LIKE A MOTHER
BUT ALAS IT I'M NOT YOUR MAMA I AM WHO...
WHO AM I? I AIN'T YA MAMA
NOT YOUR MAMA
NO AUNT JEMIMA
WHO AM I
I AM GOD
06/08/15 ©2015
09/7/17 edited
I confided with The Jeweler
I want a masterpiece
A wonder to the modern world
Where joy will never cease
He said he’d start with umber
A rich, golden shade of brown
use it from the very start
create a special crown
Next, sparkle from His diamonds
He used them from within
Distributed them quite liberally on
Her eyes, her smile, her skin
Oh yes she will be special
A jewel the world will love
treasure made with so much heart
They’ll know she’s from above
She shall be known as Ceci
Because she is to be
perfection of a young lady
like your sister is to Me
He said I know just what I’ll do
To make your crown the best
I have special method
Pulled from the family crest
There’s never been anything like her
nor will there ever be;
I’ve taken the spirit of her aunt
Your dear sister as you can see
You know she was quite special
That’s why I called her home
but I wanted you to be blessed
so praise Me with a poem
a tribute to My creation
a gift to all the world
although I blessed you with 2 boys
I gave you just one girl
I did one other special thing
To set this child apart
I gave her something special
A piece of The Jeweler’s heart
I have filled her with compassion
She will be the downtrodden’s friend
She will always be a guiding light
Yes this is who I will send
Sometimes at night, you will hear her
As you lay there in the dark
this lil' Gem sing Me praises
A gentle meadowlark
A champion for all children
Inspiring, encouraging all
She embarked upon this journey
She already heard my call
So always, treat her special,
let her know I care
you see she is My masterpiece
A jewel that is quite rare.
A tribute on her 17th Birthday
Don't know your address, in Heaven somewhere
Just know, I'm writing this with utmost care.
I never knew you, for you died one day,
left softly when my doll and I at play.
Though I didn't know you, I still missed you.
Usually those days making me feel blue.
Maybe I'll finally find you one day.
There are so many things I want to say.
I have one photo of you as a child;
for your grownup look, I had to compile
A bit of me, a bit of my great aunt
Your face a shadow, motherhood was scant.
You left one day, I had barely reached two.
But I know you loved me for it was you
tucking me in at night, leaving a kiss
even though just your shadow could exist.
Please look for me when I fly to the skies
Seeing you would be wonderful surprise
We'll find a garden and be together
Share pot of tea midst roses and heather.
April 19, 2023
For A Letter to My Mother contest
by Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Summertime with grandma and schools out
Greyhound bus riders we are on the way down south
Me and my sisters
Getting away from the city
Early mornings with grandpa
He has us garden picking
Used to be grossed out
Hearing all those hissing sounds
City girl never worried about that on the cemented ground
Summertime in the kitchen
Snapping peas and beans
Shucking corn mason jars stored
This was when food was clean
Sunday was family day
We were always stuck with the dishes
Grandma and our big family
The truly love was our riches
My cousin and I always walking the tracks
To JJJs store just to get snacks
Mt Pleasant center we would skip
We thought we were grown
I can hear my aunt voice saying take your fast tails home
Memories of my childhood
I know some can relate
No worries about the world more love and less hate
I was sitting on the corner, stoned
When out of the blue, my dead aunt phoned
How could this be, she rests in peace
Right beside my loving niece
I answered the phone, and my auntie said
"I know you think that i am dead"
"I'm alive"- my auntie moaned
Or -could it be that you're just-"Stoned"
Well I invite my auntie over
Thinking all this time she's rolling in the clover
And wouldn't you know,
A little blonde knocked on my door named Snow
She tried to pass off my aunties old license
But boy she looked more like Mike Tyson,
Then my dear belated aunt Flo
So all in all i told her she had to go!
Hejama, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a Thessaly queen.
A natural proponent of black magic, sorcery, witchcraft and wizardry
Undlela ziimhlope, Aunt Vernafi suggested. An herb you will enjoy.
Hejama did not often take Aunt Vernafi’s advice, but this time she did.
Through necromancy she met a chief goddess, Hecate, Greek legend.
Crossroads between this world and the next. Keeper of Hade’s gates.
Not that one! Hecate would hiss as Hejama rummaged through forests
Seeking plants that could cure rheumatism, arthritis, and flu.
Along the way she regaled and delighted Hejama with mythologies.
Empusae are my children, Hecate revealed. They seduce travelers.
Furies, winged creatures who punished wrong doers, came too.
Fierce hounds traveled into the forest with them, braying loudly.
Hejama felt honored to have Hecate accompany her as her spirit guide.
I witnessed the abduction of Persephone, Hecate confided.
