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Free Verse Grandfather Poems | Free Verse Poems About Grandfather

These Free Verse Grandfather poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Grandfather. These are the best examples of Free Verse Grandfather poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi, grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew. 

Hello, grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.

Hello grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Bye, grandpa
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her

By; PD


Details | Free verse | |

A Sepia Recollection



Sitting here, on these old porch steps, that I have always known
A weathered stoop, with gray-painted floorboards
The creaks and groans, the flaws and chips, so familiar to my hand 

I've come to some conclusion,
and I'm surprised to understand, 
how well I know each board, each slat,
the shape, the size, the warps, the cracks 

each rusty nail, ....
but not the facts of you.  

Oh yes, ........I've seen a glimpse or two, 
in photographs, I have a few...

I see a robust man, in yellowed hues,  of vintage stock...
There's a house, a barn, where land is strewn with stones to move. 
You stand behind a horse and plow, in coveralls,... a mustache too . 

I do recall, so vaguely gray,  as gray as slats beneath my hand...
a jolly man, your wrinkled face, 
with a smile, a laugh, a loving way
 
A dream I have, or is it real?  
Is that me when I was two?  Sitting here, beside you then?
Or is it just my wish to know... more than just a trace of you?

I never knew the man you were, your hopes your dreams...  
the thousand schemes that brought you to these rocky slopes 
so far from where your hopes began
Where those steep cliffs rose and the seas were blue.  

Here, I look beyond these furrowed rows,...
where grasses grow in amber waves
and I ponder how it came to be....
that I am me,.... 
   who came from you;        

                a man I never knew. 

_____________________________________________________________

(To watch the youtube video recitation:)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF4GCLqf9_o


Details | Free verse | |

'Love me with your Time'


I might make a noise right now There will be a time when I go silent Will you miss my racket? In those days of silence? I will no longer yearn for your presence Like I do at this very moment Will you wonder? Will you wish? For that good morning? I might be a nuisance right now I might ask you the same thing over and over One day Some day My voice will go silent All I ask today is be patient with me Please love me; with your ears Please love me; with your time Before all you will have Is my grave and the memories…
"Thoughts of the aged - loneliness don't discriminate " ©134517022015


Details | Free verse | |

Jesyca

Jesyca
A little girl full of life
With so much love for her papa
It was love at first sight when papa laid eyes on her at her birth
Being her nanny papa never laid her down but cradled her in his arms until it was time to leave
He was mama until she was two
When he would say “No, “Papa”
She would say, “No,” Mama”
He taught her to ride her first tricycle
He taught her to throw her first ball
He helped her with her homework when she started school
Once in a while she calls and asks “Papa would you come to school today and have lunch with me.”
And of course Papa cannot say no to his little girl
Her first baseball game was a t-ball team of all boys and one girl of course she out shined them all and took home the winning game ball 
The next few years she’s made the all –star softball team
At eight years old now coaches are watching her to get her on their team
By Eve Roper
9-10-2014


Details | Free verse | |

Dementia

He was always so happy
strong and bold.
He'd give you the shirt off of his back.
Tough.
Independent.
He had a rough life
growing up through the depression,
but like he always does,
he got through it.
He has two boys, of whom he is so proud.
Moved from Regina, to Victoria.
He had the best life anyone his age could have wanted.
But ever since his wife died, 
he has not been the same.
Sad
Lonely
Empty.
But like he has always done,
he got through it.
Mind slipping, 
just a little forgetful.
That's how it always starts out...
But like always, he powered through it, 
until now...
He is not the same person that I used to know.
He been sentenced to the prison in his own mind.
Possessed by the thoughts of his dogs ashes.
He likes to play the blame game,
but we know he doesn't remember that it was him.
He wakes up in the night
shaking with pain, 
tears streaming down his face.
There is nothing we can do,
Oh well...
Two more tylenol.
Hold on to hope
for as long as you can,
It's only a matter of time now.
He gets vocal, a very loud tone.
He'll block you in your room
and make false accusations
But we know that it's the pain induced monster in him.
Tick tock, tick tock...
You can't handle the stress anymore
you have to leave.
Just hope for the best, 
maybe it will get better.
Surprise, it doesn't.
Your denial is foolish, everyone knows 
what happens next.
Sedation
Medication
Anger
Hurt
All results of
dementia


Details | Free verse | |

The Pilgrimage

They fought the tide to own this land
A fight I did not understand
They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
But yet,…by God,……they owned the pride

In retrospect, I'm still ashamed
It was, my flippant pilgrimage
I had come a stranger to this place
About to step upon the moon,
A cratered space of rocks and sage
Of rolling hills, with no escape

She saw it differently, of course 
Although her body weary, worn
Her eyes were strong, ...she saw a home

Her age was then, what mine is now
It had been her home, and it had been her vow
To come again, just one more time.  

