Grandparents Poems

With A Gentle Hand, Mystic

In her eighties, she still groomed – clipping nails
Her hands, soft and warm to the touch, tender as the rose
Petals weeping as they melt the summer dew who trails
Along the glistening lights, softly playing as grace flows

In her final years, she still loved – heartfelt and true
Her eyes glittering with azure lights, healing hearts, twinkling
With

What the Wind Remembers

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

I Have So Little Time

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

The Geography of Your Absence

For my Mimi, Nana Pat, Nana Sue, Bumpa and Papa.
Whom I Miss Each and Every Day.

Where your laughter once carved bright rivers
Through the canyons of my days, 
Now silence pools in the hollows of my heart,
And your light-so singular-fades
To a thin gold haze, I cannot quite touch.
I wander these rooms that echo
With the hush you

Fool's Errand

From his bottle, Grandpa took a sip. 
I gazed sleepily at his bottle ship. 
Grandpa said that life could be so cruel. 
Grandma said, your grandpa is a fool. 
Grandpa ran his mouth from his chair and
Grandma said he always runs a fool's errand.
Grandpa said he sought the Holy Grail, 
but he came up empty

MY ROCHDALE MEMOIR

I moved into Rochdale in 1964
My Grandparents and I moved in together
We will not be discussing our ages
Just Rochdale and its amazes
History with a continued stride
As a start off, I who can forget the ROCHDALE MOVIE THEATER
On any given Saturday, it would be a sit down and watch movie flicks
James Bond 007 and Ten Little

The Dragonflies in the Rice Field

There was a field behind our grandparents' house in the province.
A wide one, green and glimmering, where the rice stalks swayed and the dragonflies danced.
Back then, we were just kids—barefoot, loud, and always in trouble for staying out too long.
My cousins and I would chase dragonflies until our legs were scratched from the grass.
We’d run

DAILY GRATITUDE GREAT-GRANDDAUGHTER

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.

Never say that she is dead

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

Memories vs Merits

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.

Neatness and Godliness

Every picture I’ve seen of you as a child,
You wear your hair in plaits.
A stern middle parting and two dark brown braids
Falling down on each shoulder. 
A maypole’s dream.

You would do your best to wash them when you could,
When shampoo was available,
Or even in the single, small bathroom.
You would vigorously scrub your face too 
With

An Irish Love Song

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

The Fair in My Heart-Ode to My Grandparents

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

I Am From pt2

I am from sitting in the front row church pew I never wanted to be in twice.
The genuine smiles in the photos on the memory board were oh-so-different from
The ones we plastered on at the American Legion and the Irish pub
There we gulped bottomless Shirley Temples and spent twenty dollars on darts.
All to distract ourselves

Visiting

He planned on moving out
This place that held the living dead
These halls that magnified the screams
His wristband said otherwise
Trapped here for life
Though it would be a temporary stay
In a way
You could tell from the state of his mind
And the stare of his eyes
That he didn't have to wait too much longer
To leave these haunted halls
He

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