The Neighbours cast is like a second family.
quote by Holly Valance
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
II. Half-Rome
What, you, Sir, come too? (Just the man I'd meet.)
Be ruled by me and have a care o' the crowd:
This way, while fresh folk go and get their gaze:
I'll tell you like a book and save your shins.
Fie, what a roaring day we've had! Whose fault?
Lorenzo in Lucina,—here's a church
To hold a crowd at need, accommodate
All comers from the Corso! If this crush
Make not its priests ashamed of what they show
For temple-room, don't prick them to draw purse
And down with bricks and mortar, eke us out
The beggarly transept with its bit of apse
Into a decent space for Christian ease,
Why, to-day's lucky pearl is cast to swine.
Listen and estimate the luck they've had!
(The right man, and I hold him.)
Sir, do you see,
They laid both bodies in the church, this morn
The first thing, on the chancel two steps up,
Behind the little marble balustrade;
Disposed them, Pietro the old murdered fool
To the right of the altar, and his wretched wife
On the other side. In trying to count stabs,
People supposed Violante showed the most,
Till somebody explained us that mistake;
His wounds had been dealt out indifferent where,
But she took all her stabbings in the face,
Since punished thus solely for honour's sake,
Honoris causâ, that's the proper term.
A delicacy there is, our gallants hold,
When you avenge your honour and only then,
That you disfigure the subject, fray the face,
Not just take life and end, in clownish guise.
It was Violante gave the first offence,
Got therefore the conspicuous punishment:
While Pietro, who helped merely, his mere death
Answered the purpose, so his face went free.
We fancied even, free as you please, that face
Showed itself still intolerably wronged;
Was wrinkled over with resentment yet,
Nor calm at all, as murdered faces use,
Once the worst ended: an indignant air
O' the head there was—'t is said the body turned
Round and away, rolled from Violante's side
Where they had laid it loving-husband-like.
If so, if corpses can be sensitive,
Why did not he roll right down altar-step,
Roll on through nave, roll fairly out of church,
Deprive Lorenzo of the spectacle,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Why Can't Family Be Family Again
why can't family be family again
we used to always be friends
we used to huddle together
whenever we got scared
we felt the warmth in one anothers arms
because we knew the love was there
we used to build forts out of whatever we had in our rooms
and wage sars
throwing pillows, books, and brooms
we used to have mini mosh pits
with just the four of us
we headbanged and pushed
we screamed and pretended to cuss
we used to protect eachother
we used to defend one another
we used to stand together like brothers and sister
when mom punished us we would all resist her
we used to be a family
a family that would always care
we used to be a family with more happiness than despair
we used to be a family that never hogged food or air
we used to be a family that told eachother we were there
we used to be a family
a family that sat down toghether and ate
we used to be a family full of our own ideas that we create
we used to be a family that got along without debate
we used to be a family with more love than hate
so why can't family be family again
and remember why those times were so good
why can't family be family again
and treat eachother the way we should
why can't family be family again
and throw the hate away
why can't family be family again
and invite the love to stay
poem by Marco Jimenez
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Why Can't We Be A Family
why can't family be family again
we used to always be friends
we used to huddle together
whenever we got scared
we felt the warmth in one anothers arms
because we knew the love was there
we used to build forts out of whatever we had in our rooms
and wage sars
throwing pillows, books, and brooms
we used to have mini mosh pits
with just the four of us
we headbanged and pushed
we screamed and pretended to cuss
we used to protect eachother
we used to defend one another
we used to stand together like brothers and sister
when mom punished us we would all resist her
we used to be a family
a family that would always care
we used to be a family with more happiness than despair
we used to be a family that never hogged food or air
we used to be a family that told eachother we were there
we used to be a family
a family that sat down toghether and ate
we used to be a family full of our own ideas that we create
we used to be a family that got along without debate
we used to be a family with more love than hate
so why can't family be family again
and remember why those times were so good
why can't family be family again
and treat eachother the way we should
why can't family be family again
and throw the hate away
why can't family be family again
and invite the love to stay
poem by Ricky Baker
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Take Me Home
you know the irony of life is that you have like
this big dream to get where you wanna be
but once you get there you start to dream about where you came from.
