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Grandson Poem
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I lay within a drawer so long
Loneliness was my heart's song
My diamonds never saw the light of day
Since granma's death,I'd been that way
Her grandson went a'courting strong
Maybe my exile now,will not last long
He brought home his bride-to-be
Glowing with pride,for his parents ,to see
He slipped me on her left hand,
They planned a wedding,oh so grand
That special day soon came around
A gold band nearby, I suddenly found
For many years we would not part
Such friendship heals the lonely heart
A day then arrived,of which I live in dread
Returned to a drawer,by a bed.
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2008
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Grandson Poem
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I know first hand the
pain in your heart,it
will be okay,soon you
can make a fresh start.
Your grandson Beal will
be watching over you,and
he knows everyday how
much you love him to.
Sometimes GOD does things
that we don't understand,
but he created your friends
to lend a helping hand.
Reach out to the people
that are here on the soup,
they help through hard times
and are a wonderful group.
There are to many to name
as this you know,
they will take you by the
hand and won't let go.
It will be okay and
soon you will see,
the new joy's in life
and how happy you'll be.
You will get through this it just takes a little time.
Love your poet friend,
Colleen Marie Bono
April 11, 2013
Copyright © Colleen Bono | Year Posted 2013
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Grandson Poem
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I know a scamp who chortles frabjously
as in the springtime galumphing he goes.
And just to show how wacky he can be,
he makes his tongue point up to touch his nose!
He has no wicked claws or eyes with flame
to match those of the manxome Jabberwock.
But just beware his jaws. Although he’s tame,
he can’t be stopped once he begins to talk!
I vouch that he can jabber endlessly
and have me at the end of my short rope.
My ears just might fall off one day, for he
gyres gibberish just like a gyroscope.
I dub my beamish grandson “Jabberwack”
for how he acts and how he loves to yak!
For Debbie Guzzi's "Go Ask Alice" Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
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Grandson Poem
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Your apology
Changed me
Opened me up
Helped me to feel
Understand the gift of you
By illuminating my understanding
Of who you are
The we-ness of us
You broke down
The walls I had erected
To protect myself
There was no need to fortify
Or keep you at my fringes
For your love
Is my completeness
Yesterday's sorrows
Invaded my heart
Caused me to restrict my voice
Holding back
I made the wrong choice
Denied what was important to me
Kept my heart at bay
Yet you opened me in a different way
As I listened to what you had to say
Your mind explored
Deep within me
beyond my words
It was my soul cry you heard
Bringing on a wave of tears
You listened
With more than just ears
Unpacking a treasure
Dissolving shadowed fears
Revelatory images
From my broken mirror
I was comforted
By you being near
In the end
An apology
Was your greatest gift for me
It showed me a different way to be
I rose up from the muck
To a place where I could see
Where I touched and was thankful
For the you in we
Who helped me finally be
Emptied of those things I held back
The long lost
restricted
parts of me
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2014
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Grandson Poem
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He sat there in his fav'rite chair, a blanket 'cross his lap
And covering his snow white hair was his old fishing cap.
I knew he could not talk to me since suffering the stroke,
But still I sensed he could relate to ev'ry word I spoke.
"I went and wet a line today ... down where you caught that cod.
The biggest one you'd landed yet and though it was my rod
I reckon he was yours all right ... but cod are far and few.
They don't bite like they used to dad. They don't bite like they used to."
"The algae's building up again and stuffing up the creeks,
Though at long last we had a fresh, the first in flam’in weeks.
Pulled twenty stinking euros in, along with one old dew,
But they had sores all over them, though still that's nothing new.
The cotton farmers cry, "Absurd! It can’t be from our spray."
Perhaps the fish have just got aids from turning flam'in gay.
Its getting pretty sad all right, but what can one bloke do.
They don't bite like they used to dad. They don't bite like they used to."
"McDonalds seems to be the go and good old KFC
And eating yellow-belly is a flam'in rarity.
Your grandson won't go fishing as he says it's just for nerds
And when I take the missus we just end up having words.
