These Grandfather Nature poems are examples of Nature poems about Grandfather. These are the best examples of Grandfather Nature poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Now that I'm retired
And know I can't be fired
I'll do anything I damn well please
And I don't give a hoot
Who hears me when I toot
For I have grown acustomed to the cheese
Old women and old men
As they grow nearer their end
Really just don't care what people think
Say and do what's on their mind
For as they age they find
They kinda like to raise a little stink
I was hiking in the hills, and I was talking to the air
when a fork in the path, took me first here,... and then, there
Prickly thickets, were aflame with brilliant crimson,
entrapping my feet, with a pin-cushion prison
The foxgloves too, grew in mass profusion
My head in a state of blind confusion
Granite rocks were wearing saffron, golden
Clouds up above, blending, enfolding
The hills were hidden in the cloudy mist
The mountains were turning deep amethyst
Dilemma lay ahead in my all my decisions
I stumbled along, without much precision
Grass bending low, between the boulders
Gulls screamed higher, wind getting colder
I would forge on ahead, over ditches and water,
as the ebb of the day, was getting darker and darker
There was a fork, in the trail near a sage scrub tree
where the needles on the ground, wore a carpet lined with weeds,
The pine was tethered in its place by the rust-red sky,
Brown and dead at the top, where a crow was sitting by
On long ago nights, when we sat by the lamp
I remembered one tale, that had come from my Gramps
The fastest way home was......as the crow flies
So I waited, awhile, .......He led me home, by and by
For The Rhyme Contest: Sponsored by Juli Michelle
Morning glory wanders, twining through trees.
Wildflowers invite curious insects around.
Roses blossom and fragrance the breeze,
“Where?” I ask. “Can greater beauty be found?”
Digging in the garden, I feel right at home.
Praying for plants, each seed, my next muse.
Breathing in nature’s life giving loam.
Dreaming about flowers, anticipating views.
A child planting corn rows with grandfather near.
He’d make the hole; I would drop three seeds there.
No wonder my passion is a garden so dear.
It is there I met love, grandfather watching with care.
Now that he is gone to heaven above,
I thank God for creation and flowers that grow.
When I work in the garden, I feel grandfather’s love.
Rejoicing in our Father whose wisdom does flow.