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Spring Grandmother Poems | Spring Poems About Grandmother
These Spring Grandmother poems are examples of Spring poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Spring Grandmother poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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a missing rose
lay on her stone
another Spring blooms
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2013
Moving backward in time,
there is new sunshine,
the forbidden delight
of disobedient barefooted prancing
through cool grasses,
freshly green and waiting
to caress tiny warm toes
and naughty little hearts.
A wicked world marches on
but not between our clotheslines
hung with spanking clean white sheets
flapping in the chilly spring breeze
where joyous abandon
cannot be kept inside
as cold, slender blades tickle our feet
and an ecstatic younger sister screeches,
“Look at us, Grandma!
Grandma’s switch was a lesson that stung.
Copyright: Anne Morin, 2007
Copyright © Anne Morin | Year Posted 2016
Many years have since passed
Upon the years of gold
Bond between us we did hold
Around my neck I clasp a strand
carved, yellowed with age spring bloom tulips
Grandma used to wear
stood out with her dark brown hair
like no other
I try to hide tears of times we shared
Each bead is unique, varying in size
I get to hold what brings me peace
I don't know if you can see her in me
I feel her warmth of tender love
She's in my heart
The reason that I seem so far away
Somewhere laced in time I disappear
In the warmth of her tender love
^ ^ ^
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Poetry Contest: Old Jewelry or Just Old Things
Sponsored by: Broken Wings
The meaning of tulips is generally perfect love
They say I look like my grandma :)
Copyright © Eve Roper | Year Posted 2016
Crash down softly, where the red crush deepens
Charming, snatch your cherries from the stem
Rude health walking in the greenburst showers
Weather wonders whether she's with him.
Then fly downhill for the lost sensation
Climbing with a shudder back up fell,
Rainjacked half smiles and a skywide feeling
Rush to hunker down the shattered elm.
She could suffocate the hyacinthes
Breeding and pervading every pore
Skim-stop stones among the lead-tipped peril
Breathing once again in semaphore.
They play catch perhaps, a shimmy in slow motion
Every brush a shock to seek again
All fall ragwards in the bluebell clusters
Laughing, shrinking, knowing... something.
Jill woos butterflies while you play Hamlet
Cradling a half-brick in your hands
Grass-stained livery that can't stay forever
Sedge bonfire from nowhere and that hound.
Who'll tell grandma that the wolf has eaten?
Who'll break the bank for just a dare?
Leave mudboots ashamed to save twelve seconds
Gunning for the best seat in the lair.
Copyright © PV Harrington | Year Posted 2015