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For Children Grandmother Poems | For Children Poems About Grandmother

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

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Details | Couplet |


Oh little one, how soon you'll be
In turbulence of puberty.

I will hold tight your days of youth 
And share with you my honest truth 

That innocence ingrained at birth,
Precious childhood days filled with mirth,

Will be so fleeting... you will see
The need for God's  tranquility.

How grandma's age is redefined
When your teen years become aligned

With thoughts of struggles I go through,
The many shades in every hue,

That colors life for me today.
In these sweet days I watch you play

As I instill the grains of hope,
An inner strength to help you cope

With all the changes life will bring.
The ups and downs from early spring

Throughout your life in winter years
When you, like me, through joys and tears

Have lived a life you feel has worth;
Have given back to better earth.

When you have children of your own
And you too, see how they have grown,

My hope is that you let them know
That through their life where e'er they go

They carry with them bits of me,
Please share with them, tranquility.

© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day May 11, 2017

The teenage years and the golden years are 
the most difficult to endure. Both are fraught 
with emotions...of facing life...of facing death.

The metaphors in this poem are meant to teach:
"that if you seek tranquil moments, that 
connection with God, life is much easier to 
live. The tranquility of becoming close to 
divine spirit will help...will heal...will bring a 
peaceful calm to abate chaos. That love is the
antithesis of selfishness, and we must all strive
to give back a gift of value to Mother Earth."

A very Happy Mother's Day to all. 

March 26th in the UK and May 14th in North and most of South America, India and more.
Click on the link to see Mother's Day around the world.


Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017

Details | Bio |

How Lucky We Are

Been so lonely a long, long time
Cannot do it wrong, wrong time
So dazed and confused
That I feel slightly used

From some abuse I sustained long ago…  
This could have made me go very slow…
Not on your life, I go very fast…
I want to get there, Don’t want to be last…

I was beat like a man by the time I was 5
It is a wonder that I came out alive
My grandmother died at the hands of this man
It is a cold case file so what’s the plan

I could never do what was done to me
Wanting my children to be wild and free
Live your life freely for you will know
To open your eyes and watch the show

I lived a life that was not for the meek
Scared for my life every day of the week
Once it was known what happened to me
My mom made it so we could be free

She was scared for her life as well you know
Now none of that matters we were able to go
Holding a knife to his greasy throat
She escorted him out to the dirty road

How lucky we are to be free
I sure am happy to be me
My children have children that make me smile
Think I will go run the miracle mile

Copyright © john bernard | Year Posted 2009

Details | I do not know? |


Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.

Copyright © Al Parry | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


Pretty princesses
Dancing all around
Frolicking through fields
Very beautiful
Just like you!

Copyright © Smail Poems | Year Posted 2013

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

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

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"

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epigram |

Mom - You are my harmonious World

                       The poem is dedicated to my Mom..My bestest buddy ever..
                                         wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare

 Mom - You are my harmonious World!!!! 

      MOM you are a beautiful angel who always had an great heart of making my problems simpler..just cant compare you with anyone in this world..You have been moonlighting in my life since many years..you are my shadow,you are my strength,you are great friend of my mine..thanks for being the bestest mom ever in my life..you struggled so hard for curving my career,u painted ma life with colourful rainbows,thanks for ur patience when I get panicked,you knw how to handle me..My life will be incomplete without you..I can't spend a single day without having thought abt you..you always shower with an unconditional love..you are the  mesmerised persona..who lime lighted my life..my world..Wish you a very happy birthday and happy mother's day too..Love you mummy..

wrote by:
Mrs.Madhavi Suyog Pagare

Copyright © Madhavi Sarjare pagare | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

