Best Nana Poems
Mama held me close to her bosom
wouldn't let me go astray
she shook the cradle of civilization
and to her wayward offspring
she paid attention.
She added a tinge of color to the cheeks of some
and tinted plenty with even more
for identification, as to whom they belonged.
While her purported gaze
stored us from mediocrity
she whispered silent pants
when our future's prowess
begun to shiver she remained astute.
Mana Africa! I call you by this name
You've nullified all bleak spectrum
situations bestowed on us
when frequent ill-health
pounded on our weary hearts
you trembled --never loss guard
We are forever indebted to your
unflinching affirmation of sheer solidarity
Mana Africa!
your goodwill seizes not to elude
Capricious speeches we confer
as we orate about the trying times
The soundbites of your caresses will never
be deserted; let alone our appraisal of celerity
The best of we your “Adeptus Children”
have supplied the melatonin
from your sacred womb
and you have followed us with
love and self determination
as we have toiled on foreign soil
Then as we have been scattered
to the four corners;
Innately we have held on to our sanity.
Stayed in tuned to our intuition
as we have maintained circadian rhythms
and overcame enough, clinging to
our dignity in one hand and our
lives in the other, still to rise above.
Nana has taught us to endure
to be courageous, outrageously
courageous we have been.
even as we achieved
Our circadian rhythms were off beat.
Sacrifices only a mother would make
from the alchemy of adoration comes her love
self-determination is the water of her blood
and she the blood in our veins
the blood passed on...a mother’s blood...
Mana Africa
Ase’
A collaberatetion withYoung Prince Kennedy from Ghana and Mama Oladeji aka Vicki Acquah
Have you ever seen bullfrog green jump across a Lilly pad?
Did you ever see gold moth bathing in a moonshine bath?
Do you watch as teal raindrops bless and baptize the stream?
Will you hear the wood windmill song it sings each spring?
I walk real close to the sandy coast where Nana and I share things
She told me once always have fun always be true and dream
I recall those days her voice her face I can still see her smile
The dandelions seemed less boring to me a wild city child
Papa came into the house with his muddy blue overalls
His gray mustache seems to shout louder than Pa talks
“The time is close and he is nearly broke come if you want to see
The albino pony being tamed from the only pack of wild ones near the creek”
My eyes grow big and I must admit I love excitement of any kind
So I dropped my book to have a look and ponder the pony so fine
The pony kicks and then it sits as if one final stubborn nerve exists
Then it saw me it started to scream and have all kind of fits
Papa says whew! This one likes you! Why don’t you say hi?
I was really too scared and had never dared to ride a pony or try
But for some reason I had a season of unusual courage to spare
I climbed the fence went straight to him
The pony with ice eyes white hair
As soon as I came close, he let out a little noise
It was as if he had hoped to find comfort in my voice
I didn’t know what to do or how I would earn his faith
But in a minute or two our eyes like glue
Stuck and we became mates
The pony calm was eating from my palm
And I feel a new esteem
Instead breaking the pony in
I feel he broke into me
Each day the boredom was swept away
By my pony friend indeed
I would feed him little treats change his hay
And he fed me spiritually
The pony still was a little strong willed
So no one was allowed
To ride him or take him anywhere
That was too far from the house
So times were slow even so the pony and I would play
He could do tricks and even dance a bit
If I ask him a certain way.
Pony bends and I get on him
Like the wind he rides to town
I find the nurse who was at church
And she calls others around.
So that summer I lost and found things
I would never willingly give up
Nana and kittens and Papa getting bitten
A pony and farm full of love.
A NOTABLE HORSE CONTEST
10/13/2021
SPONSOR ROBERT JAMES LIGUORI
I often gaze through Nana's broken window but today feels distinctly different as I watch the blackbirds pecking at the pears in the avocado trees. Nana harvested the finest ripe avocados and pears, their colors a lovely blend of dark burgundy and green, all from that old, timeworn tree.
Each year, we meticulously inspect every pear before packing them into a brown barrel. They were moist and delicious on the inside, so easy to peel—those exquisite, ripe pears.
