Grandfather Poems | Examples of Grandfather Poetry

Old Mr. Johnson, with broom in one hand, Told his sweet granddaughter, “Sleep, not grandstand!” Her room was empty, the air grew cold— Only the Ouija sat silent and bold. He muttered and shivered, “No time to wait,” Grabbed his truck keys and zipped past the gate. The cemetery whispered secrets...

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I spoke to the sea, a calm breath though a gale raged inside of me – both my sails shredded, I begged for mercy: “Thou art the greatest world current, what brag would be a wretched notch like me!? Devourer of coasts! Reshaper of vast continents! Bane of man’s mightiest fleets! Countless formidable have foolishly challenged thee, and now lie silent in your crushing...

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I was just a girl of six or seven, Stubborn, wild, yet touched by heaven. Mornings woke with fairs in bloom, Joy would dance in every room. Only from Nani’s hands I’d eat, Her love was warm, her touch was sweet. We'd stroll through lanes with hearts so light, The world felt safe, the sky so bright. But if she left for work...

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Our cabin in North Carolina was built by Deborah’s mom and dad in 1983… It rests on the side of a mountain…nestled in among the trees. When Deborah’s dad was alive he had a garden terraced off at the bottom of the yard. He built a pathway to this garden…to make the walk down there…not quite as hard. This...

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THE HISTORY OF THE MASONIC 1944 MY GRANDFATHER AND RONCALLI GUESEPPI SERVING IN ROMAN PROTECTING THE PRIESTS AND HITLERS HOSTAGES BEING HELD IN SAINT SEBASTIAN CHURCH AND TOMB THE MASONIC BUILDING OF ROME THE TRUTH BEHIND THE STONE MAKERS BEING BROTHERS OF THE MASONIC ORDERS RONCALLI GUESEPPI AND MY WONDERFUL GRANDFATHER WERE 33 AND A...

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After he died, I'm always drinking. After she died, I'm always smoking. Because what use is a life worth living If I cannot numb the grief I am feeling. After he died, I'm always wondering What could've been if everything was improving. After she died, I'm always being A better person for those worth loving. After he died, I was always crying About how...

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He reflected on the life he had lived Staring out the window watching his kids with his grandkids They were his greatest gifts He also felt this quiet melancholy of putting them in a position To survive In a world filled with racists He hoped they would outlive him He hoped he would end up in a casket...

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“Are you okay?” They ask me as my grandfather gets ripped from his bed. “Are you okay?” They ask me as i acfively watched my grandfather die. “Are you okay?” They ask me after seeing tears streaming down my face. “Are you okay?” “Am i okay?” What even is “okay”. What do i have to feel to be “okay”. This question...

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brotherhood buried both beloved, bestowed us bred ~ a Basque bloodline ...

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The grandfather clock A grandfather clock sat in pride of place in my childhood home I would sit at its base and watch the magical movements of the pendulum I would talk to the clock as if were a close friend As I grew older our friendship continued One evening I tossed and turned in bed, sleep eluded tonight laying there...

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Wearing my late grandpa's shoes As I do what he would never approve, Because this life is what I choose As I realize I have nothing to prove....

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The Shed ...was Granddad's before he died. And now its loneliness reached out to the boy from the shaded, shuffling shadows that shushed the sheltered garden. They pulled, they tugged at his guilt-filled absence until he slink-slunked through the greenery, standing to attention outside its wooded frame. It had been Grandad’s domain, his citadel, built from leftover bits of wood and insulation collected,...

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The moon shone bright a little less tonight My family too, seemed to hide from sight. We were all in our rooms, pondering over what we once had known, Because we were afraid to admit that we were all feeling alone. The laughter that once echoed through the house, Was now all contained in a bag and a blouse. He...

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They were already awake, The sky dark as the work ahead, Hands stiff from la tierra, Feet bruised from the miles, Yet they never stopped. The nights were too short, The days stretched on, Sleep was a luxury they couldn’t afford. Still, they pressed forward, One step, then another. La tierra gave little, But took all they had. Baskets filled with fruit, Hands worn from the toil, Every mark,...

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The Happy Wanderer I like to wander near and far. Just me and my little white car. There are treasures to be found everywhere. Just waiting to be discovered out there. Soon I saw a little mom and pop store. It was in a small house with a green door. I was greeted by a jolly little old man. He had a small...

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