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Love Grandmother Poems | Love Poems About Grandmother

These Love Grandmother poems are examples of Love poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Love Grandmother 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 above the nightstand
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 waits for you.

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

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

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left

Hello, grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Bye, grandpa

~*~

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Woman

See the woman.

See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was 
when it enflamed many a man.

See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.

See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.

See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,

See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.

See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.

See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.

See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.

See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization 
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –

see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!

See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!

See her face in your mirror.

See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
                          in time;

when you have lived through all that has been 
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;

you will see yourself in all things, 
and your journey, will see you back

home.



*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful 
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's 
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)

Copyright © Kristin Reynolds | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse | |

The Apple Doesn't Fall Far From the Tree

You can see him now, dirty as a horse
that slipped in the mud, planting petunias
with that infamous shamrock thumb

(Irish from his Pop      Appendage from his Mum)

stopping every now - and again -
to breathe deep that fragrance
rich with pheromone nostalgia
just like Grammy Georgina used too do

the apple doesn't fall far from the tree

I can still see her now, in her glory days,
with lovely lemon locks soaking up the summer sun,
rooted in that old-fashioned train of mind:
You don't stop your work until it's done!

(but a walking contradiction, just like her grandson,
... rose to her nose like ruby rebellion)

the tree doesn't grow solely from the ground

Water's an important player too,
especially from grandma's showering can

(laughing tears the shade of crystalline blue)

Course you can't forget those lifetime lessons either,
from dear ole Georgie, speaking with a sunny kind of seriousness,
about the importance of patience,
the fruitfulness of labor,
plucking up the surviving winters' courageous cucumbers,
blushing beets

the ground isn't just a place for our feet

Cause with her and I, we incinerate the stereotype:
young blood reflecting on infinity,
old knees dancing like she's got chipper chipmunks
for toes     giggles in the background like a photobomb
to the expected chapel silence

(it's not all peaches and cream though,
sometimes we get violent)

Orange slush, flying miles behind us,
at times getting grazed in the face
by nature's food fight

our feet between the squish squish of the crab apple

We were two peas, if you please, in a curious pod,
like a whimsical joke from a laughing God:
Me, the champion of her scallions,
the guardian of her garden,
leaving all sensibility befuddled
with an, "I beg your pardon?"

I wonder if she knew then the gravity of the situation,
watching mama scream bloody murder,
as I came into this world ...

... was she scratching her head, lips curled, in questioning amazement,
just like Newton must have been, when developing his theory?
What d'you suppose they both were thinking?

The apple doesn't fall far from the tree ...



Written March 27, 2016
For the Cliche Contest Hosted by Silent One

Copyright © Timothy Hicks | Year Posted 2016

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

Copyright © Wilma Neels | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Silently She Weeps

Every day she comes to visit her,
lifts the spoon to her thin lips.
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps.
Life arrested in its waning grip.

Every day she comes with hope
that something in her changes.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps
The memories time rearranges.

Every day she comes and wonders,
will she wake today and speak?
Quietly she sleeps, silently she weeps
An imprisoned mind in body weak.

Every day she comes and touches
the woman like no other.
Silently she weeps, quietly she sleeps.
Maternal daughter, loving mother.

1/1/2013

Copyright © James Nichols | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Grammy's Girl

I see her pretty little face
With a sweet smile as bright as gold.
I think about the days ahead.
It saddens me, I'm growing old.

I love that precious little girl
With all that dwells inside of me.
One day I know we'll have to part.
I beg of Time, so fleetingly,

To warp somehow and backward go,
So I could share more of her life.
She says "Grammy, never leave me".
That I must die fills her with strife.

She says"I want to go with you".
I tell her of the joys instead,
How one day she'll meet a man,
He'll love her so, and they will wed.

But Grammy's love is all she knows,
So I will leave her parts of me,
In photographs and work I do,
In love notes from my poetry.