Today, I am about to open the last marked box of Nana's belongings. Gently, I unwrap the final item, carefully enclosed in an old newspaper. It is her bread pan, the one with two handles, and I notice an old, burnt crumb lodged in one corner. A smile forms on my face, and I weep softly as I say,
"Hello to you too, Nana."
Sea foam wash my feet:
Let me sink into the earth
My heels then my toes
Gentle breeze kiss me
So I may feel your majesty,
Whisper in my ear
Hands held on the shore
She holds me as the sea comes-
I love you Nana
HAPPY BIRTHDAY NANNA!!!
A day in the year assigned to her
Possibly an early start with a smooth breakfast
Perhaps just a lie in
Yawn
Boldly presented presents, all chosen by her
Idiosyncratic things:
Rotating-head electric toothbrush
The new, modern updated mobile phone
Her personal choice of fine wines
Dinner is taking place with the family
A chance for her to misbehave:
“You remember – its Nanna’s birthday!
Nanna is given a cuddle by her grandson
A kiss (well, him cheek-butting her lips)
Naughty grins from both parties
Now it is time to let Nanna go wild on her day
Awesome
Pure joy,
Two generations down
Sweet child
Blessings abound
Innocent smile
Laughs, giggles
Abundant energy
And many wiggles
Daughter of my daughter,
Same beautiful eyes.
Gift from heaven
A wondrous prize
Every day a new wonder
Too fast do you grow
I dare not blink
grown before you know
TLR 8-6-17
Every time I get happy
the Nana-Hex
comes through.
A dog's canines
change into chainsaws,
toothpicks turn into knives,
coral reefs diverge into dirty sponges,
a sandcastle into a mausoleum,
a soldier-ant burrows deeper
into my borrowed grave,
reveille trumpets tap
a tip-toed timpani of
disenchanted malevolence;
all for the Nana-Song.
I am eleven.
I am naked.
I am screaming.
I am kneeling in the shower
and every time I shriek:
"I feel like dancing today or
look, I can tie my shoelaces or
my bruises have healed or,
my neck is not scarlet like
the underskin of
Grandma's fingernails" -
it plays again, it reprises -
like a Bizet refrain
scraping pitchforks
against agate slabs,
shaving fresh flesh.
All for the resurrection of...!
All for the redemption of...!
the Nana-Hex.
Now, I am fifteen.
I don't talk. I fail to eat.
I scratch poetry and snivel.
My front teeth
are chipped and broken
like the high-browed brim
of Nana's low-ball snifter.
I picture four undertakers
from my windowsill.
Three of them are for me -
the fourth filthy fist,
clutching a scratched
chromed rung,
is for her.
Throwing confetti
from a guarded train
as she selfishly vacated me,
Dr. Zhivago evasive and...wait!
"look I've made my bed, dear Nana.
I lost another tooth, I received
an A+ in geometry.
No. I'm not part of one's family circus,
I'm not a crippled duckling
in a shooting gallery anymore."
Mom, Momma - I...
I can't catch her confetti, Mother.
I can't, poor Momma - but...
when her swastikad locomotive
bleeds into the
frozen chambers
of Auschwitz's
omnipresent shower heads,
and my stifled tears choke
your starved larynx
like a rabid cat
untangling balls
of matted string; then...
and only then -
dear God,
please tell Grandma Nana -
I've formidably said:
hello.
I'm in the decade before the decade
she left the world, and my world....
The world did not mark it,
the world did not miss her
(any more than it will miss me)
but my world does--my world of
sun-gold and ocean-blue, my own
little world reading books while
sitting like a happy little king on
the porch of my grandparents' old
house on the bay at Ocean City....
I read in gentle sunshine, I read
while breathing pure ocean air
and sometimes smelling a cake
baking in Nana's kitchen and
knowing I was safe, sure, alive....