My name is Catastrophe

Hell hath no replete replica like an Ohiohell
memom memoboys dispelled with lovelessloss lorn laments
measured in misgiven gravid neutral grautities of cool compromised cruel
capsid cascades of dreary demented drowsy dump deep demented deny desires
with wilfull wallowing in unsupposed not to be here
herein two boys born to a numbnuts army husbodad and a 
WTF what is happening in/outside this family 50's acircle
what comes next in the uneducated female nonintuition of a
deaddad accidential with a pity piss payoff and a whatdoIdo anal attitude
totally in reverse of an arkansas hope of upheaveal. GDMFSOB, who could I/we haVE
BeeN in the assinine scheme of things with someone in an intersomewhateducated semistate of minimal MFconsciousness. We play the hand we are dealt in the vast unscheme of unness. 
WTF, and where/why does God take part and lessen a small boy's dream of donated dadhood by taking it away and leave him left to faulterflounder in a boyhood abyss. Dead, devoid, denied to the manmale circumstance of what the future folds to be delivered to doting descendents, like my three sons. with whom I struggled to 
shower, impart, enable, enbibe, instill, foster, enliven, and all that I did not experience yet faux provide with an inner soulsense to a measured milestone of mannered man manufactured love and tendered texture of all mine to give with that that is mustered macro from a micro counteanace of humocapped coperal deliverance. All's fair they say unless u have been there and then it's every man for himself---and then, I dare u to get in my way---------no holds barred, look out for I am a survivor, all the way.   
Hi, my name is Dave, and according to my grandparents, I wasn't supposed to live to be raised. Go figure.

Copyright © Dave Collins | Year Posted 2013

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.

Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |

Coloring Book

When little CJ comes to visit
She asks me for her "colors,"
The bright, fat crayons that "nanna" keeps
In a recycled butter tub.
We share the color book; CJ scribbles
on the left, the crayon squeezed tightly
in her tiny fist.
I color on the right, carefully converting
the puppy outline into a masterpiece
of paper art.
The puppy must have chocolate brown;
The grass and trees need green, of course.
I stay within the lines, modeling correctness.
CJ helps me--smearing first a purple nose 
on her kitten's face, trailing to my page
to add a purple splash to the tail
of my puppy.
I never am quite finished 
when she decides it's time 
to find new pictures and begin again.
I doubt we'll ever finish those we leave behind,
but I haven't the heart to tell her
she might be wasting pages or coloring them wrong.
Mayhap, our lives would be none the worse
for errant purple outside the lines
or a few pages left unfinished.

Copyright © Karen Ruff | Year Posted 2014

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

Copyright © MoonBee Canady | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |

From the cradle to the grave

I wish to leave a legacy, 
A memory of me
I wish to leave a legacy,
Something my mother left for me

Death took my mother when I was three
So all she left was what she taught me
So as I sit and sew, I see
My mother looking down on me

Her hands guide my fingers as I make
A cradle for my daughter to take
For all the children that follow in her wake
Will rest in peace and sleep till daybreak

Surrounded by love for “oma’s” sake
For each child anew a small remake
Will forever preserve this family keepsake
And I will be there forever to partake

As each new child lies cradled here
All the ancestors will be near
To bestow their love and guidance clear
On the newborn and his parents dear

While we support there is no fear
Because the child will always hear
The sounds of love sincere
And know his family is near

Copyright © Huberta van Akkeren | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |


Oh! these silly britches
I'll have to talk to grandma 
they need new stitches
and a nip, and a tuck
I love the way she fixes things
she has that special touch.

I'll bring to her a sewing basket
with all the needles and threads
and while she is sewing them
I can eat some of her fresh baked 

She always glad to fix things for
me and my sister Ray and always
has a smile for us at any time
of the day.

When our britches begin to hang to
low, we always know where to show,
Grandma's house, that is right
Come on Ray, lets go.

Copyright © Sharon Gulley | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |


God bless little angels brought unto me,
Watch over them beneath heavens grace.
My first of seven blessings most precious gift,
Treasures hearts keepsakes.
Number one the oldest, my rocker baby,
Dancing away with musics sweet lullaby.
The lyrical light of brilliance’s, a shinning note,
That strums across grandma's heart strings.
The second child is a testament to patience,
No instructions came with this wonder
Or warning labels tattooed upon her backside.
But she has the eyes of an angel and lord knows,
She try's my beliefs but I'll never give up the fight .
I love my problem child just the same.
The third times the charms, she is that for sure,
With brown eyes and a kewpie doll with dark curls.
Our grand daughter bubbles, whom can light up the
Darkest moment with just a simple smile.
The fourth grace is he, full of strength and daring,
A future NFL first draft pick this is my little RJ,
Patton had his tank and believe you me, Me maw
Has hers.
Diamonds are the hardest stones known to man,
But this boy sparkles with a shine more valuable,
Then gold.
Fifth in line is wisdom and charm, explorations
Future astronaut.
With curiosities wondering eye, but ahead of
The pack in any game of life.
My youngest grand son Issac his name means,
Laughter and joy and in this it is so true.
Tiny but mighty is my little Bella,
With dark raven hair, she has her fathers eyes,
And mommy's brave spirit.
She'll take on the world someday.
And win by all hands clapping her on,
Me Maw's future Mrs. America.
Seven was born on grandma's birthday,
A special gift given unto me is my darling,
Who knows what the future will hold for thee,
But seven has always been my lucky number,
So sky's the limit with this the youngest blessing,
In my life.

