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Age Grandmother Poems | Age Poems About Grandmother

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Details | Free verse | |

My Micke boys

                To be called ..
            ~   Grandma is a Honor ~

        I have been blessed with 4  Grandchildren

       ~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb "  He is God's Angel ~
   ~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~

     For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
       he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
      ~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
 
              Time passed another gift to see
               we are " Mickes" and Loved 
            Our Dad held the title in Baseball 
                   ~  that's how we roll ~
           those children are Grandmas hero's 

       The Irish they love big and Family is everything 
        The brothers will protect the beautiful sister 
              ~ as many lads will be calling ~

        Every time my Grandson hits a home run
     There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand 

       It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs 
           ~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
     either baseball or Art  ~ you shall find your gift given

                These children have been blessed~
                 ~  a beauty to hard to describe 
        If you think not ~~  Take a look at the Mom  
                     That girl can stop Traffic   
                    after raising three and still~ 

          "Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "

     May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell


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 | Narrative | |

True Praise

I used to look at your wrinkly hands
And see the veins follow routes like a map
Your fingers shook like a spayed chihuahua on the piano keys
Demonstrating the chord in which I was supposed to play after you

I was thinking instead about the stool we were sharing
How old and fragile  the wooden piece was
The green-blue floral padding faded and worn
The chipped, wobbly legs 
That creaky sound when you repositioned...
And I was praying it wouldn't collapse under our bodies

Your voice was gentle and calm 
Softly pushing me back to my practice
 and my fingers played that bright G Chord
“Very good,” You praised with a smile
Your voice so small and lightly faded
But still loving and pleasant

You explained to me arpeggios and broken chords
And I was glad it was you explaining it
I remember yelling at my dad
And throwing a big tantrum over playing “Allouette” 
His straight harsh voice cut my fingers off the keys
As he ordered me to pay attention
Watching his hairy fingers demonstrate the left hand
And then the right
Pressing loudly and ramming the song into my every being

And I remembered 
I was never concerned about making him angry
I would laugh if he made a mistake in teaching
Or if he stumbled on his words - which was frustratingly rare
I would scream if he corrected me
And yet I was determined for his praise
That he never gave 

Your son loved music like you
And he wanted me to love it just like him
In an annoyed kind of way, I obliged
But I would make him suffer for forcing it on me
Even if I couldn't deny it was something I would always love

We never have our piano lessons anymore, Grandma 
But I will never forget how you taught me
That stool remains in the room
It hasn't been sat on for days

And it took far more than mere days
To receive from your son…true praise

But that’s okay
I will pray it collapses under his body


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 | Quatrain | |

Women

You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life


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.


Details | I do not know? | |

WHO AM I BY NAME ALONE

written 10th Aug 2013



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"


Details | Lyric | |

In Memory

She lay upon her bed of pain;
The chrysalis grew dull and gray;
The colors which we knew as her
Were fading fast, so fast, away;
But, underneath the fragile clay,
We saw new colors burning through
Of soul triumphant in its flight
Approaching Glory's avenue.
It seemed we heart her spirit groan,
Her frail flesh tremble 'neath the weight
Of wings fast-pulsing with new life
And yearning for the Infinite.

She's free! Her dewy wings soft-dried
By hovering angel's gentle breath
Have lifted once, now twice they stir
And find the air: can this be death?


Details | Narrative | |

Don't Leave Me

I can't imagine being alive without you
I can't imagine what it will be like when your gone
I don't know what I'll become without you
Maybe I'll just run
Run away from everything and leave everyone behind
Maybe I'll find a way to be close to you
Because I won't believe you died 
My heart will ache so much more 
Tears will always run
My eyes will hold the wisdom 
That you bestowed upon me young
And my recklessness will be noticeable
People will wonder why
Why am I running when the person I needed most died
How can I face my life when I can't do anything right
I won't believe you have gone away
When God decides to take you
I'll still come by your house and always expect an answer
I Love You Gamma
You Taught Me About My Heritage  
Please Remember Me When God Takes You
Please Guide Me In the Right Way