April,13, 2016
Happiness of Life Contest
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
First Place

Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

A Missive to My Granddaughters

“A Missive To My Granddaughters”


My dearest girls,

How can I begin to tell you 
how much your smile warms my heart,
or the enrichment that penetrates my soul
when I feel your arms embrace me?

With you, I am a girl again reliving my own youth
When you share each new life experience with me.
Once again, my own fervor for life springs forth, 
As I listen to the enthusiasm that emanates from your cheerful chatter.

Your joy rejuvenates me.
Your smile pierces my heart and finds its way
To a special place reserved only for you.
Your zest for life gives me hope again for a better world,
And I thrive on your courage that abounds with each day that passes.

Please know…
That I have saved countless wishes for you alone -
A heart that is forgiving and true,
A mind that is forever open and exploring,
And the courage to face and overcome any obstacle.

I wish you a taste for beauty in whatever presents itself,
A flair of your own like no one else has ever experienced,
An infinite appreciation for all of Nature’s bounty,
And a magnanimous spirit for others less fortunate.

Please know that when I am gone, 
I will be with you always in spirit.
Whether it is the sweetness of a Spring rain,
In the coo of a morning dove,
Or the scent of a summer rose,
You will be reminded,
And you will know
That I am there
With you
Watching
Waiting
Until we are together..…again.

Copyright © Jan Pearce | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet | |

For Grandma

 
You died Grandma and my heart was broken, At your funeral I stood there trembling; And in the name of love words were spoken, I needed to speak words without weeping. Me, standing up front holding my papers, There was a soft breeze caressing my hair; I looked at your coffin and the flowers, Oh, how I wished this was just a nightmare. I started to speak in such a sad voice, And then, I felt your great strength within me; I spoke of your life so all could rejoice, So, filled with your love that I spoke, so free. Then, I felt the papers go fluttering; And in the name of love, I was speaking. ____________________________ October 24, 2015 English Sonnet For the contest, In The Name Of Love Sponsor, Shadow Hamilton First Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Emptiness


Emptiness 

Empty yard full of memories
Memories of laughter and songs
Songs of love under the fern trees
Trees that shade grandma’s empty chair


08.06.2015
@ Ronald Zammit - All Rights Reserved

Inspired by Nette's contest Four Lines Only

Copyright © Ronald Zammit | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet | |

Our Grandmother's Blessings

So many trials seem to be filled up with so much fear
So many ask, “Oh Dear Lord, what am I doing here”?

So many questions that I have come to know
If we just plant a seed, with water it will grow

I have a natural green thumb that now is wasting away
Along with a mind that does love to go out and play

Times I still ask, “How did this all came to be”
What was it that my wife was able to see in me?

She says that my heart was the most beautiful around
It still blows me away, for I clearly remember the sound

Her voice was so soft, her tone was so sweet
I was nothing less than pure evil upon two feet

Had been years since anything had took me by surprise
Ice cold is what the rest of the world had seen in my eyes

I looked at her smiled and laughed in my cold convict way
She smiled and said, “Why you want to be mean anyway”

I told her, “I reckon we are all born to just what we are”
She said, “So why are you a dope cook instead of a star”

That question stopped me right there dead in my tracks
I thought, “This girl is a looker but God she is whacked”

Last night her and I sat out underneath the moon
Two very blessed souls swinging in our sliver spoon

Just a little swing we built together out in our back yard
Place to just sit back and rest after a day long and hard

I once again ask her, how in the world could you ever know?
 “My Grandmother was preacher, I could see her in you soul”

Which led me to speak out my truth for I learned to not lie
"My grandmother was also in yours, answering the entire “Why”

Grandmothers we respected and held above all others 
Brought each of us together in the land born of lovers

Two Grandmother Spirits full of pure heavenly delight
Led their grandchildren into the valley born of the light

Now here we sit holding each other, each other high above
Because we share in the blessing of our Grandmothers love


----------------------------------------------------------------
Toni and I had lost our Grandmothers before we had ever met
though I knew of hers because she was a very powerful lady
and a down home speak in tongues Pentecostal Preacher that
had great respect up in these parts. After all these years we 
confided in each other that we could see our grandmothers in
each others eyes. Thank you and God Bless, MJ

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? | |

Hugs

Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.

