Twenty years have passed by since you left this world
For the world you are officially gone
For me you are always around
The greatest teacher ,my biggest strength
My most wonderful grandfather.
I feel the protection and guidance of your's around
I remember and cherish those beautiful days together
I have learnt all the wonderful things that you've taught
I do feel you look down on me with all your love.
You never let me be away from you every single day
Sharing the cup of tea together
Sharing the stories of your time with zest and passion
Every morning watching over the mighty kanchenjunga from our window
To Humming our favourite song together.
I miss you dearly my adorable Grandfather
You gave me so many wonderful memories for life
I remember your eyes always looking out for me whenever i wasn't around
Caressing me with all your love and blessings
I miss those beautiful memories spent together
Today is the day i remember
You left me without a proper goodbye
The same morning making me swear i remain happy and strong forever
Showering me with all the love you could
I am so fortunate my childhood was amazing journey with you.
Deep inside me i know you are in better place above
I love and miss you with all my heart
I wish i could see and have you here
In my heart you are always there
May your soul rest in peace
My Darling grandfather
Copyright © bandana basnett | Year Posted 2016
You are one of the people whom I admire the most,
I always think to send u in Heaven a post;
Your absence pierces the heart,
Desire to have my name in your good chart;
Long since there no one to tell the stories,
Ramayana and Mahabharata whose heroes enchanted their glories;
Evening walks are missing you,
Alone here needs who say words true;
I haven't experience the death's pain,
The way to get close to God as only gain;
Today sleeping doesn't bring the happiest moments,
Request to God to get me the those days in rent;
I am residing there from where you never came back,
But I know I am filled with people with whom my heart never sag;
Losing u at a very small age of mine isn't so good,
I haven't thought u can be so rude;
Often my dream witnesses u,
Your smile, your goodness everything in u;
The traditions followed by you and from the family attracted me,
The need of hour requests u to stand aside me;
The art of archery taught by u,
Never from my mind in these years this technique flew;
Rudeness can never be in your nature,
The Strongest had given so much in your treasure;
You live in my heart, my instincts,
Patiently waiting for last 15 years to make my problems fix it;
My facebook cover photo to have you underneath a big reason,
Atleast there you are present in my dimension;
Love and emotions between us kept me alive till today,
My memory never gonna skip your birthday;
Wish I could be your stick for your support,
And I have been there to obey your order as your TV's remote;
May there be less time to meet you in Heaven,
Cherishing again the golden days among two men.
Copyright © Prateek Tripathi | Year Posted 2014
A father figure, worth his guarantee,
Amaro, his name (like tomorrow), here you see,
a Latin name which means a bitter tree.
Amaro spurned his name with faith as master key.
When duty called, he, Pop, was nominee.
Amaro, regardless would harbor family.
His son had died by accident, a cop,
three tiny tots were blessed to live by neighbor Pop.
When Mommy left, wound tighter than a top,
three youngsters found a lifelong rest that would not stop.
Pop took them on and raised them in his shop;
three teenage boys still love him best, a sturdy prop.
They’d learned his trade with expertise, he knew.
In auto skills, he’d taught them well. He’d trained his crew
to understand when customers are few
in people skills, we need to take an open view.
He soon found out when bills are overdue
in business skills, the three could teach him something new.
You've read right here, of how to climb the ropes,
Amaro understood. His faith has raised my scopes;
he made mistakes, I never heard him mope.
Amaro understood that raising boys takes hope.
Three lively guys who pushed his envelope,
Amaro understood, a Pop who learned to cope.
for Giorgio's Sketch a Character contest, iambic pentameter
by Reason A. Poteet
24 lines: alternating pentameter/hexameter lines with monorhyme per 6 line stanza.
A similar poem using some of the phrasing in the last stanza above, I published at All-Poetry on 13 Dec 2014 but this ode is much longer with a imagined character and more detail. The original piece is still intact, an acrostic, An Inspiration - Amarah
Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2015
I never met Grandpa
so I do not know
if he ever went dancing
or stubbed his toe.
But I do know
Grandma loved him.
And Grandma died
when was in 8th grade.
So we didn't talk
I am afraid.
But I do know
Grandpa loved her.
Copyright © Lisa Stoffer | Year Posted 2012
Our Last Song
As a little girl:
my grandpa.. would
take me to Ruby Tuesday’s..
there we would share two straw’s
as he slurped
and I sipped a Shirley Temple..
for me he would always ask
the bartender to bring a bowl
brimful of cherries so I could eat them on my own..
