Beautiful Grandmother Poems | Examples
These Beautiful Grandmother poems are examples of Grandmother poems about Beautiful. These are the best examples of Grandmother Beautiful poems written by international poets.
Woman of Faith
always reading her Bible
family oriented
master baker of cloverleaf rolls
and homemade donuts
beautiful Gardener
farmer's wife
devoted mother
grandmother- who I miss every day
she always gave when she could
and enjoyed a simple life
In the dawn after her passing in the night,
I admire the blue glow upon the white snow.
I feel blue, but I know she went to the Light.
Life goes on in cycles as far as we know.
In my room, I lay mourning on this morning,
As the sun rises, so does my sadness.
A caretaker gone, but now she's free flying.
We all loved her for providing us a soft bliss.
In my apartment, I'll carry on with routine,
Even in the midst of my solemn grieving.
I know she wants me to still cook and clean,
But I wish I got to see her before her leaving.
In this town, today at dusk I'll go for a walk,
I'll admire the beautiful blue glow upon snow.
Every day, I'll remember how we would talk.
But we'll meet again, after when I too will go.
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 reflected words
I am that girl at the kitchen table
listening to her musical voice impacting me
I wonder did she realize her life ending
did she want to give me her gift
I often escape into her fugue of melodic telling
her unexpected memory with all the beautiful failures
that perhaps only I who wished to be like her
who knew her stories told over years would grasp
Why do we call the good old days,
good?
Grandma was always talking,
talking about the days that had passed.
I wonder if they were really that good,
or does our mind play a trick on us?
Grandma loved sitting on her porch,
looking out over her land in her rocking chair.
Now the old rustic white fence,
is falling down from the last storm.
Her once beautiful flowers are all dead,
dead just like her.
"By the squeaky old gate that tomorrow will find,"
sits an old tan and orange alley cat.
Oh how she loved to feed her stray cats,
then play with their furry kittens.
Will the squeaky old gate find a new tomorrow,
or be torn down and rebuilt with cement?
Gorgeous antique bracelet
Golden twist on my wrist
Gems of deep red garnets
Glistening, glittering
Garnished with seeded pearls
Glowing soft milky white
Great grandmother’s bequest
A happy day for you I’m sure,
A most lucky day to enjoy,
You are a double grandma now.
You have a new bundle of joy!
Apples, peaches, pears, or plums,
Or any other kind of fruit
Are not as sweet as Julie is,
Or as adorable or cute!
Bright sunflowers, fragrant roses
Or what grows up in your garden
Can never be as lovely as
The beautiful Miss Carden!
Where have all the moments gone,
As fresh as a summer breeze!
That kissed newborn, fresh, emerald
leavees on Chicago’s trees.
Whatever became of my expansive,
Blond desk, that smelled of fresh wood?
Or, my white and black saddle shoes?
I’d wear them, ah, if only I could!
What about all my fun and convivial high
School fun, and class of friends?
I imagine them all, now grandmas on
Family-blessed, weekends!
What great satisfaction, to know that this,
My beautiful, bright, and so blessed progeny,
Will carry me with then in spirit and
Humble works, rest with them, so poetically!
4/26/2024
Grandmother rocks in rocking chair
Her careworn hands at rest in lap
Blue eyes bright she seems aware
Overcome with sleep taking a nap.
Beautiful embroidery lies neglected
Gnarled fingers, painful, no longer agile
Rainbow silk colours forgotten not selected
Advancing years have made her fragile.
Ancient love keeps grandmother company
On lap faithful companion does gently purr
Calico cat the colour of amber honey
Rocking chair rocks neither will stir.
( A 6 verse poem , one quatrain and one haiku) ( 3 new creations)
(1,)
Our Grandmother And Her Lime-Green House
Her garden a fantastic roses red
Her beautiful house a lime-colored green
On June sixteen she turned a young eighty
That same night she drank whiskey before bed
Woke next morning happy with a clear head
She, my grandmother, so stubborn and mean!
