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Life Grandfather Poems | Life Poems About Grandfather

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Details | Bio | |

My Origin

Where do I come from? Well we all come 
from somewhere. I was born in a small 
town, here in in good old U S of A. South 
to the border, by the Rio Grand. Mission 
Texas is the town's name.

My real parents came from Mexico. My
grandmother, it was said  - she came from 
Spain. My grandfather was indian. He fought 
in the Revolution. Both were on my mother's
side.

On my father's side, never knew too much, 
only that the grandmother died kind of 
young. The grandfather died years later, but
I never got to know them.

My father left my mom, when I was only three.
He never came back. My mother gave away my 
sisters, than later she gave me. She only kept
my brother, maybe she couldn't keep me.

I was raised with a nice lady and her husband.
I learned to call her mom. That title she had 
earned and my respect most of all. My parents
that raised me were poor, but made sure I had 
something to eat. My mother made my dresses 
so that I could go to school.

I learned to read and write and enjoyed school
very much, but I had to quit at fifteen to help my
parents out. Years later I went back and finished
my High School. 

I did not go to college , or mastered in any degree. 
I am what you might call self taught. For about thirty
years I worked with electronics and did my job well.
I gained respect from my bosses and high top
engineers.

My parents taught me good values that have helped 
me  through out life. I am not ashamed of my 
origin, of Mexican Heritage I came. I am what you
would call a TEX. MEX. and I live up to my name...

Just a little about myself. Hope
you enjoy it.

written by Lucilla M. Carrillo

Copyright © Lucilla Carrillo | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

My Grandfathers Bilum

Bilum is a type of woven bag in Papua New Guinea (PNG)
...............................

How grandfather’s bilum, which
Across my father’s bare chest,
In a loving embrace slung.
Like the Leleki baskets’ blest
How while so pregnant swung.

How dwelleth he my father in its rich
Splendour till handing-over of its rest,
Then over my clothed chest again sways.
O this old bilum! like all other blest
No longer is laden with in my days.

For its treasures I search in earnest,
That I may grandfather’s mind know.
O this bilum is no longer pregnant!
Along the way, maybe some time ago,
How many treasures fade; this instant

Till my sleep, I’ll summon eagerness
To my modern soul strengthened to seek.
Grandfather’s treasures may be hidden;
Yet through a new eye must I ever peek
For glimpses my days have forbidden.

By: Jeffrey Febi        25 Oct 2010

Copyright © Jeffrey Febi | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Shades of Life

Extended family, children play 
as sunbeams fall all slanted,
‘round a wooden table in the shade 
of a tree great-grandpa planted.
I like to think he smiled back then,
with sweaty brow, and handsome grin.
Old and wise – I’m sure he knew, 
in time his tree would block the view.
I wonder if he thought about,
his family tree - with branches out.
The bonds of blood are strong and grew.
So has the shade he never knew…

Copyright © 2014

Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

My Darling Little Granddaughter

I thought that meaning in my life had taken its leave
The exuberance of youthfulness blown away by an autumn breeze
I had completed all objectives required of a growing man
Then my darling little granddaughter reached up and held my hand

As my hand engulfed her little one, she looked up into my eyes
There was more for me to give in life I suddenly realized
I was not ready to be put out to pasture and slowly fade away
My darling little granddaughter gave me hope for the coming day

The accomplishments of years gone past meant nothing to this girl
She just needed the hold of a hand she trusts to walk her out into this world
I have much left to live for and much still of me to give
My darling little granddaughter inspired me still to live

Copyright © Joe Flach | 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 | 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

Copyright © Laura Hamilton | Year Posted 2013

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 | 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

Copyright © Suyash Saxena | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epitaph | |

Grandfather

Here lies the best Grandfather,
One who was very considerate.
Remembering him as a child,
I would sit on his lap.
He was a rare person indeed.
He was a colonel in the Army.
Also superlative of a gentelman.
Here lies the best grandfather,
May he rest in peace.

Copyright © Sarah Cassleman | Year Posted 2013

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.

