Long Grandchild Poems. These are the most popular long Grandchild by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grandchild poems by poem length and keyword.
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Taken from the Novel, ''The Thirteenth Year'' By S.T Nchindo
I seek no special day
I need no remainder
I set no alarm
To bring you to thoughts
Each day, I know you are gone
My heart soars with sadness and fear,
Secret tears still flow
Your departure was so soon
My desire was to see you each day
Does it really have to be you?
Death, depart from Mothers
They are irreplaceable
Life so special
Our home we shared,
Is never the same
Thy blood, in my vein doth flow
My gratitude, thus remain eternally
Thy labour, I had food
Thy love, I walked with no shame
Thy understanding, I had education
You were simply the best
You gave life to me
In your shadow, I had shade
You called me Mother.
For I carried Grandmother’s name
It is a feeling well cherished
It felt so great
Who will call me that again?
I forbid my thoughts to go deep
For the deeper it goes, the more it hurts
I had solace,
For your voice never parted with my ears
In my dreams, you remain featured
My sister and I are heartbroken
However, we are all grown up,
Death has no right
You passed on,
No sight of your grandchildren
Could you have hanged around for a while?
They do something for you
Fetch water or call you grandma
My spirit soars
You aren’t returning
My time is fleeting
My journey just begun
Soon will be joining
Aren’t afraid of death no more
For my journey's end is certain
There, I shall find shelter
Jesus, my Sheppard
Will lead me home
My eye shall delight by thy sight
Talking and laughing
Just like we used to
Death is victorious,
Yes, for now.
The stage, so irreparable
Even to God, it is irreversible.
It is not well with my soul
It aren’t easy, lesson ought to start
To miss you
To live without you
Surely, my spirit is willing.
Even after life is gone Mother
In my heart, your unconditional love lingers on.
Even after, you have left my sight
My thoughts, your light shines brightly
Even after you are gone
In my memory, you forever live on
In life, I loved you mother,
In death, I still love you
I have done my part
I have spoken to God
He answered saying,
“I only take the best.”
My lesson is complete
Your life is celebrated Mother
I have peace in my heart
For I am reconciled by God’s mercy
My father in heaven comforted me
Now I know you are happy there
The pain I felt
The pain that tortured me
Was just fleeting
It’s never coming back
Brief was our meeting
And brief was my pain
You departed with all my tears
With all my strength
With all my hope
And with all my faith
God gave me a thousand reasons to smile
Your life, is a life well lived
Rest in peace dear mother,
It was the will of God
Who am I to question him?
I never did when you were given to me
Somehow, I knew this day would come
I have grown, I know
Split salt is never all gathered
Split milk is never gathered
I vow to carry thy love
Thy desire for me I carry along
I cannot bring back the golden years
I have lost life so precious.
Heaven has gained.
Farewell dear mother
Our meeting is certain
Our meeting is soon
To my God, and my King
I honour you
You called her to peace
Away from this world of confusion
In that land, hearts will never break
This I know
For the bible tells me so
As my old eyes search for the setting sun,
My mind is at work,
Mending the million fragmented memories.
The long arm of my mind,
Retrieves the first dusty diary,
from the tallest of shelves.
Now ninety years have passed,
My weary body struggling to stand on its own.
But the strength of the heart is always unfading.
Now it is stronger than it was before,
It stands on its own,
as it searches everywhere for your voice.
My treasure chest is full,
of the dozens of letters you wrote for me .
Every time I read them my memories grow young,
My heart was ever well living in the velvet of this love.
Then came our first night together.
Lonely in love, I could not wait for you,
to rest your head on my chest,
under the full sight of the moon,
You reading from the book of your future and dreams.
I feel now the night we first made love,
It all started with a quiet conversation in a candlelit room,
I didn`t want to let go,
The glow of your beauty,
Eclipsed the light of the candle,
The flame of our desire flying.
Now I watch the candle come to life in the night,
Its flame gives the reflection of your beauty,
I carry the immortal faint smile,
Watch it until it dies out.