Robert J Lindley,
Rhyme
(2.)
Saturday Morning Going To Chess Tournament
Put my engineer boots on these big feet
Rising early to my breakfast eat
Luck is with me now, in fact over-due
I win that tournament, will not be beat.
Robert J Lindley
Quatrain
(3.)
Today Is Going To Be A Very Busy Day
porch, old dog sleeping
cat in kitchen caught a mouse
breakfast, ham and eggs
Robert J. Lindley,
Haiku
I wish to once again see a rainbow sun.
My great-grandmother said this often.
I only saw one, she told us, just one.
But it spoke to my heart, it made me feel terrific
She was young when she began this talk.
None of us thought it was delirium or dementia.
She spoke of the rainbow sun during every visit.
We finally wondered if she had been on drugs.
There were seven of us in the car the day she passed.
“Look at that!” my cousin Marty said.
It was a beautiful sun, rainbow-colors.
She has what she wanted, we agreed, feeling peaceful.
i see her in my mirror now
the years have not erased how in my youth
i loved every inch of her kind face
and would not have changed a single iota
her heart made her the most beautiful woman
to ever have walked this earth
and in my youth nothing and no one
could have convinced me otherwise
i see her in my mirror now
yet still i need remind myself
to make the leap and to forgive
my wrinkles and other ravages of time
difficult to make the leap that i’m now older
and gone the days of youthful grand-daughter
in the mirror i see that i’m now her
and must forgive the ravages of time
AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
My grandmother purchased the most beautiful toilet seat.
She cherished and coveted it, and never let our bottoms meet.
It’s mine, she said. I am the only one who can use it.
Her husband tried to use it once, and she pitched a royal fit.
It is gorgeous we all agreed, trying to sneak in there and try.
Grandma had a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree glass eye.
If you kids want to get a whooping, thoroughly beat,
Just put your naked petootsies upon my pretty toilet seat!
She had the hourglass potato figure no one looks at twice
Who cares? She says, wrapping an apron with daisies around it.
She did not care either, we knew that.
Beautiful she was in every way, this older woman with magic pans.
She could cook a meal for seven hungry farm hands in twenty minutes.
And there was always dessert.
We called her Ma, but she was a great-grandma, truth be told.
She had a bin of potatoes and we all learned to peel them.
The correct way; with little slippage.
Her signature dishes included twice baked potatoes, and beef and noodles.
My mouth waters to this day when I think of her kitchen
Decorated in roosters and hens.
Hens and chicks in her window sill of a different kind.
No one will ever cook like Ma.
Never have, never will.
**A SALUTE TO MY GRANDSON**
Edward,you grow more beautiful
to Nana, each day!
Now at Saint Mary's High School,
Your education continues in a great,
Christian and traditional, awesome,
American way.
This is the dawn of a new phase of
your life.
I can already see you with children
and a beautiful wife!
How proud your parents must be
of you.
And Edward, they have always been
there for you..amazingly true.
How blessed you are...to have such a
loving home.
With your sweet dog, Biscuit, at your side,
never to roam.
Nana misses the little boy she knew.
But, golly, dear Edward, I see a bright,
shining star in you!
Love you,
Nana
8/4/2021
Dedicated to Edward.
Grandmother kept two large vases high on a mantle
On the front of each was a colonial scene of quality
It was not until we were clearing out her effects
That we discovered the beautiful vases were cracked;
In fact, the backs were largely gone, only the façade
Remained--an illusion for all of her parlor guests.
I loved those vases so; I had no idea they were broken,
Nobody wanted them, so I kept them for myself
In my living room. Yes, they were imperfect, flawed,
And had no value whatsoever to anyone except me
They became symbolic of the mask we often see
Others wearing, hiding their ugly, torn personality.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written June 13, 2021
For "Writing Prompt - Flawed" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France