Best Grandmother Poems
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Grandmother
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Grandmother
Poem
Summers Eve
~Summer’s Eve ~
I am a woman!
I am proud-
I am everything you want.
Plus more
The adoring wife,
A beautiful mother,
A grandmother a granddaughter
A daughter, a sister,
A lover, the aunt.
Your enemy, your friend.
I am the working lady.
A widow left behind.
I AM!
The Spawn of Adam's rib-
I AM!
A mentor throughout this world.
A lady with class, sometimes a material girl.
A flower, and the sound of rain.
I am the color of the rainbow.
I am deeper than the sea.
I am the pink ribbon you wear.
I am delicate like snow.
I AM!
The sun and the moon in your eyes.
A twister during dark skies.
I AM!
The Daughter of Eve-
And, here is the only feeling I want to endorse.
Summer's Eve.
*****
In honor and appreciation to all the women of the world.
Happy Mother’s day!
By;PD
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Grandmother
Poem
The Woman
See the woman.
See the face behind its age.
See the beauty of her form.
See the way her way becomes her.
See past her once taught skin, as it was
when it enflamed many a man.
See the way she holds her head;
the tilt of her neck, the ease
of her being.
See the strength that binds her jaw,
unrelenting in its flex.
See her hurt displayed, as shadows
fall like night upon the earth,
eager for rest and resolution -
retribution,
for the one she could not save.
See her darkness. See it very well.
See it shatter like glass, glinting,
when she giggles like a girl.
See her shine.
As the shades of dark days rise,
See the years that grace her eyes,
like rays of her own sun
exponentially shining forth.
See forgiveness in her patient hands
as they weave memories with a touch.
See the breadth of her breasts,
unapologetic,
for they have quenched her children’s hunger,
soothed their frantic cries,
and became the safe haven for her beloved.
See her empty, scarred abdomen –
round and perfect in its imperfections,
once holding the essence of all things;
carrying creation within –
see the divine home of God.
See the innocent baby,
the impetuous youth,
the voluptuous woman,
the devoted wife,
the selfless mother.
See the wisdom of the grandmother –
the epitome of every moment lived
for someone else, and the realization
of the circle.
Hear the acceptance in her sigh.
See the gifts she has given –
see the woman!
See the goddess!
The beginning and the end!
See the infinite that bares the name,
Woman!
See her for all that she is and isn’t.
Smell her scent and know you are home.
Taste the strength of her words on your tongue.
Hear her experiences like your own.
To touch her soul is to touch perpetuity!
See her face in your mirror.
See the tears that fall proudly
upon the woman you’ve become,
and hope yet to become
in time;
when you have lived through all that has been
set before you –
tasted each woman’s tears as if they were your own.
When you enter that perfect union,
timeless ancestry;
when you become,
when you come
full circle;
you will see yourself in all things,
and your journey, will see you back
home.
*Reposted for Chris's Get Your Rebel On, Contest! This was written with my Beautiful
Grandmother in mind. She saved my life in more ways than one. love you, Gran. This one's
for you. (and every woman, and woman lover, here)
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Grandmother
Poem
The Seamstress of Time
I have a special story I wish to share
About a seamstress beautiful and fair
She would fade away turning into smoke
Of her amazing beauty, no man would joke
The spiraling smoke would then re-form
I know only an angels face could be so warm
Before her a beautiful quilt was spread
Upon it the story of my life was said
As she once again started to dissipate
She said, “Mike this quilt records your fate”
As the smoke traveled over to a new place
And then formed together creating her face
Looking over her shoulder back at me
She said, “This area will hold what has yet to be”
Most of the quilt looked like twisted evil tattoo
Simply because, my life’s quilt was quilted true
I looked the quilt over and then met her gaze
She was so beautiful in so many different ways
The last part of the quilt way over to the right
Showed the beauty of someone changing their plight
Upon her beautiful hand, which seemed so nimble
I noticed she was wearing my grandmother’s thimble
From a young maiden so beautiful to see
My grandmother appeared right in front of me
I guess up in heaven we return to our youth
My grandmother was beautiful; such is the truth
I thought of the price grandma was asked to pay
The shame of knowing I had turned out that way
I thought of her sitting there stitching my shame
My grandmother didn’t deserve an eternity of pain
She said, “Michael be still with the pain in your heart,
Your story encourages others to make a new start.”