In my salad days,
I saw a lot of beautiful girls, but none compared to you,
It really made me dig deep in the mine of my emotions,
For that something I only found in you.
Sometimes I play some old love songs,
And let my mind quietly wonder,
In the forest of the lost memories.
I try to bring together the million pieces every afternoon .
But as the sun sets,
the almost complete mirror falls to the ground,
to a million pieces again.
Because this is the most precious of the times,
we spent together,
Gazing with relief and sympathetic eyes,
at the tired setting sun,
It was romantic like a poem,
A tuneful song.
I see the young generation of today,
They try serenading.
But their songs are not as deep as ours .
Not everlasting as the ones we sang.
They also talk and walk,
The Romeo and Juliet way,
But it is not as old and untamed,
As the original by Shakespeare.
The way you talked, smiled,
and sometimes remained quiet gazing, defined art.
In your own way you were a magician,
Everything you touched turned gold,
You touched my heart,
Now care more about your grandchildren.
You etched something,
On the deepest part of my heart,
Every day I fall in love with you.
It is as if I am sad now.
It is just that I want you to know ;
I am the luckiest man on this world.
May be I just want to get hold of something ,
Something more than memories.
Even though you are now gone,
As I promised;
I will jealously hold on to these memories.
To this love, old and deep.
I hope there is place up there,
Where we can hold each other again.
I am not grieved.
No hard feelings for Mother Nature.
She gave us more than she can take from us.
It seems I am now waiting for death.
I hope you carried those cherry moments with you,
Because soon somewhere we shall meet,
And fall in love again.
In 1957 I took my teaching certificate back to the land of my mother.
She was raised on a cattle ranch in the north central area of Nebraska. The
famous Sand Hills. It was there I found my cowboy and we ranched for fourteen
years on the eastern edge of the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota. The
teacher in this story is my mother's sister and our experiences at the Indian
Government School of Spring Creek during my early years.
In the year 2002 Cowboy and I moved to a very special town, Harper,
Kansas. This town is just a few miles down the road from the memories of my
Kansas childhood. How lucky to be able to have all of these memories and with
the help of God maybe another dozen or so years down the road I'll have another
set of memories to pass on to another generation.
Yesterday I was sitting at my computer working when I looked out of
my magic window
and noticed the swing set. The wind was fiercely blowing up a gale and the
swings were rocking to and fro. That didn't bother me, but when I saw the glider
was in motion, I didn't even have to close my eyes to picture the children playing
on it. They weren't my grandchildren. They weren't my children. They weren't any
children I could recognize, but I felt blessed. I didn't care who they were, they
And then I thought back. Back to the reservation. I could hear the
laughter of the Indian children, but whenever we came into view they would run to
hide behind their mothers or grandmothers and peek around at us. Some of the
older ones, seven, eight, nine or ten year olds would line up in front of the shack
or tent to stare at us.
I can still see them dressed in faded, wrinkled, soiled clothing.
Disgards from who knows where that ended up at the mission. Their large
round brown eyes staring from behind the greasy scraggly black hair. Some with
their dirty fingers stuffed in their mouths. The little ones clinging desperately to
the skirt as they peered around at us, always had snout trailing from their nose,
and their feet were either bare or encased in shoes three sizes to large for them.
I don't know if it was a tradition of some kind but it seems, in my
memory, there were never any men. Only women and children came forth. I
have my ideas where the men were but I shall not go into that here.