I guess thats the part of the circle of our lives
like the hands of a clock going round.
if only we could wind them back and return to a time where the dream began.
its all too soon thats all will be is a dream in someones mind.
Look at me I'm famous on top of the world,
I finally reached up in time (im a superstar)
stand up, step back and take a look
is this really whut I had in mind? (i dont really think so)
I guessed them goals that we set in the day,
they actually came to be. (yup yup)
but now I'm lookin at a black white paper,
and with a whole book of memories (but we never read)
seven deep in the jeep with the camel top,
everybody and they drunk as hell,
?? and awesome dre and anybody by the right would see us
(cause we always went there)
songs were long and polution strong, and the faygo always warm and flat
(thats nasty)
but if now if this supposed to be heaven for me, then just give me my own
hell back
so take me home
(to my empty refridgerator)
cmon and take me home
(to a life in which I understand)
so take me home
(to my old school down in delray)
cmon and take me home
??
(cmon cmon) lets go yall
theres another festival down town,
take some bottles back up to the store
(i found two of em)
that would get us bus money down there
to get back we have to find some more
(might as well get drunk)
hangin our flyers up everywhere,
we coulda sworn we was makin noise,
(everybody knew us)
finally we had everyone in southwest
representin with the jj boys (everybody)
I stole to eat (i stole)
I stole to live (i stole)
I stole only to survive (if yous a hoodlum)
just like j said in 'ghetto zone' I stole a car with my tape inside
all we did was try to talk to hoes,
and none of them was tryin to hear (not 1 hoe)
it woulda meant so much more back then
[...] Read more
song performed by Insane Clown Posse
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cretin Family
I am not so upset about my horrible self
But why don't you go upset yourself
Hey here's the mirror see your stupid face
What a disgrace man and you know it's true
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Everyone's against me
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Oi-oi-oi-oi
Don't stare at me it's freakin' me out
Look what's happening now it's all your fault
You can't do nothin' absolutely nothing' o.k.
Why don't you get a hoola hoop
and do the cretin hop and
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Everyone's against me
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Oi-oi-oi-oi
I am never wrong don't tell me what to do
Here's a little curse it's from me to you
It's nothin' gonna happen nothin' ever will
You'll be miserable every day your luck will always be bad
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Everyone's against me
Cretin family Cretin family Cretin family
Oi-oi-oi-oi
Everyone's against me
Oi-oi-oi-oi
Everyone's against me
Oi-oi-oi-oi
Everyone's against me
Oi-oi-oi-oi
Everyone's against me
Oi-oi-oi-oi
song performed by Ramones from Adios Amigos
Added by Lucian Velea
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Family
When its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, you accept them, cause you have no choice but to
When its family, theyre a mirror of the worst and best in you
And they always put you to the test
And you always try to do your best
And just pray for God to do the rest, when its family
Some are preachers, some are gay
Some are addicts, drunks and strays
But not a one is turned away, when its family
Some are lucky, others aint
Some are fighters, others faint
Winners, losers, sinners, saints, its all family
And when its family you trust them and your hearts an open door
When its family, you tolerate what youd kill others for
When its family, you love and hate and take, then give some more
Somehow you justify mistakes, try to find some better way
To solve the problems day to day, in the family
You take the trouble as it comes and love them more than anyone
Good or bad or indifferent, its still family
You choose your lovers, you pick your friends
Not the family that youre in, nah
Theyll be with you til the end, cause its family
And when its family, you forgive them for they know not what they do
When its family, theyre a mirror of the worst and best in you
When its family, when its family
Let me be all that I should be to the family
song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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Family I love
love my family with my hold heart.
My love is Joy to love my family
Family is sad and happy and love.
Family is fun and painful and pretty.
My family is like all families we have
love and we have happiness and tears
I love my hold family
My family is like angels who fly in sky
I am grateful that I have family that loves
me.