I really miss our fishing trips, your company was swell
And by the mist there in your eyes you miss them dad as well.
I heard you sold your tinny mate, your outboard motor too.
They don't bite like they used to dad. They don't bite like they used to."
They're introducing fingerlings and giving that a shot,
But duckweed takes the oxygen which kills the flam'in lot.
The droughts have had their toll as well and one thing that's for sure;
I can't see in the future dad a remedy or cure.
So mum's ducked down to Salty's mate and I would dare a punt
She'll come back with a feed of fish before you say Rex Hunt.
I guess we'll have to wash it down with some of your home brew.
They don't bite like they used to dad. They don't bite like they used to."
Copyright © Merv Webster | Year Posted 2005
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Grandson Poem
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It stood on the top of the hill
dominating all of its surrounds.
Its drawbridge these days lay open
spanning with ease the now dry moat.
Like a fairy tale fortress it had turrets
that soared up high brushing the clouds.
Its four towers majestic as blankly,
they stared, covering all points of the compass.
Slit windows peered out of casements
through walls up to six feet thick.
The massive double oak doors
fifteen feet high and twelve wide
stood thrown open allowing glimpses
of the enormous courtyard beyond.
Battlements led to each round tower
that once housed the nobles.
Old battered forgotten furniture
grandly carved four poster beds.
A sword or two lay scattered
amidst the clutter and bird dropping.
Wide stone staircases meandered
curling round and round the walls.
A gallery or two dotted here and there
perfect hiding places above the hall.
Some for musicians to play unseen
Their notes floating through the air
as below the dancers swept and strutted
as the ladies hooped dresses swirled.
Long tables once laden with food
stood a skiff with broken legs.
Wooden pint tankards higgledy piggledy
strewn about midst wooden platters.
Tattered standards limply lay motionless
against walls dotted with scattered torches.
The Lord of these lands killed in distant lands
leaving an infant son removed to the city
by his grieving mother who sought to forget.
Now ninety years later his grandson views
the devastation of years of neglect and vows
to return the castle to the glory of its heydays.
After three long years of often brutal work
removing shrubbery, moss and decay
Life starts to re-emerge Flags flutter
gaily high up on the battlements.
Chandeliers sparkle and the torches flicker
Tables once more groan with a feast of food
Happy shrieks of laughter fill the grand hall
And one would swear the castle wore a smile,
as children played around the buttress's.
Copyright © Shadow Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
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Grandson Poem
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babysitting Ricky
he shows me books on T-Rex. . .
ancient history
years later. . . watching
Jurassic Park on TV. . .
my two kids and I
games played on a screen
my grandson plays the hunter. . .
I’m the dinosaur
For SKAT's Dinosaurs Haiku Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011
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Grandson Poem
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When my son was small he and his friends loved to play marines
A brown eyed soldier dressed up in his helmet and his jeans
I asked him why he always died whenever they would play
He just said “I saved my friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way”
As he grew up his Mom and I always wondered what he’d be
When he reached high school he enrolled in their ROTC
Once he had finished high school he enlisted without delay
I should have known it all along, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
When he had finished training and became a full marine
I was the proudest father that anyone had ever seen
A brown eyed soldier in full dress not a thread in disarray
Stood proudly there before me, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He eventually got married to a beautiful young wife
And I asked if she was ready for a military life
She just smiled and hugged me tight as she fondly did convey
That nothing could make her prouder, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
One day he told us he must leave for a war had broken out
He wasn’t sure what started it or what it was about
His mother asked if there was any way that he could stay
He told her “Mom, it’s my duty”, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
She said “Son, it’s very dangerous, you could be killed you know”
He said “Mom, if we all stayed home there’d be no one left to go”
“Dad,” he said “If this war is right it’s not for me to say”
But I have to follow orders, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Just recently his wife received a visit and a letter
Our son had died in combat and that there was not a better
Leader in all their company, and that on that fateful day
He’d bravely saved all of his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
He left behind a sweet young wife and beautiful little son
We all are very proud of him and everything he’s done
My son did his duty and he is coming home today
