Love Grandmother Poems | Examples
These Love Grandmother poems are examples of Grandmother poems about Love. These are the best examples of Grandmother Love poems written by international poets.
I miss you both
Your guidance being my oath
It seems like yesterday
You both went yonder far
Beyond my eyes
Up in Heaven having a look down
Your words through your wisdom
Wise and true
You would say today, Grandson you are doing what we advised and that’s pursue
You would be proud
Sometimes when I get into a struggle, I feel your whispers in what I should do
I feel your friendly breezes from outside
Your warmth on the inside
Your disciple being harsh and firm
Life’s preparation I needed to learn
Hard knocks from your experiences
Grandma and Grandpa truly knew
It was life to go through and making break throughs
My tears often fall in reflection
But never forget your lesson
You taught me how too preserver
Overcoming all the fear
I see greatness in the skies
I know you both are observing in watchful eyes
Inspiration you gave me
Being my very best
Always being in my corner
Tomorrows that became
Appreciative in take aim
Remembering you both now and forever
Thank you in the natural and the spirit
Love you both
Heart to Heart
Your Grandson to cherish
Until into the atmosphere
Your Grandson
It seems like yesterday.
When you were to be our first born
We waited for your birth
Two brand new grandmothers that morn.
You took your time, but then we knew.
You had arrived safely and sound
We each held you our precious girl.
Our smiles and joy they knew no bound.
You are our great delight.
We’ve watched you grow up through the years.
A woman you’ve become.
Our love shines brightly through our tears.
With tears of happiness
Congratulations we both say!
Now Twenty-One, how can that be.
It seems like Yesterday.
This is a classic story to share.
About the best grandmother ever
She was the person who truly cared.
Back when I was still a little girl
When nays are not that old
She buys me a wooden slipper.
Together we tend her garden
She's a good storyteller.
We are never bored with her.
She got our back when we needed her.
Every problem we have, she's always there.
She always carries her magic purse.
Inside there are lots of stored memories.
Bobbies pins, gums, receipts and more
Old notes, mirrors, even photos galore
Reading glasses and lipstick all in there.
Our grandmother has a magic wand
That makes us smell delicious air.
Cooking us our favorite meals to share
For every summer all her grandchildren
Will come to her house to gather
Our dinner is always full of laughter.
Everywhere she goes, I'm with her.
All the things that we do together
It is a memory that we'll always remember.
We all grew up with her love and care.
Sharing with every piece of her
The love she gave us is so rare.
In our hearts she stays with us through prayer.
On your first anniversary tears are shed.
More than memories, we want you home instead.
You're my first and last thoughts every day.
You'll journey on within me.
Your memory will not fade away
As long as I live and breathe.
Like the glow of a fire in the wintertime,
Your love warms this heart of mine.
I close my eyes and I see your smile.
I fold my arms and feel your hug.
I watch your shows and hear your laughter.
I sit in the dark and see your light.
I'll carry your light wherever I go
You're no longer here but I love you so.
When I see something awesome I hear your "Wow!"
And feel your emotions during certain songs.
Though we can't communicate,
Somehow I know the things you'd say.
Thinking back, I still wonder why
We never got to say goodbye.
Even you didn't know yourself
That your time to fly had arrived!
You are cherished and loved by all you knew
And today you unite us in thought.
It's hard to believe you've been gone for a year.
Miss you lots Nana...wish you were still here.
Those two chairs have been there forever
My grandmother and grandpa used them
Sharing the evening sunset’s light
Holding hands and loving each other
They were there looking at each other when their time came
So, those chairs still remain as a tribute to their love
© Poem – XXII/VIII/MMXXV
LRET
SweeterThan All the Roses
Wishing that I could roll back the years,
And stop my hot, burning tears!
Though no prayers, can turn back the clock,
As you slept in my arms, with only one sock.
No more seeing you in Wal-Mart, silly -dance!
Only in cracked, memory’s mirror, I have a chance.
For you, belong to tomorrow ‘s rainbows and sunshine,.
Grandson, for you, in gratitude, I do in tears pine!
Those baby soft days, talcum- powdered, ever divine!
-8/16/2025-
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?
My grandmother's hands
knew things mine have forgotten,
how to make bread rise,
how to hem a dress
so it would last.
She saved everything:
buttons in mason jars,
stories in the space
between stirring and serving,
love in the way she said
my name.
This is what we lose
when we move too fast,
the slow art of remembering,
the patient work
of passing things down.
Her kitchen was a kind of church
where recipes were prayers,
and every meal
a small act of keeping
the world together.
