Best Gramps Poems
The death of winter carries varied sights.
In April, when dandelions roar, “It’s Spring!”
green yards transform by magic overnight.
Gramps had sprayed his lawn, but in ours weeds bring
an old game for kids as they dance and swing.
Small windmills in disguise, children spread seeds
giving Grandpa a cause for some dismay.
He is no grouch, fence conversation leads
to friendly talk of butterflies at play -
riddles about what nature does in May.
The kids amazed, watch squirrels building nests,
questions evolve about the birds and bees.
Gramps calls them varmints - Mother's Nature’s pests.
“Ask your folks”, he replies with cough and wheeze.
In naptime dreams, he aims a gun at trees.
Gramps takes a walk, golf umbrella hovers
for spring rains do not announce their coming.
A neighbor lady hobbles to cover.
Listen, his cane on her sidewalk - drumming,
sweet songs of spring love, two voices humming.
written May 7, 2014, edited on May 25, 2014
Their day at the beach was much hotter
than usual. Soon Gramps would totter
right down to the ocean.
We warned him his notion
was bad. We’d seen sharks in the water.
Alone, he was happily splashing,
but soon, barely clothed, he was dashing
to shore. He was screaming,
though no blood was streaming.
Just shorts, the big creature was gnashing.
7, red (garnet, birth stone)
August 1, 2018, entered in Carolyn Devonshire's Sea Tales
Limericks Contest
Walks we took, across the bridge and down the ridge we'd climb
He'd catch himself to shorten steps, while I'd be stretching mine
With fields to plow, and milking cows, yet he always made the time
To make my days a memory, that I visit in my mind
Those summer days, may have passed away, yet the love just lingers on
How simple all the world seemed then, unfurled beneath the sun
Together we would brew mischief, while chewing juicy gum
We'd talk about most everything, and walk till light was gone
I'd ask him things I'd pondered of...and he would give it careful thought
He'd scratch his head, and then he said, "I'll give it my best shot!"
He'd explain in words I understood, the answers I had sought
"How many stars are in the sky?" ..."Well, Sugar Pie...A lot!!"
"Where did I come from?" I asked, quite plain. His red-face quickly stunned!
"Hmmmm...of all the questions you have asked,....this is a tricky one!"
"You see my sweet, when two hearts meet, and two plus two is fun....
"You are the sum, that came from love....a prize your family won!"
Oh, if I could choose a day from then .....from summers long ago...
Where the sun was gold, the stream was cold, the bluer skies hung low
And the quiet space...his whiskered face, and the love he could bestow
We'd walk our pace, and beneath that place, where greener grass would grow....
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Light work?
Give to granddad
The bits drawer will help him
Tape, screws, raw plugs, string, pins and bits
If no cure, use black tape
Strap it down hard
All done!
My gramps was a long-staunch Baptist of the sort S.B.C.,
Until his local congregation got beholden to the R.N.C.
Gramps was a hoot – on a Friday he joined the K.K.K.,
Saturday, he quit because it wasn’t a branch of the Y.M.C.A.
Afterwards, he feared a knock on his door from the C.I.A.
Would negate all his years working with the B.S. of A.
Gramps continued his strong support for the N.A.A.C.P.
But said he was canceling his membership in the B.B.B.
He was a coal miner, but Gramps never joined the A.F. of L.
It was years before he learned the union was not a U.R.L.
Technology Has Passed Gramps By
By Elton Camp
For Gramps to the Electronic Age to relate
Developments came several years too late
A pocket calculator was the last he used
Later developments, to learn, he refused
Lately, the old codger has been known
To try to work the TV with a cell phone
A text message he never has sent
Nor any time on a computer spent
Yet, he heard so much about Internet
Down to a box with buttons he sat
About the Internet he began to rave
His wife said, “That’s the microwave!”
When I die I want to go peacefully in my sleep like gramps
Not screaming like his passengers while careening off the on-ramp
Want to wake up in our garage
Enjoying a soothing massage
Administered by the neighbor's sexy teenage tramp
It is a steampunk wedding, Great-Grandpa, his grandson said.
He had no idea what that meant but found out right away.
It is like Jules Verne’s 20, 000 Leagues under the Sea has come alive!
He could not have been more thrilled if he had thought of it himself.
His copper cane with the fancy parrot was a “hit” with the young.
You should come over and see my clawfoot table, he told them.
He had been steampunk all along but did not know it.
HANGING OUT WITH GRAMPA,
I LEARNED A THING OR TWO.
GRANNY KNEW AND UNDERSTOOD
PASSED ALONG THE CLUES
CONFORMITY IS AN ISSUE.
AN ILLNESS OF THE MIND.
MANIPULATION OF THE WEAK
PUTTING SOCIETY IN A BIND.
THROUGH MEDIA DISTRIBUTION,
SCIENCE CONDUCTED TEST.
PROVING MOST WILL GO ALONG
THE REMAINDER CONSIDERED PEST.
TO THINK OUTSIDE THE CIRCLE,
THEY'RE LIVING OUTSIDE THE BOX.
BIG TECH CONSIDERS THIS A CRIME.
ENCOURAGING THEY BE DOXXED.