In a flag draped wooden coffin, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
Some have asked if I’m angry that my only son had to die
I simply smile and shake my head and here is my reply
My friend take a look at all you have around you here this day
You have all of these lovely things, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
My grandson looks just like his Dad in his helmet and his jeans
As he plays out with his buddies, pretending they’re marines
And when he falls and pretends to die, then I know right away
That he has just saved all his friends, ‘cause that’s the soldier’s way
For William J. Holder
In memory of Jon R. "Sonny" Holder
Died during the Vietnam conflict
Copyright © Stephen Washam | Year Posted 2010
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Grandson Poem
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I sit, with deep contentment, by the window
And watching the young evergreen out-shadowed
The oak tree, where love once etched on it, I sowed
My time quietly slipped into the picture
Between my only son and his firstborn son
Between the past, the present, and the future
I have the feelings, but no words are spoken
When the words are spoken, my own feelings gone
Hidden for life, in my sagging rocking chair
I felt the late afternoon cold breeze, touching
White-bearded face, with the autumn scent tingling
While the golden sun has faded, into gray
I saw the charmed naked ladies, still smiling
In a bright purplish pink, for there are no snows
Soon, the land will be white, when tomorrow bows
As I eagerly wait for December sky
To glow, with sensational firecrackers’ lights
In my arms, my grandson awaken from sleep
No words spoken, but, has the smile on his face
In him I saw myself, in my father’s arm
Now I know, December’s coming, to give grace
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
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Grandson Poem
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As I watched my daughter playing with her son, I couldn't help but see myself in her. I still think of her as a child, but I guess parents always see their grown children as babies. My daughter is a reflection of me in many ways. She calls me her hero, but I'm the one who is proud of her. A tear rolls from my eye as I remember all the struggles we faced. Growing up as the child of a single parent, her life was a harsh reality.
I didn't know how to care for you, or how to handle your cries.
I wasn't sure what to do until I looked into your innocent eyes.
The first time you woke in the night, you scared me half to death.
My heart was filled with such fright, I could hardly catch my breath
I fixed you a bottle of warm milk and rocked you until sleeping.
I touched your hair, soft as silk. I held you close in safe-keeping.
My daughter left for a meeting in the middle of an atrocious storm. Heavy rain had been falling all day with outbreaks of thunder and lightning. "Love you both," she said, as she hugged me and her son, then rushed out. I was left with my adorable grandson. Cuddling him close and watching him play reminded me of times when my daughter was his age. Life had been a struggle: she had been a lively infant but I'd almost lost her from a series of convulsions. When she was nine, she decided to run away, but only got as far as the front yard. Then there were the terrible teens with the silly boyfriends I had to threaten. She had matured into a beautiful young woman, a wife and mother, and an influential and inspirational adult. Watching her grow up had been filled with trials, but also with much love and delight - I would not have changed a thing.
You were nearly lost to me, and I would've never known
the angel you would be, through the years you've grown.
Your younger years we spent together flew by much too fast.
A boyfriend dressed in leather? Thank God that's in the past.
Who would you become, when into a woman you were grown?
One day to be a mum? Would you have a child of your own?
My grandson fell asleep in my arms. I didn't want to put him down, so I held him close like I used to hold my baby girl. He looked so peaceful and innocent. I was shaken from my reverie by the wind as it rattled the windows and drove sheets of rain against the panes. With each flash of lightning and crash of thunder, my worry grew. I gazed at the clock and realized my daughter had been gone for more than five hours. She wasn't answering her phone. The intensity of the storm filled me with a sudden fear, just like the fear I had when she was young.
baby in my arms
I will keep you safe from harms
the rage of all storms
now I fret and stew
daughter, what's become of you
what more can I do
I felt so helpless, trapped in the house with the baby. My palms were starting to sweat so I put him down in his crib. Even if he wasn't here I wouldn't know where to look for her. I started pacing, emotions switching between fear and agitation. I started to panic. What if something had happened to her? What would I do without her? All those fears I had when she was a child came back to me. I had to get hold of emotions. I couldn't panic. Then the door opened. "Sorry, Mum. The weather was too bad to drive home so I met a friend for coffee, and my phone lost its charge." A sense of relief flooded through me. I held her close, just like I did when she was a child.