mom, why do u have to be such a little sl#t? lieing to us all, saying ur working but no money
appears, sitting on ur computer ignoring us while we're pleading with tears, just telling u for
hours that we love u n want u back, but u dont hear anything but screaming n our efforts are
worth jack, ur accusing daddy of having some desiese, only u two havent touched since last
spring, n the std ur saying he has, remains with u forever, unlike crabs, daddy asked if ur
having problems down there u said "i dont know" ur voice full of fear, ur best friends a man
hater wehear her fill ur head will lies, thats why it doesnt matter when all your little kids sit
here n cry, mommy u know i hate u n u know its all ur fault u werent here for any of us, n
we ended up raising ourselves, daddys getting sicker n u nolonger care, u run away again n
say "as long as im not here!" u think we're out to get u are you on some kind of drugs? who
sits around n plots who sets people up? u lie n say we hit u, but ur the one who hits all of us,
u say daddy abuses u but ur the one who abuses him, mommy have u lost your mind? do u
want it to be found? are u living in that second life? i hope that game burns to the ground, u
killed our family ni feel nothing for u anymore, the night u drove away from us, i hoped u
would crash ur car, mom why cant you come back to us, is reality that far away? i know life
is hard, but this isnt the time to play, dont u know we love u, even though uv'e hurt us so,
but u've broken us too much, to be fixed even with super glue, mom ur ripping us apart, n
we forget how to breath, why dont u care? why cant u see? mom its time to stop, u've
been 'young' enough, ur grandchilds on its way, dont u want to be in its life? mom, im done
speaking, because u dont hear a thing i say, so before u hurt me more...im the 1 now, thats
walking away, no, im done with all ur lies, i dont want to hear ur words, ur no longer my
mother, n im no longer ur little girl, go back to ur drinking, i hope its ur death, because u've
killed daddy, n hes all we have left, ur a murder, like the bubonic plauge, n i hope u know ill
hate u till the end of days, stop playing around, now its time to step up, i hope u fall to the
ground n get stuck in the mud, hope u cry urself to sleep, when u dont see ur little boys or
girls, u treated us like a game, but we're not ur little toys, and ur no longer our world, mom
im gone, ill disappear like the wind, but ill promise u one thing, i wont be back again.
In years to come as we talk to our grandchildren, I hope that we all can say,
I remember when SARS arrived, the worry, the concern that troubled day.
A fellow Infection Control Practitioner confided that “I feel so all alone,
We’re dealing with a disease, how it is spread, is really unknown.”
While listening to a teleconference, I ached as I heard a physician weep,
Describing the loss of a friend, the rising cases, the worry, no sleep.
We prepared for a Pandemic; we thought it would be the Flu,
But it was an emerging virus,never before seen, entirely new.
We looked to our close knit network, ICPs and physicians alike,
All working madly in an effort to win this unprecedented fight.
Even while those amongst us, some quarantined and one down,
Continued to search out answers, sometimes not easily found.
Never before in our experience have we been dealt with such a threat,
This is no “mock scenario” and there are no standards that can be met.
The staff say to me “We look to you as a weathervane to gauge our fear,
If you look in control, we become settled and appreciate you are near.
You come to the unit, walking calmly with clipboard and papers in arm,
We congregate around you to calm our fears and reduce the alarm.
Answering our questions honestly and listening to our concern,
You decipher the directives so we call can begin to learn,
To protect ourselves from harm we have to always comply,
But wearing the apparel is so uncomfortable, we cannot lie.
The goggles fog up; the masks are hot and really hurt our skin,
Our nose is red, our hands are dry but not complying is no longer just a sin,
A moment of fatigue, a minute of stress and too much hurry,
Could lead to infection, even death...such pressure, such worry.”
So we must all lean on each other and discuss what we will say,
Because remember, they are looking to us to direct and lead the way.
Methodically and carefully we will manage this disease,
We don’t have all the answers yet, but I believe we hold the keys.
So day after day, we will review what we instruct others to do,
Revising and reviewing directives, so improvements will ensue.
SARS has changed the face of medicine and how we care for the ill,
But if any group can do it, I know the Infection Control people will.
So we must stand together, support and help each other through,
So we can say to our grandchildren, it was a disease that we once knew.
This is my favourite poem, written during Severe Acute Respiratory Syndrome outbreak in Canada.
This may seem a long story, as stories go...so bear with me if you can...
Our family is large, quite a clan....we gather each summer for family fun
With uncles, aunts, cousins, and kin....too many to count
but wonderful moments is what we're about....kids to shout...food to eat...
laughs to share....and love to give.
