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Age Grandfather Poems | Age Poems About Grandfather

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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 | Epic | |

To My Wife Grandpa Murray's voice

I wandered and travelled
Nor knew where I'd gone .
Life became a problem;
T'was one long cruel song.

My problems seem to multiply;
They came from every side.
I vowed to find the answer;
by this I would abide.

I looked into nature
And tore apart my mind.
Then put them on the table
To see what I could find.

I found that I'de been greedy
and avaricious, too.
Whenever projects of mine failed
I put the blame on you.

I found that I was lonely;
I thought you didn't care.
But what I really didn't know
Was you were always there.

You tried to fill the void
That always was in my Life.
you tried to ease the sorrow
You've been a real good Wife.
 
                           Yvette & Grandpa Murray  
          From James Murray to , Janet Murray ..his beautiful wife.
" In great respect of Grandfather Murray's poem he wrote for my  Grandmother Murray "


Details | Rhyme | |

Ninety Years

You see him at the store sometimes
He doesn’t walk too fast
His stride has slowed throughout the years
He slowly moves on past

The hair upon his head is white
If there’s any there at all
He may be stooped or bent a bit 
A cane so he won’t fall

He smiles but you don’t know his name
He waves a weathered hand
You might smile back and say hello
There goes a nice old man

What you don’t see beyond his face
His life of ninety years
The wife he met the kids he’s raised
The joys and work and tears

The letters won for high schools sports
The girls he used to date
The time his father grounded him
For coming home too late

The war he fought for freedom’s sake
Tales too hard to speak
The friends he lost the wounds he bore
The tears upon his cheeks

The job he worked for forty years
That kept his family fed
The home he built with his two hands
The church group that he led

Time and youth have slipped away 
His mind is not as clear
His friends have mostly left this earth
He’s lost his wife so dear.

When next you see an aged gent
Who passes through your day
There’s more to him than leathered skin
There’s much that he could say


He doesn’t want your sympathy
Nor pity could he stand
Don’t treat him like a feeble child
Approach him as a man.

He still remembers all he’s done
He hasn’t lost his pride
Respect his years for you’ll be there
And know his heart inside 


Details | Ballade | |

Grandparents

Grandparents

Grandparents they be two lights
Who may lead to wisdoms door.
For hopefully they've lived their lives
And made that journey to the core
And found the jewel buried there
Beneath the shades of sorrow.
And now these two be living life
No past and no tomorrows.

They be a pool within a desert
Where the grass grows lush and green.
A cool place where the kids drop in
To breath in air that's more serene.
They will be gentle, sweet, but stern
{If the need for this comes up}
But mostly kids look on these folk
To over fill the loving cup.

And when these ancient ones depart
And through the golden gates do stroll
The power that rules these mighty realms
{Once the aids have weighed the soul}
Will send them down as spirit folk
To help folks lives to flow
before they enter Earth again
To gain another chance to grow.


Details | Free verse | |

Princesses

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


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"


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 | |

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 | Couplet | |

What Do I Know About Being German

Born American, sixth generation of great-grands all German,
not much liking sausage or sauerkraut, English speaking all the way,

except the Germany of my ancestry was fought over and broken
so I’m a bit of France, Germany, Poland, Hungary all the Holy

Roman empire, dissolved down, fought over, egotized, horrified 
and remade Into some new state where English is as common as German.

We share a love of flowers in the face of cold and rain, I drink less beer
and wine, meet up somewhere, anywhere around the world on a beach.

From my parents and grandparents, I know to serve up too much food
seven sweets, seven sours and drink and whirl the night away to a band.

Hardworking sorts, unafraid of a little dirt, loving dirt, the turnover
and young sprout brought to fruit, wearing overalls and then washing up.

To sit before a pressed linen table cloth, served up on the finest china,
the cha in my father’s name, the uff da, and other exclamations.

The morning rosaries, the blessed churches where we give thanks for all good
and the setting aside of pride while we work together to make our food.

Sure there are aprons for cooking. Shorts for summertime. A dive into any pool.
What do I know of being German, not much, it's just somewhere in my roots.


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.


Details | Light Poetry | |

Grandpa

His evening’s at hand
For me it’s midday
The world rushed bye
Nothing can stay

Confused and befuddled
He’s still dear to me
As a toddler of two
I bounced on his knee

The down on a thistle
Has blown far away
But this morning great grandkids
Did roughhouse and play


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 | Alliteration | |

African Allliteration

#What we want#

Dear Dada,

What we want is worth

Let love live, 

Peace perfect praise...

...Let long lasting law

rule round reign.


