Quatrain Grandmother Poems | Quatrain Poems About Grandmother

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

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You women
Know how to make 
The best of what you've got in you
You do it everyday in your life

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2013

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Being a Grandparent Brings Me Happiness


		Though I can't give a full account
		of all the Lord has given me,
		I can say that my list begins
		with life, His love, and family.

		I have a daughter, son-in-law,
		two grandkids, and fulfilling days.
		While parents work, I'm with the kids,
		a girl and boy I love to praise.

		I claim this opportunity
		to show them honor with an ode.
		I'm gratetul to be "Mimi" now.
		No sweeter name could be bestowed.

		A pleasing parallel exists
		in this relationship we share.
		Their need for guidance every day
		fulfills my need to love and care.

		I'm proud to be their referee,
		their teacher, cook, mentor, and friend,
		a monitor of TV shows,
		the one who says when play must end.

		Though sometimes they get on my nerves,
		they keep me sane and active too.
		I thank the Lord for them each day.
		Without those kids, what would I do?

entered in Royal Ninja's What Makes You Happy Contest on July 18, 2016

Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2016

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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

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The Echo of a Soul

The Echo of a Soul 
By Andrew Weeden 

In the windswept hills of vibrant green, 
Here I sit at your lonely grave. 
The bright flower that made my heart beam, 
Is the wilted flower I could not save.  

From the beginning I did not know, 
I was oblivious from the start; 
Cancer’s blade cut away your happy glow 
And would thrust to pierce my very heart.  
Consumed in the darkness of raging anger, 
Ten years I stand alone in the rain. 
With death no longer a distant stranger; 
My only companion in the storm of pain.  

Now it seems no one remembers, 
But you did not cease to be. 
Your spirit still burns in glowing embers 
And lives inside the fire in me.  

The storm is passing; I finally see its end. 
Happiness smiles again and shakes me to my core.  
I realize every time I lift my pen 
My Grandma speaks once more! 

Reflections of your love 
Weave tapestries in time. 
As a singing mourning dove, 
Your words whisper in my mind. 

So though you had to go, 
You remain in your begotten; 
As an echo of a soul, 
Gone but not forgotten. 

Copyright © Andrew Weeden | Year Posted 2014

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Grandma's Legacy

My grandma had a green thumb
She loved to garden, plant and grow
Didn't matter where they're from
Snatching cuttings wherever she'd go

Her pockets filled with seeds from trips to and fro
Labeling the envelops with names as she was home
Plant variety was something she would know
She also knew specific times when seeds should be sown

Her garden was her solace throughout her hardened life
She planted seeds and grew her plants anywhere she stay
Always fed her family through depression and strife
Many rows of vegetables were planted in her day

Years have passed and she is gone her love of planting seeds
Was passed on through her family who now are pulling weeds. 

Jennifer Marie Oliver

Copyright © Jennifer Marie Oliver | Year Posted 2013

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Grandma's Bench

Each day her world was getting smaller
But still to this bench she made her way
To enjoy the park, the pond, and the ducks
and watch young children that came to play

Her bench became a gathering place
Life stories told and babies kissed
They all enjoyed her wise company
Her sweet face will sorely be missed.

They still gather at that bench
And daily life goes on as before
But they still remember "grandma"
A lady they had come to adore...

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013

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I Remember Grandma

I remember Grandma’s   beauty
  The way she’d grace her smile at me
I remember Grandma’s duty
  Holding family together

I remember the old large home 
  A large yard with a cyclone fence
I remember no small kitties
  Couldn’t afford the extra expense

I remember no TV set
To watch Dragnet or Lassie shows
I remember a radio
Latin Music she always chose

I remember the Impala 
Cool 1950’s model rove
Crazy grandma behind the wheel
Had to close your eyes when she drove

I remember her   kindness
Her home was your home to visit
Stacks of warm homemade tortillas,
Tamales, warm food in the skillet

I remember gradually
With small tremors, slurred speech, stiffness, 
She had uncontrollable shakes
Parkinson’s disease her illness

    I remember Grandma’s   beauty 
        I remember Grandma’s   kindness 
            I remember Grandma’s    caress
                I remember Grandma’s   illness 

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016

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WAITING FOR GOD At four score years and ten Our Gran is physically spry But her mind is beginning to wander And I often ask God, "Why?" She's a most delightful lady With smooth, porcelain-like skin She loves her large family And has the most wicked of grins. But her mind is beginning to wander And she's now starting to live in the past It's hard for her to remember Who's who at the family repasts. She loves to be among the children But she doesn't know who they all are Not only is her mind beginning to wander She's now taken to walking afar. One day we couldn't locate her We walked twice around the block We had to call in the police It gave us all such a shock. We found her sitting at the bus stop It really was quite odd We asked her what she was doing She answered, smiling sweetly, "Waiting for God." © ELR 2013

Copyright © Miss Wattle | Year Posted 2013

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Certain things are just not said,
When we're in certain comp'ny.
Words and phrases seldom heard,
Are often looked at funny.

