"nephews" poems
My fiance is not only my fiance hes my best friend my world my everything he's been there for me through the good and the bad days but no matter what he still sticks by my side no matter what. My fiance is the most amazing most thoughtful caring man you will ever meet he's such a great guy to not only me but also to his amazing adorable nephews. My fiance will always be my number one.
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
Just the thought of them makes your jawbone ache:
those turkey dinners, those holidays with
the air around the woodstove baked to a stupor,
and Aunt Lil's tablecloth stained by her girlhood's gravy.
A doggy wordless wisdom whimpers from
your uncles' collected eyes; their very jokes
creak with genetic sorrow, a strain
of common heritage that hurts the gut.
Sheer boredom and fascination! A spidering
of chromosomes webs even the infants in
and holds us fast around the spread
of rotting food, of too-sweet pie.
The cousins buzz, the nephews crawl;
to love one's self is to love them all.
9.7k
Once a boy loved me, you know?
I've lived a good life.
It was a sad one, but a good one.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 8:16 AM UTC
Katie the previous lives lady tries to rescue her nephew
Katie's nephew Jackson Gooden is in town to spend some time with Katie and it couldn't have come at a worst time, you see the kidnapper who kidnapped Graham Thorne, well his reincarnation was in town and he was getting a messed up head with everyone telling him he was mentally deranged, the only one who helped him was Katie, and when Katie took time off to look after her nephew when he's in town, he almost flipped his marbles untill he decided to prove to everyone else that he is Steven Bradley and use Katie as a blackmail target, you see what he plans to do is kidnap Katie's 15 year ok'd nephew Jackson and blackmail Katie,if she refuses to see him, the weight will fall on her nephews head and **** him, yes this is the way for Katie to make sure she makes me happy.
Katie begged for him to let him go, and then say you will be a pig in your next life, what you do here affects your future happiness, let my nephew go and we'll talk about treatment for your illness, and he said that he thought she'd understood him, but really she is just like the other's, and Katie had to keep telling him that he is good and will never stray, and she did that because her patient had a pocket knife at her nephews head, and Katie said, I believe this is the wrong way to handle your illness,,I told you that you kidnapped a kid, and seconds later you have my 15 year old nephew at knifepoint, you are
******* up, and also you are making a mockery of my good business, he just laughed still determined he'll **** him
And make Katie jitter.
Jackson tried to scream, so the knife would be removed from his neck, and Katie said, I will find a way that this man can't ever harm you,,you have to refuse to go anywhere with him, he had a weakness, and that is, if you laugh at him, he'll suddenly be scared of him, and Katie then said that she doesn't believe in laughing in her job, but she decided to make a exception here, because really she wanted time off with Jackson.
The reincarnation of Steven Bradley said that he will hold Jackson and Katie for a huge ransom and Jackson said, you can't get me, I am too smart, you see i am young, you are old
I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, i'm a young dude, your an old fogie, I'm a young dude, your an old fogie, a stinken little old fogie ma--n.
And then he ran and Jackson said 1 win for young against old, and then Jackson and Katie spent time sightseeing for 4 days and Katie, I know she is born to tell people previous lives stories, really enjoyed being away from the office and when she came back,,the first phone call made was a phone call to the cops, issueing a restraining order on that Steven Bradley reincarnation, and then Jacksoc went back to his parents house saying he was kidnapped by a ghost while Katie tried a new approach to tell people previous lives, so she can keep love one's safe for the future of her business, yes that's what she'll do.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 4:50 AM UTC
I wrote a poem against gun violence because students should not have to go to school aching in fear of not making it home alive.
I wrote a poem against gun violence because so many people are going to take their own lives today.
I wrote a poem against gun violence because it targets women, minorities, to the point where they cannot be outside of their homes in the evenings.
