Misplaced
Not forgotten.
Not lost.
Not gone.
Just misplaced
Blurred between the lines of his memory
A little girl he no longer sees in me
But I will always be with him
And him with me
I am misplaced in his past
A mistake no person could fix
A detail added by God to cherish time
Memories are no longer shared; they're just mine
As he rises to heaven, he will find the pieces falling into place
He’ll feel the sun on his face
He will remember the moments he'd seen but let slip away
And his feeling of misplacement will fade
I do not believe that I, nor anyone who knows him, is forgotten or lost or gone
We were simply misplaced.
And now that he can see clearly from above
He is waiting for each and every one of us
To pull us into a big papa bear hug
His heart full of love.
A grandson said to his grandfather,
"Grandpa, it is said that sometimes
'No' does not mean 'No'. It is said
That sometimes 'No' means, 'Don't
Give up on pursuing me, but come
After me more'.
And he also said, "Grandpa, one time
I saw a sign that read, ' Don't accept a
'No' until you have heard it twice'.
In reply to his grandson, the grandpa
Said, "Well, son, I don't know about
Such 'No's' as you refer. I only know
That I was taught, 'Yes' means 'Yes',
And 'No' means 'No". Anything beyond
That could lead to confusion".
The grandpa further stated, "That doesn't
Mean that I do not sometimes continue
Knocking on closed doors. But it does
Mean that principally speaking, for more
Than 60 years, I have known when to move on."
Once in a while we see a man down on his luck.
Only to see ourselves look in the window next to him and duck.
What a shame to know that you are no better off than the man down on his luck.
No need to hide and sulk.
Life is but a figment of time.
While luck has no time.
There is no better way to see life through a child's eye's.
Man or Woman makes their own luck not time
Time knows ño age.
Just like luck knows no time.
We are only visitors of our own minds.
To see this village, search for its wrinkles
Look to the bubbies, who first brought forth life
to the zaydes, who polish their words of Torah ‘til they twinkle
Bubby’s hands may be calloused from
Pesach cleaning, polishing every chalice
Zayde’s body bent from work by day
and relentlessly studying the nights away
But watch their wrinkles break out
as a thousand voices joyously shout
Mazeltov!! Congratulations all around
on their 50th grandchild – count 'em –
Welcome him to bubby and zayde’s little town…
___________________________________
'bubbies' - Yiddish for 'grandmas'
'zaydes' - Yiddish for 'grandpas'
Mazel-tov - Congratulations
Cold sweet tea
on a hot summer day.
The glass sweating
as the ice melts.
Good conversations
on the old front porch.
Grandpa’s stories
take me back in time.
For just a moment,
I’m a child again.
Gran and Gramps are BUM BUMS!
Standing beneath bouncy castle with hope and glee
Begging my Gran and Gramps to lift me up to see
The fun and exuberance of children taking a jump
Rolling into the middle like one big kiddie lump
Screams and giggles radiate through the air
Flying shoes, squished candy and knots of long hair
Children in chaos while adults swirl round
Bellowing “Be Careful or you might hit the ground”
I plead with Gran and Gramps in my best squeaky voice
To keep their big promise and give me the choice
To join in the fun and experience all the sites
They renege on their promise and gosh that bites
I crawl into the car with a big scowl on my face
Those two party-poopers are a child’s disgrace!
Riding home in silence and feeling so glum
I give them a nickname “Gran and Gramps Bum Bums”
Waving goodbye and as they drop me to the door
Dumb “Bum Bums” will be lucky to see me anymore!
I heard a rumble,
low and deep,
like thunder in the distance.
Or was it a bear,
wild and fierce,
making lunch inside my kitchen?
I heard it again—
that rumbling sound.
Was it an earthquake now?
What is that noise?
That scary noise—
It's just my grandpa snoring!.
The porch was warm that summer night,
Fireflies buzzing, swift and bright,
a moment held in memory’s gentle sight~
the day still lives in me.