1.  The blessings gift is music.
2. The second blessings gift mischief and curiosity.
3.  The third blessings gift beauty's sweet smile
4. The four blessings gift strength and endurance.
5.  The fifth blessings gift wisdom and charm. 
6.  The sixth blessings gift is a brave spirit.
7. The seventh blessings gift is lucks true fortune.
And when you add up all my many blessing,
What does a grandmother receive a full heart,
Hugs and kisses at bedtime.
Good night my little angels and sleep tight.
I'll re-sight my many blessings in my prayers, 
Tonight as I lay myself asleep and dream of thee.


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |

My Darling Girl, My Black-Eyed Susan

My Darling Girl, 

your big dark eyes  met mine

against your pale skin and yellow hair

this name sang in my heart, Susan,

my Black-Eyed Susan.

A wild flower you’ll be, you’ll be a

kind friend,

loving wife,

strong mother,

sweet grandmother

and always you’ll be

my darling girl, my Black-Eyed Susan

Copyright © Alicia Lambert | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |


Joanna was the prettiest child with a fair freckled face,
reddish curly hair and a pair of big emerald eyes 
that sparkled with the purest sweetness and innocence...
and today still blessed with beauty, she shines! 

We resemble a lot in looks by letting modesty be our main virtue, 
and hadn't mother constantly taught us those godly, honest 
ways and equal love for everybody, we wouldn't ever exist
in such a false, uncaring world that has no rewards to accrue. 

Mother of two bright kids, and grandmother of four boys...
Joanna is their inspiration, and quite often she spoils them with toys,
but don't all grandmothers love those adorable toddlers...
when they quickly run to them, falling down and getting up at once?  

I am very thankful and lucky to have this kindhearted sibling
who shares my same qualities and desire for a happy living;
we both value life and show warmth instead of being cold...
haven't I walked side by side with a sister highly adored? 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

The Donut Fable

Jack and Jane loved to go to good ol' grandma's house.
She always baked delicious things that taste good in your mouth.
Donuts were a specialty and both kids loved the taste
of sweet hot melting goodness...not a crumb to waste.
But Jack was a mischievous boy and just a little naughty;
he figured how to get both shares, enjoying his own party.
Jane was quiet, a good, sweet girl, she just didn't see
that Jack was surely looking out for "one and only me."
Grandma heard Jack say to Jane..."I have the perfect fix!
I'll save  the holes for you from every donut on my lips."
Poor Jane agreed and down they went, Jack ate every one,
and Jane had nothing left to eat; it wasn't any fun.
Grandma knew she had to stop the selfish little Jack.
She made a sweet surprise for Jane, her own delicious snack.
She frosted all the donut holes and decorated each;
next day, Jane got them all while Jack got quite a speech
about how little children with everyone should share
especially their own sisters...that is only fair!
Now all you little children who listen to this fable,
be kind to one another and share each time you're able.

Copyright, July 11, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Inspired by an old Sunday School story

Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |



            It's funny how my grandkids hear

            just certain things I say.

            They fail to hear "Clean up your room"

            but hear  "Go out and play."

           Those ears that don't hear "Eat your peas"

            hear "Made your favorite pie."