You were my angel as a little girl
Ribbons to tame your unruly curls
Then you grew up much too fast
into a lovely woman, a bonny lass.
Now you have a child of your own.
Before you know it, he'll be grown.
A grandson to hold upon my knee,
Thank you, daughter, for loving me.
Freestyle Haibun: Prose, Couplets, Senryu and Rhyme.
Collaboration between Lin Lane and Silent One
December 10th 2015
Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2015
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Grandson Poem
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I lie and watch the clouds go by;
the birds flying high…
wondering if Batman and Robin, Spiderman,
or Superman was once a kid like me.
Did they ever doubt what they
would grow up to be?
I pretend with my sister that I am
Spiderman…
Climbing walls and jumping from
my bed, finding a plan,
to set her free
showing her the hero in me.
I rescue the dog, from my little brother,
when his ears get yanked…
then I’m bathed with lots of kisses
and I know I’m thanked.
Did Batman have a little brother,
to inspire…
or did Robin have a big brother
to admire?
No denying Superman was the toughest
in my belief.
Muscles of steel could stop the meanest
thief.
Flying all around the world
never getting tired,
he was the hero who my dad admired.
Stopping trains saving ladies in distress,
climbing walls swinging from buildings
regardless…
of criminal ravings.
These are the heroes I have grown
to love;
and the hero in me is all of the above…
Copyright © 2008 By Caryl S. Muzzey
This was written for my four year old grandson who is simply crazy about spiderman.
Copyright © Caryl Muzzey | Year Posted 2009
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Grandson Poem
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"More Spongebob, Mimi"--this I hear
a dozen times a day.
How much more can I stand to see?
No more of this, I pray!
I turn the TV off and run
to fetch his favorite toys.
When he says, "Spongebob's much more fun,"
I must seek other ploys.
"A Krabby Patty's what I'd like,"
he says of noontime's meal.
The common lunch I fix the tyke,
he eyes with little zeal.
The Krusty Krab invades my sleep,
and Squidward haunts my dreams.
Those creatures from the ocean deep
won't leave me be, it seems.
Can cartoon sponges start a trend
of death by kiddie show?
If SpongeBob's laugh can cause the end,
I'll be the first to go.
rhyme scheme abab
July 26, 2016
Copyright © Janice Canerdy | Year Posted 2015
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Grandson Poem
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~~~Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite~~~
An all round performer was Mr William Kite
He trained and rode horses, but also walked the rope tight
He worked for Pablo Fanqué the Wells Circus owner in 1842
But his work gave inspiration for John Lennon to do.
Mr William Kite would never have dreamed.
That his skills as a performer would inspire a song theme
As he performed on his head, while balancing on a rope
A trumpet in his mouth, and he played a damn fine note.
When he was with John Sanger, who was equestrian minded
William appeared for a spectacular night, the poster has reminded
The celebrated horse called Zanthus was even there
With Mr William Kite to perform - boy what a pair
This poster impressed John Lennon so...
It inspired him to write about William and the show
Being for the Benefit of Mr Kite, the poster does show
Inspired quite a few lyrics as all Beatles fans will know.
What they may not know - but I am impressed
There is a man called David with whom I am blessed
He is the great great grandson of William by whom Lennon was inspired
But better than that David is my half brother it has so transpired.
The Beatles Album Cover is "Sergeant Peppers Lonely Heartclub" which potrays the poster of Mr Kite
Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl | Year Posted 2012
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Grandson Poem
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The past
I am a black prince
Who use to rule over a kingdom
But now my people and me are enslaved
Force to pick the white mans cotton
I see my brother and sisters
Being whipped and branded like cattle
They think we are cattle
So we are treated like cattle
But my people dream and sing of the future
Where we are free from our shackles
The future
I am the black preacher
Who has been freed from his shackles
But now fighting for our rights
So my son and daughter
Can go to a pool and not be separated
By the racial line.
