Grandmother Eulogy Poems | Examples
These Grandmother Eulogy poems are examples of Eulogy poems about Grandmother. These are the best examples of Eulogy Grandmother poems written by international poets.
A V.I.P, Our Queen you see. There will never be anyone else quite like her.
Always dressed in her Absolute best, nothing more and nothing less.
Her absolute favourite was M&S.
Not a hair out of place, or lack of smile upon her face.
Everywhere she went, Our nana radiated beauty, elegance and grace.
Our Nana was a hero, Sweet but Stern,
Funny but Firm, Small and Mighty,
Terrific and Tiny.
A force to be reckoned with I think you would all agree, Zooming around with her frame Ever so hastily!
Throughout the years there were ups and downs, Our nana got up and straightened her crown.
An inner strength I most admired, Our nana's time came and she grew tired.
We tucked her in and said Goodnight, your wings are ready, you can stop this fight.
We will all be okay and take care of our Mum, go to Grandpa now Our nana, go and live another lifetime of fun.
Tina Turner, a queen of soul,
Her voice is so strong, it takes a toll.
Her songs are a reflection of her life.
Full of struggles and strife.
From "Proud Mary" to "What's Love Got to Do with It",
Her music became a hit.
But-behind-the-scenes, her story was not a nixie tale.
She endured abuse and pain that left her frail.
Born Anna Mae Bullock in Tennessee,
Her childhood was apart from happy.
Her parents separation put her in a bind.
Living with her grandmother, she was left behind.
At 17, she met Ike Turner, a musician and producer.
Who saw her talent and became her seducer.
They formed a band and hit the road.
But behind closed doors, a dark side showed.
Ike physically and emotionally abused Tina,
She stuck with him for fear of being fired out of the arena.
Their music career soared.
But their relationship roared.
Written: June 5, 2023
What's Love Got to Do with It - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Anderson
She lived in a world created by her,
Strange was this world that took her miles away,
Oh! How close one can be and still be far,
This phantom stranger had come right to stay,
Unknown to us was its undulating way,
Her past stealthily crept into her present,
Nothing matters than the thoughts resident
in her, that mystified her surrounding,
Gave her also opinions that are dissent,
Alter the course of her life unsporting.
February 14, 2022.
D forms - Dizain -Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Ma,
Leaping off the crown of a candle,
A hot bead without hold or handle,
Blobbed as us all on the bee-smell body of a star.
Air,
Shushing from the womb of her shell room,
The leant lung's slow snore looping her loom,
Muddled with the booze which bruised her peaceful as a pear.
Hands,
Holding normal knowings in knot-roots,
Splaying through the spokes of new cahoots,
All gusts must rust and turn to dust ~ as Felixstowe pebbles will wave to wax; fast towed, fed lights, we the festooned elixir of ocean-spanned sands.
Found the words to say so now here it goes
I hope you don't mind I'm not very good at Prose
Younger than my mother, yet grandmother to me
Sister to my father, an Aunt also to me
Although I was estranged when my father passed away
you still made a connection when I was far away
Aunt, Grandmother, Mother, the roles that you were dealt
persevering till the end and all was heartfelt
I wish I knew you better, but that was not to be
The day my father died, I was lost to his family
Somehow I was found, and phone calls they were made
The letters that you wrote me I still have to this day
I wish I would have told you - your phone calls in the past
were a beacon in the darkness -some questions answered at last
Please know I appreciate all that you have done
Grandmother, Aunt, Mother, to many not just one
Rest in Peace Martha fka Atrum
Wife of Frank fka Rolling Mountain Thunder
Creator of Thunder Mountain Monument
Imlay, Nevada
Her hands were small, wrinkled
Covered in brown age spots
Encouraging me to keep trying
Even when I was losing
Her hand’s nails needed trimming
She was nearly ninety
And I had to trim them
So fearful of cutting her
Her hands were worn, tattered
By the many years of work
She toiled like no one I know of
Constantly going, on and on
Her hands grasped mine
Feeling thin skinned and old
While at the same time they felt
Full of a love I’d always known
Her hands had done so much for me
Held me when I cried, spanked my behind
Bandaged a boo-boo and wisely
Comforted my sleepless night with a touch
Her hands were filled with purpose
She worked and tried and assured us
That when time would come to an end for her
She had a friend named Jesus she’d go to
Her hands lay crossed across her breast
That evening when I saw her in her casket
Awaiting the burial that would leave me feeling
Like I would be missing her until I'd go with her
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
WITH A BIBLE IN HER HAND.
SHE DID AN AWFUL LOT OF PRAYING,
FOR HER FELLOW MAN.
SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE,
AND SHE KNEW THAT BIBLE WELL.
SHE DID HER BEST AND PRAYED EACH DAY,
TO KEEP ME OUT OF HELL.
THE NEIGHBORS CALLED HE RPREACHER GIRL,
TO ME SHE WAS GRANDMA.
THE MOST PEACEFUL LOOKING WOMAN,
THAT I EVER SAW.
HER SMILE WOULD LIGHT THE DARKEST NIGHT,
WHEN SHE WOULD TURN IT ON.
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING,
THE WEAK BECAME THE STRONG.
THE POWER OF THE HOLY GHOST
WAS WRITTEN ON HER FACE,
AND WHEN SHE STARTED PREACHING
THE DEVIL LEFT THE PLACE.
A LUMP IS GROWING IN MY THROAT,
AS I SAY THESE WORDS TO YOU.
BUT I SWEAR BY ALL THAT’S HOLY
EACH WORD I SAY IS TRUE.
I WISH THAT I COULD SAY THE WORDS,
MY GRANDMA SAID TO ME.
AS I STAND HERE AT HER FUNERAL,
AND GIVE THIS EULOGY………….
”SHE WAS A SCHOLAR OF THE BIBLE”
>>
I paint pictures with words.
I can’t ever know what flowers they gave her,
on that brittle coffin,
Because those flowers belonged in the garden she made,
(That after they let grow wild and seething)
And kept in her eyes was a kindness worth more than what fate gave her,
That broken body, untrustworthy spine
And I hope she looked through her garden
One last time
Before they gave her to the roots
Today we say goodbye to jill
This surely is a bitter pill
A lively lady full of the beans
A cruel world so it seems
A kind hearted lady with lots of love
On her final journey up above
A mother of 4 to say the least
Head of the table at the feast
Witty, funny and caring to all
Enjoy life at the angels ball
Now all the pain you had has gone
Dance with the stars go on go on
A rainbow queen that you were
Brighter than bright what I hear
Life like dolls being your passion
Keeping them into fashion
Other things I know you love
Your grandchildren and daughters above
We'll all miss your thoughtfulness
Even things that made us blush
Your best friend feebie was your pooch
But definitely not Turner and hooch
Pampered dog with plenty of coats
Miss you on the rainbow floats
So look over us from up there
We all know you do care
When we want reasons why
We will just look up to the sky
Thankyou mum, granny for being you
Now you've gone we are all blue
Wish we could feel your gentle touch
We LOVE and MISS you so so much
Death was dreaded.
Rehearsed.
Experienced.
Dreaded more.
Being told,
Silence.
Empty.
Frozen.
Death.
The day arrived.
Surreal.
Nothing.
The bond was broken,
The memories ended,
There was grey nothing.
Silence.
Silence.
For me:
Shock,
Nuisances,
Sadness.
For her:
Beauty,
Peace,
Rest.
Two sides of death.
In memory of my mother
There's not much to say.
I knew her, know some things,
but certainly not all.
I know how little she put up with fools,
how her cooking surpassed so many others',
how simultaneously sweet and hard she could be.
I know about her smoking,
about her jewelry, her faith,
all these I'll hold close to me.
Every single spark, every star,
shines with such a glow, such a marvelous radiance,
that we can't gaze too closely at it,
lest we cause ourselves pain.
And yet, despite ourselves, again and again,
we do;
because it's not within us to resist
the sheer beauty of it all,
of stories and of life.
A bouquet of tulips for you.
We all miss you already, Grandma.
I miss you.
I know Heaven's got you, taking no guff as always,
making sure we're all doing alright.
I love you.
Andrew James (McGillicutty) Sprouse
The Old Salt was a special man who came along in a time
when he was needed most.
A time that is now gone forever.
When men believed and sacrificed, when hero’s walked the earth in mass.
When patriotism was not just a word
but,
by what men lived and judged the worth of each,
a man who lived a life most of us cannot comprehend.
An era now gone as this warriors tour of duty ends at this station,
and begins anew in the heavenly fleet.
Sail on Sailor into your unaccompanied tour,
we salute you.
What greater honor, that when a man moves forward,
he leaves behind in each of us the best of what he was.
A defender, protector, supporter, victor, a warrior,
the last of the breed from an era when ships were made of wood
and men were made of steel.
The Old Salt has reported for duty that takes him away from us for now.
Those of us who remain behind,
remember, and will continue to remember,
because he now resides forever in our hearts.
As I look up at night, I envision The Old Salt,
a beret draped just above the eye,
as he draws upon his pipe,
quietly he waits.
The guardian of heaven’s gate.