Copyright © Al Parry | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

Baseball in Heaven

My grandfather and I had a special relationship.

When I was young we lived near his home in Baltimore.  But, my family moved away from 
Baltimore when I was five and we lived most of my life in another state far away from my 
grandfather.  Whenever he called, however, I was the one grandchild he always wanted to 
talk to so we could discuss his beloved Baltimore Orioles.  I was the one grandchild who 
followed sports closely and always remained a true Baltimore sports fan.

Later in life, I learned that my grandfather was actually a gifted baseball player himself when 
he was young.  In those days, he would explain, professional baseball players did not make 
enough money to support a family so he had to make up his mind to either play baseball or 
get married and raise a family.  As it turned out, his love for baseball was only surpassed by 
his love for my grandmother and, although he hung on to the newspaper clippings that 
labeled him a “can’t miss professional baseball prospect”, he hung up his cleats and glove, 
married my grandmother and went out to find a “real” job.

But his love for the game survived and year in and year out, he and I discussed the 
intricacies of the game and enjoyed or lamented each baseball season based on the 
successes and/or failures of the Baltimore Orioles.  As crummy as the Baltimore bums are 
today, I was fortunate enough to experience and share many more successful seasons than 
poor ones during those limited years that I shared life with this amazing man.

I always felt sorry for my grandfather, considering him a victim of poor timing.  Had he 
been born about 50 years later in life, he would not have had to pick between being a 
baseball player or earning a living – in fact, with his talent, he could have earned a much 
better than average living while enjoying the one thing he loved most in life.

When my grandfather passed away, I was sure that he was joining a heavenly nine to once 
again strap on his spikes and don the leather.  Without a doubt, they must play baseball in 
heaven.  And I wait for the day that I sit in the heavenly bleachers and cheer on a young 
grandfather playing this wonderful game with other boys of summer.

(Inspired by, “is there baseball in heaven”, by Constance, A Rambling Poet)

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Love Never Fades

There's a little history to this particular poem. I know I wrote it when I was 11 or 12 years old. I wrote it for my Grandma Dorabel, who is today 90 years old. I also wrote it for my uncle John who had been taking care of her at the time; I didn't want to leave him out so I put on the letter: For Grandma Dee and Uncle John! I wrote this short little poem along with a drawing of a cat and some flowers. However, I actually never sent the picture to her! My parents and I must have forgotten to send! To me that was unacceptable! I thought to myself today when I found the picture, I must send it now! The picture is now on its way to her, so I am happy she will at last receive it. 

---------------------------- You can send me a bouquet of flowers, You can order me a box of chocolates, You can buy me a fancy outfit, But flowers don't last, Chocolates eventually disappear, Outfits get out of style, Yet Love never fades, And it's the most precious gift of all

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Lyric | |

A Grandmother's Love - Anacreontic 1

Eyes wide and innocent, blue with sparkles of mischief shining through. I see you, angel girl. You see me and run, straight into my arms. You shout my name, "Grandma! Grandma!", as I scoop you up. If I could, I would give you the world. A sloppy kiss on my cheek and a hug. "Love you, Grandma!" "Love you, too, baby!" Off you run to explore your world with curiosity and wonder. I am putty in your hands.
11/9/15 For Edward Ebbs Anacreontic Verse 1 contest

Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

We Are There With You

You do not stand alone in your Battle
Your battle is our Battle
We may not be there in body
But we are there with you in Spirit

We are there in every beat of your Heart
In every whisper of the wind
In every thought and every touch
Every breath and every sound
We are there with you

You are wrapped in an Endless chain of Love
In every link we each send you a part of us
We send you some of our Strength
Some of our will to Fight
Some of our Courage
The most important of them all
We send you all of our Love

If you feel you need more
Just give that Endless chain a little tug
And we'll be there
Tug til you need us no more
Then we'll know you've gone Home
 

______________________________________________________________
5/09/2014 Dedicated to my Aunt Nini, Wilma Thomas Gamble for Mother's Day. Sadly she lost her Battle w/ Stage 4 Pancreatic Cancer on 5/30/2014.