Or when they go outside to play
They don’t have to worry about the KKK
Trying to hang them from a tree branch
That is the reason I fight that is why I want equal rights
For there can be a better tomorrow
The better tomorrow
I’m the son of the preacher
Who was the grandson of the black prince.
Here saying that enslavement and segregation
Is over
An now the only problem remains is
The fact that we are killing each other
Over money and women
This makes no sense
Have we as a people suffered enough?
Have we shed enough blood?
So I ask you
Put the gun down spread the word
Tell our brothers tell are sisters that the
300 years of enslavement and segregation is over
We have our black president
We have the power
To show the world that
We as a people are united
Copyright © kevin goodrum | Year Posted 2012
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Grandson Poem
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She came out of the sea at twilight
Weak and trembling, bent with age
Her hair entwined with seaweed
The pounding surf a watery stage. .
She stood awhile and listened
then with the most frightful groan
Beaconed with a bony finger
To her minions in the foam..
Out of the waves they scrambled
Creatures from the dark and deep
Unleashed this one dark night
From their prison did they creep..
The danced the Funky Monkey
while the stars shown overhead
With abandon celebrated freedom
From their dark and watery bed...
So had the sun and stars aligned
Just this once in untold years
To break the spell they suffered
And dry their unending tears..
And with the light of faintest dawn
They turned from their heavenly shore
All crept back into the thrashing sea
And their likes were seen no more
Co-written with my grandson Jordan..9 yrs old
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2010
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Grandson Poem
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Tuppy
Silver strands silver bands and the rings on her hands,
Her hair was the colour of grey,
Eyes far away, with the thoughts of her day,
As her grandson an audience sought,
I was there that day, with an empty head thought,
just a boy, but loved this I say.
As I looked at her troubled eyes,
A Catholic she’d once been married,
To a Church of England, man called John,
so now she was surely harried,
Excommunicated by a priest on that day,
So she caught up a rifle, pulled off a few shots,
Bounced bullets, as he was running away.
The only pleasure to be got,
Anyway.
With polio born she couldn’t stand,
But dragged herself onto a pony,
She did eventually walk,
But she walked in the path of the lonely.
Susan Burch
Contest Name Silver Strands
Copyright © DON JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011
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Grandson Poem
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Something catches me form the corner of my eye
No one's home but I swear someone just walked by
There stands a man just beyond the lower stairs
Startled yet I'm not afraid as he looks at me and stares
I wonder who this presence is who's invading my home
He moves shooting a glance at me and proceeds to roam
Who's this strange man in the shadows Is he watching over me
Is there someone else he might be here to see
Once in a while he shows up to let me know he's here
I wonder if he visits to see someone he holds dear
Is he just letting me know we are not alone
Is he lost and wandering trying to find his way home
This presence some may call a ghost who visits me
My grandson calls him Jack as he can also see
The ghostly presence shows himself just once in a while
When he chooses to drop by he always makes me smile
Copyright © Patricia Contreras | Year Posted 2007
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Grandson Poem
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B eautiful boy
R ough at play
Y oung and curious
C uddly and loving
E normous energy
GRANDCHILDREN
A ngel from heaven
L oving and loyal
I rresistibly huggable
A dorably cute
N eat and outgoing
A pple of our eye
Copyright © Susan Gwynne-Galfe | Year Posted 2014
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Grandson Poem
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With Henry in my arms, we watched
The soccer players kick.
He laughed at every move they made -
Deliberate or quick.
He couldn't understand, of course,
(He's thirteen months of age)
So what got to his funny bone
Is very hard to gauge.
What seems to me quite ordinary,
Filtered through his eyes,
Becomes a new adventure
Simply bursting with surprise.