Now, I try to learn
what she never had to teach:
how to make something
with my hands,
how to turn memory
into bread,
into words,
into something
that will feed
the ones who come after.
Each story I tell my daughter
is a vote against forgetting,
a way of saying:
this mattered,
we mattered,
you matter too.
peach cobbler
in grandma's kitchen
love on a plate
The sun rose gently, soft and warm,
But the house feels quiet, missing her charm.
Eid mornings filled with light and grace,
Now hold echoes of her smiling face.
She'd sit by the door, hands soft and old,
A shawl wrapped tight against the cold.
Her eyes would shine with joy anew,
As we lined up, eager for what we knew.
A crisp ten-rupee note, folded with care,
Slipped into our hands with a loving stare.
To the world, it was small – just a simple bill,
But in our hearts, it holds value still.
We’d run and laugh, feeling so grand,
That tiny treasure safe in hand.
To her, it wasn’t the amount she gave,
But the love and blessings that she saved.
Now Eid arrives, but she’s not here,
Her absence is sharp, yet love draws near.
I close my eyes and I can see,
Her gentle smile, watching over me.
The ten rupees may fade away,
But the memories will always stay.
Her kindness lingers, soft and deep,
A love eternal, ours to keep.
So as we gather, side by side,
We know she’s with us, full of pride.
And every Eid, in hearts and prayer,
We found our great-grandmother there.
The smell of possibility,
the taste of tomorrow,
the feel of your small hand in mine,
these are what I treasure as your Paddhu.
Part of me will go on in this world,
but part of me will always be that guardian
watching in the garden of your becoming,
offering my voice like gentle guidance,
knowing that the promise will never end.
Sweet child of my child,
my love for you grows like wildflowers,
untamed, persistent, returning season after season.
This is my promise, planted in the soil of your becoming!
I am here, I believe in you, always.
When you are born, a Mother will watch over you with a Godly touch
She will fulfill your every need because she loves you so much
A Mother is never afraid she will give you everything you need
Her main thing is to keep her child from being weak
A Mother love is not temporary it's always full-time
Even when you think she doesn't care, you're always on her mind
A Mother is so nurturing she lives her life without fear
Taking care her children, maintaining a household throughout the years
Even after you're grown, a Mother's love won't stop
She will call you every hour of every day around the clock
So enjoy your Mother, be proud, and don't ever disappoint her
Because some people have lost their mother, and they can't even see theirs
she told me she wanted her flowers
while she was still alive and well
her children collected bouquets, offerings
meant for her finicky nose to smell
she told me love was the reason
for this life she lived before saying farewell
her heart was filled with such kindness
a love that no one could buy or sell
she told me to bring her my flowers
because only time could tell…
when her time on this earth had passed by
her spirit would leave her body, only a shell
I miss this woman I called granny
I miss how her light would swell
glistening like the stars in heaven
now, she’s the hope I’ll always tell
friends, family, those I love - because
she’s still enjoying God’s carousel
Against the side fence,
four long planks of wood
ascended like steps supported
on pillars of old red bricks
serving as a stand
for my Grandmother's collection
of potted plants.
Cuttings from exotic species gifted
by friends, passed down family heirlooms
harboring memories of past lives,
feathery ferns and plump bellied cacti
battled South Australian
frosty winters and the baking heat
of a summer sun.
All throughout my childhood
they were sustained by love,
flowering on the cue of seasons
and erupting into green
in a yearly miracle of renewal.
I had this odd notion
that each plant found root and drew
from a medium beyond mere soil,
that a strange symbiosis existed
between plant and a human soul.
Not one succumbed to heat
or cold or fell victim to disease.
They grew as a constant, helping
to hold up a wall that gave
a safe and solid perimeter
to our lives.
When my Grandmother died,
they died too - at first
escaping notice in the shadow
of her passing. It was later
when bare spaces drew attention
to their absence and added
to the list of what was missed.
Time heals grief but memory
excavates the loss.
in grandma's kitchen the aroma so sweet
with every warm dish a memory to greet
the clatter of dishes and laughter so bright
a sanctuary filled with love and light
her hands work like magic in flour they dance
creating delights that bring smiles in a glance
the kettle is whistling the cookies in rows
her secret ingredients no one truly knows
with stories she shares as the oven's warmth glows
each recipe borrowed from years long ago
her gentle advice like a comforting quilt
in the heart of her kitchen a legacy built
so here's to the moments both big and small
in grandma's kitchen there's love for us all