Copyright © Sabrina Niday Hansel | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry | |

ONCE AGAIN THANK YOU

I was just trying to remember the past
 trying to remember the good people
 and the bad people,
 that i came across on my way,

i want you to know
that you are among the good people
 that left a good trace in my life,

once again i just want to say thank you
for passing through my life,
is so short but is wonderful
i want you here forever.

Copyright © VICTOR BUN | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose | |

My Grand Parents

When we are with you, we always have fun, You make us feel we're your special ones! If we really need a hug or two, we know that we can always depend on you. Giving hugs is what grandparents do best, And you do it better than all the rest! Everything that my grandma does is something special made with love. She take time to add the extra touch that says, "I love you very much." She fixes hurts with a kiss and smile and tell good stories grandma-style. It's warm and cozy on her lap for secret telling or a nap. At 1 in the afternoon,It is always grandpa's call. he asks"this app.... how to install??" My Grandpa is a wonderful man, Always believed in me, he knew that I can. Wisdom of life, openly shared, Comforted me, when I was scared. Here is a secret, and it is true- Grandma & Grandpa, my hearts belongs to you!

Copyright © sakshi sitoot | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haibun | |

Grandma's Gift


I wake to the sounds of laughter and lively music (jazz, I think) flowing free from the empty tenement down the hall. The smooth harmonies and upbeat tempos expand to fill every corner within me. It’s an early Saturday morning in spring and warm enough to leave my sweater hanging in the closet. Daddy reads the newspaper headlines, a ring of cigar smoke encircling his bald spot. My younger siblings are spread out in front of a black and white TV screen watching Felix the Cat, and I stand at the kitchen sink rinsing the breakfast dishes, still listening. I am almost twelve. As the oldest, I’m expected to help Mama in the kitchen. My blue eyes usually ride the sunbeams while I wash. I also greet the cloud sculptures, carved from my imagination, as they blow by. Today, the kitchen curtains are drawn, and only soft, morning light filters through. I tap my feet and continue to wash, losing track of time while staring at the panels of tiny yellow flowers. 

When Grandma floats into the kitchen, vibrant and carefree like a butterfly, I feel her there. She asks me where my head’s been, knowing the answer but choosing to snap me back into the reality of dirty dishes. Before I can speak, she picks up a sponge and starts washing. She’s never far away when I need her. I am, what she calls, the keeper of her gift - the only one to receive her sixth sense. My mama calls me foolish for believing. She says there’s no place on this earth for a girl with a head full of impractical dreams and hopeless plans. She wants me to grow up proper and civilized, but Grandma knows me. She understands that my mind and feet are always on the move – twirling, skipping, and dancing to my heart’s latest song. Grandma encourages me with her love and acceptance. We feel the same spirits on the wind, we listen to the guiding whispers of our ancestors, and we know the colors and music of our souls.  

As I finish washing the last dish, Grandma starts to dry. I look down to see her toes tapping to the same rhythm as mine. I ask her if she hears the music, too, already knowing. She doesn’t answer; she just smiles lovingly with her wise eyes. She never complicates life’s truths with unnecessary explanations. She speaks to my soul without a word from her lips. If I live to be ninety-nine, I’ll never stop believing.


I brush my granddaughter’s hair
and look into her blue eyes
like mine - full of deep secrets,
she’s ready to share.



*Prose ending with a dodoitsu 
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 11/21/15
for Scott's Haibun Free-Style Contest



  

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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.


Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

Details | Lyric | |

A MOTHER'S LOVE

A mother's love is so strong it has to come from above, for it takes a special 
Heart to do what she can do.

A mother's love is so deep when she cries out the whole world should weep.

A mother can go through so much pain and still remain sain.

A mother can bear children come home from the hospital, cook, wash, take 
Care of her child, kiss her husband and still wear a smile.