            Some things I say get lassoed in
            while others gallop by.

entered in Brian Strand's Contest 241 (any topic or form, 10-line max)
on November 22, 2016

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |

I love you more

Your my dinner date
white-cheesey mac and cheese 
Mommy don't forget
my not-too-hot-green-sweet peas

game nights and holidays
when I get to be the hostess
are kept next-best to
Mommy I love you the mostest

when money's tight 
and the hot rod leaves us carless
I pull myself together
to reply, I love you the farthest

you wanna dance Mom?
we are the flyest
swing spin twirl
Mommy I love you the highest

music and boogy
burdens become their lightest
I've got you this time
I love you the brightest

"get dressed" I say and say  and say
these underwear are clean Mom
I just put them on 

to myself I often think
small is how I wish for you to keep 
but then you'd never grow or know
that my love for you runs deep

when you're hurt tired or hungry
Your need for me is clear
I love that I'm the one you ask
Mommy will you wipe my tear

bedtime stories snuggles hugs and kisses
you ask will I stay up the latest
and keep competing
Mommy I love you the greatest

kiss your head rub your back
and tell you get some rest
Mommy I still love you more
but Grandma is the best

Copyright © Victoria Reome | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sonnet |

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

Copyright © John Beam | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Gran's Got Gerbils

 The following poem is based on a true story 

We were sitting down one evening when the phone began to ring,
“Hello mum,” said Father, “Can I help with anything?”
Grandmother then answered, “There’s a gerbil in my house!”
“Do you really mean a gerbil? Don’t you mean a mouse?”
“I’m certain it’s a gerbil,” My grandmother defended,
“And the fact you think I’d get that wrong makes me feel offended.”
“I’m sorry, but a gerbil? Are you really sure?”
“Yes I am. It must be one of those they’ve got next door.”
“We’re on our way.” Said my Dad and then hung up the phone,
And then within the hour we were at Grandmother’s home.

“Ok Mum, please tell me, just what did you see?”
“It came out from the kitchen and went under the TV.”
Dad went in a cupboard and then took out a trap,
Set it with some chocolate and waited for the “Snap!”,
It only took a moment, and what do you suppose?
A great big rat staggered out, the trap caught on its nose!
Dad chased it to the garden and gave it quite a whack,
“It’s ok Mum, that gerbil is never coming back”,
“Thank you Son, you know that I’d have struggled doing that,
But it could have been so much worse. It could have been a rat!”

Copyright © Sharon Smith | Year Posted 2012

Details | Rhyme royal |

Story Of My Mom From Pictures

Telling tales or stories is a favourable pasttime;
But using pictures to tell stories of past and present,
Yours remind me of days back in time,
Would not be all very  recent,
Last ones of grateful recline
To golden years so sublime.
You had an cheerful smile.

Mother, telling your picture stories is an action dramatized,
Which recaptured scenes that were prime,
In a form that's not traumatized,
For they were really  scenes to refine.
As they take us down Memory Lane with smiles.
Sometimes showing struggling miles,
After daddy died so young!

Reading stories that your pictures "tell",
Are what we say about you Mother dear,
Which give rise to connections they make so swell. 
 Stories about each picture about every year.
While we look at those pictures and intently so,
 For each one has knowledgeble facts to share more;
 God bless you dear Mother.

Pictures of events and happengings way back,
Resulting in many flash-backs.
As we children and grandchildren search through your albums
Of yesterday and "today" not glum.
O how you loved posing!
These scenes led to now closing
The last energetic scenic furlongs!

Various scenes depict for offspring to capture,
All avail with much lusture.
As Nurse Midwife, you freely responded to help and assist,
Even during the wee hours, goodwill would persist!
Perhaps nearly one thousand babies you delivered
In rural clinics, only calling a physician if cases get bewildered.
Some now have children of their own.

You smile in every picture so very relaxed,
Pictures of you at work at "play"
Satified and contented, pose not being taxed.
So many we could dearly say.
 Without these we may not reflect
On things we did together without neglect.
Such as time at Sunday School Outings.

Pictures of your babies at  "Carnation Contests"
Pictures of a group , nephew included, of seven
That expressed your prideful requests.
Children saying "cheese" teeth all even.
Later these pictures mature showin school-age
Children, born within a span of nine years,
Two years or less apart in some instances.

Then married pictures, young ones attending,
You wore Pink for girls and blue for boys;
An unwritten traditional rule.
Long white trains lined with blue tule.
After came pictures of the grandchildren
Paying less attention to us children.
Caring for them as tenderly as you did us.

Soon the album was of their graduations,
New Grads of various specialties in healthcare,
Giving gifts to them with much appreciation.
A service that you began for other's welfare.
You gave advice and and helped where you could;
Was of strong will and endeavored to mold
Helped your offspring, relatives, friends to battle.