One particular day (our turn to host.)... wieners to roast...celebrations to toast
I had been running like crazy....assigning the posts
"Honey,.where is the charcoal?...."Lawns to mow!"
"Hurry everyone! No time to coast!
"Son, did you buy enough drinks?"...."Now think, ....everyone....think!"
"Put on your best!"..........."Whew! Give me a rest!"
The months before had been a trial..we had been put to the test
But in the end, we had been blessed...
We had stepped up to the plate,.....but now was the time to celebrate!
You see, a few months before, of that fateful year...
My daughter had married, a handsome young man just the year before.
They had started out life, with stars in their eyes, happy and strong...
(before something went wrong).
Happiness...is a thing that can come in disguise...and the steeper the hill, the more strength we can find. And we learn to survive
Our daughter's new husband, such a hearty young man...became strangely ill
Soon was discovered,....a threatening mass....in the brain, ...the stem,
We were frightened to death....Oh God...not them! They had just begun!
Little girl, growing up....a rock of strength...and youth was no barrier.
She made us proud
Only once did I see her falling apart...in a hospital corridor, only once did she break
Into my arms she came, such a quake that I felt ...as it broke my heart
So soon she was able to regain her smile, and stood by his side, all the while.
So that was our trial, but ...the doctors came through..........the news was good!
He was doing so well....he would recover in time! He would be just fine!
So here on this day....it was six months later...
A joyful celebration...a wonderful conclusion....(no ordinary reunion)...
To rejoice in the fact that our dear new son was healthy, he had finally recovered
That night of the party...as we sat outside
As the twilight had settled a beautiful day
My daughter and son ....shared what had just been discovered...
That news of our grandchild....was soon on the way....
A True Story:
When my mother was at the age of thirteen,
A dirty old man asked her to come clean,
He invited her over so she could make a few bucks
When she arrived he was in a black tucks
He was the neighbor across the street,
His wife was at work and he viewed my mom as weak
This man locked the door when my mother arrived,
Went to go kiss her, to feed his sick drive,
My mom ran out the back door and went across the street,
Little did this man know he was in for a “delightful treat!”
My great grandma lived six towns away
My mother called her in a state of panic and disarray
A forty minute drive, granny made it in fifteen
Granny drove her old ford like a race car machine
When she arrived, she kicked that man’s door down
She did not care if anyone was around
That man jumped up by that loud sound
She hit him so hard he fell right on the ground
She slapped him around with her left shoe
Cursed him out in Italian, while threatening him too
Later that night my mother’s dad came home
He is a little man with a loud groan
He heard the story and went across the way
Took his shot gun and made this man pay
Told him if he ever touched his daughter again,
He would shoot off his little “private friend,”
He made this man cry in his own living room,
But I promise you this man never again tried to consume,
Every little girl on that street,
He knew not to look at or he would get severally beat,
My family has many stories of my Great Granny saving the day,
Never mess with an Italians family, they handle things in their own special way.