A mother has compassion and feeling that are so strong she can even tell 
When something is wrong.

A mother is a single mother who is struggling to carry both roles, we give 
You a "shout" out because that's a heavy load.

A mother is a grandmother who is still moving strong, she continues to love, 
Nurture, and care for the young.

A mother is so many special things that god created wrapped up into one.

So " remember" to show her love all the time, and tell her what a fine job she 
Has done!


Happy mother's day to all the mother's out there and may god continue to 
Bless you all!

Copyright © Cathy Holmes | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A PART OF SOMETHING

God created hands for building things. Sometimes before you build something, you must first destroy something else.

Wildfires are never supposed to be put out. Their sole purpose is to burn the entire forest to the ground, transform living things to fertilizer, making room and preparing the soil for new growth.
It is almost paradoxical, 
that there must be death before birth

My hands have stared the grim reaper’s reflection inside the pool of my best friends blood. An old student I used to tutor told me that I am the best brother she could have asked for
She said she will always love me
This was after I burned every bridge that traversed the gaps between us
Stared at her from across her desk
Told her that she will never be my sister. That our bloodlines will never match.
Our gene pools are just strangers that made the same wrong turn.
I spent so much time trying to find my way back that I never realized I was home in being lost I found something comfortable, without expectations. I only corrected myself after she spoke,
because I heard something familiar in her voice.
She sounded like family.

I have the scarred and wrinkled hands of a senior citizen
I’m only 22 years old
I once got my palm read
This gypsy woman told me that my lifeline should have been cut short when I hit 17.
That was a year ago.
What do gypsies know anyway
I have defied the odds my entire life.
Been broke down and built back up too many times to count
My fingernails chewed raw to the cuticle out of anxiety
I enjoy the taste of my own pain
Sometimes I use my own hands to destroy myself just to see who my real friends are who will build me back up when I can’t do it alone

My hands have a desire to learn how to cook, but I’m not that great.
So when I am alone,
I tend to be hungry, not just for food though.
I starve for someone to talk to
It never satiates, because it’s not you.
I know what it tastes like to completely give myself to someone.
My biggest fear is being abandoned.
When I look into your eyes, I am not afraid.
I need to cook you up a feast of myself, then feed it to you every day for the rest of our lives
Please tell me what I really taste like,
Be honest.

Years after my grandfather passed away, my grandmother moved into my aunt’s house.
Since I was 5, every time I speak to her she asks me:
“Spenser, did you thank God for waking you up today?”
I think to myself, I never did tell my eyes to open themselves. It just happened.
So I don’t know how to respond to her correctly.
I tell her that I love her, that I am writing a lot.
She tells me that she puts her hands together for me every night
Prays that I will get the job I want
I guess some prayers do get answered.
Sometimes two hands in the right position, matched with a conversation with God,
Can change things.
I even accidentally call that place home sometimes.

My dream is that my hands evolve into wolves, become part of a pack and work together with other hands to make a difference
Some days they will be the alpha male.
Full of confidence, at the head of the pack
Other days I need someone to show me the right way to go
Because if I’ve learned anything
It’s that I am not always right
I can not always be in control of everything
The only thing I have ever really wanted is to know
That my hands were truly
A part of something.

Copyright © Spenser Jones | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Super Grandma Girl

Super grandma girl, in her long green cape,
took a quick ride on a golden grape;
she slipped, greased lightning like, over the floor,
gunned her girl motor and flew out the door.
A scream she had heard out on the front lawn . . .
a grandchild in trouble???? No time for a yawn.
Like all super heroes she was there in a flash,
with a dash and a clash and a ladylike smash.
Her darling was bloodied,
pink ruffled dress muddied,
(the one she had just worn to church).
She had taken a lurch and fell from her perch
way up high in the old apple tree,
a place she was not meant to be.
Only grannie superheroes can give healing kisses
to cute little, sweet little, bad little misses,
but that is exactly what grandma's will do--
grab you up quick with loud hullabaloos,
and before you know it, you're better! It's true!
Just because super grandma really loves you.
But--one thing all grandkids need to remember:
grandma will love you the year through--to December!
You don't have to be bad and fall from a tree
to get super kisses from super old me.

