Best Grandfather Poems
How does it feel?
It's hard to tell
Sad when I pause
Taking moments to dwell
It's the pearl that is lost
It's the half-empty shell
It's the un-told story
It's the water-less well
How does it feel?
Deep emotion stirs
Where the long goodbye
Has now lifted it's curse
And the shadowy valley
At last is traversed
So the heavenly moonlight
Guides the soul, now immersed
To the traveller's rest
Angel bells welcome in
As adventure concludes
Ending all earthly din
Yet, we cheer and we shout
For a presence so full
Not a moment's regret
Nothing mundane or dull
The poet and lover
Of life and it's pasture
Your memory rich
While you journey to rapture
Though a vacancy sign
Is erected below you
As we move to conclude
Let our words rise to show you..
This love legacy, bright
It will sparkle forever
For you taught us of hope
As you bound us together
It's a beautiful tether
That will never be broken
Your legacy, strong
And of you, highly spoken
As our eyes may be teary
As these words are no measure
For the gold in our hearts
Is your love's lasting treasure
*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 pass?
The way she looked into your eyes,
Moments before she said goodbye
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma,
She will always wait 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
Hello, grandpa!
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
Hello, Grandpa!
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!
My tears have soften now,
knowing you will soon see her again
Take your place with her in the sky
Please, say hi and give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
I love you grandpa
~*~
I will always remember those uneven paths,
which led me to you -
sorrowful reminder of promises I could not keep.
All you wanted was to sit with me for a while,
to talk and maybe try to make me smile.
Yet fate did not let us share the stars,
not even for one night - now there is only darkness.
I will never forget,
how you would sit under the sage green veranda,
sipping on your sweet tea, laughing and chatting away.
Many would sit and listen to your non fiction tales
about when the air was clean and the fields were green,
childhood mischief and forgotten memories.
I'll always remember that glint in your eyes,
the warmth in your smile and that sui generis voice.
Especially when parades of birds would chirp at dawn
and when gazing at fireflies flickering under lanterns at dusk.
The veranda is now silent,
but grandma still calls your name.
The aroma from those abundance of petals still lingers,
but your scent does not appear.
Berries still appear from your affluent olive trees,
but they shall never be hydrated by your hands.
Sweet jasmine still climbs up veranda poles,
maybe trying to reach heaven, to be with you.
Your last words will always live with me:
"Come sit with me, even just for a couple of days."
but the next day you were gone...
Dedicated to my grandfather.
1930 - 18 August 2018.
Silent One
26 August 2018
Out in the middle of a large farmland, I become a girl of old charm and unexpected songs again. Past the flanks where cluttered rows of hyacinths and ferns quiver, disarranged huts begin to shake as the rough wind wheezes. And on this late July, mounds of dust remind me of summers back in my grandfather’s hometown. Yet, a different vanishing overtakes me.
a season passes…
carrying all its flowers
to emerge as buds
Watching for thrushes that grow moist from dusky froth , my heels trek along deepened clay. As I lay on haystacks listening to stars chiming, the inky moon sinks its riddled face through a veil. Somehow, I feel alone...abandoned like the opera of a heart which seems to fall into a tragic ending. Yes, Grandpa isn’t around any longer, as a eulogy of tears swells.
on this barren field…
a solitary twig cracks
from one glittered tree
The nightfall drools looking for the yellow among clouds. For a while, the hazy outlines of strangers--native women and children ---disturb my old revelries when Grandpa would linger by the porch dipping tunes from his violin. Through calm intervals of laughter, we sway together; fire to air, salt to honey. Much as I need to inhabit this space, it no longer belongs to me, or to him. But twilight comes brimming with all the glistened jewels of our own world.
between two lifetimes
is a haunting melody…
like a song unsung
11/19/2015
Creative Haibuns Contest
For Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
As I sit upon these old porch steps, that I have always known
A weathered stoop, with gray floorboards, that shake with every wind
These creaks and groans, the flaws and chips, ... familiar to my hand
I have come to some conclusion,,,
I've come to understand,
how well I know each board, each slat, the shape, the size,
the warps, the cracks, ...each rusty nail, ....
but not the facts of you.