My family are kind and nice and fun to be
around
My family is painful like all familys are and
heart breaking and Evil sometimes
My family is heart breaking and deadly like
everyone else
Hey I can't stop loving my family not matter what
it coats in the family.
Way my family is just makes me want have family
with someone be as good as they are.
But God know I love my family
and our love is great to have in life
and even know they leave he world they still
a live in my hearts.
poem by Kristina Riggs
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The birth of a family
The birth of a family where does it start
Your parents, their parents all play a part
Virtues instilled deep within us all form
Long before an innocent child is born
Family history does have its role
Hardships and struggles take their toll
Ignorance and prejudice often passed down
From generation to generation often it’s found
Intolerance, addictions and other afflictions
Take their own form, in each new addition
Contorting and mixing contaminating innocence
Frequently unnoticed, unknown the consequence
Labor it’s said, is the worst physical pain on earth
Fortunately, that subsides after the child birth
With each new child a new family is born
That is when the new life truly takes form
Each family as different as the members within
Philosophy, psychology and even emotions begin
Evolving and ever changing adapting as needed
Responding together to the way they are treated
Values and virtues learned were passed down
Communication and manners from those around
Reactions displayed dealing with joy and strife
All are absorbed in this, newly formed life
Interaction with others outside the home
Affects the family not one alone
Assumptions and accusations to be family based
Besmirch one and all will feel disgraced
As each family matures and expands
Occasionally a sudden change in plans
Perhaps another child to be born
Or from the family a member torn
Many times families are split apart
Divided in pieces severed at the heart
[...] Read more
poem by Vern Eaker
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The Last Love Song
Precious Family... Dearest Family...
Love's... sweet.... message....I impart....
May loves's.. spirt...pure... and fervid.....
Enter...every... troubled heart.........
Carry there...love's swift conviction....
Turning back...those... tear filled life's....
Precious Family... Dearest Family.....
May love....In our souls.. abide..........
Precious Family.... Dearest family....
I am weak...... but love..is strong..........
Love.. has.....infinite compassion.......
To stem the tides... of pain's.... and wrong's.....
Love keep's... its arms.... around me........
Love keep's..... me... in the narrow.. way......
Precious Family....Dearest family........
Let us never... from love... stray............
Precious Family... Dearest Family....
Love will bind.....those broken.... hearts.....
So let..not sorrows... over.. whelm..us.....
Dry the bitter tears.... that smart.....
Love curbs the winds.. calms the bil....lows
Oh bid.... this angry tempest... cease......
Precious Family.... My Dearest Family
Love gave me... everlasting.....peace.....
One day if my family should ever read this, or if anyone else should?
I want them to know that, only with true love, can we turn back those life's of abuse...! You see abuse has held my family in a prison, that has no bars! No cells! No doors! So....
Maybe one day they will understand
This dream of mine
How great and glorious, love complete
They'll find
For redemption, forgiveness
It is true love's grand design
For when and where
Justice, love and mercy meet.
Its a harmony - So- devine
And fact is
[...] Read more
poem by Clyde Bryson
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My family(concept of art)
My family my tree
Deep rooted in my heritage
My family my tree
Who I'm the fruit of her
My family fair sky
Where my sun always shine
My family there are my roots
Where I got MIne and me
My family is my word
My family is my blood
My family is my fine touch
My family
is big heart
Who love with no hurt
My family is my love
for that love I love
And I hate
What I hate so
My family is my moral code
MY culture
And my bank acount
Never been out of cash
My family is my fortess
And my fortune
My family is not
fall out of fishion
My family face
is always fancy
My family is what
You never know
me with out
MY color
My conscious
And my concept of art
poem by Sallam Yassin
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This is not a family
This is not a family...
No not to me... a family is people who are there for you they are the people that you trust to make sure your okay they are the people that believe in you and they are the people who will never lie to you and always be honest
This is not a family...
For a family its pretty sad to think we treat one another as nothing talk to eachother as if we dont care for one another and backstab and walk on one another because we can
This is not a family...