“The deeper the wrong the stronger the right
I always knew my boy would take up the fight”
With a smile much brighter than an ice covered sea
She said, “I love the man my boy has grown up to be”
As she turned to the quilt and started to sew
She said, “Michael, its now time for you to go.”
“Believe in your story believe in your truth
For Salvation is the true fountain of youth”
One night in a dream, which I’ll hold forever divine
I learned; my Grandmother is now,” The Seamstress of Time”
When I was a boy I would help my Grandmother roll
her quilt, find her glasses, as well as, her thimble. I
never thought about how amazing her art truly was.
From a pile of rags she would make the most beautiful
quilt's. I sleep under one of her quilts to this very day.
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Grandmother
Poem
GRANDPA
*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi grandpa it's me again,
Your retainer is old and sits in an open glass.
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
moments before she said her final goodbye.
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she does not want you to cry.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again.
The rocking chair is old and dusty.
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
She read me a story before I took a nap.
She enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands.
I love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until the age of four.
Hello grandpa,
I stored your hearing aid away.
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma drawer?
I opened it last night, just to watch the ballerina dance.
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma loved inside that box.
I hope you don’t mind I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.
Hello Grandpa,
I love grandma’s picture frame.
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa I miss the things grandmother would do for you.
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your back needed the support.
It keeps you in balance, for those long hikes in the woods that I enjoyed.
Hello grandpa, it's me again.
Here I sit holding your hand.
I have no more tears.
Soon you will see grandma again.
Please tell her hi, and I cannot wait until the day I die.
Bye bye grandpa
Give grandma a kiss for me.
sadly ---> by;PD
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Grandmother
Poem
The Pilgrimage--Recited poem
They fought the tide to own this land
A fight I did not understand
They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
But yet,…by God,……they owned the pride
In retrospect, I'm still ashamed
It was, my flippant pilgrimage
I had come a stranger to this place
About to step upon the moon,
A cratered space of rocks and sage
Of rolling hills, with no escape
She saw it differently, of course
Although her body weary, worn
Her eyes were strong, ...she saw a home
Her age was then, what mine is now
It had been her home, and it had been her vow
To come again, just one more time.
I was thirteen, and dragged along
I overlooked the great attraction
I could not see the satisfaction
I missed the light upon her face
She saw the youth she left behind
Her gray eyes drinking up the sun,
I saw the dust, I saw the bones,
Where she saw beauty, I saw none .....
Nothing more than a sea of weeds, the crumbling brick,
A place to shuffle my restless feet
But stories came, and they sunk in….
And now I view with wiser eyes…
She told me all these things back then…but now, I smile,… remembering.
They had to fight to own this piece of land
They fought the plow, they fought the drought, they fought the debt
And yet,…oh yes,…….they owned the pride
~~
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kAchI2nu9yY
_______________________________________________________________
For the Contest: "Recite Your Poem" sponsored by Roy Jerden
______________________________________________________________
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Grandmother
Poem
Simply Young
I want to be forever young
Just wish to live young
Lived a little too long
I need to understand
In order for me to understand
I need to live my young years
Live my younger years
Over and over and over again
This poem I write today
Is one pulled from my head
I decided to base my idea
On the bases of my life
I've always wanted to be a kid
I don't really want to grow up
Yes I want kids of my own
Yes I want a husband
I want a home
I want a life
Just not quite right now
I'd really like to live as a youngin' right now
I know I'm not ready
For the responsibility that comes with adulthood
I look to my mom for guidance
I talk to my grandmother for wisdom
Both have told me the same thing:
"Live your life as you. Don't bend for anyone else."
Their wisdom continues:
"You're only young once. Be happy and don't try to grow up too fast."
This is a story, in the form of a poem
I hope you enjoyed reading it
Because I know I enjoyed writing it.
