Grandmother Poems | Examples of Grandmother Poetry

She is always in a position of humility An attitude of prayer ...

Continue reading...

grandma, the family storyteller in old age would forget so her stories changed with the retelling but an essence of truth remained her voice echoes in my heart was each story semantic to grandma new in ambiguity to her with random memories merging I am the storyteller now looking into the calm reflective waters of time seeking recollected memories that echo my words specular with...

Continue reading...

warm fire - the click of my grandmother's knitting needles sending me to sleep. ...

Continue reading...

...

Continue reading...

First Steps Funerals and Nana's Hands By Evelyn Aimarie 2 days after my Nana's funeral My oldest son took his first steps. She was my grandmother on my father's side, but more like a mother to me. Palms textured like warm overwashed cotton sheets- thin but comfortable, and clothes line, spring sunshine soft. Pastel blue intricate barely visible veins whispered...

Continue reading...

My early childhood was great, I was the first born. My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember spending lots of time with my doting grandmother who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write. I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention. Creativity was a game to me...

Continue reading...

*TIMELESS BEAUTY AND GRACE ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ wrinkles and gray hair aging bones creak and crackle wisdom in her eyes *Note: This poem was originally published in June 2025 (poetrysoup.com › poem › timeless_beauty_and_grace_1738599); I deleted it; this is my original poem....

Continue reading...

Written By: D. Collins 7/26/25 There were people screaming from rooftops. And not a single response from New Orleans cops. I do exactly what I do and say what I say. That, right there, just happened like yesterday. I feel for my people and what they lived through. My Granny living her last days on top...

Continue reading...

sunday afternoon fresh basket of wildflowers ~ a knock on Nan's door AP: 2nd place 2025...

Continue reading...

To be a good grandma, who me? What do I see? Through rose-hued glasses or molasses? For when the kids are very small to them, I’m tall, I’m lots of fun; but comes, I’m done. Like a giraffe, I must stretch my neck, for little peck, gain perspective, retrospective. I’m wandering and pondering, what did I give great-progeny to help them live, be wise, feel loved; of God beloved? Fall in each arm; hope...

Continue reading...

Hands of wisdom Gone on to God’s Kingdom Guidance in understanding Knowing and sustaining Heaven on high The watch from Thy Encouragement that was broad My heart being assured Grandma’s years of living experience Her impact and influence Strength endurance Grandma wise Seeing I to I Times of Discipline Wrong to right Youthful years sometimes resent As an Adult, I understand Her song her own, “Afterwhile” I am enriched to stand and withstand Her...

Continue reading...

Go Home, Haley If you could see what I see— A soul that’s wild, but meant to be So much more than smoke and flight, You’d turn your face back toward the light. Your laughter once lit up the air, You danced like you belonged nowhere, But you belonged—you still belong, Where hearts are weak, but roots are strong. Your baby’s eyes are growing...

Continue reading...

~that she saw her mother as a child lying strewn on the kitchen floor black and blue~ ~that the taste does not matter only that it should be sufficient~                  that what you don't know won’t hurt you   ~that she’d let those who don’t know her home feel the fight stuffed in her school blouse~ ~that she has...

Continue reading...

Grandma used to live in a boat, and she was sometimes rowing But she got rid of grandpa, who now lives with a gardener who is hoeing. Grandma is surrounded by thimbles, needles, and fat quarters showing We always say, “If she is not sewing, then she is sewing” It might not make sense to you, for you are...

Continue reading...

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...

Continue reading...