I use to think i had it good till i grew up and relized family shouldnt bring eachother down... family shouldnt make you cry... family shouldnt make you think you will be nothing and stay nothing for....
This is not a family...
Instead its just a sad excuse of people who put up with eachother not because they want to but because they have to... for this family that i have i hope that all of you will soon relize before its too late that i love my family... and i believe in my family... and that even though my household is not right at all... i know that i will become something... not because you make me think i cant... its because i believe in myself and with that i know i will someday do great things...
FOR this is not a family...
but it is my family
poem by Andrea Thanasas
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The Parish Register - Part III: Burials
THERE was, 'tis said, and I believe, a time
When humble Christians died with views sublime;
When all were ready for their faith to bleed,
But few to write or wrangle for their creed;
When lively Faith upheld the sinking heart,
And friends, assured to meet, prepared to part;
When Love felt hope, when Sorrow grew serene,
And all was comfort in the death-bed scene.
Alas! when now the gloomy king they wait,
'Tis weakness yielding to resistless fate;
Like wretched men upon the ocean cast,
They labour hard and struggle to the last;
'Hope against hope,' and wildly gaze around
In search of help that never shall be found:
Nor, till the last strong billow stops the breath,
Will they believe them in the jaws of Death!
When these my Records I reflecting read,
And find what ills these numerous births succeed;
What powerful griefs these nuptial ties attend;
With what regret these painful journeys end;
When from the cradle to the grave I look,
Mine I conceive a melancholy book.
Where now is perfect resignation seen?
Alas! it is not on the village-green: -
I've seldom known, though I have often read,
Of happy peasants on their dying-bed;
Whose looks proclaimed that sunshine of the breast,
That more than hope, that Heaven itself express'd.
What I behold are feverish fits of strife,
'Twixt fears of dying and desire of life:
Those earthly hopes, that to the last endure;
Those fears, that hopes superior fail to cure;
At best a sad submission to the doom,
Which, turning from the danger, lets it come.
Sick lies the man, bewilder'd, lost, afraid,
His spirits vanquish'd, and his strength decay'd;
No hope the friend, the nurse, the doctor lend -
'Call then a priest, and fit him for his end.'
A priest is call'd; 'tis now, alas! too late,
Death enters with him at the cottage-gate;
Or time allow'd--he goes, assured to find
The self-commending, all-confiding mind;
And sighs to hear, what we may justly call
Death's common-place, the train of thought in all.
'True I'm a sinner,' feebly he begins,
'But trust in Mercy to forgive my sins:'
(Such cool confession no past crimes excite!
Such claim on Mercy seems the sinner's right!)
'I know mankind are frail, that God is just,
And pardons those who in his Mercy trust;
[...] Read more
poem by George Crabbe
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Atalanta's Race
Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went,
Following the beasts upon a fresh spring day;
But since his horn-tipped bow but seldom bent,
Now at the noontide nought had happed to slay,
Within a vale he called his hounds away,
Hearkening the echoes of his lone voice cling
About the cliffs and through the beech-trees ring.
But when they ended, still awhile he stood,
And but the sweet familiar thrush could hear,
And all the day-long noises of the wood,
And o'er the dry leaves of the vanished year
His hounds' feet pattering as they drew anear,
And heavy breathing from their heads low hung,
To see the mighty corner bow unstrung.
Then smiling did he turn to leave the place,
But with his first step some new fleeting thought
A shadow cast across his sun-burnt face;
I think the golden net that April brought
From some warm world his wavering soul had caught;
For, sunk in vague sweet longing, did he go
Betwixt the trees with doubtful steps and slow.
Yet howsoever slow he went, at last
The trees grew sparser, and the wood was done;
Whereon one farewell backward look he cast,
Then, turning round to see what place was won,
With shaded eyes looked underneath the sun,
And o'er green meads and new-turned furrows brown
Beheld the gleaming of King Schœneus' town.