I wrote a poem against gun violence because too many veterans are at risk of dying by their own hands
I wrote a poem against gun violence because mental health is SERIOUS
I wrote a poem against gun violence because I am an aunt of two and I want my nephews to live full, happy lives
I want to ask my legislators what they’re going to do when they come for their
children
Their spouses
Nieces, and nephews
Grandchildren
Friends
Call me a snowflake, if you will
If that’s what standing for what’s right makes me, then I’m proud of it
I’m the snowflake that wants you all to stay alive
That stands for what’s right when they don’t have the guts to
And sweetheart, this snowflake doesn’t melt
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 8:14 PM UTC
Nieces and nephews
is someone
Who look up to
you as aunts and uncles
Niece
Niece
Their light up we you
walk to the door
Their teach you
patients and how to
Love unconditionally
and their teach
You how to be kind to
other I love hearing
My niece calling me aunt
if you have a nieces
Or nephews or niece
Or nephew their are
Blessing of god
I love my niece
© Amanda Kay Hill
12/5/16
Jan 9, 2017
Jan 9, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC
Studies have shown that corporal punishment
at a young age
only results in learning disabilities,
God smacking the grey matter out your brain...
So the cycle of self, ego, perpetuating abuse, goes.
It is a series of footsteps, streams that become rivers;
and we are composed of these chaotic streams: energy
Dreams.
And my brother is a perfect window into "America"
He has a five year old boy, a Girlfriend with a boy and a girl;
They both believe in tough love and hitting;
On Sunday, as they were entering my mothers house,
his son hit him with a snow ball near the crotch, so he hit him
in the stomach, and I saw the boy lose his breath.
"You're a terrible father."
I picked him up as he started crying.
My brother said he was bad all day before that.
What am I to believe?
That you are raising, caring for, and loving unconditionally,
or you are ******* up as a parent by hitting your child?
What am I to believe? That glimmer of light is a deamon
or that the deamon is you, my brother.
When you slap your child, or any animal, you reduce it
its brain, its body, and its mind. That's why alphas ****
they just want to reduce the other males around them.
Its an evolutionary trait that carries through to today.
And so do fools, my nephews mother wants to medicate him...
when science meets spirituality, mind spirit
we replace the box with a tree, a galaxy.
We replace the pill with therapy, and community;
petrol with the sun, burning a hole
in the unity of our dreams and the whole of our destiny.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
I'm fine.
The lie I say every f**king day.
The lie I say multiple times a day.
I wake up from a sleep that hasn't rested me,
And I lie. I'm fine.
When the woman I love asks if I'm okay, I lie to her.
I'm fine.
When she's breaking down due to her own issues,
I stay stong for her. Tell her it will be okay.
Possibly another lie.
I bury myself in these lies, to make sure everyone else is okay.
I'm fine.
The only reason, the ONLY ******* reason, why I haven't attempted for the 3rd time, is because I am scared of the impact of other people.
I'm fine.
I don't care what happens to me.
I care what will happen to others.
Laurens future. Her own mental health.
My Mums heart. I can't take a son away from my Mother.
My sisters big brother.
My Dads nipper.
My nephews uncle.
I'm fine.
My best friends. I couldn't forgive myself if I made the group smaller by 1.
I'm fine.
It even extends to work.
I can't let others take on the burden of doing the work I should be doing, because I ended it.
I'm not that selfish.
I'm fine.
Its the crippeling debt we're in.
How the f**k can I let the person I love put up with that on her own.
We barely live pay day to pay day.
And how can I do this to a family that hasn't even started.
I'm fine.
I am fine.
This constant feeling of something catastrophic is about to happen.
This invisible ocean I'm drowning in.
This explosion that is happening in my head, that I'm constantly holding back.
The thoughts that flitter in my head so easily.
I'm fine.
I say it with a smile.
I say it with purpose.
I say it with a heavy heart.
I'm fine.
My mouth says I'm fine.
My eyes scream for help.
I've been so good at lying, I've convinced every other communication I have.
My actions.
My words.
My mannerisms.
The jokes I flood into every conversation.
I'm fine.
I try to laugh as much as possible.
It helps convince others I'm fine.
It helps supress.
If I don't laugh, I die.
Or so it feels.
I'm fine.
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 8:58 AM UTC
Got the call before noon.
I can't believe this news.
Jerry, you're gone.
I can't believe this news.
My nephews and sister left all alone.
I can't believe this news.
I can't process.
I can't.
How could this happen?
It is too soon for God to need you.
My sister needs you.
Johann needs you.
Jaben needs you.
I'm so sad.
You're gone.
This has to be a joke.
What a cruel cruel joke.
I need time to process.
I need this to sink in.
I need. I need.
