Best Granddaughter Poems | Poetry
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by Tugaff, Ernilando
by Bavington , Bette
by Tugaff, Ernilando
If your granddaughter lost both her arms
by Klugman, Alex
by Miller, George D.
My Granddaughter, Jerilyn
by Jennings, Marilyn S
by wickstrom, Gordon
by williams, linda
The Story of Granddaughter Lily
by Price, Franklin
by Johnson, Joyce
View all new Granddaughter Poems
The Best Granddaughter Poems
Oh little one, how soon you'll be
In turbulence of puberty.
I will hold tight your days of youth
And share with you my honest truth
That innocence ingrained at birth,
Precious childhood days filled with mirth,
Will be so fleeting... you will see
The need for God's tranquility.
How grandma's age is redefined
When your teen years become aligned
With thoughts of struggles, I go through,
The many shades in every hue,
That colors life for me today.
In these sweet days, I watch you play
As I instill the grains of hope,
An inner strength to help you cope
With all the changes life will bring.
The ups and downs from early spring
Throughout your life in winter years
When you, like me, through joys and tears
Have lived a life you feel has worth;
Have given back to better earth.
When you have children of your own
And you too, see how they have grown,
My hope is that you let them know
That through their life where e'er they go
They carry with them bits of me,
Please share with them, tranquility.
© Connie Marcum Wong
~Poem of the Day May 11, 2017~
The teenage years and the golden years are
the most difficult to endure. Both are fraught
with emotions...of facing life...of facing death.
Enter your own competition - Poetry Contest-Tranquility N/A
Form I have chosen is Couplet
Sponsored by: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
One criterion I am striving to achieve: Spirituality
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2017
*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*
Hi, grandpa, it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass above the nightstand
Remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma,
She waits for you.
Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed stroking my hair with her hands
I miss the way she rocked me to sleep every night
I stored your hearing aid away
Remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer?
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina soar
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma loved
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandma's favorite scarf
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left
Hello, grandpa, it's me again!
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013
I know what it feels like to be adored beyond compare.
To be loved unconditionally just for being myself.
To have that special one want to be just like me.
I am told how wonderful I am each day,
How beautiful and loving, as I am smothered with hugs
And kisses and artwork from my little master artist.
She treasures every compliment I give her and dances
To entertain me by the songs from my music box.
A grande jeté here, a pirouette there, thrills me with delight.
I love you hearts hang on my walls along with pictures
Drawn especially for me in bright colors she knows I love.
I hear my words come from her sweet little mouth...
"Oh for Pete's sake" or "For crying in the bucket" and I laugh
More at myself than from her trying to emulate my silly self.
She remembers all I teach her as she too teaches me!
Her endless devotion touches my heart so deeply that I
Bless her and pray for her safety day and night, and give thanks
To the Lord for blessing me with the precious gift of her birth.
This little 37 pound, long chestnut haired beauty is mine to adore
As she adores me, and tells me she is so happy I am her Grammy.
I am rich beyond belief, and blessed by all that is holy to have her love.
*Dedicated to the love of my life, my granddaughter Carissa, who will
celebrate her 6th birthday March 2, 2018.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2018
Some say you're not quite whole,
But I know better, Angel Child.
You live in a place all your own,
Free, unhinged, sometimes wild.
In precious moments you let me in
And I am stunned by what I see.
Purple trees and butterfly bees
And things I thought couldn't be.
You tell me of other wonders
In a voice so sweet I nearly weep—
Of Daisy Lou, a lizard that's blue,
And of mice that sing you to sleep.
Then abruptly your voice changes
And your look seems far away.
I have become a stranger to you;
You have said all you want to say.
I understand the pattern too well;
You have gone where I can't go.
You dwell there often, Angel Child,
It's where you're wholly whole.
Copyright © Paul Schneiter | Year Posted 2014
I held an angel in my arms today,
A precious babe snuggled against my breast.
And my heart was overwhelmed with so much love,
As she lay contentedly at rest.
I watched her as she slept so soundly,
Gazed at her cherub face in sweet repose.
I marveled at her tiny features,
Like her dainty shell-like ears and button nose.
I brushed my lips against her downy head,
Her skin like velvet to my touch.
I gave thanks to God above for His priceless blessing
Of this little angel girl I love so much.
The birth of my first grandchild has awakened,
A joy that my soul cannot contain.
From day one my heart's been captured by her,
Firmly caught and held by love's strong chain.
Entered in Shadow Hamilton's "Your Favorite Old Poem" contest
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013
The black water reflects the still morning
Monarchs flutter and dance in rising sun
Purple skies grow lighter without warning
Separate rain, as rainbow colors run
Could I have seen a more beautiful sky?