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Grandmother
Poem
Chocolate Moose Girl
Chocolate Moose Girl
A Sunday brunch one day went me
when she I saw, at table three.
From my mind to forget, never nor maybe.
For on this radiant sunny Sunday afternoon
in the Botanical Garden, my favorite room
sat at a table, grandmother and she.
The walls lined in fragrant ferns of green
baroque blossom ladies in gilded frames seen.
Her simple beauty profile delicate cherry flourish tree.
Now this vision alone, fulfilled my eyesight hunger greatly
when added she did this simple act make.
To her pink full lips a taste took she.
When delicate and slow she lifted
her chocolate moose to mouth she gifted.
From the moose chocolate, I know previous take.
The finest ever no chief could bake,
Satisfying, soft coolness, still lingering in me.
A sublime sexual treat,
then look I did, toward her feet.
When out rolled her toes
from brocade slippers of gold, I see.
Her barefoot toes ached
to reveal her pleasure
with each spoon to lip,
delight, same measure.
My mind to forget, never nor maybe.
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Grandmother
Poem
One in Four Women
Terror seizes you, and it isn't kind.
You try to go somewhere peaceful in your mind.
But the pain rips you right back to here and now.
Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of even saying "ow."
You try to be strong, but he tears from you, a scream.
Oh God, please let this be a terrible, terrible dream.
I thought he was supposed to be a friend of mine?
As the tears grow down my face like vine.
He tells me I wanted it, even though I screamed no.
He says my attitude and outfit told him so.
In the same breath, he threatens me never to tell.
If they ask why the tears, you better say you fell.
As I got out of the car he pulled me to him and hugged me tight.
He kissed my forehead and said Don't worry you'll be all right.
Just remember, if you open your mouth, no one will believe a dirty whore.
Now go inside before I take you for another ride and give you some more.
Into the house and straight into the shower.
I was in there for what felt like hours and hours.
My grandmother knew right from the start.
Please don't tell, it would break Daddy's heart.
Please, Grandma he's not worth Daddy going to jail.
For my sake and his, you can never, ever tell.
She kept her promise and never uttered a word.
At night, she told me, my cries she heard.
For six weeks I kept my secret and told not another soul.
For six weeks I sunk deeper and deeper into a hole.
Not until I heard that he raped a fourteen year old girl.
Knowing I could have prevented it, shattered my world.
I finally told my horror story to the cops and to my Dad.
I don't think I'd ever seen him so violently mad.
Mike was arrested, but in jail he would not stay.
He lived around the corner and we had to move away.
He got probation, but not for me, his word against mine.
I was sixteen, of legal age to consent, so for me he'd get no time.
His punishment, probation for only a couple of years.
Me and his other victim were left with our fears.
Would he find us and take revenge for what he said was a lie?
Would my father hunt him down, and go to prison for a rapist to die?
He got away, pretty much scot-free for his deplorable crime.
His victims were the ones who were serving the time.
This IS a true story, my story, but not my story alone. After 8 years and raping several
other women Mike was sentenced to 35 years in prison. As he pleaded his innocence, we were
all in some way vindicated. He never did a day for brutally raping me, NOT ONE DAMN DAY.
But he's doing plenty now. I hope he gets ALL that he deserves.
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Grandmother
Poem
I Sing Africa
All's not about Darfur
I've seen it, eerie winds
Moonlight through our thatch
We kissed round, one *palmie gourd
Kigali was but a miss
Waist-beads - beats to love
Have you heard the talk-drum,
*Fela's horns of brass,
Or the *Aladuras' joy of Alleluia?
My grandmother still walks miles
Just because her forbears did,
And shame on malaria
For the dearth of men
Oh, on Mandela's earth
Of Soyinka's nobel ideas
Africa - a big breast,
the good, the bad, the ugly. . .
all, as sucklings!
*palmie - palm wine
*Fela - Celebrated afrobeat musician
*Aladura - a popular african instituted christian sect noted for heavy prayers
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Grandmother
Poem
On The Moon
Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy.
04.11.2012
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
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