“Isn't she the cutest little thing?” he would say
to the bartender, who smiled and nodded,
and continued pouring more gentleman there glasses of
wine, or whisky.
the cubes of ice would stir in my glass cup
that became too cold for my little palms to
touch.. so he would wrap napkins around
the glass.. so we could spend eternity- right there
at that little table.
while we waited for our food to come,
mine always being a peanut-butter and
strawberry jelly Sandwich.. although it was
simple and could be made at home-
he never questioned it.. he only smiled.
his bear hugs.. they still
remain.. the cozy feeling
of being in his arm’s was a reassuring moment
I could never forget.
We hummed “Let it Be, by John Lennon.”
he always sang the low parts…
with his deep baritone voice.
and my verse was always,
“And in my hour of darkness, she is standing right in front of me.
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.”
my soft sound was melodic.. and touching when we both sang together in harmony.
strumming the chords of peace
while we sang together.
and forevermore my grandpa..
who always used a maine accent..
and wore a smile of glee upon his face…
who loved me unconditionally..
like no love I had ever known;
will always be in my memories..
from one kindred spirit to another
I know my message to you grandpa..
will ring thru your ear’s in the chords
of our last song.
Copyright © Madison Demetros | Year Posted 2017
And have you drifted into the midst of time?
Do I have to move heaven and earth to find you; if so then I'll try.
Am I the only remnants of you, this reflection lost in a maze; this body, soul and spirit in which I
The form you left behind, this small girl wrapped in sin;
you've spoke to me in visions...this life shall never end.
Not until I've found you and my soul can rest!
Your suffering continues from heavens great abyss, as you watch
your youngest Grandchild self-destruct in the way you did.
Can any of us escape it? The ties of blood which bind;
I only know your memory shall haunt me until I die?
Have all forgotten you existed, when I'm judged or
shoved aside...they ne'er see you in all I do, they refuse
to look upon my "other side."
And yet it seems the strongest, for blood cannot be fooled,
wishful thinking can lie and cheat you away but in truth I'm part of
Never will I stop, or cease this fruitless chase, I have to find
you somewhere; I have to see your face...for there's a rebel
in me, a burning fire inside and it never came from all these
people that I've come to know as mine.
I'll never hate ye Grandfather...wherever you have been;
I've heard the worst about you but still I'm your kith and kin
and whatever horrid acts you've done I've already forgiven.
And I promise you I'll find you and I will not sink as deep and
I will not die young and hopeless in the sea of Isla drink.
You, yourself has kept me from knowing who you were...
why did you have to perish so long before I was born?
All those myths and legends which surround your name,
you could have cleared what has been said, if you had lived
to explain! Why did you leave this world without so much as
a word, a letter of some kind, telling of your hurt?
And out of three Grandchildren...why did you chose me?
To be a rebel, the fighter, the one who'll set you free?
Do I remind you of you in your youthful hours...was it my
mind or feeble frame that drew your ghost beside me?
I know your here;I see you in myself, my mind,
my longings. And I never sleep for in dreams I greet your
spirit which guides me.
You are not dead and ne'er forgotten, not for as long as I live...
your spirit, your sorrow, your flaming desires dwell still within
Copyright © Aime Ailean | Year Posted 2010
He'd rise every morning and put on his overalls.
Kiss the cook,sit at the table, and look at all there was to offer.
Then he'd break the biscuit pour the gravy have some bacon and some eggs,
pour the coffee that was so hot and sip it from his saucer.
And when the meal was over he'd head out to the shed
to make something with his hands from a pattern in his head.
Then he'd take a break have a chew and spit it in an can. All the while humming a song with a hammer in his hand. - Papaws day.
Copyright © Todd Milstead | Year Posted 2016
War Is Hell
Our nations war to settle a score and or fight to noble fight..
It's the countrymen who pay the price, no matter who was right..
Now I love my nation under God , My country tis of thee..
My one regret is that my son , was my eternal fee..
Like his dad before he went to war and served this nation well..
I taught my son a lot of things, but not how War Is Hell..
His camp came under fire one night while the boys were all writing home.
That was the first of many nights, our families would dine alone..
The days were long , the nights were longer..
But with time all wounds they fade ..
I could see my boy in my grandsons eyes..
What a treasure my God has made..
I spent most of my time doating upon the lad..
Telling him hero stories of his fearless dad..
Now he's joined the core, to fight a new war,
and or make his father proud..
Now every night as I pray for his life,
My cries can be herd aloud..
Copyright © Glen Schwartz | Year Posted 2017