Silently approaching your silhouette
My eyes well slowly in their joyous sigh
You sit alone, playing your clarinet
There's no vision or reflecting water
That warms my heart as this picture of you
A quivering heart for you, my granddaughter
As you practice in tune with a sky so blue
I am a witness to your gentleness
I feel the music your soul can express
Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2014
Ten little toes, precious and sweet.
Connected to, chubby one year old feet.
Running across, my freshly washed floors.
Muddy footprints that start at my door.
Ten little toes, painted hot pink,
from under the hem, they peek beneath.
As she stands barefoot in her moms dress,
in the mirror, a seven year old fashion success.
Ten little toes, steps into her gown.
So happy in love, her feet don't touch the ground.
Standing there waiting, for the first note,
shoes in one hand, the other, the vows that she wrote.
Ten little toes, a miracle to see,
connected to, chubby new born feet.
Soon to be running across my floors.
A Granddaughter carried, through my front door.
For the contest "Barefoot"
Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011
I see her pretty little face
With a sweet smile as bright as gold.
I think about the days ahead.
It saddens me, I'm growing old.
I love that precious little girl
With all that dwells inside of me.
One day I know we'll have to part.
I beg of Time, so fleetingly,
To warp somehow and backward go,
So I could share more of her life.
She says "Grammy, never leave me".
That I must die fills her with strife.
She says"I want to go with you".
I tell her of the joys instead,
How one day she'll meet a man,
He'll love her so, and they will wed.
But Grammy's love is all she knows,
So I will leave her parts of me,
In photographs and work I do,
In love notes from my poetry.
Happiness of Life Contest
Sponsor Nayda Ivette Negron
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016
Brutal was the biting wind,
sweeping brown locks of a tiny urchin
side to side, often hiding her eyes.
Oversized slippers she had donned
were lost in deep snow drifts.
She plodded forth barefoot, risking frostbite.
Little daylight remained to guide her;
a dangerous holiday trek she undertook.
Villagers in passing carriages didn't notice her.
With snow falling fast and accumulations growing deep,
she didn't realize she'd left the main road.
If only she could find her grandfather's cottage!
For Christmas Eve it was,
but in her heart there was no joy.
Her cruel stepmother’s house she left in search of love.
As darkness fell, the biting cold increased.
Her weary legs she dragged; with teary eyes she searched
in vain, for only shadows could she see.
A green-clad elf with lantern lit was homeward bound
deep in the woods, when all at once he spied this forlorn girl,
sprawled on the snow deprived of strength and shivering.
He shone the light on her white face; eyelids moved and flickered.
He read her thoughts and understood; he knew just how to help her.
No time was lost; his crystal flute he blew to call his trusted friends.
An entire family of elves pulled the shivering child,
placing her gently on a sled,
fully decked out in Christmas flare.
The elves had been on their way to Santa;
Yuletide deliveries had to be made,
but the wee girl's plight took priority.
Once she was aboard the sled,
reindeer arrived on cue,
ushering the crew to the North Pole.
The little girl came to quickly,
nestled in Santa's arms.
With pleasure he brought her to her grandfather's cottage.
Grandfather sat alone by his roaring fire
when a knock came to the door.
He went to see who it could be so late into the night.
There on the doorstep his young granddaughter stood with shining eyes,
a dream come true for those who never give up hope.
He picked her up in welcome arms, a warm embrace of love.
The clock struck twelve. They heard the sound of jingling bells
as Santa waved goodbye and off he sped across the sky.
Christmas had arrived, and his first gift had been delivered!
[Inspired by the first paragraph of The Little Match Girl by H.C. Andersen]
Co-written by: Paul Callus~Carolyn Devonshire~Valentina Stagno-Navarra
Contest: A Christmas Tale
Sponsor: Debbie Guzzi
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014
Our granddaughter loves cupcakes.
Someday, she wants to run a cupcake business.
Someday, she wants to be a beautician.
Someday, she wants to specialize in makeup.
Someday, she wants to be a singer.
Someday, she wants to be a songwriter.
Someday, she wants to go to college.
I’m voting for number one
and number seven.
I love cupcakes.
If she goes to college,
her cupcake business might succeed.
You go, girl!
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
“A Missive To My Granddaughters”
My dearest girls,
How can I begin to tell you
how much your smile warms my heart,
or the enrichment that penetrates my soul
when I feel your arms embrace me?
With you, I am a girl again reliving my own youth
When you share each new life experience with me.
Once again, my own fervor for life springs forth,
As I listen to the enthusiasm that emanates from your cheerful chatter.
Your joy rejuvenates me.
Your smile pierces my heart and finds its way
To a special place reserved only for you.
Your zest for life gives me hope again for a better world,
And I thrive on your courage that abounds with each day that passes.
That I have saved countless wishes for you alone -
A heart that is forgiving and true,
A mind that is forever open and exploring,
And the courage to face and overcome any obstacle.