My granddad’s laugh, a low, sweet roll,
the kind that settled in my soul,
a sound that made my childhood whole~
the day still lives in me.
The scent of cedar in the air,
his calloused hand smoothing my hair,
a tenderness beyond earthly compare~
the day still lives in me.
And though the years have slipped away,
I feel that porch in every day,
its quiet grace still lights my way~
the day still lives in me.
In sleep’s soft chamber, shadows bend,
A fleeting touch, a face to lend.
The dream arrives with hands so near,
A phantom warmth, a love sincere.
It feels more real than waking air,
A borrowed moment beyond despair.
Yet dawn unmasks the fragile seam,
And absence floods the broken dream.
Still, whispers rise to the silent skies,
“Return each night, let grief disguise.
Come in the hush where sorrow sleeps,
Come in the place where memory keeps.”
Dreams are not lies, but doors ajar,
They show us love that lingers far.
If absence can wound, can not dreams also heal,
Or are they only reminders of what we cannot feel?
Grandpa is taking me fishing.
Don't know if I even like fishing.
I like making him happy!
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Granddad carried
one green marble
in his pocket.
He said
it never liked
staying there
after dark.
Every night,
it rolled beneath
someone's bed
and borrowed
a little tomorrow.
Never birthdays.
Never Christmas.
Only the little tomorrows—
the afternoon
you'd finally
learn to whistle.
The morning
you'd notice
the ladybug
on your shoelace.
The day
you'd wave
to the lonely postman.
By sunrise,
it had returned
to Granddad's pocket,
where those little tomorrows
curled together
like coloured smoke.
Sometimes,
he'd hold it
to the light
and smile
at something
I couldn't see.
He said
that's why
old people
sometimes smiled
at empty swings,
at worn-out shoes,
at the evening sky.
They weren't remembering
yesterdays.
They were living
the little tomorrows.
The marble
had returned.
Last Tuesday,
I noticed
a ladybug
on my shoelace.
I smiled
before I remembered
why.
Enriching value into his Grand Son
Preparing him to become a commodity
Component of striving integrity
Education mode
Sustained episode
Grand pa’s teaching being attention in every lesson
Taking his wisdom for all its worth
To the highest in the ultimate
My Grand Father prepared me for college
Showing the protocols of lectures and usage of the Thesaurus intellect
His teachings didn’t stop there, it was a preserver
4 hours every day in typing perfection
Technique and skill Fundamental
Up the keyboard letter being
Concentrating on accuracy and not speed
My Grand Father wanted me to have office skills to excel
Grand pa knew best
In his last words to me he said, “You are going to remember this old man”
It’s hard to forget someone who had interest at heart and love for his Grand Son
I miss my Grand Father and his caring ways
My mind runs on him every day
I think often, and will never forget
Sorry he is not still here being my regret.
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
Grandpa, is that fur in your ears?
AP: 3rd place 2026, Honorable Mention 2026
He was old, so old. Not just old, but archaic, ancient. In his seventies when I was born… and I remember, his face well worn. We shared a feeling, the two of us. A feeling, a family, a faith in our heart. He was old and I was young. Together, we found the wonder of love. Love built on the sharing of ice cream cones. The love built on knowing that chestnuts were best consumed after they’d been roasted in Granny’s old wood stove. A love built on knowing that Granny knew more than she should. And the time would come when we’d feel better on the porch than we could in any room. Together we shared a feeling, a family, a faith. Faith in each other and faith in God’s amazing grace. Faith in the old spring’s water. Faith in the hay God made. Faith in Granny’s garden. Faith in Jesus, the Way. He was old, older than I knew. Him and me found a purpose in planning our days and we’d agree, life would never be the same after he passed away. His light, though, would remain, to brighten the way with truth. The truth that tells me, he was my proof that there is good in this world and there is love, too.
too old to say no
he was a living legend
offering me hope
Grandfather Categories
Definition | What is Grandfather in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
ancestor, patriarch, pap, forefather, elder, grandpa, granddaddy, granddad, gramps, grandpappy, paternal forebear,