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Sonnet Grandmother Poems | Sonnet Poems About Grandmother

These Sonnet Grandmother poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Sonnet Grandmother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Sonnet | |

A Grandmother's Prayer

           A GRANDMOTHER'S PRAYER
I'll pray you strength, to face each coming day
when things aren't going as right as they could,
to tear down walls, when walls get in the way
of knowing life is going as it should;

I'll pray you light, so your dear heart can see
all through your life, your journey's not alone,
and so the night's not dark as it could be
in troubled times, as every life has known;

I'll pray you love, so love will take your hand,
so you can feel love is the plan for you,
and when it's done, your heart will understand
just what it means to love one, as I do.

I'll pray you have the wisdom God can give
and all His love, as long as you shall live.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet


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Lost time

I was just a child of four with not much to say
But I enjoyed the times I went next door to stay
You were so sick in bed and didn't feel quite well
But you were strong and played with me so I could never tell

You body was full of cancer you were very ill
But whenever I saw you, you'd smile and I'd sit still
I'd climb next to you on your bed, I wouldn't wiggle
I saw the sparkle in your eyes and sometimes we would giggle

I'd love to sit and dress up in your necklaces and hats
Pretend I was a princess while you would just lay back
I was too young to know how sick you really were
You never ever let on, you let me play, a lot was just a blur

As I grew I was told you loved the time we shared
I wish that you were never sick and knew how much I cared.


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To hear you again

Set child, listen to your elder's story                                                                          often as you can for we are but men                                                                               A time to live a time to die sorely                                                                                   in life to always do good, my friend:                                                                      Written books are ink and pen, by a hand                                                                       So harken more to do the good, when told                                                                 Living letters never to hold again                                                                                   is far better to hear a voice of old:                                                                                for prose can write anything to get their way                                                                  living histories of the feelings told                                                                                     are fading, grows from youth to old but stay;                                                                  before you pass a place you can not go                                                                          To heed my grandmother's words, I said no                                                                      always to do good I fail but I know


Details | Sonnet | |

A Sonnet For My Granny

      A SONNET FOR MY GRANNY
My northern star
To the stars you belong
You were the brightest of all stars
The fairest of all
Your illumination would have quench
The burning furnace

My precious sapphire
The jewel in the heart
Of Ibesikpo Asutan
The one whose glance
Cools the hottest fire
I wish i were the sun, shinning at you
I wish I were the moon looking back at you


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 | Sonnet | |

Oh mum don't kill me

oh mum, don't kill me if you can't afford dowry.
oh mum,don't kill me if you want a boy to birth,
oh mum, throw me alive to live on this earth,
oh mum, don't dig a hole to hide me as indian myth;
oh mum, just educate me then never feel sorry.
i shall serve you as a servant don't feel pain my living,
please ask my brother if he can protect me if dare having.
I can walk on thorns to keep you happy don't cage my 
worry,
why is Indian culture don't believe that I am also human?
why is security matter for me as a man is nudity fan?
don't afraid from gangs they are coward can't face a girl,
they can't love to daughter and sisters, looking beauty 
pearl,
they kill girls, demanding dowry, live in a cultural 
whoolpearl,
when women 'll be free in india that's facing degrading 
curl.


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Seeds Of Knowledge

Our greatest grandmother took a bite from
the fruit of knowledge of evil and good. 
Admittedly, the act was downright dumb,
since it was the only thing which she could 
have done to give offense without hope of pardon. 
Our greatest grandfather, equal in blame, 
caused LandLord eviction from the garden, 
after attempts to hide his naked shame. 

But what if Eve got more than just a bite -- 
and smuggled seeds in folds of her new skirt? 
There’s a possibility that we might 
eat of that tree again; what could it hurt? 

It’s a knowledge that we seem to have lost, 
despite its dreadful value and its cost.


Details | Sonnet | |

World War II

I see them coming from two different worlds,
father was poor but had just finished his tour
in the Navy during WWII. So young and hansom 
his black curly hair slicked, and arm muscles 
bulging under his uniform. My mother her exotic
beauty and always dressed in expensive clothes,
carrying her books down Sunset Boulevard to 
Schwabs for autographs.
Their marriage took two minutes at City Hall
no friends or fanfare. Nine months latter it
was beginning to end in Chicago when my father,
drunk, through my grandmother across the room
and broke her arm. My father stopped drinking
that day but now a dry drunk, never did change
his attitude toward women.         -sonnet