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

Healing Words

My mother, my grandmother before has always held a place in my heart.
My father, and my grandfather before has the same part.
I was young and very active with unwillingness to listen fully to what they had to say.
I had a problem, never could be solved without my parents and grandparents till today.
With patience they all come to my aid when I fall on my face.
With little dishonor I listen to them and what they had to say, I embrace.
Over the years I go to them with no doubt a feeling of no dismay.
Over the years I go to them and they help me solve problems that to me is O.K.
Now I am getting a bit more aware of what had happen to me when I was growing.
Now I remember how the ride was in my beginning: it was a trial of not knowing.
With the guided words of my parents and grandparents I survive through them all.
With it some being a problem that I remember I recall.
My mother and my grandmother always said to be patient and it will be easy to solve.
My father and my grandfather always knew that I would grow and evolve.
I could wonder everyday what if my parents and grandparents was not in my life.
I could just think that would be fatal like a stab with a knife.
With knowledge that they had past on to me of what they had experience.
With their proof of teachings they had past on to me is their self existence.
Over the years I grew with life so full of happiness that was because of my families love.
Over the years it showed me the path that led me to all the above.
Now cherish those words that help me through my troubles in my new family.
Now I listen to my parents healing words of wisdom and except them gladly.

Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

Grandpa

Pictures and moments stick
Past life sticks
The boy knows but cant see the light of 
the unknown picture of you grandpa.

Copyright © Ace X | Year Posted 2012

Details | Narrative | |

A Rocking Chair's Life

Said goodbye so many times,

To its occupants that once were babies.

New cradle to so many grand parents,

Gently rocked to sleep by memories.

Grandpa once told me he felt a kinship,

To this chair that creaked once in a while.

His limbs and its were very much the same;

Only difference was it would always have new customers.

As a little boy it was my rocking horse,

I climbed its high back like spiderman.

Couldn't tip it over no matter how hard I tried;

Just swung on a wooden toy that Grandpa hated to love.

My father sat there in that very same chair,

Swaying away in a chariot he had surely earned.

I sat next to him then and we reminisced,

Knowing that soon I would take his place.

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn




Copyright © Robert William Gruhn | Year Posted 2014

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.

Copyright © william martin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slow Down the Clock

When we get old with arthritis in our bones we make thoughtful decisions about the use of our time. We can amuse our grandchildren while our children inhabit their jobs. We can volunteer to help others like a wolf that knows how to hunt. We can do something creative with our hours and work toward an outcome that warms people’s hearts.

We have options about what to do with our days. We can sit alone in our homes like the last drop of water left on a rock, or we can behave like practiced magicians who can slow down the clock with the snap of two fingers and live like an elder who is not afraid of the dark and be more inclined help our family and friends as they voyage down the highway of time. 
 

Copyright © Howard Dion | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Men and the moonlight

The moon shines so beautifully in her misery
Grace the world with thousand ribbons of silver rays.

There was a young man,
A pleasure slumber seeker
Eyes bares love and faith
The hands grip the dreams and expectations
Steppin definitely in spirit
To the unknown life ahead

Forty years have passed
Two young men sit together
One with gray hair and wrinkled face
Other, a fresh and naive young soul
A bond of flesh and blood
Talking about life and living

And the moon..? A loyal companion in solitude
For the happiness of every soul, she craves.

Copyright © Shirley Candy | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku | |

What People Were and What People Are

People were
Many things.
Strange or not

People were
Different and
Odd and fun.

People were
Monsters but…
That’s not all

People were
And still are
Strange and odd.

People are
People. For
life is life. 

Yet not.
Not is lies.
Truth seeps from

Every mouth
Lies, lies, lies
Move, move, move

But somehow
Lies prevail.
Lies are life.

Lies are death.
Lies are homes.
Lies are pain.

Lies are truth.
Yet somehow.
Truth prevails.

Truth is life.
Truth is death.
Truth is home.

Truth is pain.
Truth is lie.
Truth is that.

Lies will die.
Lies will cease.
Nevermore.

Truth will live.
Truth will be.
Forever.

Copyright © Layla Elkoulily | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

One Billion Rising

Today we rise.

No more hiding in the shadows,

of culture,
creed,
tradition.

No more silent complicity,

defensive arguments,
sickening pretences,
shabby excuses,

for the actions of men,

brutal and coarse and vulgar and obscene and murderous and abusive.

Today, we rise,

as one.

Today the change starts,

with me,
within me.

Today we rise.

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Invisible

They
Are
Among us.
Not alien
But more
Like us than
You will ever know.
They are
Neighbors
Dying
Of
Disease
And 
Hate
And
Grief.
They live
Next door
Behind walls
Built
Not of stone
But of fear.
Hungry
Penniless
Alone.
They are
Stereotypes
Birthing
Children.
Ad dictions
Carving
Flesh from
Bones.
They are
Sold
Into
Slavery
Beaten
By
Other
People's
Philosophies.
They are
Invisible.
But not
To
Me.

Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Nonet | |

Old Age

Thumbnails of memories we rewind.

Reel of real life has come to halt.

The old age is the time for

Shaking hands, blurring eyes

To share one's know-hows

And prepare for

Soul's transmute

From the 

Chest.

Copyright © Kiran Bantawa | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain | |

Pirates

Oh, I remember back, when young -
the pirate tales from grandpa's tongue -
where peg-legged men with but one eye
had sought their treasures, chanced to die.

Now Captain Pirate had a hook
and he cared not from whom he took.
He boarded ships and stole their goods -
then hid his treasures in the woods.

And on the ship he had some men -
who helped him rob now and again.
At times they partied and they drank.
If one was rude, he'd walk the plank.

Now this old pirate wasn't fair -
and got so drunk he didn't care.
It didn't matter who he killed -
just so his humor was fulfilled.

A wee bit close, I happened near -
lost both my boots and lost my gear.
They tied me up that very night.
My wrists had hurt.  The rope was tight.

Then one pulled quick, his shiny sword -
and threw me on that weathered board.
The ocean deep, the water black,
I felt his sword pressed in my back.

So I stepped out - again, again,
with nudges felt from earthly sin.
The steps I took were very short
but that old plank gave me support.

I thought quite quick but took some pause -
reflecting on life's silly laws.
So blinded by life's codes and rules,
I had nothing - them, the jewels.

Hoping here on earth I'd stay,
I stepped through life from day to day.
And this I knew - could not pretend -
this plank was short. There was an end.

My weight pushed low the outer ledge.
My toes could feel the very edge.
No turning back, what's done is done,
no place to turn, no place to run.

Our bodies end with earthly goals
as all life ends, but not our souls.
Emotions quake, as body shakes,
but after death, the soul awakes.

Oh, they held truth (though they got old)
those pirate tales that grandpa told,
but futile is a life that's wed -
with both the soul and body dead.

©2009 louis gander

Copyright © louis gander | Year Posted 2016

Details | I do not know? | |

For Men Everywhere One Billion Rising

1 Billion Rising.

For Men Everywhere.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Stop!

Stop the abuse!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Listen!

Listen to the voices!

Of grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Think!

Think of how you treat,

grand-daughters,
colleagues,
daughters,
girlfriends,
partners,
mothers,
sisters,
nieces,
wives,

all women.

Act!

Act now to change yourself!

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when you stop,

the violence,
the abuse,
the rape.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

is perpetrated by,

grand-fathers,
colleagues,
boyfriends,
husbands,
nephews,
brothers,
partners,
fathers,
uncles,

men,

all men.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

stops when us men stop,

The violence,
the abuse,
the rape,

today, now.

Stop! Listen! Think! Act!

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Grandfather Clock

An Antique Clock, a familiar place
Gathers dust -
and rust
But three gold chimes which hang lo' face
As Its hands go 'round
Familiar sound repeats
The pendulum, "to -fro, to - fro"
of-time, out-of-rhyme
Honestly - slo'!
ten minutes?
A top o'clock, a world of stars         
Continues tickin', like an old pro
Ne'er been moved, of fear, to break
Age- two hundred years?
Many Times, might've sold
Yes priceless, to behold
Any replicate, fake
Singin' - ringin' steady tune makes   
Tick-Ding - Tick-Ding
Agnize it's noon
A few minutes, give or take
Envision the hours spent
As Time-keeper - Grandpa King

The years pass -
minutes, sent, spent -
from high
Overlooking
generations -
relations
Happily observe, some with disdain
Hundreds passed, a handsome piece
Nephews, a niece
children-Grand, great ones, too
Sons, daughters, lovers, and well
A place to dwell
If only we knew - 
what this "Granddad" would tell
Memories, millions are they
As seconds continue to play
and Centuries travel...
Endless, where has it been, where...