Jun 8, 2017
Jun 8, 2017 at 1:16 PM UTC
I will hear your voice
Singing joyful hymns
Between chores
On Saturday morn;
I will see your smile of radiance
On the faces of my sisters and nieces;
And your boundless energy
Will manifest in the limbs
Of my sons and nephews;
And the legacy
Of a Nubian Queen
From Islington Village
On the breezy bank
Of the majestic Berbice river,
Shall reign eternal...
~ Pablo (#formom)
10/25/2013
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
The dead-bolts on the interior doors
Against the nephews most securely locked
(One is destructive; the other explores)
Ignored by their mother (usually crocked)
The brother-in-law babbles about his bowels
And surgeries over the festive spread
Ignoring his wife’s disapproving scowls
Detailing each grim therapy and med
The puppies are safely penned inside
Because of an incident with a crowbar
And a nephew who kicked and screamed and cried -
He wasn’t allowed to **** the dogs or bash the car
His mother comforted him in his tears
And glowered at me for telling him no
And comforted herself with a few more beers
Her special child is sensitive, you know
The brother-in-law’s colonoscopy
With lurid adjectives of graphic doom
Comes with the pie and more iced tea
His miseries circulate around the room
Then from the living room an expensive crash
“Not me!” “Not me!” More screams and denials and cries
An old family vase – it’s now just trash
“You shouldn’t have glass around,” their mother sighs
The brother-in-law offers to show his scars
He finds his shirt buttons, makes his move
We other men escape outside for cigars
Cigars!? The women uniformly disapprove
One nephew leaps upon a garden seat
And jumps and yells until it falls apart
Their mother says her boy is cute and sweet
“Are you all right, my dear little heart?”
The brother-in-law holds his tummy and groans
And tells us all about his flatulence
And just which foods lead to what moans
(Perhaps he should practice some abstinence)
The women come outside to cough and choke
With practiced puritan disapproval and sneers
About the satanic scent of tobacco smoke
The world’s best mother chugs a few more beers
The brother-in-law explains why he can’t drink
It’s about his digestion (be surprised)
And we shouldn’t smoke; if only we’d think
And we (got a match?) are properly chastised
Then at the end of this mandatory day
Of mandatory Hallmark merriment
All of them finally go the (space) away
And how did the mailbox get broken and bent?
But the brother-in-law pauses at the garden gate
“Say, did I tell you about my new pills…?”
And so dear solitude again must wait
While darkness slowly falls upon the hills
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
When I was twelve,
my uncle told me that
when I got older,
I would only have enough
"best friends" to count on
one single hand,
and they would be the
best best friends I'd ever had.
And I can count my five
best friends,
but they are not
my best best.
Because they tug
and twist
and ****
and pull
on my heartstrings
in ways that could make
a grown girl cry;
and they do.
So I can tell you the names
of my best friends
that rip me to shreds
and throw my heart
onto a floor covered in
broken glass;
and you will be able
to identify the names,
because they might be your
best best friends, too.
Wanderlust
the beast to slay them all,
pushing my desire
and reinforcing my disability,
reminding me that I have
nowhere to go
and everything to see
Disorder
in my bedroom,
in my essays,
or in my brain;
all of them causing
someone (me)
to explode in a fit of
unwanted emotions.
Apathy
Towards my schoolwork and
busywork handed to me
by middle-aged "can't-do-so-teach-ers"
that need a handful of capsules
to numb the pull to leave
just as much as I do.
Dysfunction
in my brain's chemical makeup,
and my family's emotional one,
not to mention the relationships
I attempt to handle like a
one-handed juggler.
Imagination
creating scenarios in my heart
that could never come to be,
leaving me in a perpetual state of
disappointment.
So now I will tell
my nieces and nephews,
sons and daughters,
or countless grandchildren
to never trust the ones that
try to make something different
of your heart,
because they don't really love you,
they love what the can make you become.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
She
so___- she
And__ He__ so
Never ending
She Comma
Do-So
Shop to Soho
Electronics
Like a Saint
Satanic's
His or hers
Nic's and Pix
Never the end
If so_______
Yes Sir
The math flame
Password
To end the
dating game
Hot green
tip
pistachios
Like the long sentence_____,
Your
Nephews
He was
Huh? ,
So compelled
to be sentenced
The time
treacherous
Was so long
At that end is
where
you
belong
Column
his
comma
She comma
Prima Donna
Oh! Donna
A love
should
be in
the
moment
Too
many
Dots?plots/whatnots
You forgot
semicolumn
The head page
Semi-sweet
column
End chair
Kingdom
Knock on wood
Getting
splinters
He used
Plastic
condoms
Braveheart Lion
Twisted sisters
I was
at the
very end
Wella
She -Comma____
The money
Higher up
Society Brianna
Barcelona Cafes
Giraffe ladies
boisterous
drama
Begin now
The beginning
Never met her
middle-section
Which breed?