No longer is good common sense,
The rule of thumb, the norm,
So often plainly spoken words,
Will take on different form;

'Cause most folks just don't listen,
To what is being said,
And oft the words go rattling 'round.
Inside an empty head;

Then they draw their own conclusions,
Concerning what you said,
Even though they've not a clue,
The story they will spread.

If what you hear sounds strange to you,
The facts a little off,
Consider who you're talking to,
Before you laugh and scoff,

At someone you may barely know,
If in fact at all,
And what you heard is hearsay,
Just gossip all in all.

When others speak, just listen,
And make sure you understand.
Keep your mind upon the topic,
Don't short change your fellow man.

Remember to speak plainly,
Not to be misunderstood,
And remember too that gossip,
Don't do anybody good.

(Have you ever noticed that those who talk the most are usually the ones who have little else to do?  And often they really don't know much more than we do. My grandmother used to say the dog on the shortest chain does the most barking.)

Copyright © Judy Ball | Year Posted 2012

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The Building of a Moment

The value of a precious novelty
it seems is intricate fragility.
Recall special trinkets kept in a hutch
for display only, not opened to touch.

Keepsakes in prison, upheld, unimpaired.
reminder of events  that once were shared.
One is now kept in a glass étagère
collectible curio set there with care.

Awaiting the finding of a misplaced key,
a new piece tempted curiosity.
Too precious to be ignored, my granddaughter
played with it carefully, warned by her mother.

Rejecting caution, which kids oft ignore
she forgot it, leaving it there on the floor.
The next day, her brother found it with his foot.
One piece now  three pieces, broken,  kaput.

Comes precious moment, happening on my watch.
Crying sister faults her brother for her botch
who then returns accusations with blame.
Common occurrence, accompanied by shame.
Moment develops as we find the glue.
Are there chips still missing?  We find a few.
Together,  three of us talk as we work.
Accountability comes with its perks.

The most precious of moments in history -
when that collectible met surgery.
Years later it stands tall, gathering dust
priceless symbol of joint effort and fuss.

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2013

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Leads With Her Right

Old mean widow lady of ninety-two

lives by herself with nothing else to do

Hunkers in her chair next to the window

stares out for hours with dreams of her bingo

She is labeled mentally unstable

Plays solitary on the end table

Fusses forever and telling tall tales

no telling if she’s left out small details

Seasons have come and gone with the flowers,

grass and trees changing colors with showers

She's run off all her family and friends

finding upsetting fault that never ends

With lawless behavior if you resist,

she gets riled up,  lifts up her clenched right fist

lands an uppercut to the mug she’s kissed

With a burning twist she has never missed

You would want to stay out of her crosshairs

A small pearl handle pistol she will dare

Out of her leather purse it will appear

Create trouble; it might be all you’ll hear


blunt mother in-laws talks and talks and talks and talks gets under my skin
True story

Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016

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A Christmas Memory-Contest

              Matching pj's, rainbow colored tinsel with LED lights,
                 Gazing, disbelief as the pine slowly declines onto the floor,
                       We all laugh with silliness while grammy has fallen beneath it,
                             There the tree lies while the naughty kitty chaotically explores.

Written By: Laura Urbaniak
Date: November 20, 2015
For the contest, A Christmas Memory, sponsor, Broken Wings

Copyright © Laura Loo | Year Posted 2015

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My, How Buttons Have Changed

In the fifties, my sister and I would play store;
selling ice cream and candy just like our grandpaw.
Granny let us delve into her spare button box
where we found the coins for our special cash drawer.

We sorted them all out by size and by color
marking some as quarters, nickels, pennies or dimes.
Imagination was the best of our playmates;
we even had half-dollars, the rarest of finds.

Last year we two met to go shopping just for fun;
can you guess what awaited me and my sister?
Brand-new buttons made of honest-to-God live coins.
We found all the reg’lar ones, but no half-dollar.

We giggled as we shopped, pretending like old times. 
Strangest thing we discovered along with this find -
the penny buttons? no cheaper than the quarters. 
The cost of the buttons did not match with their kind!

Copyright © Reason A. Poteet | Year Posted 2013

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A Nook and A Story Book

     A Nook and a Story Book
    In my childhood on every birthday
    I owned two books owing to family norm,
    one tough academic book from my Dad
    and other lucid story book from grand mom.