I wish you a taste for beauty in whatever presents itself,
A flair of your own like no one else has ever experienced,
An infinite appreciation for all of Nature’s bounty,
And a magnanimous spirit for others less fortunate.
Please know that when I am gone,
I will be with you always in spirit.
Whether it is the sweetness of a Spring rain,
In the coo of a morning dove,
Or the scent of a summer rose,
You will be reminded,
And you will know
That I am there
Until we are together..…again.
Copyright © Jan Pearce | Year Posted 2016
From deep recesses of my mind
I bring a great great-grandma’s face.
She left no photograph behind.
I dream her dressed in bits of lace,
Tatted perhaps by her own hand,
A talent she didn‘t leave to me.
She labored and loved and lived and left
No memories for her progeny.
I’ve traced her name, all I can do
To give her substance, make her real,
A living being who could cry
Could laugh and all emotions feel.
There was a time I could have asked
Her granddaughter of what she knew.
That chance is now forever lost
No one is left to give a clue.
Dear Grandma I lend you my pen,
Please tell about the life you led.
Be free to speak your mind through me
And say the things you would have said.
A wealth of stories left untold
And lessons from which we could have learned.
Dear Mollie Blosser, I’d then record
The place in history you have earned.
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2012
Personal Memories - Three Generations
Three generations in between them now so kindly lie;
sweet great granddaughter and great grand-papa can now belie
those years. She reads to him, and he so tenderly sits by...
two children now, they share these moments that now clarify
the bond of one on one where young and old does not apply.
Sandra M. Haight
Contest: Personal Memories-Monorhyme Poetry
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Iambic Heptameter - 14 syllables and 7 feet per line
Used Photo #3 - Laura Loo's daughter Ella reading to her great grand-papa
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
The old woman sews
Marking each stitch
The whirring of machines
Whirling and whirling
Round and round
Of another time
Of a night
When she was afraid
To speak to a boy
Sitting next to her.
As her busy fingers work
She remembers more
Of that summer night
A blue cotton dress
With tiny ribbons
Lace curtains gently
Pulled by a breeze
Drifted out through opaque windows
While musicians played a rhythm
Of their own
And shadows pranced
On empty walls.
Waiting that night
Why no one
Her to dance.
On silver sails
She knows that today is now.
And yesterday was yesterday
Finished with her work
She catches her breathe,
Straightens her hair,
And turns off the lights.
Pausing to look back
Into the darkened room
Shadows return her glance
With a gaping stare
Adjusting to the darkness
She begins to recognize
Familiar shapes taking form
Satisfied that all will be the same
When she returns
She closes the door.
She holds onto her purse
For a traffic light
That has already
A smile crosses her face
As she remembers
When the boy
Became her husband
Children were born.
And the years went by
In a brown bag
Neatly folded in two
Is a blue chiffon dress
Almost like the one
She wore years ago
Only this one
Is for her granddaughter
Impatient for no reason
To go nowhere
The crowd pushes forward
But the old woman lingers
On the corner
Savoring the moment
Glad of memories
As a busy world saunters by.
Copyright © Edmund Siejka | Year Posted 2009
It was so long ago
It still holds the place in my heart
The one I reserved for special moments
The times before his health
got the best of our relationship
Back when my grandpa
was able to be my
It was my first parade
and one of his last
The Halloween of
but there was also the usual
witches, and monsters
but most importantly
there was my grandpa.
He volunteered to help
with the small monsters
of classroom 301 that year
which would also be his last
so he was able to walk with his
even if he kept stopping
to pick up candy
along the way.
walking with him
along the crowded streets
past the sirens of the firetrucks
and over the steep hills
will forever beat any memory
trick or treating
passing out candy
or the endless Halloween parties
for that was just a moment to enjoy
now that his old age has hit him
there's no more walking
no more dressing up for Halloween
just to see a smile on the face of
his little monsters
That moment will forever hold my heart
ten years ago was
the last time
of a grandfather
walk beside her
Copyright © Alexis Hogg | Year Posted 2015
It seems like it was yesterday
in backyard sandbox she had played;
granddaughter loved to have her way
with sand, her pail, scoop, shovel, spade.
She'd mold and build, with special care;
imagination took its form.
Sometimes she'd throw it up in air
to watch it fly like a sandstorm.
Fast forward now just twenty years:
our princess then, in her play sand,
now lives a life on new frontiers
soon headed for another land.
A first lieutenant based stateside,
her unit soon will be deployed
to mid-east base...Kuwait...supplied
with desert sand, so vast and void.
Her 'sandbox' then, to serve with troops,
logistics and supplies command,
where sand is pushed with 'dozer 'scoops'...
and windstorms fill the air with sand.
It seems like it was yesterday
in backyard sandbox, she had played.
As West Point grad, she makes her way
to serve our country, unafraid.