Every family has stories that get past down from one generation to the next. I was blessed to have had my mother’s grandparents until about 6 years ago. They did not speak any English and my great granny was a crazy awesome woman. She grew up on a farm in Italy and had to do a lot on her own. She raised all the children and grandchildren but was old school about a lot of stuff. I remember my great grandparents fighting with each other even in the nursing home. They were married for 58 years; they shared a room in the nursing home that had two separate beds. My great grandma use to hit my great grandpa with her cane from across the bedroom. It was funny to watch. They may have fought but they loved each other so much, my great grandma died 6 years ago and less than a year later my great grandpa died too. Now they are in heaven together, I don’t think there’s fighting in heaven, God don't allow that;)
Everyone was crying except for me, I couldn’t cry. I didn’t understand the full extent of the situation. The doctor comes out of the room and tells us that Helen is gone. Immediately I hear Renee saying “Grannies dead”. She cried, and after that everyone did. Mom asked if I wanted to see Helen one last time. I didn’t want see Helen blue and cold, I didn’t want to see her not breathing or moving. I wanted to see her alive, talking, and laughing like she usually does. Helen was a very bright person. When you were sad she would be there to cheer you up. I remember when Helen let me go up to the third floor of the blue house; we found records and cassette tapes. Helen let us have them; I remember they were Beatles records and Neil Young cassette tapes. She also let us have blankets and books on history. I would never give those records away.It was time to leave the hospital. I regretted not seeing Helen, I didn’t know if I would see her again because I wouldn’t be able to make it through the funeral service. I mourned the loss of her and I still do, so I will do anything I can to get this guilt out. I thought about the weekend again and how I could have waited one more hour till she got home so I could see her, but I left. Grandma Sandy said Helen was happy because she got to see her grandchildren wrestle. That Monday Helen was supposed to have a meeting about her will, but she changed it to a different day because she didn’t feel good. She scheduled it for the following Thursday, the day of her funeral. A lot of times I hear her voice and I see her face. I don’t know if it’s because I’m seeing things or if I’m hearing things. I think about her all the time, trying to keep her alive in my memory. I think of that day when I was sitting on the bus after that Metallica song I listened to the Foo Fighters- Let it Die. The lyrics read “Heart of gold but it lost its pride, Beautiful veins and blood shoot eyes, I’ve seen your face in another light, Why did you have to go and let it die, in too deep and out of time, Hearts gone cold and your hands were tied, why did you have to go and let it die?” It was around the time when Helen was laying on the floor, a few minutes before I heard the news. Sometimes I wonder if she was frustrated because of the way people perceived her, or if she was happy enough about the things she realized about herself that she could tolerate the way people perceived her and for that I think she was able to die in a happy state of mind.
Sanity on Colonial Road no longer exists.
The endless spiral downward still persists.
Friends have been lost, no longer exist.
Life is strange, wipe me off the list.
Have no wife, no kids, no job.
And yes, I live the life of a slob.
Feel like I’m hiding from the mob.
Give them time, they’ll do their job.
61 and obsolete, too old it seems to compete.
61 and without a dime, got too old before my time.
61 and life’s past me by, happened quick, sigh.
61 never thought my life would be a lie.
Where are the grandchildren to make me smile?
Where are the days I can relax in style?
What kind of fool have I be in life?
Why do I have to endure this strife?
If it were cancer or heart disease
Or some other health issue if you please.
Then I could understand what I’ve been dealt.
And try to keep living, not be willing to melt.
I once had a life, a business, a dream.
I woke every day with a full head of steam.
But that business, that dream has faded away.
And I have not replaced it, have not had my say.
I keep trying to reinvent myself.
As I’ve been told it’s that or all else.
I’ve been at it for the last two years.
And my reward, nothing but tears.
Perhaps I’ve had it too easy from the very start.
Inherited a business, my father’s death was a part.
Did all I could for almost ten years.
Then closed the doors, but had no fears.
Started a new one, way back in ‘86.
From the beginning, I knew it would stick.
Lived a good life, not rich but no worries.
Until it nosedived and gave me the sorries.
When you’re 61 without a dime to your name.
It’s hard to look back and feel the same.
For almost forty years I lived the dream.
Now all is lost, I do nothing but scream.
Oh, I send resumes to all the employers out there.
Not one reply in two years if your dare.
Unless you want to sell credit card machines.
There’s no work for you, you ain’t living the dream.
I’ve had plenty of good counsel and lots of advice.
Not a single thing in two years has been able to suffice.
I think of the gun virtually every single day.
Get over this misery, say goodbye and good day.
What you say, don’t ever give up?
What about George Eastman or Ernest Hemingway?
Or Hunter S. Thompson from Rolling Stone by the way.
You think my problems pale by the way.
I tire each morning facing my painful non rewarding life.
I hate the world for not recognizing my strife.
I have so much more to give to this world.
But if no one can see it, let the flags be unfurled.