I was thirteen, and dragged along
I overlooked the great attraction
I could not see the satisfaction
I missed the light upon her face

She saw the youth she left behind
Her gray eyes drinking up the sun, 
I saw the dust, I saw the bones, 
Where she saw beauty,  I saw none .....
 
Nothing more than a sea of weeds, the crumbling brick, 
A place to shuffle my restless feet

But stories came, and they sunk in….
And now I view with wiser eyes…
She told me all these things back then…but now, I smile,… remembering.

     They had to fight to own this piece of land
     They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
     And yet,…oh yes,…….they owned the pride


                                                 ~~



Recited on youtube       http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAchI2nu9yY

_______________________________________________________________
For Deb's Contest:....2nd Option..(With age comes wisdom, understanding and
                                                  appreciation. I am never too old to keep learning
                                                  and value those who came before and made me
                                                  who I am.)



______________________________________________________________


Details | Free verse | |

Pure Of Heart

Wise Grandfather Shaman, 
I am pure of Heart,
I bathe beneath the Moon, 
and dry beneath the Sun,
I listen to the Wind,
I run with the Deer,
I hunt with the Wolves,
I fish with the Eagles and Hawks,
I ride with the Wild Paints,
And roam with the Buffalo,
I grow with Grandmother Tree,
Ever learning from her Wisdom, 
I am skilled in Warrior Ways,
A strong Hunter, 
A compassionate Listener,
A patient Tracker,
I have gathered with the other women,
Contributing to our tribes growth and strength,
I leave no tracks of moccasins in the soft clay,
My heart is pure,
And I wish to continue my journy,
Wise Grandfather Shaman,
Allow me to enter your lodge,
I will smoke from the sacred pipe,
My heart is pure.


Details | Free verse | |

We Made Ice cream

  I remember! 
  Cranking that old wore-out handle on that ice cream maker, until I thought my 
arms were going to fall off.  Having a big smile on my face, as I turned and 
turned, pushed and pulled on that old crank begging my big brother, the whole 
time to “Spell me!” so I could set on an old rag on top of the ice, using my weight 
(as it was) to hold that ice cream maker in place. 
   I remember my grandfather coming out of the house, out on the back porch. To 
make sure my big brother and I was “Doing it right.” as if, there was a wrong way! 
He made sure that we
had plenty of ice, plenty of rock salt. I can still see him sticking his little finger in 
the weep-hole to make sure it didn’t get stopped-up. That was most important to 
him, as he
always got the first bowl. I don’t know why? He clamed, he would get the first 
bowl, to make sure that salt didn’t get into the mix. Funny to me, he never made a 
salty face as he was eating that first bowl.  
   I remember, watching my grandmother making that “mix” she picked the 
freshest eggs, measured just the right amount of vanillin extract, I loved the way 
her kitchen smelled. I watched her chop the bananas peal the peanuts, stir it up 
with the cream and sugar. She hummed “Old Rugged Cross” as she made that 
sweet ice cream mix, it was as if she was having fun; like the turning of the crank 
for us boys, work for sure but still fun!
  I would eat light, as that banana-peanut ice cream cured while we had supper, 
waiting for grandfather to finish his third helping, we had to wait, he always got 
the first bowl, I don’t know why? 
 
 



Details | Free verse | |

I wish - poem for my granddaughter

I wish I could look at a flower through your eyes
and discover why you are so fascinated by it.

I wonder why your eyes glisten
when you look at the stars,
and why you smile at the moon.

I wish I could find out what triggers you
to jump and skip, or giggle with glee
and I strain my ears to hear the silent melody
which causes you to break out in song.

I wish I could embrace someone so firmly
as you do when you jump up to greet me.

I wish I were like you when I was a child.


Details | Free verse | |

I just found out - poem for my granddaughter

I just found out that you visited here 
while I was away at work - 
and that you left a few minutes before my arrival!
Ah! Your sweet presence 
would have been such a balm
for my tired and aching body - 
having traveled by bus, and train, another bus, 
and then dragged for a thousand metres
through blustering winds.

And now I must find consolation
in the traces of your absent presence - 
the imprints of your feet on the bathroom tiles, 
and the faint lingering echoes of your laughter,
and the fading silhouette where you sat watching cartoons. 
Although you live in my heart, I still miss you, sweet child!


Details | Free verse | |

Princesses

Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!