So as we watched, his all-out giggles
Filled me with delight.
The time I spend with Henry
Makes the world seem fresh and bright.
Copyright © ilene bauer | Year Posted 2014
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Grandson Poem
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“My little grandson” Nonet Poem
I have a little grandson named Lynn
who will be three years old this month
he is too smart for his age
speaks English and Myanmar
both at the same time.
He likes to wear
blue jeans and
cowboy
boots
Copyright © Mya Thein | Year Posted 2013
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Grandson Poem
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Walk with me , Grandson
Walk with me and I'll share with you
the wonders of the world
the rising sun in a time called day
and a moon that glows in a time called night
Walk with me and I'll show you things
that you've never seen before
and colors
like the azure sky, the golden sun
reflecting on a pond with verdant fields galore
and people with color like circus balloons
a big red ball and things that crawl
and animals that bark and mew
I'll teach you how to tie your shoes
to ride a bike and blow your nose
musical sounds you've never heard
and then someday the written word
(c) Ralph Sergi
Copyright © Ralph Sergi | Year Posted 2013
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Grandson Poem
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Teenage Girls clad in the latest fashions,
Do it whenever they meet,
Grown men aren't afraid to show some passion,
When their team's comeback is complete,
They can say hello, they can say goodbye,
And anything inbetween,
If you open your arms and crack a smile,
There is nothing that a hug cannot mean.
Copyright © Al Parry | Year Posted 2013
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Grandson Poem
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It started with his dad, you see;
Those many years ago.
At first there was just gramps and she,
But then he joined the show.
Raising him into a man
Was something to behold.
Many days it seemed the
Only thing they did was scold.
But yet there were those other times,
When what they felt was pride.
To glimpse the man he would become:
What made him up inside.
And now there is his little son;
Their grandchild much adored.
God's guarantee that as they age,
They never will be bored.
He is the apple of their eye,
Who fell close to the tree.
They see the promise in him now,
The world will someday see.
A little boy who's growing up
To run and laugh and play.
Mischievous, loving, happy child,
Who changes with each day.
His dad was their first blessing,
And now for goodness sake;
Their proud to have a grandson
Who's just frosting on the cake.
© 2015 Diane Lefebvre
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
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Grandson Poem
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A granddaughter is a joy
a real genuine treasure,
to make the heart sing
with unequaled pleasure.
Her smile can brighten
the gloomiest afternoon.
In her sweet presence
my heart becomes immune
to trouble or sorrow,
defeat or decline.
In her, so clearly,
we see God's design.
A grandson fills the gap
and completes God's plan.
In his face, I catch
a glimpse of the man.
His smile brings sunshine,
love defines his embrace.
My load becomes lighter,
worry's gone without a trace.
He will always hold
a large chunk of my heart.
No force can alter our
bond, it's off the chart.
Copyright © Cona Adams | Year Posted 2014
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Grandson Poem
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To be called ..
~ Grandma is a Honor ~
I have been blessed with 4 Grandchildren
~ one lays in Heaven " Kaleb " He is God's Angel ~
~ His twin brother he will always watch over , and be in his soul~
For he loved his Brother so much in the womb ,
he chose Heaven which gave life to his twin
~ I feel his spirit when I see the other Grandson ~
Time passed another gift to see
we are " Mickes" and Loved
Our Dad held the title in Baseball
~ that's how we roll ~
those children are Grandmas hero's
The Irish they love big and Family is everything
The brothers will protect the beautiful sister
~ as many lads will be calling ~
Every time my Grandson hits a home run
There will be a Angel watching proudly in the stand
It will be as if the Angel lifted him when he runs
~no one runs faster then my Grandson~
either baseball or Art ~ you shall find your gift given
These children have been blessed~
~ a beauty to hard to describe
If you think not ~~ Take a look at the Mom
That girl can stop Traffic
after raising three and still~
"Inspired by the gift and loss of Grandchildren "
May our precious " Kaleb " softly rest where Angels only Dwell
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
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