At over eighty one still trusted your judgement,
A dear old soul with memories to forever remember, 
You could save bit by bit to make a payment.
Took lessons, then bought a car past 60 so tender!
Your Service to Society remains well known!
For you even challenged the unknown.
Twice you were able  begin from scratch like Job in our struggles.

What are you thinking now my mother?
Now its time for the offspring young and old,
You're now in the toughest of all others.
To remember your part you had done for their souls!   
Fifteen grandchildren and nine greatgrands.
During children each generation must have thought you something;
You gave each one of the seven, his or her own song to trust.

Definition of: Rhyme Royal

A type of poetry consisting of seven lines, usually in iambic pentameter. 
The rhyme scheme is a-b-a-b-b-c-c. In practice, the stanza can be constructed either as a tercet and two couplets (a-b-a, b-b, c-c) or a quatrain and a tercet (a-b-a-b, b-c-c). This allows for a good deal of variety, especially when the form is used for longer narrative poems and along with the couplet, it was the standard narrative metre in the late Middle Ages.

Copyright © Rainbow Promise | Year Posted 2016

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 
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 
they kill girls, demanding dowry, live in a cultural 
when women 'll be free in india that's facing degrading 

Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose |


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

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

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

Copyright © CJ Krieger | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse |


On Memorial Day I am haunted and flooded with so much grief.
My Mother lies next to my Grandmother and they next to my Great Aunt.
My Fathers name is there, too, but blessedly he’s not there yet.
Such great memories are restored as I look at each stone.
Once again I’m a rambling child with no kids of my own.
I remember the safety they afforded me, and all the treats and their love.
All their little sacrifices they gave, when I was still too young to know.
Why did I chase after a kitten when Grandma was so close by my side?
A simple tug on her skirt and she would of hugged me and smiled with pride.
Why was I discovering butterflies, when my Great Aunt was close there too?
She made the best pies EVER from scratch while I played in another room.
Why did I take Mom for granted… when as a child she gave me so much?
What I wouldn’t give for her gentle touch… and another soothing hug…
And Grandpa lies by Grandma… he was always repairing something or by her side.
And now there are all my aunts, uncles, and cousins that are all scattered around. 
They made Christmas my favorite time as their talk and laughter rang out.
They’d laugh, talk, and enjoy each other’s company, as I’m sure now they do.
I can’t imagine them in any other way, than at my Grandma’s on those wonderful 
We’d sit down to a holiday feast with everyone all around and it all seemed like play.
Were they then thinking of others that they knew from long ago?

As I walk around the graveyard picking out old friends, I remember their wistful 
They did the same each year, as they talked about the past even back then.
Perhaps its time my stone goes there, though I’ve a few more years to go.
That will help my children when it’s also my time to go…
And surprisingly it makes me feel I’m not leaving the older family alone.
It’s like a kiss, and a tug on a skirt to leave that something behind.
It’s a promise… they’ll be remembered until it too, is my time…
Until then I’ll bring my children and tell stories from long ago…
One day a year can’t be too much since it’s memories that I bestow. 
And they all simply add up to the life that I have known.

Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2011

Details | Rhyme |

Christmas Eve at Grandma's

If I could do magic
I'd bring my grandma back
Always very encouraging
Wisdom, she'd never lack

On Christmas Eve, we'd gather together
Just like the rest of some you do
So many laughs, happiness there
You knew grandma's love was true

Midnight finally came around
Seemed like eternity for some
Gifts were then allowed opened
We'd then find out who it's from

We'd then hear a knock
There standing was Santa Clause
The little kids were shocked
Each child then got a gift.

We would wad up the wrapping paper
throw it at our cousins, and more
By the time it was over, Grandma's home
Was messier then it was before

Copyright © Country Girl48 | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative |

My Brother's Dissapearence

I was year 3 at Riveroaks School. I was doing my spelling words with my Mum. Nana was over from Tokyo for a holiday, she was reading the newspaper. 
Suddenly I realised that something wasn’t quite right, there were no high pitch screams or continuous cries. “Wheres Tom” said Mum calmly. “Last time I saw him he was on his trike” I said. We rushed outside to see if Tom was riding on his trike, but to our surprise he was nowhere to be seen.
We went over to our next door neighbor's house to see if he had wandered over. He wasn’t there but she reminded us that we go over to Riveroaks School a lot and that he could have walked over there.
After a thorough search around the school we thought we should check the backyard to see if he was playing with a ball or crawling around on the grass. We weren’t surprised when we found that he wasn’t playing on the grass.
We then decided to see if Papa knew where Tom was. But Nana thought we should think about what we did with him. “We took him to Riveroaks School then he went on his trike then we didn’t see what he did next.” We came to the conclusion that Papa knew where Tom was.
So we went to the lounge and as we opened the door we were surprised to see my Papa reading the paper and Tom watching his favourite tv show. “Why didn’t you tell us Tom was here”, Nana said. “You didn’t ask” Papa replied.