Details | Haiku | |

FUTURE PLAN

FUTURE PLAN!
  -Dharga Nagar Safa

Great grandfather,

Planting a mango tree,

Smiling the grandchild!


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.


Details | Free verse | |

Beneath the Furrows Beneath the Lines

Beneath the deep furrows
and the facial lines
clear sparkling
cheeky little girls
playful eyes
still smile
and shine.





''Many a time when I have talked to old people who I love, about their childhood, suddenly
something magical happens. Their eyes sparkle, and they become children again.''



Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.


Details | Rhyme | |

The man who cherished me

I wish I didn't stop to think,
about the man who cherished me.

My childhood so fun and fair,
I remember your cologne drifting in the air.

The days we went to the Space museums,
showing me pictures of your trips to new Zealand.

The greatness achieved when in the service,
giving lives a better purpose.

Just thinking of your voice is hard enough,
I wish that I could be more tough.

It hurts to think that now your gone,
Grandpa I just can't be strong.

That day in the rest home I hit my peak,
the fear so bad I couldn't speak.

I had to leave because I just cried,
and cried, and lost my chance to say goodbye.


I wish I could have let it out,
and now I have to live without.

I know your looking down and see,
this pathetic thing I've grown to be.

I just want to be like you,
but I could never amount to you.

Please help me through this pain I'm in,
and help me to feel alive again.

I miss you so much I just want to scream,
I hope you visit me in my dreams.

I love you Grandpa with all I have left,
there is not much there but shame and stress.

I want to honor you and become better,
find my peace, if I can ever.

I hope on day again I will see,
the man who truly cherished me.

I love you so much Grandpa and I am so so sorry.


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.


Details | Free verse | |

When I Was Young

       When I Was Young

When I was young
I walked 30 miles in the snow to school
With no feet or hands
I was nobody’s fool
We crawled about and lived on dirt and faith
Our only friend was Jesus
He gave us everything we needed
Work, turkey on Thanksgiving 
More work, death and taxes
What else could a person want?
You youngins don’t know how good you got it
When I was young 
And walked 50 miles in the snow
Or was it 30?....I don’t know….
  


Details | Blank verse | |

A true storey




  


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. 
 


Details | ABC | |

Lost Valentine

“She was mine” was all he thought
His spark was gone, forever had seemed so long
The gleam in his eye, dulled as days went by
He’d been trying hard to carry on, she was two months gone
He could no longer cry, all life was now, was a lie
His sadness growing deeper, as the world continued to fly by
His girl was gone now, his reason and purpose no longer around
For years he cared, he couldn’t show, but those actions spoke louder than any words 
she would’ve known
His poor tired soul began to appear on his face
His heart numb from losing the one love that who with, his life had begun
Now it was his time to start, for in his heart, he knew……
They wouldn’t be far apart.

                                                    Dedicated to the memory of my Grandparents
                                                      William Lee Neeland Sr. 02/22/27 – 07/10/04
                                                     Pauline Sue Neeland         07/27/46 - 12/24/03
with all my love, #2


Details | Rhyme | |

A Home Brew Fiasco

A Home Brew Fiasco

My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for this kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!

Sun was about set into its rosy red glow
three hills over was square dance and show
I set me a mighty happy and quickened pace
so very eager to get to that dancing place!

I hear that fast fiddle singing from afar
stop to drink last liquor from my fruit jar
Another burn that went down mighty fine
whiskey my favorite, never cottoned to wine!

One more high hill to just climb on past
swirling head tells my legs to please last
Sun has set and darkness so rapidly falls
music rings louder its beckoning calls!

Another hundred steps and I'll be there
singing, dancing and pretty gals everywhere
Ease myself up against this restful oak tree
surely a rest will be so very good for me!

Eyes heavy and dark clouds coming on down 
now is no time to worry, no time to frown
Darkness races into this tired old brain
no worries, rest easy avoid all the strain!

Morning sunlights breaks between the trees
O' my, pray I didn't sleep all night please
Suddenly I hear the morning call of a dove
I missed out on last night's dance and love!

My lips were parched, my tongue on fire
another shot I did so very much desire
Thank my pappy for that kicking home brew
O' Lord, how to make it, if only I knew!

Robert J. Lindley , 08-21-2014

Inspired by a story my uncle told me back in 
1965. How grandfather once made moonshine and 
missed out on his first date with grandmother.
Luckily she was a forgiving woman and grandfather
a very handsome man or else they'd never married
and I would not be here to sling tha' ink!