CENSORSHIP IS ANOTHER WAY,
TO SILENCE THE THINKING CLASS.
SHEEPLE ARE NOT ALLOWED TO LEAVE
WITHOUT A STATE RUN PASS.
TRUCKERS TOOK TO TRUCKING.
WHEN RIGHTS WERE ON THE LINE.
POLITICIANS BOUGHT AND PAID FOR
VANISHED FOR THAT TIME.
EUGENICIST INSIST DEPOPULATION.
GLOBALIST WENT ALONG.
CRIMES AGAINST HUMANITY
ARE DEFINITELY WRONG.
ELITIST DEMAND THAT YOU BELIEVE.
THEY KNOW WHAT'S RIGHT FOR YOU.
GOVERNMENTS JUST WENT ALONG.
MANDATING WITH OUT A CLUE.
SOVEREIGN MAN HAS THE RIGHT,
TO MAKE DECISIONS FOR HIMSELF.
HE ALONE IS RESPONSIBLE
FOR HIS FAMILY AND HIS HEALTH.
CONFORMITY CAN BE DANGEROUS.
FROM A NONCONFORMIST VIEW.
NOT SAYING HOW TO LIVE YOUR LIFE.
IT'S YOUR RIGHT THAT YOU BE YOU.
Michael E. Harris
02022022
When you get older and put out to graze,
When kids grow and move to a new phase.
When they need help with kids of their own,
When they realize what they chose for you,
When the light dawns, it will be them soon too.
So remember your folks as you age yourself.
Never ever leave them sat on the shelf.
For the day may come when you have to atone,
Because they will be gone and your left all alone.
© Dave Timperley 15 September 2016
I really just wanted to tell you Happy Birthday
You would have been 72 years old today
Even though we miss you day by day
You're still in our hearts every step of the way
Ive told you Happy Birthday for 24 years before now
Figuring out a way to send this to the heavens to you somehow
Because on this day each and every year
Ill look up to the sky and you'll hear
Screaming out through the clouds
Happy Birthday and I miss you so loud
There's still not a day that I don't think about you
WIshing I could just tell you this like I used too
But I know in my heart there will be some way
This will get sent to you on this day
I just really wish I could kiss you on the cheek and say
I love you Grandpa and have a wonderful Birthday
11/14/45-06/20/17
ink-stained shirt pockets
full of old pens that don't write
grandpa taught me right
worn-out wallet bent
to the contours of his hip
sore with a disc slip
gramps is soldier's son
who's mighty scared of the gun
none else makes him run
but thanks to foot spa
restores a lot of chutzpah
shy toes of grandpa
For you were such a gentleman
your smile sincere and true
For your hair was always in it's place
your funniness shone through
For the love you had of sport's
anything would do
football, tennis and many more
will always remind me of you
Your love of a great war film
Your love of a 25p bet
chatting to the pound shop girl's
A man impossible to forget
From your charming personality
to the way you wound up Nan
a little nudge
a little poke
the laughter it began
Your love of laying in the sun
Your balcony or in Spain
wasn't guaranteed the weather
it always seemed to rain
Yet your tan always so immaculate
A lovely golden brown
that's what happens when you move your sunbed
to follow the sun around
Your love of having a bit of cheese
or should I say a block
cracker's and cheese for everyone
say around 8 o'clock
Enjoyed cleaning a oven
and drinking a nice cup of tea
got lumbered entertaining kids
enjoyed a stroll down Leigh on sea
Your shirts always tucked in
and looking extra smart
Smelling of aftershave
You always looked the part
A handsome man
with a personality to desire
happy and bubbly
could dry your hair with his hands
faster than a hair dryer
It's all the little thing's
that made you
you
that we miss and love
but make us feel blue
Forever we remember
we will never forget
we were blessed to encounter
The best man yet!
An is, is there forever
where there is no fear, and like a fountain
joy is always bubbling up...from underneath.
The more is always still to come,
not summoned but released
from unknown hands; the light
suggested only, stretched across the land,
cast in its power of gray, pervades
its heritage unto the day...
unto the day
and from the lost upon the lea
the cry of home regained, the plow
cut deeply in the ground again,
the patient men who found their glory
in the ones who rode along,
who loved and buried them—
these, enamored of the earth,
would speak forever, may
for those few listeners
who will not turn away.
It is a sacrament, this presence
half-remembered on a cloudy day
when now comes back with fresh,
refreshing grief, a smile returned again.
The light, the soft gray light
that filters through the grove
is harbinger of a reality
that makes of time, illusion,
scattering its rays across the field
of old regret, and leaving
only love behind.
~
No, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred;
you still rail against the masters of cruel, crazy wars
that left thousands of our brave youth abroad dead;
you still roar at the inept occupying city hall sinecures,
and with your own meticulous counter-computation,
you tax the tax-men with angry taxpayers' signatures;
I still hear you snarl at every phony insurance agent,
and expose the shady tricks of any pious cheat
who sounds polite, but with dark motives irreverent;
you fume over some military madness you just read
and lambast each education department egghead,
no, at ninety-eight you're not a fossil yet, Gramps Fred !