Oh yes, ... I've seen a glimpse or two,
in photographs. I have a few
I see a robust man, in yellowed hues, of vintage stock...
By a house, a barn, where land is strewn with stones to move.
You stand behind a horse and plow, in coveralls,... a mustache. too.
I do recall, so vaguely gray, as gray as the paint beneath my hand...
a jolly man, a wrinkled face,
with a smile, a laugh, a loving way
A dream I have, or is it real?
Is that me when I was two,... sitting here, beside you then?
Or is it just my wish to know... more than just a trace of you?
I never knew the man you were, your hopes your dreams...
the thousand schemes that brought you to these rocky slopes
so far from where your hopes began
Where the steep cliffs rose and seas were blue.
Today, beyond these furrowed rows,...
tall grasses grow in amber waves
The eyes will wander, and shadows grow
I ponder how it came to be....
that I am me,....
who came from you;
a man I never knew.
_____________________________________________________________
(To watch the youtube video recitation:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hF4GCLqf9_o
I take my hat off for the flag
I stand up straight; let others sag
I get all weepy for Old Glory
thinking of my family's story
They came from Russia with naught but hope
with just their wits to help them cope
No language skills or education either
Money or living quarters, they had neither
But they scraped and scrimped, and just kept going
Gramps peddled junk, grams did the sewing
And with the help of God, it all worked out
Hard work and faith -- their kids did sprout
My father an attorney, my uncle a physician
All due to gram and gramps' prescient intuition
To emigrate alone, part of no community
to an unknown land of opportunity
You left before you could meet them
"I want to live to see my grandkids" you’d say
Unfortunately you never got the chance
So let me introduce them to you today
There are three of them
Ages one, four and seven
A little boy and two little girls
Who call you their granddad in Heaven
The little boy is an architect at heart
A real clever little fella too
But what makes him really special
Is that he is the very split image of you
Your second grandchild is a little drama queen
Who loves singing, dancing and ballet shoes
A caring heart and entertaining character
Is what she inherited from you
Then there is the last little girl
With a spirit so completely free
Clever, entertaining, with a caring heart
You can call her grandkid number three
Three little kids
Different...yet so similar too
Because each little one
Inherited a character of you
They are such happy kids
Of whom you would be so proud
You will never be forgotten
Because we see you in these kids running around
The eldest often talks about you
The middle one does too
The little one does not talk as well just yet
But when she look at your pictures, she calls you granddad
*Dedicated to my father who passed on 8 years ago and never got to meet my sister's two kids and my daughter
Thea, grandfather Alferd's dog died, she was so old and sick
Now is Thea on the moon, says Adrian who is six
Michael Jackson died so unexpectedly and abruptly
He is on the moon and plays with Thea, says Adrian who is a big fan
Betzy, grandfather Arild's dog died, she was also old and sick
Now Betzy is also on the moon with Thea and Michael Jackson and play all day
Great Grandmother died so unexpectedly and abruptly
Adrian who is six had difficulty understanding
Adrian who is six cried many tears for Great Grandmother
but comforted himself with the fact that she is sitting on the moon and
makes waffles to Thea, Michael Jackson and Betzy
04.11.2012
A-L Andresen :) - A true story -
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Call Your Mother
Pick up the phone...
do it now.
If you can.
Later if you must,
I trust that you,
know the difference.
She never put you off
or told you "later" on.
She was there,
when the world,
was not.
Not everyone has one,
"someone" like her.
You are ungrateful,
and a prick.
That is thick from me,
as I hate my own,
don't you see.
Some moms are not kind,
they do not make cookies,
or serve you wine.
They have other ways,
of making their
presence known.
That does not mean,
that yours is less,
or undeserving.
You decide,
Clyde,
but don't hide,
take pride,
in the manner you say,
that is "my mom..."
over there,
to share,
stories about the good times,
prayers about the bad,
and hugs,
for all the days
in the middle.
I once had knew a man
Who became older than a dead man
A tired soul, he was.
