She came
Filled our hearts and souls
She left ….leaving us feeling empty
In desperate need of one of her “Cuggles” to fill that empty hole!
Decoded like a file-Yet still Unclassified
A group tried to scan your soul like a
Barcode file,
Pondering they had access, thought they
Had style-
But one's truth ain't a doc you compile,
You remain encrypted, laughing all the
While.
Betrayal tried to breach you, sneak in,
Eavesdropping, but resilence hit back a
System icon.
You reboot clean, move sharp, stay gone,
Too many layers for for their read only con.
They wanted cliff notes, cheat codes, a
Quick profile, But you're firewalled spirit-
With a street- born smile.
Your whole lifestyle,
Rising every-time like a comeback file.
Each summer,
When the temperatures soared,
It was time for Nana's soup.
Soup in the summer?
You might wonder.
Yes, soup in the summer—
Her special soup from the garden,
The very garden where we grew the vegetables.
Nana's soup was special,
A meal we always made together.
We began in the garden,
Choosing only the finest vegetables
For the bubbling pot.
It was time to harvest
Everything her recipe required.
We shelled the peas by hand
And snapped the beans.
Tomatoes roasted
Until they were just right.
When we made Nana's special soup,
We weren't just making supper.
We were making memories
To last a lifetime,
Memories that warmed our hearts
Long after the soup was gone.
The ring, with elegance and grace,
In sparkling gold finds its place:
Crafted carefully and designed,
With a little flower well aligned.
The petite ring with charm untold,
The tiny flower, with petals unfurled,
Hangs like a little swing so light,
For a fairy to hover and alight.
Like stars that dance across the sky,
Bringing sparkle to every eye,
A symbol of love and endless grace—
As it decorates this child’s face.
A reminder of dreams in flight,
A grandma’s gift, a ring so bright.
Personifying many tales
Of her dear love, that never fails!
So let it dance and let it swing.
This delicate, pretty little thing.
The golden swing that gently sways,
Bringing joy in its whimsical ways!
Copyright ©2021 by Crystal David John
Granddaughter reindeer fell apart that fine April Day
This cannot happen said her grams, it is not yet May!
She has to be at full capacity by December twenty-five
I have to push her together, she has to survive!
Grandma was a seamstress, so she made a quilt
She began to patch, and she went full tilt
She added some tinkling bells and some ribbons too
Her granddaughter was complete by December twenty-two
she cannot get too warm; she is always cold
This granddaughter of mine, with hair so fine.
She is a little shy, introverted, not big and bold
Wearing knitted leg warmers that are mine.
She is bundled up in a sweater bulky and white
wrapped up in a comforter full of duck down too
Will she ever get warm? I wondered that night
The night that the pilot light went out in the flue.
A Piece of You
Dearest Papa, she is looking at me
With the stillness you once had
Your reflection so profound
Clouds of happiness in the storm of sad
The way she crosses her feet
The way she rests on her arm
I see you in her, I feel you Dad
In the chaos of life, I can sense your calm
A little piece of you, God has given me in her
New hopes, deep courage, joys anew
For the life, the love and for Her
I Thank you
In my heart I sometime say,
I wish that some things did not EXIST.
But then I rethink and ask myself,
What if I did not EXIST?
God made everything for our good
That we all might COEXIST.
So I stand down and say,
May God alone determine
What should or should not EXIST.
These shoes I wear?
It's not the looks that set my eyes aflame,
Nor yet their style that gives them fame.
These shoes I wear?
Most wouldn't dare adorn such ancient ware,
But would rather make fun and stare.
These shoes I wear?
Too few know what I know about these shoes.
If others knew, they too would get a clue.
These shoes I wear?
They were gifted to me by a dear loved one
Who's now passed on, leaving my heart torn.
These shoes I wear?
I wear them proudly with no regards to fashion,
But with love for my grand daughter and a heart
Filled with passion.
They bare the site of ancient days,
But embraces me with memories.
My wife advised I dispose of them.
She once angered me by hiding them.
When finding them, it felt like being
reunited with a long lost friend.
My wife had forgotten from whom
Those shoes came. But I'm happy
That she now understands why I
Refuse to part with them.
I treasure my special pair of shoes
Like none I have ever owned or worn.
Some parts of them are ragged and torn,
And shoe laces no longer fit in them.
Fashionable, they are not. In fact, they
Are clearly aged and unsitely, but I'm unashamed to wear them. They are
One of my most proudest possessions.
Useless and 'throws-aways' to everyone
Else, but to me, priceless.
Perhaps they look older than they are
Because I wear them a lot. They were
Gifted to me by my only grand daughter
5 years ago. She passed away 2 years
Later.
I called her Papa Girl. I intend to wear
Those shoes until I leave this world.
The dance recital featured girls
From 3 to high school age,
With choreography and costumes
Lighting up the stage.
Our grandchild in the hip hop group
Is old enough to know
The full routine with all the steps,
Her confidence a’glow.
The youngest dancers, oh, so cute,
Came out not quite prepared.
Should they be twirling? Maybe not,
But no one really cared.
Except for one who stood transfixed,
Like staring at a wall.
I couldn’t tell, but maybe
She was crying through it all.
I wondered how her parents felt
But I could surely guess,
Since oftentimes what we expect
Instead, is slightly less.
Captive no more
Out the incubator
Bottle fed at last
Vein, puncture free
Sunrise on me
Warmed by Mom
Skin to skin, silky
On wings of joy
The new world
Strange; novel
A book to read
One day at a time
Of cosmic origin
Energy repacked
In this universe
To grow mature
My family, not grand but warm and bright,
Bathed in faith, trust, love and long lasting light
With my spouse the linchpin, the centre stage,
A shining grand-daughter, eight years of age,
The apple of eye of the family,
A daughter-in-law, teaching happily,
Elder son dipped in programming passion,
A young one, with management attraction,
With all under my soft supervision,
Making four walls a home free from tension.
Dear Dear My Dear
Arianna,
Sweet grand daughter !
I always boast
of you, My Dear !
I love you most.
You're to reflect
my childhood
exact perfect !
Valued treasure :
Great gift of God,
My best pleasure.
Kids today, I have to say,
Are latched onto their screens
And spend more time than I on rhyme,
No matter what their means.
My grandkid’s friend, at school day’s end,
Came over for a while.
They ate and talked but mostly gawked
At sites that did beguile.
The sunny day lured them to play
Out in the grassy yard
‘Til boredom hit, so in a bit,
They played the hungry card.
A little snack, but then a lack
Of things to do set in.
Some board games? No! With spirits low,
The kvetching could begin.
Until my son got the job done,
Producing what he knew
Could save the day, some brand-new clay -
Wow, something cool to do!
Ideas took hold, they squished and rolled,
Creating works of art,
With smiles of pride that couldn’t hide
What screens cannot impart.
Granddaughter Categories
Definition | What is Granddaughter in Poetry?
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