Nature Grandfather Poems | Nature Poems About Grandfather

These Nature Grandfather poems are examples of Nature poems about Grandfather. These are the best examples of Nature Grandfather poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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The poem(s) are below...

Details | Personification |

The Old Oak Tree

The Old Oak Tree

Standing tall with your roots 6 feet under 
You have survived and thrived for 8 decades
Your branches still growing all the while knowing 
The good Lord blessed you with every birthday

Throughout time you withstood the winds and the rain
Suffered through droughts, yet you still remain
Seeing the forest for the trees from the owl to the bee
These days, trees like you are an endangered species

All of your rings, clothed by bark you’ve reaped over the years
Tell stories of a history filled with sunny days, fallen leaves, & sap-filled tears
You’ve stood tall through days of war, unrest, and protest
You’ve seen man fly past your highest peak on to fortunate and fateful quest
You’ve heard of the gentrification of your kind for wealth’s sake
You’ve dealt with wise owls, lazy dogs, and all types of snakes

Yes, down through the years you were and are the guiding landmark 
Husband, father, grandfather, great-grandfather you are a true patriarch
A tree of knowledge and wisdom but with fruit that is a blessing
A tree of life with love ever manifesting 

So, on this special day with our hearts all aflutter
we will all become a tree hugger.

Copyright © PoetPrentice Dupins | Year Posted 2017

Details | Monorhyme |


The sky is slowly melting as the sun blisters through,
The forecast is capping near one hundred twenty-two.
Birds stopped chirping, squirrels left without a clue,
Water trickles slowly, no trace of brilliant blue,
Oh such loving grandfather with inventions fresh and new,
Why were you so unaware of what global warming would do?
Form: Monorhyme
Written: 07/14/2016
Contest: One Stanza - One Only
Sponsor: Broken Wing
Results: 5th Place

Copyright © Jesse Day | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |

Tale of an Old Crow

I was hiking in the hills, and I was talking to the air when a fork in the path, took me first here,... and then, there Prickly thickets, were aflame with brilliant crimson, entrapping my feet, with a pin-cushion prison The foxgloves too, grew in mass profusion My head in a state of blind confusion Granite rocks were wearing saffron, golden Clouds up above, blending, enfolding The hills were hidden in the cloudy mist The mountains were turning deep amethyst Dilemma lay ahead in my all my decisions I stumbled along, without much precision Grass bending low, between the boulders Gulls screamed higher, wind getting colder I would forge on ahead, over ditches and water, as the ebb of the day, was getting darker and darker There was a fork, in the trail near a sage scrub tree where the needles on the ground, wore a carpet lined with weeds, The pine was tethered in its place by the rust-red sky, Brown and dead at the top, where a crow was sitting by ~ On long ago nights, when we sat by the lamp I remembered one tale, that had come from my Gramps The fastest way home the crow flies So I waited, awhile, .......He led me home, by and by
__________________________________________________________ For The Rhyme Contest: Sponsored by Juli Michelle 10/5/13

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |

Cutting Cheese 2

Now that I'm retired
And know I can't be fired
I'll do anything I damn well please
And I don't give a hoot
Who hears me when I toot
For I have grown acustomed to the cheese
Old women and old men
As they grow nearer their end
Really just don't care what people think
Say and do what's on their mind
For as they age they find
They kinda like to raise a little stink

Copyright © mike dailey | Year Posted 2012

Details | I do not know? |

While wandering with my grandfather

A red rose in a white rose’s tree,
How unique could this be,
For the first time I see,
A red rose in a white rose’s tree
For how long will the red rose last?
Did it blossom in the past?
I wish it wouldn’t wither fast,
For how long the red rose will last
Should I pick the red rose for her?
Maybe this rose lasts forever,
Will it be missed by her forger?
Should I pick the red rose for her?
Perhaps the red rose must stay.
I am glad I saw it today,
she may bloom next May,
Perhaps the red rose must stay
A red rose in a white rose’s tree,
Can be so rare, but for me
There is more beauty and glee:
A red rose in a white rose’s tree
The poet was walking with his grandfather when he saw two rose’s trees, with entangled branches; therefore a red rose seemed to flourish in a white rose’s tree. Then those jiggling lines were naturally suggested. After sitting in the silent and peaceful inside of a mosque, with paper and pen, he wrote verses which mixed the red rose with the rare muse by him loved.

Copyright © João Camilo | Year Posted 2013

Details | Haiku |

bent winter elm sways

bent winter elm sways
brittle and cracking 
like grandfathers bones

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2016

Details | Haibun |

A Songbird Climbs

In breaths of morning dawn the generations before would drift through my mind. A legacy of gold and silver in depths of the dawning rise and in a picture book of vivid yesteryears I would climb. From the feathered pillow to the creaking oak floor, across the hall to the kitchen where the steamy coffee I would pour. Drowning in my coffee gaze a sweet reflection of Grandpa's face, deep beneath the creamy clouds with one raised brow, hair silver brown.

through the aged window
upon the swaying wheat field
a songbird climbs

Copyright © Rick Parise | Year Posted 2017

Details | Verse |



a garden of rampant weeds.
my great-grandpa loved

to blow,
and eat,

raw dandelion.

Kim Rodrigues © 2017

Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017