This led to a wonderful tale, as they collected herbs to help others.
Ghostly figures followed Hecate, trying for her attention.
She laughed about this, ignoring them in the day time.
I am a night deity, she told Hejama. I am yours during the day.
An honor only given to a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter.
Six sons, one daughter
Their parents get extremely ill.
The sons find wives, get married, move away.
The daughter stays, sacrificing her needs for her parents.
Twenty years pass.
The sons rarely visit; when the do it is to drop children off in the summer
So their sister can take care of them and her parents.
She is self-less, feels needed.
Enjoys it, they think.
Thirty years pass.
The sons return to the farm to take the best tractors and combines.
Dad cannot use them anyway.
Mom is so grateful to see them.
Sister is glad for her parents.
Forty years pass, and so does dad.
Sons return to try to divide things at the house.
Sister chases them off with a broom.
Mother is grateful.
Dies of a broken heart soon after.
Fifty years pass and so does sister.
Six selfish brothers and their wives argue over the house.
Showing their own children how not to behave after a family death.
The children lament the passing of their aunt.
The one who loved them in the summer months.
Mom held big dinners at Christmas time. Family and friends would arrive, each bringing their contribution to the feast along with gifts. Mom baked her dressing in round little balls, all crispy with gravy and potatoes and all sorts of culinary delights.
turkey with trimmings –
gifts
Stories were told around the table with wine and coffee afterwards; right before some folks fell asleep while sitting in a chair; full bellies consumed wakefulness. Everyone went home with leftovers for a week or two. Since then, so many passed, I remember them to this day and the joy they brought along with their food.
sitting
around the table –
stories
Mom would cook both a turkey and a ham. We kids, had a table to ourselves, usually in the kitchen. Aunts and Uncles and their children arrived. We’d play until dinner time, anticipating the mouth-watering flavors. My Great Aunt Mattie always brought her, “Heavenly Hash”, a fruity pink, parfait-like salad, my favorite.
pink and silvered baubles –
heavenly hash
There were so many great bakers in my family. The dessert flavors, magical, pumpkin, pecan, peanut butter and chocolate pies, blueberry or peach cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream; sometimes even cookies.
sugary gingerbread baking –
sprinkles
After the meal, we’d all gather around the tree to exchange gifts. We’d make a terrible mess while, opening our presents.
gathered
around the tree –
colored boxes
11-25-19
December or January Haibun Contest Poetry Contest
Caren Krutsinger
The Alcoholic in Your Life
Might be the dirty man in the gutter,
Or your mate, so loaded he can only stutter.
She might be the loudmouth at the bar,
Or the woman who almost died,wrecking her car.
Sadly, could be your father or mother.
Cousin, aunt, sister or beloved brother.
Ages of addicts are no longer fifty.
Some eleven year olds, sneak drink at home, they think it's nifty.
Alcoholism begins in denial, first by the drinker,
Then, the fellow deniers: friends and family, too.
Unable to see where this might have a fatal end.
Our society so worked up over fentanyl and shrooms,
We scoff at them throwing the drug, alcohol, up in our bathrooms.
We've yet to understand all alcohol is a dangerous drug,
I know, not you~you really are not addicted.
Many die of this disease each day, deadly conflicted.
Call yourself blessed, if this disease you do not have.
Please do not laugh at these unfortunate blokes.
See that they get the help they need~
Stop kvetching over second hand smoke.
Alcoholics come in all shapes and sizes.
Attorneys, doctors, Hollywood, too.
Love needed urgently, not arrogant and unforgiving surmises!
Panagiota Romios
4/3/2019
It’s two hours before dawn
and I’ve slept through the night
The rarest occurrence
her footsteps come light
She let me sleep soundly
and she let me dream free
Before entering my bedroom
and calling to me
“Kurt, it’s Laura, she whispered
as she got into bed
Are you happy in the solitude
alone in your head
“Your spirit’s been truant
but its voice I recalled
Wake up from your sleep
follow me down the hall
“I’ve something to show you
so rub out your eyes
And see what you looked like
as a boy about five”
She led me straight down
to the end of the hall
The door was half open
and my voice I heard call
“Aunt Laura, my crayons
have broken again
Aunt Laura, I need
some new words to begin
“The ones that you left me
I now know by heart
And to Mother and Father
I recited each part”
The boy smiled at her
and she smiled back at him
Before walking me back down
to my room deep within
“I’ve always been with you
and love you My Dear
As your Muse I’ve been charged
with your care all these years
“You were young when I met you
and took you by hand
Then to never abandon
your voice as a man
“Your days may come easy
and your days may come hard
But each night I’ll return
— with new words from afar”
(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)