She-comma
She could
make
Anyone's
bad heart
Drug fix well
The good
heart
Should be ended
Dead end____&
the
morgue
Her long tongue
All She__ Rouge
The question mark
All parts dots here and?
What is
next!!!
You hear
the ring you jump
Off the cliff
the text
Meet me
greet him
Chances
are
never
The front
It was
a front
Fine print
you
could
see
Smitten
written deed
And
left her
money
Heavenly
bliss
This
paper
kiss
Did you
miss
Her
signature,
Never a
good gesture
She-devil
Comma,
Never good
ending
movie
Feature
Never ending
Please visit
and come back
Do I need your opinion?
.,, ... ??
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 9:22 AM UTC
Sitting here trying to figure my thought process,
Trying to describe the only one I want to impress,
Thinking of ways to give you what you're due,
When all it ever takes is a simple ' I love you '.
The 9th of May 1978, a few years past,
Our 1st public introduction, yet it could've been our last,
You stopped breathing as things weren't going right,
I'm forever grateful, you turned back from that light.
I always had a reputation as a Mammys Boy,
No longer an insult, I am one with pride,
You thought me how to stand up for myself,
Most importantly, to search inside for my strenght.
Along with all of that, you gave me 4 sisters,
For my nieces & nephews, you gave 4 great mothers,
You take on our problems, like they're your own,
You always make sure, we are never alone.
They say all men search for one like their Mother,
Well, 'they' have no clue, for there is no other,
One with such skills, to attempt to name is unbelievablle,
Mammy, Ma... to the girls & I, to everyone else it is Carmel.
Jul 4, 2011
Jul 4, 2011 at 4:00 PM UTC
This is not you that lies before us,
beloved Aunt, for you live on
in our hearts, our souls, our minds
as the with racquet and a ready smile,
as the doting older sister
with eyes shining like a proud spotlight
on two little girls on a crowded stage,
singled out and made special by your love.
You do not lie here cold and lifeless,
beloved Aunt, for you live on
in the warmth of your laughter
and your bright shining lively dancing eyes
and your girlish peaches-and-cream complexion
and in the memories
of two small nephews
in the endless summer of childhood
conquering the diving tower at Jellicoe Baths
or frolicking at Mission Bay
and you capturing all our shared and happy memories
with your trusty Box Brownie.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 4:00 PM UTC
I am from being a younger sister,
to having divorced parents.
I am from being an Aunt,
to watching my nieces and nephews grow up.
I am from being a confused teenager,
to learning from my mistakes.
I am from reading love stories,
to believing in love at first sight.
I am from having high expectations,
to being determined to achieve my dreams.
I am from being shy and quiet at school,
to being loud and talkative at home.
So who am I exactly?
I am a girl who goes after what she wants to achieve.
I am a girl who is loving,
and has a heart for the people she loves.
I am 14 year old girl,
trying to learn from her mistakes.
I am me.
a person with a unique personality.
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
while age is only a number,
experience is a set of volumes.
you, thanks to time and genetics,
have overflowing shelves.
you've done it all.
a house of your own.
a car of your own.
a cat.
a rose garden.
(are you gay?)
nieces, nephews.
unfixed income.
"making it."
how can i be so proud of you?
it's hardly been 4 months
since
i ran into you in the doorway
of the bar
trying to make my exit unnoticed
as i had avoided you not one hour before.
knowing one of us would have to say "hi" first.
but that was then.
now is this.
this
this
this dull glow
that never leaves my heart.
someone's always stoking the fire.
your shift starts
now.
Jun 12, 2012
Jun 12, 2012 at 12:26 PM UTC
My brother is a drama queen with no morals.
He cheats on his wife with everything with a pulse.
