Long Great uncle Poems
Long Great uncle Poems. Below are the most popular long Great uncle by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Great uncle poems by poem length and keyword.
When he fell, he kept going down down down down down
Unlike Jack in the nursery rhyme, Tim did not break his crown.
The light was not great here, this is what he soon found.
It was difficult getting his balance, there were big stones around.
Where am I? He asked himself quietly, inside his head.
He was where most never want to be, for it’s a good place to be dead.
How will I get out? He wondered, the darkness gave him a fright.
He had bumped his head pretty badly, and could not find a light.
Something brushed against his arm, and he wanted to scream.
A serpent, a spider, a cobweb? This fall was a horrible non-dream.
It happened again, and he nearly lost his mind, and his footing.
He figured by the time he got out of this, he would be fighting sooting.
Not to worry young one, a voice whispered into his right ear.
You are not alone, for your great-great-great Uncle Chuck is right here.
Tim did not know he had an Uncle Chuck until he was released upon rescue.
I know of him, his father told him, we lost him from TB in nineteen fifty-two.
I never thought to see a man’s bones glistening white.
Nor see disembodied limbs flying left and right.
I never thought to see mud the colour of red
Nor see young men blown to bits or laid dead.
The rain isn’t water its blood mixed with tears
Trenches full of bloated corpses, lice, fleas and fears
No time to bury them all, but those that receive an earth overcoat
Are disturbed, exhumed by bombs, thrown in stagnant trenches to float.
Blown from their resting places scattered far and wide
Dodging, not only bombs and shells, but limbs landing by our side.
Men caught and ripped to shreds with razor wire and tracer shells.
Left to die hanging there, moaning, screaming, no funerals with church bells.
I never thought to see these things; I just thought victory, honour and glory
Not see death, destruction, waste and sights so disgusting and gory.
I only wanted to fight for my King, family and country
I never thought it would end, this massacre, mortal eyes should not see.
© 27/07/2012 ~GG~
It is the centenary year next year of the beginning of the Great War, I was inspired to write this after finding out I had a great Uncle that signed up for the Army, for King and Country .. he died at the end of September 1918 in France, never to return.
I remember that ‘69’ Chevrolet
dark green and with the spit
of a combat soldier;
a mean green, power machine.
My Great Uncle bought it new,
his pride and joy for years;
when he died, it became my Parent’s car.
without a single scratch,
they drove it a decade or more.
It was a survivor, you see,
a survivor of the road;
of seemingly endless time.
With missing knobs,
though, the heater and radio
still worked their magic on a drive.
The driver’s side floorboard,
was rusted through and straddling it,
leant an air of danger and excitement,
as it rolled and groaned out it’s
arthritic rhythms.
It rambled along nonetheless,
a chariot for my younger sister’s transport;
it carried her to her classes, her first jobs;
that ever-expanding, floorboard
rust hole continued to grow.
I supposed nowadays,
you’d be fined heavily
for risking such a hazard.
back then, in my family,
a car was not a want,
it was a need and so,
it was heavily utilized.
When I think back about the longevity
of my parent’s automobiles,
it’s the one that stands out the most,
now resting in Chevy Heaven
and I know of no human
with such tenacity.
7-9-19
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
craig cornish
Don’t wake him up yet! Shansi said with a snicker.
Orinoco needs his sleep, for his soft-hearted ticker!
So Great Uncle Bulgaria gave Orinoco fifteen minutes more.
But then you have to leave for school, he said. Right out the door!
Miss Adelaide will be waiting, and you know she is fine.
This school mistress wanted the Wombles there in good time.
Tobermory had to fix Bungo’s bike before they could leave.
Bungo had a fine idea to put on a weird new blowing sleeve.
Tomsk was raring to go, he loves to drive through the woods.
Yazz told them to wait up, she had to primp up her girly goods.
Wellington lagged a bit, for he has such a scientific mind.
He stops along the way to gather everything that he can find.
This is a story about an uncle…and two things that make him great.
The first would be his patience…his ability to wait.
The second: his sister’s daughter just had a baby girl…
meaning the members of his family have increased…
meaning now he is a great uncle and her baby…his great niece.
But with so many family members rushing in to feast their eyes and to behold her…This great uncle got to see her…but he never got to hold her.
So many times he wanted to…so many times he’d yearn…
but he would always acquiesce and give someone else his turn.
Until the day he got to feel his great niece and all her charms…
when it was finally his turn to hold her in his arms.
He held her for a long time and as his arms grew numb…
all the time he smiled…and all the time she sucked her thumb.
He’s not sure how it happened but once into his arms his great niece climbed…His world shrunk down to just the two of them and he lost all track of time
And even though this great uncle didn’t get to hold his great niece right away…that was not to be their fate…
One look at the two of them together and you knew…it was worth the wait.
Worth the wait for the great niece to feel the comfort and safety of her great uncle’s arms…and to know that he will be there to keep her safe from harm.
And worth the wait for the great uncle who got to feel what all of us who’ve ever held a baby already know…
Once you hold a baby in your arms…you never want to let them go.
Rolf was born in Wallertheim, in an optimistic year
Progress seemed to be everywhere, and not much to fear.
Then the reds took Russia, shook the world to the core
Millions killed when in power, a crime you can’t ignore
Drafted in World War One, every moment was a scare
French came at him in bright red uniforms, too visible, wasn’t fair
He claims he didn’t kill anyone; I wish I could believe
He was on the wrong side of that war, a past you can’t retrieve.
