Poem 73: Aunty Rene

(This poem continues my decision this month to post poems I wrote fifty plus years ago – this week’s poem was written around about when I was 15!)

My aunty died about thirteen years ago.
For thirteen years she has not known the
warm sun and pale breeze I now feel.
She has not known the thirteen
evenings, the afternoons, the blackbird peace and
childhood memories that swing around every spring.
As a spinster, she has no one to love her after death,
no one to be remembered by, and
not much to be remembered for.
She was just an ordinary aunty.

And I thought of all the ordinary people
who mean nothing;
whose names do not lie hidden
even in buried archives.
I thought of all these people,
once so wonderful, so friendly,
and now indifferently forgotten…

Oh what is life? and what is life? and life?…
My aunty never died,
she has only been forgotten.

Feel the warm sun and pale breeze,
Sing to the universe,
Tomorrow you may feel no more.
Tomorrow –
Tomorrow you may feel no more.

If the above link doesn’t play, then try clicking HERE!

8 thoughts on “Poem 73: Aunty Rene

  1. Yvonne

    It’s good you kept all the young Bruce poems, slightly older Bruce. These were deep thoughts from a teenager.

    Do you ever think, as you carry out some mundane task, like pegging out the laundry or washing the dishes, “This could be the last time I ever do this, and I’ll never know.”

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply
    1. Bruce Goodman Post author

      Thanks, Uma. I’m trying to abstain from comments because someone/something hijacked my comments and left a trail of damages. I think it might come from northern India – and it seems to be connected with a porn site,,,, So I shall remain silent for a while in the comments department.

      Like

      Reply

I delight in having my dull life coloured by your intelligent perceptions, your wit, and your vivacity.

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