   I was fascinated for gift from grandma
   That was my only entry to the story book.
   Strict Dad did not allow me to follow stories.
    To smell fragrance of story I searched for a nook.

   Nooks and corners were not safe enough.
   Dictator Dad had always strong vigilance.
   I had to hide story book under the text.
   None was able to detect my tact at a glance.
                  what I would give for a Nook and a story Book Contest 
                             Third Place

Sponsor  Eve Roper

Copyright © Anisha Dutta | Year Posted 2016

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No, seriously there are people worse then me, and I’m a lothario and a liar
But then there are bastards who see an empty warehouse and for fun set it afire
I commit crimes and hold people I have pity for as hostage while holding a gun
But stoned cold junkies, unlike me, do horrendous things solely for fun

I knocked down and old lady……………….. cane and f*****g all
Once I had her bread you think I gave a damn that she’d fall?
S**t, I’d rob my grandmother and later on promise her a soft and silken shawl
And listen, when robbing an inhabited home the floorboards will squeak
if you walk but not if you crawl

Turn your back on me b***h, I dare you, and leave that diamond ring right there
By the time you turn back around the diamond is gone and my running footsteps is all you’d hear
Invite your folks over for dinner on Thursday but tell your mom you want to see some jewels
You keep them busy, while I rob them blind because one thing I ain’t is one of those fun-loving fools 

What I am saying essentially and I hope effectively is that there are certain people you simply can’t trust
The ones who think havoc is a game, for there are none so blind and ashes to ashes and dust to dust
I’ll climb up a six story building to an apartment because I know there are riches in apartment six “B”
Christ, I’ll beat a man half to death if I want something of his and he doesn’t agree

So look out for the ones who lie like a Lothario and will rob you blind
And you all deserve to be robbed because you’re rich and undoubtedly unkind
While the old lady was dressing I was undressing her closet of gold
And when you stare into my sky blue pink eyes realize you’re missing things that I’ve sold
I’ll wield a sword honed so sharp and a very frightening knife
And believe me my acts of thievery would be rotten and rife
I harm, threaten and rob people and then go home to my wife
She makes a really good pot roast, and knows I could never really take a life
           ©  2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~  

Copyright © jeffry cohan | Year Posted 2011

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My Ladylove

You picked me up and held me in your arms.
By furs of fox and mink you were adorned.
My family was smitten by your charms.
Of greed and envy you were not forewarned.

The sweetness in your smile my love beguiled.
And wisdom in your heart was heaven sent
You took me to your church as a young child.
I learned of God, of sin, and to repent. 

Then, without notice you just disappeared.
I missed your smiles and going to your church.
But worldly things had in your life premiered.
Your husband’s death began a different search.

I watched you suffer pains and make mistakes.
The lust of others you mistook for love.
Then alcohol met greed and great heartaches.
An evil pit enticed you, ladylove.

But bitterness did not destroy your soul.
You gave away your wealth, becoming meek.
Then, strength of heart once more regained control.
You served the Lord again throughout each week.

As  I, your namesake, grew you loved me still.
The planes and furs were gone but not your heart.
You gave it all away of your freewill.
Then, with the Lord your life had a fresh start.

Grandmother, dear, your life influenced me.
Compassion, strength, and faith are what you taught.
A happy life you lived in poverty.
Because of you, God is who I have sought.


Copyright © Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen | Year Posted 2016

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Grandma's Kitchen

In my grandmother's kitchen,
There are many wooden doors.
Every now and then I open the drawers
As I move utensils from this rack so open.

In my grandma's kitchen,
There is absolute abundance.
Sometimes as I dine, I fall into a trance,
While I feel gratitude for all that she's been.

In my granny's kitchen,
There are many people who come in and go.
Almost every day I wonder if they know,
Just how incredibly my granny always pitches in.

In my grandmother's kitchen,
There is always that someone cooking for me too.
As I wait patiently, I say with my heart so open,
"Thank you, granny. I love you."

Copyright © Marissa Faries | Year Posted 2017

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Grandmother's Grace

I'd like to thank my other grandmother
For being something like a mother.
I always admire her endearing love
For all we grandkids, whom are gifts from above.

I'd have so many more loving words to say,
If we did more than live our own lives every day.
But regardless how much time spent or not,
So thankful for those sympathetic ears I often sought.

I'd love to be there for her, like she's been for me,
Fortunately, however, life seems to leave her be.
I have always loved my other grandmother,
But all too often I was too shy to show her.

I'd like to thank my other grandmother
For never seeing me as too much of a bother.
I've nothing but the greatest gratitude,
For all the things she's done, despite my attitude.

Copyright © Marissa Faries | Year Posted 2017