Sandra M. Haight
Premiere Contest: Sandbox
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2016
I saw you just the other day
As you pulled into my drive
Squealing and bouncing as is your way
Into my arm's jumping showing you did arrive
The twinkle I seen within your eyes
Made me love you even more
My heart let out a few soft sighs
This is what I've been waiting for
To hug you and to kiss your sweet face
Oh how much you've seemed to grow
Your love I could never replace
As you look at me with your face so aglow
Distance can't keep us two apart
Though the miles are long and far
You will forever have my heart
Gamma's bright and shining star
Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2015
Little Red Riding Hood Once Upon Time
Little Red Riding Hood
left for nearby Pine Wood
to meet her Dear Grand mom
whom she loves from her bottom.
Little angel, little fairy wore red dress.
Pet Micky Mouse put red hat to impress.
Quack duck put on red shoes on webbed feet.
Three were out for Grandmother to meet.
On her way she met a wolf in white dress
wearing woolly shoes with white lace.
Wonderful wolf named Wow-Wow
nodded its head and made bow.
Wolf was driving an old vintage car
shown in a movie that won prize Oscar.
Wow-Wow said ‘Wait just a minute.
I can give all of you a quick lift.’
So she boarded the car with each pet.
Wow-Wow drove car to the gate
of the wood house of Grandmother
waiting eagerly for her Granddaughter.
Grandma wore white blouse with red border
on red skirt with prints of white flower.
She sat on soft red sofa cum bed.
Her socks were white and shoes red.
Micky played guitar, Quack nicely sang.
White balloons, red ribbons Wow-Wow hang.
Wow-Wow became friend so helpful.
Wild wolf can also be wonderful.
Little fairy, little angel is my Granddaughter
She plays with toy pets and is busy to chatter.
I meet her on Skype every Sunday
My little Red Riding Hood jubilant and gay.
Once Upon a Time Poetry Contest Third Place
Sponsor Laura Loo
Copyright © Anisha Dutta | Year Posted 2016
I was eating breakfast yesterday with my 12 year old granddaughter and I asked her “What day is tomorrow?” Without skipping a beat she said, “Its Presidents Day!” She is so smart, so I asked her “What does Presidents Day mean?” I was waiting for something about Obama, Bush or even Clinton. She replied “Presidents Day is when the President steps out of the White House and if he sees his shadow we have another year of bull ****.” You know it hurts like hell when hot coffee spurts out of your nose.
Copyright © Dennis Davis | Year Posted 2017
Aaliya your Nana's precious grand daughter
A breath of fresh air or drink of spring water
Eye's glinting a mischief, with a hint of naughty
Then turning away from me being so snotty
Knowing if I stand watching you for just a while
You'll glance back again with a brilliant smile
Portraying yourself one moment as innocent and shy
In the next fall down in a fit beginning to cry
An irresistible force seeps from your very soul
The heartstrings of those around you begin to pull
Yet quite amazed at the childlike way you rebel
Even more amazed how quickly you seemed to excel
Excited seeing you take your first step
Adoringly I watch as you angelicly slept
An adventurous beauty, with a mischievious glint
You can't help but touch others leaving your imprint
Copyright © Brenda Chiri | Year Posted 2016
I wrote you a letter,
and then another letter,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a word.
So I wrote you a word,
and then another word,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a sentence.
So I wrote you a sentence,
and then another sentence,
and another, and another,
until I wrote you a letter.
I hope it finds you as I found you.
Copyright © Sophie Wilson | Year Posted 2018
A furry little caterpillar
Crawled onto my knee
He turned into a butterfly
And landed in a tree
Beside him was a humming bird
Sucking pollen from a rose
When down fell an inchworm
That landed on my nose
A little baby bunny rabbit
Hopped onto my lap
When I started petting him
His ears began to flap
I came across a rooster
Sitting on a fence
A sign said "you can pet him
For only fifty cents"
As I peeked into a sty
I heard a great big thud
I saw the three little piggy's
Rolling in the mud
I looked up in the sky
And I saw a lonesome goose
I whistled "where are you flying to"
He replied. "to visit Dr. Seuss
Copyright © charles messina | Year Posted 2018
sprouted kernels pop
all over the living room
missing her mouth
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017
Just for a while,
My pretty, sweet Vivian Rose,
Give me a smile!
Copyright © Joyce Johnson | Year Posted 2014
I wish I could look at a flower through your eyes
and discover why you are so fascinated by it.
I wonder why your eyes glisten
when you look at the stars,
and why you smile at the moon.
I wish I could find out what triggers you
to jump and skip, or giggle with glee
and I strain my ears to hear the silent melody
which causes you to break out in song.
I wish I could embrace someone so firmly
as you do when you jump up to greet me.
I wish I were like you when I was a child.
Copyright © David De la Croes | Year Posted 2013