I'm in the decade before the decade
my Nana left the world, and as I near
the time when--God willing-- I'll be
with her again as the 40 odd years since
she left my world compress: smaller and
smaller time itself becomes, and freer
and freer is my once lost soul....
nana we miss u so ,still carnt let u go ,in our hearts u will stay ,and happy birthday tonight i pray.that the lord up above will pass on our love .wish you was hear because to us u was so dear ,we miss u so we hope u know .hope u can hear these words as we send them up above to u nana with much love.we think of u as a star anight thinking of ur face that shines so bright.in our hearts u will stay so sad u was took away .***
MY DEAR NANA
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
A tiny gardenia sits in her hair
A twinkle in her eye, a rapturous stare
There’s something she’s savoring
Of moments gone by
A little girl grooming her little doll baby
An orchid corsage for the senior prom, maybe
That summer in Paris, the weather so mild
The pushing and blowing with her first child
Her little girls’ first piano recital
Her little boys surgery a success so vital
The first time she was called grandma
Brought tears to her eyes
All wasn’t rosy there were heartaches as well
Some were so painful, and so hard to quell
But those are the passions in every life
The ups and downs, the laughter, the strife
She handled them well and ended on top
The family she raised, the cream of the crop
Ole gramps strutted about acting large
But everyone knew she was in charge
She bested the challenges she had to overcome
They’re all behind her, the mission is done
She’ll close her eyes now not to open anew
My sweet and gentle nana, I bide you adieu
My nana loves to cook
She doesn’t need a book.
Recipes, from her head
She makes up, so she said.
I admit you’ll agree
Not each one is for me.
Chocolate sauce on steamed fish
Personally, not my wish.
On ice cream, chopped parsley
Yes I know, quite ghastly.
Politely, I did say
Let’s try things a new way.
I put on my chef’s hat
We sat down for a chat.
Together, a great pair.
Be patient, show you care.
Life can be a muddle
Give nana a cuddle.
Cuddles make smiles appear
And dissolve every tear.
Many people affect our lives but only just a few
Nanas', mothers' and the ones who inevitably love the real you
Nanas' have a past of which are something quite unknown
When Nanas' pass away you sense you'll never be alone
My Nana touched my heart in so many different ways
Everyday I think of her and talk of her in praise
I miss my Nana Olive you was so soft within
Everyone has that delicate side no matter where your life begins
Mothers' carry this effect and bring Nanas' back to life
When Nana passed away my heart thumped from deaths agonising knife
I thank you mother for holding my Nana I see her through your eyes
But she is always around - along with the spirtual spies'
I see my Nana in my Mum and I feel her when I drift asleep
For all those memories of love and smiles is something I'll always keep
I love you Nana Olive - sweetest dreams forever more
I will cuddle you again as you await for me at heavens golden door
~ Nana's sourdough, warm -
Heaven's hearth ...
the yeast ... of Eden ~
Written on October 11, 2018
* The "LUNE", (a Haiku-like poetic form consisting of a three-line, 5-3-5 syllable count), is also known as "American Haiku" ... it was first created by the poet Robert Kelly, and was a result of Kelly’s frustration with English haiku. *
Go right on and cry now, chile,
yo tears are well deserved,
Nana'd cry right wid you,
if she thought that she'd be heard.
See how dat raven cocks his head,
his eye a shiny bead?
He know mo dan he let on,
and you best take his lead.
Come here, chile, let me rock you,
Nana hep you dry yo tears,
Nana knows why you is crying,
Nana's been around fo years.
Relax and rest your head, chile,
let me hum a lullaby,
soon your tears will be forgot,
you be sleeping, by and by.
Yes, Nana knows why babies cry,
Nana's lived in this ole world,
and as the child is comforted,
her teardrops fall like pearls.
©Danielle White
Being Nana
One winter night in year of ninety-seven,
God granted me a special gift from heaven.
To this day, I can think of nothing grander,
than the moment that I learned I was a nana.
Baby crosses her left leg over the other.
I am brimming with delight at this, Oh brother.
Car seats, blankets, tubs, clothes and array,
that day really took a chunk out my pay.
Just when I thought that mom and dad were through,
here comes the little boy, baby, blue.
More love to give and more love to receive.
Being nana is a milestone to achieve.
The “nana thing” grows to a lifelong calling,
a task of love, occasionally befalling
Museum trips, movies and the zoo,
I think back on things we liked to do.
And now I see, how fast the years did fly,
for two young people whose heads are held up high.
Quit this job? I know I’d do it never.
Being Nana brought me love forever.
3/2/17
The day that changed my life forever in a POSITIVE way - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Cindi Rockwell