There was a time when the child was the center of the circle. The elders sang her name into the morning, braided her hair with stories, fed her with hands that had known hunger. She was carried across rivers of doubt, through storms of becoming, and placed gently at the edge of her own path.
Now she walks with her head full of noise, measuring love by the frequency of messages, forgetting the songs that once held her upright. She says they are silent. That they do not call. But the wind remembers. The wind remembers the prayers whispered into her pillow, the sacrifices made without witness, the tears that fell into the soil to make her strong.
She has grown tall, but not deep. Her roots skim the surface, searching for mirrors instead of water. She has learned the names of stars, but not the names of those who lit them for her. The elders do not chase. They wait. They speak in the language of patience, of time that moves like rivers underground. And still, she does not hear.
ghost wind through cedars—
names carved in the bark still sing,
but no one listens
I have so little time
It seems
I wake up half way through
My dreams
Awake I fear not
Demon screams
But those concocted
By pre-teens
Or worse
The subtle facial memes
Of ever changing
Toddler schemes
Then with stealth
I spring the trap
A story told
Before a nap
As we await our first great-granddaughter…
speaking now as a great-grandmother and great-granddad
we are grateful to see opening up
another section of our heart…
we never knew we had.
We will not say that she is dead.
We have never said that she is dead.
We will never say that she is dead.
We’ll say she’s in heaven
We will say she passed away
We tell the children she went to God’s house
And became an angel on the way.
We say she’s gone
We say she died
But none of us have ever said she’s dead
We will never say that she is dead.
The good times, and the fitness
In our albums borne witness
Falls short on the test
That determines one’s rest.
Yet the stakes can be raised
By giving G-d praise,
Respecting a spouse
Within one’s own house,
Being noted Above
For doling out love,
And enriching ascent
On the charities spent.
Descendants will place
On the mantle Grand’s face
Then frolic near the shelf
Making memories of self.
Red flowing hair, she waited long
in her arms, he did belong
why go to fight, she did not know
a bloody battle, the Somme, in flow
she waited long, with babe in arms
in her heart, it tears apart
they were so young and very poor
why war to fight, she wasn't sure.
would he come back, to her devote
so she sang to him, in this small note
wasteful lives, thousand dies
no one knows of the why's
l never knew them, but l see them now
in photo's old, and close somehow
she was a beauty, he was so proud
so much love, but shroud in clouds
red flowing hair, he came back to her
in her arms, he now belongs
he had to go, but still more woe
they died together, passed love
.............................. .............did grow.
for my grandparents..Clannad (English lyrics) 'Siuil A Run'
We make our own choices
In life and no one's perfect
But when you decide to have kids
It's your responsibility not
The grandparents, the children now
Have excessive energy, don't listen
Throws tantrums, and have no
Discipline at all, because they're
Not taught, if you the parent
Can't control them what expect
From the grandparents, then you
want them to babysit Monday through
Friday, plus weekends so you can
Have a date night or go out
Grandparents have a life to and
Want to live their life too
They're not just here to
BABYSIT!
A Senior Citizen any day
Blessed to wake up hooray
Through the aches and pain
Sometimes the need to complain
Memory sometimes in forget
Enjoyment of retirement blitz
Carefree sensation
Surrounded by family and Grandchildren
Forget the Nursing Home
Always a need to walk and talk
Enriched spirit
Wanting to enjoy and live
Breath of Life
Embracing refreshing flowers
Sometimes for hours
Oasis of their own
Rocking Chair moments
Reflecting on their past life
Youthful years
Wisdom mounts
Encouraging words
Exercising those joints
Friendly breezes in blessing
Smile to smile
Heart to heart
A Senior Citizen Start.
Beautiful lady
She had her
daddy's eyes
She had her
Mom's smile.
She had her
grandpa's strength
She had her
Grandma's style.
What a beautiful lady
she would have
turned out to be.
Oh wait a minute,
she did,
that beautiful lady
was me.
draconian dad
stubbornly immovable
until grandbaby
grandbaby request
cant be denied by papa
amazed baby dad
Swear words, public nudity
Teen-aged crime and murder sprees
Abortion-on-demand, LGTQB
~ No place left for granny or me
What hurts more than the fact
I didn’t get to say goodbye
Is the fact
They’ll never see what I become.
they sit by windows streaked with time
watching days dissolve to gray
their voices, once a steady chime,
now whispers none will hear or stay
names they spoke with love and pride
have softened into air and dust
letters sent, unanswered, dried
memories fading, left to rust
the hallway hums with hollow sound
a clock that ticks but never calls
footsteps pass, but none are found
that stop beyond these silent walls
once, they held the world so near
cradled hands and wiped away fears
now they wait, year after year
forgotten ghosts of golden years
She cried out for attention—was it really a game?
Or was it the only way they’d remember her name?
Her voice, an echo, lost in the night,
Drowned by indifference, swallowed by spite.
Her grandfather’s eyes, heavy with shame,
Saw only a liar—never the pain.
She was a burden, a whispered regret,
A shadow of sorrow he’d rather forget.
Lonely, broken, battered, and bruised,
A soul left to wither—discarded, misused.
Comparable to fruit left to decay,
Softened by wounds, wasting away.
But if they’d listened—if they had seen,
Would she still be trapped in a silent scream?
Or was she always meant to fade,
A ghost in the home where she was made?
I was worried they’d paint the house brown
Or red or green or blue.
I couldn’t even imagine
They’d turn it into something new
Now they’re ripping up the floorboards
Like your absence tore my heart.
It’s as though every nail they place
Tears us further apart.
300 miles plus an extra six feet,
3.5 hours turned into four.
But we never make the drive
Because there’s no home for us anymore.
The earth didn’t stop spinning
When your heart ceased to beat
But for me, my world was shattered
So I’ll never drive down that street.
I don’t want to see what’s changed,
Or the house that’s been reformed.
All i want is to go back
To the way it was before.
Specific Types of Grandparents Poems
Read wonderful grandparents poetry on the following sub-topics:
anniversary, appreciation, beautiful, christian, day, funny, grandchildren, great, grieving, losing
and more.
Definition | What is Grandparents in Poetry?