Under Weimar, the dollar was worth 4000 trillion marks
That kind of inflation destroys society, opens it to sharks.
Nazis got into power, took guns from all the Jews
Rolf threw his weapon in the Rhine, and his medals too.
He left grape vines behind, took his family out, down to the wire
They rode through Palestine, saw Jewish farms set on fire.
Then a letter came from the Reich, called Rolf to the reserve
We still have it, bureaucratic time lag, an ironic reminder to serve.
If Rolf had gone back, he would have been doomed
Into the maw of the gigantic bloodshed one more life consumed.
I met Rolf in Denver, a short, muscular guy
He even flipped me on my back, with a Judo move I didn’t spy.
I watched a rodeo with him, history was in arrest.
It's a strange thing, in one man, so much time compressed
I spoke with a great-aunt who had uncles in the Civil War
A great uncle told me he saw soldiers marching to fight the Boer.
He also fought in World War One, but on the English side
Showed me wounds in his arm, to fight was part of pride.
And now I use ChatGPT, and admire Space X
In me through memories so much history connects.
And yet I’m the black sheep, so many things went bad
I’m relieved these men never knew my saga, so dismal, and so sad.
I also look at the world, there is so much bad news:
Jihad in Africa, and in Holland a “hunt for the Jews”
China, Russia on the rise, the west has seen better days
Will we end that compressed window of history in a fiery blaze?
Paris, earlier today. It’s a (vaccinated) summer family reunion and I’m catching up with relatives I haven’t seen for AGES. Like my impeccably dressed (three piece suit on a warm, un-air-conditioned, Saturday) 83 year old great uncle.
We cheek kiss
“STILL searching for love, Uncle Remy?”
“Forget love. My dear, I’m an old, self-absorbed narcissist. What I look for is someone young and frivolous whose most complicated desire is fun - specifically fun that can be bought - that’s an important distinction.”
I gasp and pose.
“You’re looking for MEEEE!,” I squeal.
“Oh, if I needed a spoiled, over-serious, temperamental, unappeasable rich girl - I’d think of you.”
“You GET me!,” *I beam with pride*
Blowing off the dusty dust
Of my old, old family portrait album
I see, in the beginning of beginnings,
There’s a whole lot of me, me, me me and me
Baby me, toddler me, goofy me, cutie me
School photos up to my Senior year me
Dispersed amongst them are family occasions
Like Birthdays, Christmas, and the such
My favorites are the goofy, unpretentious ones
The LIVE and not people posing picture ones
That end up framed and hung up on the wall
Looking lost amongst the many, many other ones
Then, there’s the Big Vanilla envelope:
A Great, Great time capsule of ancestry and all
A Great, Great graveyard of black and whites
One especially catches my eye, sending chills down my back
There stands a man, older than dirt
That looks like he’s wearing my bamboo made shirt
Not only do I look exactly like him
Looking back at me is that same foolish grin
And so I have to look on the back to see who it is
But I can barely make out his name
And yet it turns out,
He’s my Great, Great, Great Great, Great Uncle Jim
100 hours, thousands of deaths.
My great uncle lost an eye that day.
An intense war briefly subsided
for the yet to come 12 year atrocity.
My parents’ parents fought against
the guerillas, losing their voices.
Helicopters and bullets flew
alongside Torogoz and the wells
overflowed with blood that rained
from the sky that day.
Bits and pieces of our neighbors
piled on my mother’s homelands.
Men camouflaged with masked principles,
terrors of the nights tore into the hearts
of their own people leading
to mass destruction.
The economy crashed raising
poverty from the dirt roads.
The colón was too little to fulfill
the hunger in its bottomless bellies.
The cries of the motherless
mothers grieved for their children,
as they were taken one by one.
Each of my uncles, aunts,
cousins, mother and father ran
to the borders concealing their breaths
under the stars in the midst of coyotes.
Part of each one died and buried
in their childhood home underneath
the mango tree that took my mom’s arm.
Roses and Izotes fill my father’s garden.
God, Union, Liberty, flag of my origin
stands side by side decades past
Bravery, Purity, Justice, flag adopted
into my family.
In camouflage, my great uncles
and grandfathers served,
and my brother pledged fealty
to the United States.
Following in their footsteps,
I wish to be a symbol
of my parents' grief and hope,
and my country’s resilience.
The line "Looks like a good night to fly"
last words of a Reddit user's great-uncle referred to as Gillybilly
Gillybilly's great-uncle was a Navy pilot in WW II who flew jets for 30 years
I've been behind bars for way too long
each time a prison warden sings that same old song,
"When you've done your time Bub we will release yous"
I'd shuffle my cards then let them fall, hadn't I paid my dues?
They called it psychosis, a personality disorder that distorts reality
it seems to me I have been in here for Oh! a mere eternity!
"Unable to understand his wrongful actions, cuff those guys!" they said,
I replied, "Its a good day to die" in my killer clown's disguise
When the Commissioner said, " go ahead release him " to the guards
I washed my face, combed my hair, and played my last trump card
Sitting on the grass watching the last shards of light, I was glad I didn't die
I came to realize that I was now alone, ... "Looks like a good day to fly"
I whispered to a bat as he soared hard and fast against the sky,
"Looks like a good night to fly," and then I began to cry !