Details | I do not know? | |

They Left so Abruptly

They Left so Abruptly

(for the countless South Africans, of all colours, who dedicated their lives for freedom and democracy)

the valiant ones
countless
many known
many more nameless

the truest sons and singers
husbands and poets
lovers and wives
daughters and farmers
workers and sisters
brothers and friends

they left so abruptly
with quiet pride
steely courage
gentle dignity

they left so abruptly
leaving us our tomorrows
brighter
hopeful
filled with promise

they left so abruptly
so that we may breathe
the breath of liberty
the air of freedom
the warmth of justice

they left so abruptly
leaving with us their parting gift

freedom
inkululeko
swatantrata
liberte
azadi
vhudilangi
libertad

they left so abruptly
yet we remember them all
today
in the days that slipped away
and in the many more that we await

they left so abruptly
yet they remain
hewed into our memories
etched in our consciences
engraved in our hearts
they left so abruptly
and yet they endure
with us
within us
now and forever more


Details | Rhyme | |

Journey To A Sceptred Isle -

Journey To A Sceptred Isle - 

Mysterious land's of lavish greenery 
Breathtaking view's. Indescribably scenery. 
The land and irrigated pastures, ever so fertile 
In the midst of the Atlantic, a floating pearl, a magnificent isle. 

An island inhabited by the mighty and proud 
Siberian winds circulate the lonesome isle. A quintessential shroud 
The upper north. Rough highlands and mountains 
The lower south. Fine abbeys and fountains. 

An island, a speck. Minute and petite 
Do not forsake this treasury of power. It's aura emit's mystique. 
Follow the beckoning light. Think not of these lands barbarious 
Expected the unexpected. A famed nation where men grow victorious. 

Clasped the entire world in it's tight fist 
It's tongue and culture spread like a soulful mist. 
Grasped the lands of their forefathers, with its might 
Undeniable power - an empire which exceeded the sky in height 

The lands where the chilling winds bite 
And the glaring snow, creeps in through the whistling night 
Yet the extreme south experiences a Caribbean breeze 
In the midst of a humble, everlasting freeze 

The lands of inspiration and desire. A cornucopia of hope 
A gamble, which only the brave and bold, take and cope. 
An open chest of emeralds. A civilized society 
What is the price they shall pay, discrimination, and labelled the minority?

The lands great King’s and Queen’s viciously fought 
A place wise sage’s and priest’s exhaustively taught. 
A place inhabited by the pompous and the scrupulous 
However, like all goldmines ; come impurities and the perfidious.

We pay our respect to Haji Naushah Ganj Baksh, now starts the adventure
Farewell Hindustan – land of the Indus. Into the Unknown we venture. 
Drawing near and near, to the mysterious lands. Sleep deprived, induced insomnia 
Their feet’s touch the fresh grass. Can it be? Mighty Britannia. 

-My fathers spiritual, and emotionally crushing journey to set up a new life in the west. dedicated to him.


Details | Rhyme | |

Coffee, Bagel and Time

With walker support he enters the door
He’s there every day, from 10 to 4.
Orders coffee and bagel’d cream-cheese
Then sits there for hours with hands on his knees.

He sits near the window and watches his past
Within his mind as old shadows cast
His vague recollections of sweet reverie
Which only his fading memories see

A smile now and then becomes his vaccine
Against reality’s attempt on the scene
To interrupt the flow of the past
Which for decades he worked to amass.

Loneliness he constantly wears as a coat
His only companion: memories remote.
So … solemnly, quietly he spends his days
He rewinds his memories into replays

Aged and wrinkled thin hands so frail
Around 4 o’clock his walker assail
Again he shuffles out the front door
Tomorrow … he’ll return, and be there once more.


Details | Blank verse | |

at

at war,
-i could still hear our tired feet passed this plain,
wind chills our bodies soaked at early dawn rain-
i sat at the side, eager to absorbed, all what I heared from my old man's tale
cold breeze breath and made us shivered,
as if a ghost from the past, sat in
under the acacia, as if it was ready to hear the pain-
"we are at war, nineteen eighty nine, and in the late seventies
most of the boys lost their lives, including mine,
that, i was long gone with them,
 
I don't understand.


at peace,
-inside a small house, we call' a war room'
my old man were dead few years back,
we talked about politics, it could be a new walk
can you walk with us? they asked, eagerly
though I'm skeptic, i nod-
we went out on the streets, after few hours dancing 
in the air, sat on the side, placards lay on my tired hand
throwed a long glimpse toward the sky
i think rain come tonight,
one of us, positively uttered.
we look at him, and all eyes raised up towards the gathering
of the moonson clouds,

still i don't understand.