So thitherward he turned, and on each side
The folk were busy on the teeming land,
And man and maid from the brown furrows cried,
Or midst the newly blossomed vines did stand,
And as the rustic weapon pressed the hand
Thought of the nodding of the well-filled ear,
Or how the knife the heavy bunch should shear.
Merry it was: about him sung the birds,
The spring flowers bloomed along the firm dry road,
The sleek-skinned mothers of the sharp-horned herds
Now for the barefoot milking-maidens lowed;
While from the freshness of his blue abode,
Glad his death-bearing arrows to forget,
The broad sun blazed, nor scattered plagues as yet.
Through such fair things unto the gates he came,
And found them open, as though peace were there;
[...] Read more
poem by William Morris
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Good Family
When you see a man behaving well
People are curious to know his family
When a naughty interacts
His source is easily identified
Good family is a big attractive tree
That offers shade in rain and heat
Good family bears good branches
That produces good fruits
Good family has its firm roots
Which nourishes and beautifies
Good family gives birth to good nations
In peace, good family is there
In war, good family endures
Good family wipes away tears and sorrows
Loneliness is absent with good family
Security is guaranteed with nice family
He who has a good family
Is half done in life
See a man dancing on the street
No need to ask if his family is okay
If you have a good family
Sacrificially hold on to it
Never allowed it to crack
Pass the baton to others
To enable the world get better.
poem by Babatunde Aremu
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just how right I am
I just can’t understand
how it is that
the world can’t understand
how right I am
and how wrong it is
OK, we’ll excuse the world, for the moment,
since it is far removed from my person
and my mind
so it can’t really be expected to understand my
unfailing rightness:
just how right I am and how just I am;
but the family, my family –
no, not the family of man
but the damned family of mine, my blood and bones and skin –
I can’t understand for the world of me
why my own family
that eats at the table with me
can’t understand
how right I am
and wrong they are…
just how right I am
and how just I am…
Look, I can understand about the world
but I just can’t understand
how the family….
I mean, this is where the family is important
for if the family can give me
just a little support –
just a teeny-weeny bit – I mean how much
does it take
for the family to see
how right I am
and how wrong the family is.
Is that really asking for too much?
You see, I’m sure you can see,
if only the family could agree
the world itself would see
how right I am…
But what is to be done?
prophets are never accepted
in their own home
and so in their own family too…
and so perhaps the truth lies in this cliché…
[...] Read more
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Annus Mirabilis, The Year Of Wonders, 1666
1
In thriving arts long time had Holland grown,
Crouching at home and cruel when abroad:
Scarce leaving us the means to claim our own;
Our King they courted, and our merchants awed.
2
Trade, which, like blood, should circularly flow,
Stopp'd in their channels, found its freedom lost:
Thither the wealth of all the world did go,
And seem'd but shipwreck'd on so base a coast.
3
For them alone the heavens had kindly heat;
In eastern quarries ripening precious dew:
For them the Idumaean balm did sweat,
And in hot Ceylon spicy forests grew.
4
The sun but seem'd the labourer of the year;
Each waxing moon supplied her watery store,
To swell those tides, which from the line did bear
Their brimful vessels to the Belgian shore.
5
Thus mighty in her ships, stood Carthage long,
And swept the riches of the world from far;
Yet stoop'd to Rome, less wealthy, but more strong:
And this may prove our second Punic war.
6
What peace can be, where both to one pretend?
(But they more diligent, and we more strong)
Or if a peace, it soon must have an end;
For they would grow too powerful, were it long.
7
Behold two nations, then, engaged so far
That each seven years the fit must shake each land:
Where France will side to weaken us by war,
Who only can his vast designs withstand.
8
See how he feeds the Iberian with delays,
To render us his timely friendship vain:
And while his secret soul on Flanders preys,
He rocks the cradle of the babe of Spain.