Looked like he'd never seen a bed
And
His gray hair resembled a cloudy day,
With fog, and his swollen eyes -
- looked like someone had just punched him in the face
His skin was wrinkled like a dollar bill in a child's pocket
Told to put it in his wallet, but Gosh darn it, he didn't think it
Through,
the skin on his face was sagging like the jeans of a teenage delinquent,
Or like borrowing a pair from someone who weighs a hundred more than you
His back was hunched like he was searching for answers that lie upon the ground
He had always kept his walker close to him, it helped him get around.
Too someone else, he may just seem to be an old man
But too me, he is a gold man.
'Cause That's my old man.
Written by Gail DeBole
In memory of my grandfather
Nice Day For a Funeral
I
(You were always old. I can't remember a
time when you were not.)
Cried
(And you had no past before the first time I
became aware of your presence.)
When
(The weather huddled the mourners together.
It was a cold day, but the sun was out to pay its respects, also.)
They
(I huddled with the rest. Echos of
the service left a sad taste in my soul.)
Lowered
(The Rabbi had spoken of you like an old friend.)
Your
(And convinced me of your close
lifelong brotherhood with him.)
Casket.
Funeral, Eulogy, or Memorial Service Poetry Contest
Sixth Place
Redeployed in an ugly skin
Pleated and spotted and grumpy within
What I call walking ,they call shuffling
I'm bending down to tie my shoe
While Im down here what else can I do?
When driving down my lip protrudes
Only for the dentist will I open mouth
Okay , Ill wave at you but I wont smile
The dog and the toilet are my only true friends
You get up to go and then you go again
Memories are yesterday
Forgetfulness is all over today
Ill tell you what it is
But forgot what I was going to say
Got to buy dogfood
Where are my glasses?
Who am I talking to?
They've all gone away
On this October's mild stirrings
I watched ached nights flicker, to glow
Around his hair like angel wings
Recalling joyrides... so mellow.
That in hushed tones,I called Gramps' name
Enshrined within my youth's warm space...
My hands folded with love aflame,
While prayers spilled through chill's embrace.
Though failing heart quivered in ticks,
Faith...way back then when I was ten
Gripped, he was nearing sixty six
As prayers trailed,wafting amen.
Until spring came, Gramps' flare restored
With new life blessed from harbor's ward.
..........
Way Back Then When I Was Ten
Kelly Deschler's Contest
1/30/2016
----------------------
As wandering down onto the sunny, seashore one day
My grandfather and I, on the water’s edge, we stayed
The gentle ebb of the waters flowed in and out it goes
Lapping with delightful sensation in between, my toes
Just at the water’s edge, very faintly you could just see
A very flat sole fish just wavering and looking up at me
Grandfather said, of this fish we should always respect
For inside this sole fish, a dead departed soul was kept
I looked at the fish and the sole fish looked back at me
Within its eyes, the soul of the departed, looking at me
Now my Grandfather has now departed and I’m bereft
For a heartfelt message which just for me he never left
Now with each day, it is down to the water’s edge I go
As waiting, for my beloved Grandfather’s, soul to show
Grandpa
a kind face
skin leathery and creased from years of working in the sun
long jowls like a basset hounds
sad droplet eyes
always a slight aroma of beer
brown wrinkled callous palms
dirt-stained fingernails were evidence of an old man’s toil
a blue plaid shirt now ashen from wear
a tall man
always unshaven with scrapes of gray hair that would scratch you un-mercifully if he asked for a hug
he walked with shoulders hung and bowed over as if broken
that of a man who had known the burdens of inequality all his life
the kindness in his eyes reflected a graceful acceptance of his fate
his tears masked a rage and unforgiveness for the destiny of his children
late afternoons he would sit out yonder under a huge black gum tree
a blackened wood briar pipe a pack of red man chewing tobacco and a can of snuff beside him
one jaw always popped out as the tobacco had to sit just long enough before it was time to spit
he would sit in that shaded spot for hours on end
up till sunset most days
always staring intently at something out there
was it memories from his past
or perhaps the dreams of a past that someone stole
eventually, grandma would call out to him
Henry where you be?
he would always reply
after awhile
I’m just there…
I never understood what that meant before
Until now