Details | Ode | |

Dream Walking

In the small town of Campbell Missouri,
A young girl with lovely brown locks
Sits, having been told she might never walk again
As all aknowledge this belief in town,
A fear swept around, 
And many children were kept down

But in the spirit of this child,
Desire to walk snuck over her fears
Perhaps she wished to surprise-
Perhaps she could not stand
The judgmental eyes-but all the same, 
She picked herself up, smiled,
And sauntered around the room

Happiness pervaded the house
As the family friend, delighted,
Sang merrily the song,
“Have You Ever Seen a Dream Walking?”

Today, at California Mission Inn,
The same girl, now a woman
Walks her glorious walk
With confidence and grace
She is 91 years old and strong
As song,
Her eyes lighting up as she recalls
She hums the dreamy tune
As I jot down miracles 


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The number the brand

When I met her , a very old lady she was , yet inside lay a frightened child .
I felt my heart cry , I felt as if I was touching history itself , as I made this older lady, child,  chai .

I remember the day , and so many tears I have cried
I have cried before she and I met 
As a child , so many tears, left confused inside .

Not understanding Why , and how could we stand by and live our lives as if this never happened ?

It happened , we are left in dismay of the movies seen the accounts taken of History 
My self ..I have caught stereotyping the very people whom did this to she , the rest of her Family erased .


The white candles we light , we try and forgive , or just simply block this pain out completely.

It occurs , over and over , as it has been said History will repeat .
When thinking of my children , when I think of that little girl losing ,  cold and scarred , feeling only defeat .

There is a lesson here and I pray , that all whom have been taken from life , have no pain and are gifted spirits throughout eternity . May they be warmed with love,  and reunited with the ones they lost .

The first time I met her , her old hand I took and warmed it with mine , I held it for a long time . 
You could not,  but notice ..the Evil imprinted on skin , the Evil only to remind.
This very old Soul , in her eyes you could see . 
The child that once lived , so innocently free, not aware yet,  of the Hostility .

I speak of a Little girl, I speak of a old woman , I speak of a Jewish,  chosen Religion.

There as I held her frail , old hand  , a brand , a number stamped in Evil a long time ago .   In 1945  , once in our distant, yet Frightening  past . 

We should never forget , never forget it happened , never forget all the names .
If we do , we have learned nothing , A World living in Shame .
                                " Etta Babooshka Kofman  "


Details | Rhyme | |

In Loving Memory Of My Grandma

 Hold your head up, Grandma would say
 and let me pull your hair from your face.
 Stand up tall and properly, for a lady
 it should look as though it comes naturally.

 Oh Grandma, I would say. I just want to go
 and with the boys play. I want to fish and 
 shoot marbles too and maybe some baseball,
 if Bobby doesn't come too.
 
 Who is Bobby, she said. Just a boy who doesn't 
 like girls who with their brothers hang. 
 Well maybe Bobby is right and a lovely girl
 such as you, shouldn't be talking such slang.

 I long to be where the boys are for they have
 so much fun, it beats cooking and knitting
 silly hats and gloves. Give it time and you
 will see, she said, that being a lady is what
 God has meant for you to be.

 I would lay awake each night as I grew and I
 dreamed of the places my brothers seen
 and Bobby too. I always knew when they were
 to return home for most often it was when the
 cherry blossoms scented the lawn.

 Then there came that Spring day when all of them
 came home late, but all I could see was
 Bobby standing at gate.
 My heart did flutter and my cheeks, I knew were
 flushed. I never knew I had also missed Bobby
 just as much.

 It has been 4 years now and I still wear Bobby's ring and
 two beautiful children that in cherry blossoms we play.
 I often think back to what Grandma said and I understand
 now every word that still echo's in my head . 
 I think Grandma's have an inside tip
 for she already knew the plan, before I did.

 I will always love you Grandma.
 


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 | I do not know? | |

The Women



The Women



(for the countless women, names unknown, who bore the brunt of Apartheid, and who fought the racist system at great cost to themselves and their families, and for my mother, Zubeida Moolla)



Pregnant, your husband on the run,
your daughter, a child, a few years old,

they hauled you in, these brutish men,
into the bowels of Apartheid's racist hell.



They wanted information, you gave them nothing,
these savage men, who skin happened to be lighter,

and white was right in South Africa back then,

but, you did not cower, you stood resolute,

you, my mother, faced them down, their power,
their 'racial superiority', their taunts, their threats.



You, my mother, would not, could not break,

You stood firm, you stood tall.

You, like the countless mothers did not break, did not fall.



You told me many things, of the pains, the struggles,

the scraping for scraps, the desolation of separation
from your beloved Tasneem and your beloved Azad,

my elder sister and brother, whom I could not grow
up with, your beloved children separated by time, by place,

by monstrous Apartheid, by brutish men,
whose skin just happened to be lighter.



You told me many things, as I grew older,
of the years in exile, of the winters that grew ever colder.

You were a fighter, for a just cause,
like countless other South African women,

you sacrificed much, you suffered the pangs,
of memories that cut into your bone, your marrow,

you resisted a system, an ideology, brutal and callous and narrow.



Yes, you lived to see freedom arrive, yet you suffered still,
a family torn apart, and struggling to rebuild a life,

all the while, nursing a void, that nothing could ever fill.



I salute you, mother, as I salute the nameless mothers,

the countless sisters, daughters, women of this land,
who fought, sacrificing it all for taking a moral stand.



I salute you, my mother, and though you have passed,
your body interred in your beloved South African soil,

you shall remain, within me, an ever-present reminder,

of the cost of freedom, the struggles, the hunger, the toil.


I salute you!



(for the brave women of South Africa, of all colours,
who fought against racial discrimination and Apartheid)






Details | Nonet | |

Forgotten Winter

Weighted now with ancient mystery she stands among serenity in full bloom of twilight's sigh with abundant bouquets of wild sage and thyme that makes aging possibly worth the wait nights weighted with dead leaves and hidden wounds vanish in the wind while autumn disappears leaving only the springtime frozen in forgotten winters leaving dreams of a second childhood
____________________________________________________ For the contest: "The Old Age" sponsored by Dr. Ram Mehta


Details | Free verse | |

bittersweet

so this is the way the night tastes... looking back I couldn't tell, in pencil at the beginning worn flights of steps, from before the war smaller, until they were gone but in the mirror, my hands gold rims, bare here and there out of an echo, knowing not long after flecked with red, blue in the depths, and polished... I see clearly all the pieces of the flower it was late when we started plates stacked on shelves next to the questions one at a time once there was a horizon no color except for gray at a perfect distance from each other almost a thousand years later almost in plain sight in the summer fields waiting it would climb up as a shadow we planned to wait and to whatever is still standing the eggshell of light before dark what was there before remained closed on its own along the ridge of the barn roof only she had forgotten her name a dried branch of bittersweet lace on drop-leaf tables I could not remember part memory, part distance leading me to the lake shore invisible under the hood
_______________________________________________________ Inspired By Charlotte's Contest: "Cut-up/Collage Poems" and randomly "snipped" from a book by W.S. Merwin 2/27/14


Details | Nonet | |

growing old

                 The day when I was a younger Lass
                  never a thought in my young mind
                  soon evolution takes over
                  I try with grace and truth
                  overcome destiny
                  trading beauty
                  for wisdom
                  the gift
                  wise.
                  
                   
                  


Details | Sonnet | |

A granny I might be

A granny I might be

A granny I might be
But I can always see
My hair is growing grey
My shape is quite okay

I still love my fashion
I guess it’s still my passion
I always look quite smart and dressy
And very rarely I look messy.

I’m older, but I'm still a lassie
Sometimes me, I do look classy
I would not change a single day
Not ever, not in any way.

How the years they will turn out
Well who knows, I’ll wait that out.

Vera Duggan 13 September 2014


Details | Narrative | |

Dead Reckoning


~                                                                              
Black as the pit in the well of my dreams
I'm here all alone,  and the silence is long...
I'm engulfed by the drone and the low pitch of dread
Dead reckoning beckons me to hold up my head 
in a whirlwind, a gust of the fierce prairie wind

I open my eyes, with the last of my breath
There is a field of wheat, I am gasping within
My grandmother's house, in a waving mirage
is seen through the dust, just as once it had been
What do I fear?  Perhaps it is death?

Perchance this is slumber, and the sleep monster taunts me,
The nightmare is haunting, as it calls through the dark
I am playing the part, I am child, just a spark
of the fire that wants me, as the field is engulfed

Heroic, and fearless, now, alas, not afraid!
An arm reaches out, and shows me the way
“You can be brave” as she lends me her hand
Shouting, "Stand by my side, let the flames be your guide"

How brave, that I am, when deep in the place
in the trace of the vaporous face of my dreams
The shades of fire, and smoke of the night
will consume me, if only, I fight off my fright
It is only my fear,  that consumes while awake
of the things that are real, and things that are not

I'll not bend like wheat strands, or the flames of the fire
I'll stand tall when I wake, and will wake with new power



__________________________________________________
1//5/14  For the Contest sponsored by Poetess Darkly
"Pocket Full of Dreams"


Details | Senryu | |

lost behind fragile glass

she smiles cautiously

as if she knows who I am....

I live on her nightstand





_________________________________________________
For Senryu Contest: Sponsered by Black Eyed Susan




Details | Epic | |

Kitchen

 
Years my father nostalgic for my mother.
She'd set the Shabbat table
Guess the white cloth the flu vegetable land
 Let the fine flour, put the meat
Put the tomatoes and garlic
She could cook.
It tasted feed came from us
And so would put us as cookies Yu Yu Tonisaiot
Sweet biscuits dipped in liquid dam
Rosewater would add my grandmother if she had been allowed to
But here in my mother would make the salads very thinly
To unite us at the Shabbat table.

I did not learn a foreign language parents
My parents speak their language changes
Request a sweet Polish father
Tunisian mature mother
And I did not learn of them a foreign language
Only Hebrew sucked mother that it was not her mother tongue
She spoke with her sisters in French
Arabic
Jewish and jargon that far.

In the kitchen I did not learn a foreign language
Only Hebrew


Details | Prose | |

Soon

She has become
Like a thin Chinese tea cup
Placed upon a large rock
She has become… fragile
Afraid to go anywhere
Least she break

She sits outside
When the weather is clear
Reading the same book
She has read for many years
Painfully turning the pages
With crooked fingers

Occasionally
I see her smile
As the lines on her face
Seem to multiply ten fold
While she tries to remember
Why she is smiling

When the cooler weather
Dances around her
She wears a long soft scarf
Wrapped many times
Around her neck
To keep the cold away

Sometimes
She will ask me
"When will my friends
Be coming by?"
And I sit next to her
Hold her hand
And say to her
Soon Grandma… soon


Details | Quatrain | |

WAITING FOR GOD

WAITING FOR GOD At four score years and ten Our Gran is physically spry But her mind is beginning to wander And I often ask God, "Why?" She's a most delightful lady With smooth, porcelain-like skin She loves her large family And has the most wicked of grins. But her mind is beginning to wander And she's now starting to live in the past It's hard for her to remember Who's who at the family repasts. She loves to be among the children But she doesn't know who they all are Not only is her mind beginning to wander She's now taken to walking afar. One day we couldn't locate her We walked twice around the block We had to call in the police It gave us all such a shock. We found her sitting at the bus stop It really was quite odd We asked her what she was doing She answered, smiling sweetly, "Waiting for God." © ELR 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.


Details | Narrative | |

Vesper

Her eyes, though once bright, are cloudy,
Shrunken and fragile the form
That long was brimful of vigor
And a will to outlast life's storms.
She stares past a blank horizon
Through a door that I do not know;
The colors she sees are mem'ries,
Scents and sounds of the long ago.

A kaleidoscope of faces
Turns merry-go-round in her mind;
While trees out her window whisper
Soft lullabies long left behind.
The sound of my cheery greeting 
Draws her back to this metal room,
Away from a creaking rocker
And her mama's sweet, gentle croon.

If is not my name she whispers
As I bend down to kiss her cheek,
But a name more dear than ever
Mine was is the name that she speaks.
"Papa," the feeble voice quavers.
I'm no more a part of her world;
The grandma that soothed my sorrows
Is once again Papa's wee girl.


Details | Kimo | |

DRIED PETALS

                   she is the most beautiful wild flower
                       time ran fast fades the glamour
                               living in twilight zone.


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 | Free verse | |

This Lovely Vase

This Lovely Vase

This lovely vase
So delicate and fine
Shines now by the window.

This lovely vase
Has known more years than I
Known the touch of many

This lovely vase
Once a Wedding present 
So my Nana said

This lovely vase
Once stood with flowers tall
Nana’s home grown blooms

This lovely vase
A careless touch and then
Fragments on the floor

This lovely vase
Pieces now were gathered
Mended then with gold

This lovely vase
As it sits there on the window
Catching sun’s bright glow

This lovely vase
More lovely than before
Now trimmed in gold 

This lovely vase
Healed by the scars of time
Still with grace and beauty


Details | Free verse | |

The Healer Part III (from my life story)

At the age of twenty two I gave birth to my first child to survive. A beautiful 
and flawless daughter with dark brown eyes and hair like mine.  When she turned five years 
of age warts began to grow on her hands. My daughter cried with eyes looking to me for the 
answer. The same eyes that looked up at The Healer Ms Agnes who cast away my warts so 
long ago.  

As with me, Traditional Medicine did not work and Ms Agnes and my Grandmother were long 
dead. Grandmother taught me how to use the herbs to heal when I was so young. 
Remembering getting rid of warts was a BIG job made me take pause.  If Grandma 
couldn't get the job done who was I to think that I somehow could. I stubbornly tried all 
Grandma had taught me, but only in vain. How my heart ached for the knowledge and power 
of The Healer Ms Agnes.

Such fretful sleeps did come as I felt hopeless for the answer to my daughters plight. And 
then it happened one calm and starry night. A deep sleep finally came so strong over me. 
While sleeping, right before me came a vision of The Healer Ms Agnes.  The very next 
morning I awoke with an idea of something new to try. 

With a calm and soothing voice I sat my daughter down. I took her precious little hands in 
mine. Gently I touched and counted all the scaly knobs I could find. All the memories came 
flowing back and the story I began to recant.  I closed my eyes and for the first time spoke 
about how my warts were taken away  I felt a little detached as I recalled each 
detail I could to conjure up the Spirit of The Healer Ms Agnes.

When I opened mine and met my daughters awestruck eyes her hands were still in mine.  
As I gave them a gentle squeeze I said " Maybe. Just maybe there's enough of the Spirit of 
The Healer Ms Agnes left in there for you too.  A question came to the edge of my mind. 
What if The Healer Spirit spell is reversed? It could be my curse for meddling with The Spirits 
That Be. The answer came as quick as a spark.  I would gladly wear mine again if it meant 
my daughter' would not.

On the fourth morning after that day my daughter awoke me with such a scream. I rushed 
to her bedside to see what was the matter. Lo and behold there among the bedsheets were 
the remains of her warts. Dumbfounded and bewildered I was left with no comprehension 
and speechless while I embraced my daughter with congratulations. As I took my leave out 
of her sight I slowly stretched out my hands to see if my warts had returned. I mused aloud 
when I saw they had not.

Continued in Part IV....


Details | Ballade | |

My Mo in law

 

My Mo In law

My Mo in law, she’s ninety five
And wow, she’s looking bright
I see her in that old folk’s home
She looks a real delight
Though she can’t get around much now
She still delights in life
With a smile to all who pass on by
She seems so free from strife

She came out here at twenty nine
To our good sunny land
She worked so hard when she came here
And she made no demands
Milking cows there on the farm
Bringing up three kids
And she got on without a moan
In everything she did.

She helped her husband build two homes
She worked and worked all day
She done each thing she had to do
In a sweet and gentle way
On thinking about my Mo in law
I’d have to tell you this
Old Rosie she’s a mighty bird
You know, she really is.

19 July 2013 @ 1300hrs.
 


Details | Light Poetry | |

Typewriter

When I was little my mother and father took me to my grandparents place
The reason was they had school and work so they dropped me off and took haste
My grandmother who was always writing had brought out a case
I always wondered what it was that made her heart beat in an odd pace

Little I did not know what she was smiling so much about
So I watched her run around making snacks all out
I was little and about to touch the case, but I heard a shout
When I heard her she had a look that made me pout

My grandmother smiled and said to me that machine was special to her
But what was that machine because it was odd looking, for sure
As a little child nothing looks more interesting than a new figure
Finally she sat down with me by her side and a cup of coffee to stir

With a big smile she told me a story and first it was on paper
As she spoke I heard her voice with ticks and taper
I could not concentrate because of sounds and I was looking at her 
She spoke with kind words and words that I will know in the future

I giggled when she said a word, because it made several noise I heard
My grandmother smiled at me and really knew that I like the sounds that occurred
Little things are not so little she smiled and looked at her coffee and stirred
She pointed at the machine with paper rapped in it with a pattern that lured

As she spoke to me I watched it snap at the paper with precision
I was kinda amuse on her finger making a quick decision
The machine was so fast and her fingers was too, I could not use my vision
She was so happy to see that I was starting to understand the occasion

After a while I got bored and she put me down on the floor
She kept smiling and making music beyond the door
When it stopped I felt empty some how to the core
She stopped it was just because she could not find words no more

I ask grandmother what is that machine you are using as I was griping
Grandmother why wont you play with me as I was smiling
She said that she was doing some stuff, I guess she was not done working
But the thing was she was so happy as she said the machine is a Typewriter for typing


 


April 18, 2013


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 | 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 | Blank verse | |

Nonna

When you leave me, nothing will ever be the same again,
You have taught me so much and your love was never ending,
I will never forget the way you smiled and the way you made the ones around you feel safe,
This poem may not rhyme, but the words I feel for you are not in any dictionary,
therefore rhymes are impossible,
you have been my rock, my reliable, strong rock, but now my rock is floating away and soon I will never see my rock again.
I wont lie and say everything was grand,
we have never really met eye to eye,
and we have hurt each other with our words, but words would never hurt our heart if we did not feel love,
that is all I feel for you,
love.
This is my love letter to you, my way of saying thank you,
thank you for the laughs and the cries and the ups and the downs,
this is my everlasting gratitude.
I love you.


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 | Free verse | |

Poetry Group

I arrive early for the meeting.
Row upon row of chairs
face forward, like a flock of sheep, 
nose to tail, waiting for a shepherd.

My grandmother raised sheep,
cows, pigs, geese, and children.
Grandpa buckled under tuburcolosis,
leaving her seven kids to raise.
"Waste not, want not," served well
as a mantra over rugged paths,
and pastured her fleecy days.

With no aid from government,
church, neighbor, or relative,
she prevailed where others failed,
sharing the bounty garnered 
from those wooly mammals 
of endless grazing.

As these empty chairs fill,
what shepherd will lead us
into the fold of words;
power words for change,
wisdom words for growth,
magic words for dreams,
with teeth piercing to the core,
strong jaws for chewing,
and sensitive tongue
to taste those other words
floating around these chairs
of tail-wagging writers?