Copyright © Virginia Muller | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse | |

I just don't understand why

I don't understand why we live a life were the ones we love die young or the wise ones we love die too soon for us to have learned enough from them we walk on the path we choose but it seems there’s always a road block or tough times we have to learn from with the loss of a loved one that’s a family member or a child we have bared along the way to whatever destiny has planned for us at the end of our road I guess it’s god way of telling us he needed them to be our guardian angels instead of them walking with us on our path we have so many unanswered questions an things we don't yet understand I guess when the time comes we will understand the why's we don't yet have answers to an the path we walk will be the rite path in the end I just hope when time comes we will all see the ones we lose on our path an get the why's an questions answered

Copyright © Kaitlyn Ziegler | Year Posted 2012

Details | Free verse | |

FORGETTING ALZHEIMER'S

The baby is reciting memory sequences to itself
Mama,  Dada    
divine consciousness
talking to itself
adults minds are fixed 
so they made it about themselves
I’m mama,  I’m dada
birthing alzheimer's to the baby’s health
he giggles,  slowly forgetting about himself
lost of consciousness    
he forgets about himself
baby begins to grow      
personality begins to show 
an adoration for lilac and pink
dada said no,  you're a boy
boy's favorite color is blue ----not pink
birthing alzheimer's to the young boys health
slowly forgetting about himself
grows up to play  little,  boy  blue
no pink boy    
sad  but it's true
playing the role of someone new
he forgets about himself
birthing Alzheimer’s to his feeble health
he grows into a macho man
anti pink, real, blue macho man 
marries a submissive girl  
yes sir,  yes mam 
plants four sons in her
yes sir,  yes mam
his tribe is completely blue
all boys,  no girls  
no room for the color blue
still playing the role of someone new
birthing Alzheimer's to himself
lies deteriorates our mental health  
one day,  had to face himself 
too old to run,  had to face the self
travels back in time  
loosened the control he kept on mind 
his heart can finally speak    
a 'lil weary  but she's not so weak 
he remembers    
he starts to think
my favorite color’s not blue  
it 's actually pink  
family believes he's losing his mind
he's not,  he's back in time
going mad removing all the blue 
wife calls the doctor    
doesn’t know what to do
"this is not my husband  
this is someone new."
she believes he’s forgetting himself    
he’s not forgetting      
he’s remembering    
forgetting Alzheimer's  
remembering himself

Copyright © Nailah Baniti | Year Posted 2016

Details | Monorhyme | |

When Grandfather Died

My grandfather had died years ago I thought he’d live forever, but alas no I had to learn quickly how to let go It’s the hardest thing you’ll ever know
Russell Sivey

Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme | |

Estella and Holden

A boy and a girl just arrived in this world
To parents they both will share
Now from the house within will echo the cry of twins
As an answer to prayers from everywhere
 
After passing the test of a month of bed-rest
To ensure that they developed complete
For Mom and for Dad, no more rest to be had
As in tandem twins seldom do sleep
 
But living this way is a small price to pay
For the privilege of parenting twins
For only a special few have the bond of these two
Sharing the womb in which life did begin
 
Congratulations to my daughter and the man that they'll call father
For doubling up on our number of grandkids
We are so very proud that our voices shout out loud
With the love we feel for this thing you did

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? | |

For our Father, Nelson Madiba Mandela

For our Father, Nelson 'Madiba' Mandela

you are our eternal inspiration

our hopes
our dreams
our conscience

you gave everything of yourself
so that we may live and love and laugh and dream and breathe the air of freedom, dignity and liberty

you lead us through the darkest days with your unshakeable principles and your belief in us

you brought peace and freedom to us

and when at times we felt all was lost

you stayed with us as a father would

you lent us your wisdom
and you chastised us too

and we are here today because of you
you stayed with us, Nelson Rolihlala 'Madiba' Mandela, through all the crests and valleys of our turbulent times

you stayed with us, father
today, we hope and pray and wish
that you, our father Madiba
stay with us still
stay with us, Madiba
stay with us...

Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse | |

Jessica

Jessica

Jessica with the smiling face, 
Reflecting all my grandma's grace
Reminding me of my mothers charms
I love to hold you in my arms.

Your mother was my darling girl, 
When she was born the world did whirl, 
Now that you are here, my dear, 
The circle is complete and clear.

Each generation blends together, 
The daughter then, is grandma now, 
This baby girl will one day be, 
Mother of the family tree.

Copyright © Damian Cranney | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

The Perfect Christmas Gift

The perfect gift
Is often a myth
It's clearly out of reach

You're already gone
Never to respawn
But listen to me preach

The best gift of all
Is hearing your call
And having you back with me

It's been too long
I wrote us a song
I wish you were here to see

Christmas is about love
The innocence of a dove
But also family

Grandpa that's you
We all know it's true
I fall right under your tree

You are my gift
That one wish
I'll glance up at the moon

I'll blow you a kiss
It'll never miss
Grandpa I'll see you soon
                                                                -<3









Copyright © Alex Riker | Year Posted 2013