Details | Free verse | |

First smile - poem for my granddaughter

Your first smile wiped away the dust and mold from the canvas of my soul and your first laughter splashed its bright colours over dark and somber tones and then you framed it with a rainbow created by the refracted light of your transparent being.


Details | Free verse | |

Ordinary Chair

He sits down in an ordinary chair
Painted a powder blue
The rounded back feels familiar
Comfortable
Solid.
Much like his grandpa
Grandpa had sat on this same chair
Bounced him on his knee
Read him stories
It does not seem so very long ago
Time has a way of sneaking up on you
Now he's grandpa
Sitting in his favorite chair
Thinking
This is really quite extrordinary


The Ordinary Contest
Sponsored by: Black Eyed Susan


Details | Free verse | |

Grandson

You are the newest thread in the tapestry of my life - once neatly-patterned, but now criss-crossed and sig-zagged with the vibrant strands of your sister. You, too, will be interwoven into the fabric of my life and be interlaced through its brightness and hues and be intricately entwined and securely knotted with one golden thread - Love.


Details | Free verse | |

You are here -

You are here! And my heart rejoices - For when you're near Sweeter are all nature's voices. Morning's glow seems brighter While evening's shade has a softer hue. Even life's burdens appear to be lighter All because, sweet child, of you...


Details | Free verse | |

Grandpa's Collage


Grandpa’s collage holds beloved memories.
Black-and-white photographs of long ago
strewn with tape and paste amid the glossy 
snapshots, shaping a man's love of family.
At first glance, one would think he created 
his patchwork of pictures in haste. But come, 
look closer; no image is placed by chance. 
Each scene shares a story his hands retraced - 
a joke, a kiss, a tear. See the toothless grins
of growing grandchildren with playful eyes, 
the knowing looks of elders and the effortless
laughter of generations, dear faces missed.
All familiar faces except for only one - 
the intruder with graceful features. Head held high, 
she wears her smile unfazed. I search her dark eyes 
for words unsaid, dazed. She is the grandmother
I never knew. Her portraits are puzzle pieces
that will never fit, but ones I cannot unglue 
or ignore; my grandpa’s attempt of tying us 
to a stranger. I love him more for trying…



For Craig Cornish's A Collage Held Dear Contest,
10/22/13

     


Details | Free verse | |

Final Adieu

Final Adieu

Let another sun set,
Let another flower wilt,
Let another autumn cast its gloom,
Let another tear role,
As ye part, and bid
The final adieu.

Suyash Saxena
St. Stephen’s college


Details | Free verse | |

The Old Salt

The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.

A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.

When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each, 
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend. 

An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station, 
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet. 

Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.

What greater honor, that when a man moves forward, 
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was. 

A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior, 
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.

The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now. 

Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember, 
because he now resides forever in our hearts.

As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye, 
as he draws upon his pipe, 
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.



Details | Free verse | |

My name is Catastrophe

Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a 
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness. 
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to 
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.   
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.


Details | Free verse | |

For An Abused Child

If I Could Have Gotten Your Embryo
Before You Were Born
I Would Have Sheltered You Safely
and Protected Your Form ...

I'd Have Put You In My Womb
& Flowed You Knowledge Like In A Tubric
& Patted My Expanding Belly
As I Played You Music

And As You Got Ready
To Arrive From The Birth Canal
You Would've Known My Breasts
Would Be Ringing Like Welcome Bells! ...

Eager To Suckle You
Breast Feed My Own Flesh & Nourish
So You Could Grow Strong
... In Love's Encourage

I Would've Held You In Wonder
& So Close Tenderly
Amazed At This Little Bundle,
Breathing, Piece of Me ...

And When You Turned One
Or As You Sucked Your Thumb
Or Eating Baby Food Jars of Plums
... I'd Have Given You Trumpets & Drums

... And Building Alphabet Blocks
& Superman Capes
& Stuffed Teddy Bears
& Oatmeal Cookies & Grapes

I'd Have Read You Stories
From Capt. Adventure Books
You'd Have Known You Were Loved
By My Proud Mama Looks

I'd Have Spent Time With You
Showing You How To Tie Your Shoe
Rocked You If You Caught The Flu
or Any Sniffles You Went Through ...