Faye Lanham Gibson
August 3, 2014

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epigram | |

Mom - You are my harmonious World

                       The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
                                         wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

 Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!! 


      MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many years..you are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my life..you struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt you..you always shower with an unconditional love..you are the  mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my life..my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..



wrote by:
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

WHO AM I BY NAME ALONE

I am God's child, first and forever I am known by many different titles, a daughter I am a wife I am a mother I am a grandmother I am a poet I am by several ways, known as a sister I am an acquaintance I am a loyal friend I am a stranger I am a cousin I am an Auntie I am a niece But who is this person, they all call "Denise?" She is a child to God She is a niece She is a cousin She is a stranger She is a loyal friend She is an acquaintance She is known to many, a sister She is a poet She is a grandmother She is a mother She is a wife She is known as a daughter to many She is everything, she'd ever dreamed her life to be.... She is happier than she ever imagined possible SHE IS "DENISE"

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epitaph | |

BABY

You were never seen by us, that privilege sadly was not for us an extravagance we were overwhelmed by, the thought of your embrace The entire twelve weeks you were a joy to have known, even 'without' being seen hearing about you're arrival, was a blessing at the time you were conceived For life hadn't been easy and we had all asked God, we even plea'd We wait upon the day, you will finally meet us having the honour to love and learn with you, saddly not for us It brakes my heart as you part, you had already embeded love into my heart Just knowing we will now...forever be kept apart God has other plans for your love that's so strong, blessing us from the start we continually pray, maybe he'll deside to let you stay around But the intense pain of tears and loss, are constantly falling all around just let it be known, we all desperately wanted you to become part of us We all will love you for eternity, you are now forever one of us, although it was only for a very slight second, it was better than never You are from this day on, embedded into our hearts forever... the impact you have left 'unborn young one'' my beloved grandchild.... "Angel" 2012

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Grandma's Pearls

Grandma passed along her string of pearls to me.
I knew I've been entrusted with a special gift from her.
Nothing but pride crossed my mind that day.

Taking her pearls from its box, I still feel her love,
Whether it was tender or tough,
It was done with the intent
On making me feel pride within myself.

Grandma cherished her pearls for most of her life.
This was her 'Pearl of Wisdom' she passed down to me,
"Pearls are classy enough for a fancy affair
Or just a simple dinner out.
Diamonds are a girl's best friend,
But don't get between me and my pearls.
The attachment is for life, it's beauty knows no age."
Every time I put on her string of pearls, I still giggle.


03/12/2013

Copyright © Connie Gildersleeve | Year Posted 2013

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.         

Copyright © Terrell Martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

First Love

Outside the sterile nursery I stood,
looking in.
So many snuggly swaddled newborns asleep in little plastic cribs;
my eyes hungered for only one . . .

A nurse was bathing you,
removing the remnants of the nest that formed you.
Her face filled with wonder and adoration.
"Is this one yours?"
Soundless question behind glass . . .
"So beautiful!"

I had watched your head crown between your mother's legs;
rapt . . . awaiting the first glimpse of your face.
A mass of wet black curls and then your eyes;
you were born and I was smitten!
Unexpected, the rush of brand new love I did not know existed.

First grandchild!
You opened the door to a different world,
love wild and fierce,
protective and totally absorbed.

Four more times that door has opened,
love's arrow piercing my heart . . .
when you hurt,  the pain twists  within me.

You are the soul sunshine I crave,
my grandchildren.

September 18, 2014

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Darling Grandmother

Darling Afghan grandmother, your weary hands narrates a somber tale
Your bowed head discloses your day by day yearning ail
You have masked your happiness deep under your time-honored veil
Oblivious-- that your offspring’s will follow your footprints-- and abide by this wretched 
trail.
Anosha Zereh

Copyright © Roya Zereh | Year Posted 2014