Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Auntie used to say, don’t forget
To wash your hands before and

After every meal and after you
Have been to the john and when

You get up in the morning and
Before you go to bed, don’t forget

To wash your neck and face and
Arms up to the elbows, and don’t

Speak with your mouth full and
Always stand when a lady enters

The room and don’t interrupt other
People when they speak and speak

The truth when speaking and always
Remember your prayers. Sixty years

On and standing at her funeral,
Watching the coffin pass you by

Blessed on the coffin cover with
Flowers of different colours, seeing

The sadness on other faces and tears,
Listening to the hymns, watching

The coffin standing there in the chapel,
You think of your auntie, lying there

Still and silent, peaceful and dead,
And remember her words and saying,

I won’t forget, Auntie, inside your head.

Heartfelt poem...Nice picture of a little boy...Is that you, Dadio? Sorry for
your loss...

thank you, Steve, yes, that is old (or rather young Dadio).

can feel this poem, so very much.
was thinking of my own vibrant aunt, this very morning, and how bizarre for her to have to disintegrate into a corpse.
her life! her energy far outweighs her demise

always the little child - i empathize with your choice of image - you of the adorable smile

thank you, judih.

Thanks, Terry, a lovely poem, and I offer this one in return ....

AUBREY

My aunt Aubrey,
the only aunt of seven I never called "aunt,"
the one with whom I shared
the most time as a a child
was mad,
in and out of psychiatric hospitals,
caught in the throes of black depression,
crying pitifully behind closed doors,
hooked on coca cola,
faithful card partner of endless games
of go-fishin' and gin rummy.

Her dark desperate young eyes
still haunt me, although they have been closed
for nearly thirty years.
Toward the end of her life she was toothless,
overweight, tucked away in a nursing home,
and I missed dozens of chances
of visiting her.
She could not bear to be taken
out of the home,
even for a short ride in the car.

I still remember her funeral,
four mourners
and one of those strange elderly females
who appear at small town funerals
just to prove
they are alive.

Aubrey was so incredibly beautiful
I could not believe my eyes,
her lost youth restored as if by magic,
as she lay there in her coffin.
faintly smiling.

thank you,Sue. I love your poem. Have you placed it eslewhere? I hope so. IT needs to be read by many more and enjoyed and moved.