9
Such deep designs of empire does he lay
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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We're A Psycho Family
Taken from my up-coming Ramone's tribute site-
The Rot-Mones-A Horror Parody
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
Me, mama and daddy
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
Me, mama and daddy
Going out on the streets
Knocking off those ugly drag queens
'Cause we found out
They've all been eating cans of refried beans
Now we're on the covers of all the magazines
Gulpin' down razor blades and thorazines
We ain't got no friends
'Cause we done killed them all
Our troubles with the law never end
Ain't got no damn Christmas cards to send
Daddy eats men
Daddy's cutting up grandpa's thighs
Baby's smashing flies
Mommy's covering up all our lies
Blood spilled gives the baby the thrills
I'm a mental patient resident
Daydreaming everyday about my boyfriend, the pope
Now we're all making a fortune
Committing murder for hire and selling daddy's dope
Going out on the streets
Knocking off those ugly drag queens
'Cause we found out
They've all been eating cans of refried beans
Now we're on the covers of all the magazines
Gulpin' down razor blades and thorazines
We ain't got no friends
'Cause we done killed them all
Our troubles with the law never end
Ain't got no damn Christmas cards to send
Daddy eats men
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
We're a psycho family
[...] Read more
poem by Ramona Thompson
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The Valley of Acid Tears
I think my writing's of poems has come to an end
They've told the stories about my family
Lost Love, Wars, The Hells, Places I've been
Damaged Souls
The Stories of Tears that just won't end
The Things that just has to be said
That caused the Tears
The Dark Secrets
Truth about a family of Abuse
Anger
Live's full of sin
Reality would talk about how it's time to move on
We were the resemblances of survival
A family gone
And for our futures journeys to the other side of life
Yet even now with that knowledge of my family
My own lifetime of strife
My broken dreams and shattered hearts
I was still surprised by the cords that were still tied
The story of how I came to that bridge of lost love
Where hopelessness reigned
Where helpless tears cried
The place where time had come for changes, repentance
Above all else knowledge that I needed to be righteous before I lied
It didn't take an Einstein to read between the lines
I just wished my family could've realized that
And about the furture life after the boxes of pines
How I stood at that bridge and cried harder than ever before
Thought of them and the love lost
Then even harder more
How I moved forward for the damaged soul of mine
Wondered what was left, did we have any more time?
You see my family! I know that it had to be this way
That everyone has a chance to move on or lay where you lay
Even now you know I loved you like now one else ever could
After all it was only that love that made it so I could be good
Yes I had to be good!
Fact is,
I wanted it more than anything
But for you at the bridge, and your memories
A little longer I stood
And then how the tears flowed
More than I thought that they ever could
So the day will come for you to hear my thoughts
Maybe even read
Even now I wonder who'll listen
Who'll heed
[...] Read more
poem by Clyde Bryson
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator
Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!
It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!
Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Family Homes
everybody's mother is beautiful and brave
but my mother was little bit different
And was at the top of them
she was the bravest...the most beautiful..and the cleverest
we lived in a house
a very very ancient an and old house
ı ts plaster worn out and falling down
once a big and beautiful of our nomad ancestors
the camels of the long caravans used to rest in its garden
now the rooms of the house is rented to families in poverty
the kitchen...and laundry and washing were common for all
there was a in wall cupboard for bath in every room
in one of this rooms upstairs we lived
my mother..my brother and me
hiring it
they called these rooms faqmiliy homes
in turkish
in our homeland in turkey
in one of these rooms
lived shoe maker...rather a cobbler
with his son..daughter and wife
they were our beloved neighbours
he own the the room from his ancestors
the cobbler loved hunting
and had a peculı ar political opinion of his own
at downstairs
ther was a workman
came from his village
a very poor family indeed
wherever he found he worked
if he could
my mother used to help the family
she was found of this very very
one day ı heard the family went to germany
for food and living
my brother and me
were attending to a boarding school in istanbul
we used to come to our family home
in summer vacations
we were very happy in yhose days
with our room neighbours
my brother me and my mother
but theese poor happy did not last long
we grew up
my brother an archaeology professor
me a district governor
but we have never forgotten
those family houses
and the friendship and solı darı ty in them
we remember
[...] Read more
poem by Metin Sahin
Added by Poetry Lover
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