So many of my nephews are the result of my brother’s lust,
I would be surprised he is still married
If I did not know his wife as well as I do.
His wife is over possessive, and angry,
However she is righteous and fair.
Forgiven on that front.
However she is also our sister
And if I had any right to judge, I might.
My other brother has no cares.
He has had an ongoing competition
With our niece for ages,
Since the spring and the olive tree.
My nephew enjoys arsonry and war
And I wonder if he is a sadist sometimes.
He is my other niece’s side piece, essentially,
Whom is married to yet another nephew.
Our history is riddled with ******
And I wonder if we are really all powerful gods
Or just afflicted by advantageous birth defects.
I am the most normal of us all
And I spend my time with dead people.
We need help.
Send your best therapist.
Maybe send multiple,
The first few might meet an untimely end.
Sincerely, Hades.
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 9:56 PM UTC
Bought me a new grill today,burgers. Dogs, the bit's. Got stuffed majorly, had a good day. Saw the nieces, nephews, and family.
That's what life's about.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
The priest performed
a simple solemn service
for the internment
of your ashes.
Your close family
were there
by the graveside;
the small dug hole,
the sacred plot,
the green carpet.
Your sister brought
your wooden casket,
carrying you
for the last time.
Your nephews and nieces
cried as did we all
inside or out.
I guess you were there,
my son, in spirit
looking on, taking in
the whole service
from start to end;
the flowers;
the wooden casket
with your name on top;
watching your brother
place it carefully
in its resting place;
ashes to ashes,
the priest said,
but the soul lives on,
his words meaningful
in the afternoon warmth,
the sun lazily there;
bird song;
you listening,
my son, nearby,
silent as you
usually were,
eyeing the proceedings,
sensing our loss
and ache
at your departure
in a ****** sense;
but you are
here and there
in spirit
as our recompense.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
i didn't know you quite well
i just knew you hated
yourself
and loved disney films
and musicials
(i hate musicials and disney)
we sat at the same lunch table
2013
i remember your cotton sleeve
wiping across the corner of my left eye
because there was a storm brewing in them
and it flooded
you talked of
that boys don't know
better
and told me to stay
strong
how can someone who is not strong themselves
encourage me to do something
that they can't even triumph
you fell ill around december
or was it november?
i can't remember.
you almost followed the footsteps
of your lost nephews (two and five)
why couldn't you absorb your nutrition?
was your destiny to see the mortician?
(no.)
but you left the hilly suburbs of ohio
to go where the sand storms
and the palm trees sway
and the salty bays lay.
alex, alexandria
(defender of man)
i still remember those sleepless green eyes
filled with defeat and woe
and yards of wavy tangled brown hair
that flowed.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 7:59 PM UTC
He fumbles with the **** and clicks the door half-open,
blinking silently at us as we pile out of the van,
his owlish eyes peering.
He struggles to find words after so many long days--
good words for his grand-nephews,
words of strength for his grand-nieces--
and Chinese words stumble out.
He stands silent for seconds,
halted in the midst of a sentence,
searching for the English.
So we try to fill the still house with life and noise.
It is grey and large, with blank, staring windows and empty beds.
Our laughter does not echo well in its long hallways,
muted by the weightless, suspended air.
We eat at the kitchen table, and I watch him.
He seems so strong sitting there,
deceptively powerful,
corded arm muscles and heavily veined hands
and silver hair, carefully combed
in a wave that was dashing forty years ago.
Then he stirs,
stands and shuffles slowly to the sink.
The illusion of strength falls away.
He is a worn old man--
tired and sad.
Quietly I wait behind him as he washes his hands,
then pauses, confused,
wrinkled eyes
querulous and vague,
and slowly washes them again.
The rhythmic movements of his once sure fingers
rub in an unchanging pattern
from when he was young.
I remember many years ago,
--when I was even younger than now--
I remember him looking at me,
I remember seeing my dark and warped reflection in his wise, laughing eyes.
I thought surely he was the most dignified of men:
alive and slow and gentle,
quietly commanding respect,
his amiable face in permanent creases
from too much kind smiling.
Now those wrinkles have faded.
The faint lines no longer trace across his face,
and his house is quiet.
My great-uncle is alone.
Alone
with the countless photos of her.
They are fading slowly in the streaming sunlight--
together.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC