Metaphor Grandmother Poems | Metaphor Poems About Grandmother
These Metaphor Grandmother poems are examples of Metaphor poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Metaphor Grandmother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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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
Copyright © Shanity Rain
The moon so bold seems cold
with a halo of midnight glow
I sit mesmerized as the night grows old.
I bleed still, even after all these years
and I wait again through the night
aching in the depths of my soul
that no other seems to know
the Loneliness that has become my companion.
In the darkness we wait and confide in the other
our deepest fears as memories fade
in and out each season of change
the nostalgia tempers the wars of pain
this tempestuous foe of ours
wails at the gates of midnight
howling the warble of humanities last grace.
How the comfort of minds and hearts
turn from light to deep dark in the face
of eternities long time clock...
I ache with wanting, with need and passion
it is a lie that time heals and wounds scar
each night is fresh like the first
when I faced realities shock.
Who can wait with me?
Who can hold this hound at bay?
Who can cherish what little love left in me
and make the broken whole?
I ache to be loved again as the love that burns
and waits inside of me.
Who can comfort this emptiness and fill the void
that so many leavings have left?
Cherish and love to honor and protect
but who can slay these demons that hold my heart in wrath?
Who will walk the sulfur clouds of hell to save my mind
and deliver my world to the gates of heaven
with life, not death bridging the distance of pain?
I sit and wait at the floor of the moon each night
waiting for that bridge to carry me yonder,
this moon who hangs heavy and ripe with the yearning of my soul
with clouds aglow as if I could sweep them across a canvas
with the brush held in your hand
I rage at her as I wait, but still I wait and weep
as Loneliness and I keep each others company
wishing the clouds of that great moon could truly create
a way to find the lost, a pathway to home, lit by the legacy our love.
Copyright © tara jennings
The Black butterfly waves away her adorations
All she seeks is seclusion, subsuming slave to mortification
The Dear Air is all she can breath, captive of imaginary dreams
The Beacon resonates, but the hope isolates
The Wasteland's silky fingers caressing the virgin's face
So she is now, the covet of the damned
Programmed to every victim's pain
Carrying the weight of every sorrow
Drowning in wrongs she does not know
But paradise is at loss; she must go
Nature sighs after the bite
All my hopes fading
Don't look at me with those sorrowful eyes
How do you know exactly what I'm feeling?
I'm just the ghost flower passing by
And you can hear nature's sigh
Copyright © Wyatt Loethen
One Big Cracker
I don't know what to write you
I wrote many lines and then scribbled
I know you like neat and tidy things
I have been sitting by the window since morn
In my grandma's home
You made her alone, remember?
But I visited her daily after school
She is lonely and keeps waiting for me
She bakes my favourite cookies and cakes
You gifted her with nice hands and thoughts
Two days ago she brought me over for keeps
I didn't go to school today
My heart is iron heavy and my legs can't carry it
Do you like to take moms and dads
Only on Friday the thirteenth? *
You also took James mother at the same time
Sara was seen crying, she didn't tell me why
I didn't see her playing with her brother next door
Do you have enough room for so many people?
Granny, Uncle Mark held my hand at the funeral
Uncle Richard, Aunt Jane hugged and kissed me
Many many people came to wish them goodbye
Granny is old, she placed a letter on their coffin
The graveyard was full of flowers, candles and tears
Mom and Dad were buried together and
Granny says she also wants to lie with them
But I don't know where my bed is
I thought you would also burst one big cracker at the cemetery**
So that we could all be together with you
God, when are you going to burst the next cracker?
November 15, 2015
Contest: Oil Painting-3
Sponsor: Eve Roper
* Paris terror mayhem on November 13, 2015, is no less than any terrorist attack in the world. Innocents die and families suffer.
** A bomb goes off at a funeral in Baghdad.
Copyright © Balveen Cheema