I Would Have Played With You
& Prayed With You
From Crawling To Walking
Paved The Way For You

Yeah, I Would Have Fussed At You
& When Needed Even Spanked You Too
& I'd Meant: This Hurts Me More Than You
'Cause You're The Little Symbiot, Mama Grew

So, You Would Have Known
You Were Loved & Treasured
You Would Have Known
Your Worth Couldn't Be Measured

Nor Compared To Anyone Else
At Any Point In Time
'Cause You Are The Best
Because You Were "Mine"

* * * * * * *

But I Never Knew You
But Believe Me If I Had ...
I'd A Made Sure You Had 
A Loving Mom & Dad

And You Would've Never Been Abused
Or Treated Bad ...
But From Now On Find Your Joy
To Replace What's Sad


            Written & Copyrighted ©:  9/12/2013 
             by:  MoonBee Canady


Details | Free verse | |

On a hill at the beach

Spread your wings, dear child, and fly
to where the green sea meets blue sky;
run on the crests of gentle waves
and grab the sunlight as it raves
about the brightness of the day;
float with the sea gulls as they sway
upon the friendly winds, and dive
with playful dolphins as they jive
in the cool waters of the bay.


Details | Free verse | |

Portrait of My Grandfather

Written by Gail DeBole on January 26, 2013

Whiskers and wisdom all in one. 
Generously and gently protecting us.
Every grandchild thought they were your favorite.
You in your long johns at night.
Joking during the day like Groucho Marx.
Sleeping in your favorite chair.
Smoking smelly cigars that callously killed you.
And yet I treasure one of the boxes left from those smelly cigars.

The farm was not the same without you.
We were not the same without you.
I was too young to know.


Details | Free verse | |

Oh Grandfather

Grandfather
I cry, I hold it in, I cry. 
I hate the way I saw you tonight,
Wrapped up in wires,
Sleeping beneath the shut off lights,
But this is no sleep your in,
Its just a moment before your passing. 
Oh Grandfather,
I will forever hold the memory,
Of slick juice upon my face,
Sweet clementines dripping down my cheeks,
And long stripped socks at Christmas. 
I will look back and dream,
Of slim jims and chocolate milk,
Sitting at the bar,
The lights dimmed,
And Barbie stamps covering my pale skin.
When I was less than five years old. 
Oh Grandfather,
I will never forget, 
Sitting on your black leather couch,
And watching Mulan for the first time,
Or the love and surprise I felt,
When you bought it for me,
Because I loved it so much. 
Oh Grandfather, 
I will always remember, 
Walking the small trail down from your house,
To go look at your Harleys,
And feed the little ducks,
Crumbs of bread,
Or a whole damn loaf if I really begged.
Oh Grandfather,
I will never forget the time,
When you handed me one hundred bucks,
Just for Graduating, not even at the top of my class. 
When I tried to return it,
You insisted that you wanted me to keep it,
And I cried, I hugged you hard and felt your love,
Deep in the nether regions of my heart.
Oh Grandfather,
I will strive to remember, 
The smell of beer and whiskey and cigars on your breath,
What a sweet smell that now seems,
And oh how I wish, you would have stayed for that bottle of wine,
Just stayed a little longer for all of your visits. 
Oh Grandfather, 
I will never forget how I felt when Grandma told me,
You served in the marines,
And I could not believe,
That those Santa Clause eyes,
Could be that strong and brutal,
When you were always so nice,
And I found for you a new respect. 
Oh Grandfather,
I miss you so much,
As you lay in your bed,
Strung up with wires, and tubes and struggling,
To find your last breath. 
Oh Grandfather, 
I am crying, I cant hold it in.


Details | Free verse | |

Memories Made to Ponder

It was a tin-roof wooden house standing 
Across the red brick cobblestone street 
Adjacent to a wide open field full
Of shady live oak and sweet smelling tangerine trees where 
My father’s boyhood home was nestled  
Quietly in his home town. 

Often times we’d travel to visit 
The grandparents still living there 
In that Americana corner of our lives.
We didn’t know much of anything at all except 
The sky was blue, love was true and we 
Youngsters were the apples of the old folk’s eyes.

We’d sit for hours in white wicker rocking chairs
I helped paint one time with newspaper on the floor 
And a horsehair brush grandma gave me 
To teach me that painting needn’t be a lesson 
In staying between the lines.  “Sometimes,” she’d say,
“It’s better to let the paint flow 
And speak for itself in time.” 

And granddad liked to watch the sky – especially at night 
When stars were burning bright and would point towards Polaris and say:
“Heaven’s over that a-way.”  And during daylight hours 
When storm clouds appeared and we could hear 
Thunder and lightning all around, he’d laugh and dance 
As if the circus were coming to town.  

We watched mocking birds and blue jays flying in and out 
Of all the tree top branches and leaves singing 
Their love making lullabies to us and one another and then
As quickly as they arrived, 
Disappeared into the wind.  
It seems we’re not much different 
Rather family, foe or friend.  
  