Copyright © Caleb Thompson | Year Posted 2016

Details | Light Poetry |

Wisdom of a Child

Look grandma,
it look like hugar, but it ain't grandma
It's halt

Copyright © Freddie Robinson Jr. | Year Posted 2016

Details | Pantoum |

The Revealing Pantoum

When I was very very young
A new mother experiencing life
Pain visited me with my song still unsung
Now children my song will I play on my fife

A new mother experiencing life
Pain in my side to the doctor went
Now children my song will I play on my fife
Right ovary cyst orange size hosiptal sent

Pain in my side to the doctor went
He said that this could cause loss of life
Right ovary cyst orange size hospital sent
Well I went under the operating knife

He said that this could cause loss of life
For it could rupture at the least bump
Well I went under the operating knife
For them to remove this abnormal lump

For it could rupture at the least bump
Asleep totally out on operating table
For them to remove this abnormal lump
Went to the light to visit angel Gabriel

Asleep totally out on operating table
Then this light called me away
Went too the Light to visit angel Gabriel
Somewhere over Yonder_I went but didn't stay

Then this Light called me away
Peace, peace sweet peace in that place
Somewhere over Yonder_I went but didn't stay
My Grandmother sent me back through space

Peace, peace sweet peace in that place
Pain visited me with my song still unsung
My Grandmother sent me back through space
When I was very very young

Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose |

Grandma's Binoculars

"Look, Grandma! I can see them! You were right! They do steal!" I jumped up and down in all excitement. Grandma grabbed the binoculars from me, pressing it as close as she possibly could to her round global specy frame and peered hard. Had she her way, she would have thrust the spectacles into her sockets, I'm sure. Her pantings increased and she huffed and snorted so aloud that I thought it was from a red hot dragon. She pointed her long forefinger through the old bulging gauged window to the two little boys gathering the fallen twigs under the outstretched hands of the banyan tree. Scratching her nostril she yelled, "Thieves! Come, Pinkalee! Follow me!' She picked her wooden stick from the brass stand with which she shooed the dogs away, banged open the bungalow door, shouting at her highest pitch, running out holding her skirt in the other, into the little forestry behind. I ran after her with my frock flying, holding onto my precious binoculars, not wanting to miss a single frame as, after all, nothing would have been sighted without my binoculars. How else would grandma have run such a marathon today? Bonzo, hearing all the excitement, woke up from his nap, unruffled himself and started chasing me like he were to catch his prized rat. The bungalow resonated with grandma's orders, "Stop! Stop! I've caught you red handed! Dare you to steal my fire-wood!" The two little boys shocked and pale, dropped their hand full of twigs in utter confusion. Seeing Bonzo chasing, they yelled and ran at their highest speed. Bonzo charged at them, as if his tail were on fire and gallantly obstructed their way. They tripped over him and banged into the stony garage wall where grandma caught hold of their scruffs, smiling down with a victorious triumph. "We weren't stealing", they sobbed and breathed heavily, red faced in the summer heat. "We were merely collecting firewood for your evening meal", the elder spoke weakly. "Mine or yours?", grandma roared as Bonzo woofed looking from one to the other, wondering who the thief was. He was a trained bull-terrier who understood the  word 'thief'. "Mother had told us to collect it as she was tired". "O. K! O. K.! But remember you must not steal. Only thieves steal", she whimpered like Bonzo had been scolded. "Now you can collect the firewood!". "Pinkalee let's see if the custard apples have ripened?" I called out to Bonzo who followed limply since he had lost his catch of the day. We walked back in proper protocol-Grandma in the lead, I behind grandma, and Bonzo behind me. "Pinkalee, don't you think the birds eat too much of our fruit? Who is that climbing my mango tree? Pinkalee, binoculars!"

May 6, 2016

Copyright © Balveen Cheema | Year Posted 2016