Accordingly, the old house still stands today 
But the dear old folks have slipped away.  
Perhaps to the place once pointed to
High above that night sky view 
Where comets roam and grandpa liked to call “Up yonder,”  
Leaving me with thoughts of gold 
And memories made to ponder.         


Details | Free verse | |

the story of my life

When i was about 5 i was put in to a SRS. I was there tell i was 7 and when i got out i move to my grandma and grandpa. When i was 9 my older brother started to beet me up every day and all day long and then when the beating he was giving me stop working he started doing other thing to me. When i was 12 i losted my grandma and then my grandpa didn't want nothing to do with use and still don't. i took my brother *****tell i was 15 then started to beat on him. My brother put me in jail for a few year because if the *****he made me do now i am 21 and have losted and got back the girl that i love and care about her name is Holli Sczenski. Her family don't want use together so they are making her choose between them or me she dues not want to have to choose between use she loves use both and i know it and her family know it but there still doing it. On top of all that my own family is going throw somethings as while my mom is not doing vary good and we may or may not lost her in the next few years.


Details | Free verse | |

The Whittler

Upon his grandfather's rocking chair 
on the porch in the cool crisp air
sits a man with a special gift.
For he can see the soul of a tree
within a piece of wood upon his knee.

His pile of cedar gives off a sweet smell.
He picks through the pieces, eyes closed,
his touch feels what is enclosed.
As if he were to reach within the wood 
by pulling  it apart  from its protective bark 
and removing what’s inside from the dark.
The Whittler will release this soul from its cage!

Each meticulous movement of the knife in hand
is meant to bring out something so grand.
After hours of work, fingers cramping into knots
the soul held within in this piece arose
to be a magnificent fully blossomed rose.

Beautiful just like the ones his gram 
planted beneath her father's old cedar tree, by hand.


Adam Hapworth, With These Hands, 12/13/2013, Image #3


Details | Free verse | |

To Where it All Began

Mother Nature has all but consumed 
Their little graveyard by the sea, where
Sands bleached white, spread upon the cemetery
Drifting like pale capsized hulls
Floating between tablets marking
The long forgotten dead

It was here, fifty two years ago that
I held my Grandfathers weathered hand, 
More so for the want of a brace
Than the sympathetic touch of a Grandchild

I watched him kneeling by their angled stones
Tracing their names; first his father’s father, then
The mothers, with a finger crooked by age 
The sandstone letters crumbling in the wake of his tender touch
Grit sifting through his heavy fingers; history, being erased
Returning it back – to where it all began

I followed behind his shuffling shoes
Kicking up dust that settles
Within the hollows of history
My Grandfather’s words lost to an ocean breeze 
As shadows lengthen, then fade to dusk

I imagined, back then as I do now
Of a graveyard full of pirates and thieves 
With their ship resting - just out there
~	At sea
But for the stout chimney and hearth, beyond the grounds
Baring testimony to the pioneers that
Once toiled this barren coast and now
Standing defiant, resolute against the 
Advancing flotilla of sand

He is buried just beyond the little graveyard
My Grandfather, next to my Grandmother
On his farm; or
His father’s farm, before that
My farm…
On a hill
Overlooking the sea, where it all began





8 Dec. 2014


Details | Free verse | |

Just Down The Road

Just down the road there is a cemetery
for World War One vets and for them only.
It is not quite full and it never will be.
They are all dead now, everyone who served;
those who died young and those who survived.
My gramps is buried there; he survived the war
and lived to the ripe old age of ninety-five.
Gramps was wounded twice while he was there
by those he called “them damn stinking krauts”.
I still miss my gramps to this very day
and every now and then I will visit his grave
at the cemetery just down the road;
but not very often because each time I do
I break down and cry for he was not only gramps,
he was also my very very bestest friend.


Details | Free verse | |

Aging

Hands, aged with sun
Rings grown too tight
Feet, wrinkled by walk
Eyes drooped with tire
Hair stringed with dye
Teeth yellowed with coffee

Each wrinkle
Each taint
Each sun-spot
Each grey hair
Filled with experience
And meaning


Details | Free verse | |

Father's Day Tribute to My Grandfather

Father’s Day Tribute to My Grandfather
Written on June 2, 2012
Updated on June 11, 2014


Resembling Groucho Marx as you aged,
I often found you dozing in 
your favorite chair.

Perhaps, dreaming of your parents,
or when you arrived in America on Ellis Island 
with your Mother and brothers?

Your tired skin was
a result of a working man’s life.

Your green tattoo on your arm
was a souvenir of your veteran status.

Always caring, you were the leader
of the team I was born into.

You protected the family psyche and integrity,
and wisely guided us with your voice of reason.

Even though you are no longer here in the physical world,
You are forever in my heart and soul.