Knots-besotted
(too canny for a granny)
as sailors go (and they will)
of which I am (still) one
(when day is done)
I can bend a bowline
(from stern to stem)
with the best of them
(just so's you knows...
the rabbit out of the hole comes
'round the tree runs then back down goes)
and tie (not hit) a reef (or square) so fine
or (none too sheepishly)
yank a sheepshank
in a (fairly hefty) hank of line
also (if it's not too late)
do a (non-binding) figure eight
(with half a minding) to stop the rope
from sliding (I hope)
(and/or) fraying
to (defray the cost)
for new cordage paying
(in time a stitch)
yet there's one more which
(so all's not lost)
(clever clogs) calls a clove hitch
Abraham born before Jesus
They were born holding selfie.
They booked flight from the womb
Are the children of this generation.
They speak louder without sense
Yet wiser than Solomon himself
They sees beyond their parents
With food remnants on their mouth.
Right in the womb they ate wheat
Before they were born they saw you
What is it you know I don't know
Says a child from this generation.
Grannies yet sucking breast
A tree challenging forest
Difficult in accepting corrections
Are the children of this generation.
Eat your dough and bake the pan
Drink your eggs and fry the shells
Says a child who learnt nothing
Yet she knows better than granny of old generation.
Swear words, public nudity
Teen-aged crime and murder sprees
Abortion-on-demand, LGTQB
~ No place left for granny or me
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
Pronounced brow with eyes sunken in,
her last meal was just medicine,
struggle one by one for every respiration,
it's as though it's asphyxiation,
the only good hand graps the window sill,
almost as though she has a regret still,
what it may be I do not know,
91 years is a very long go,
two sons she has buried before,
only to encompass a life with even more,
time left begins to shrink,
which could end the very next blink,
I pray for Granny to experience peace,
while I write her breaths start to decrease,
Lord ease her suffering on this day,
She loves you and knows Jesus' way.
Granny’s words like a blue bell ring true
How you get him is how you’ll loose him too
Playing with words phone sex as clarinet cool
When the reed becomes dull what will you do
When the instruments become familiar ground
Will pink passion be still fashion of solid ground
Are your high hopes and gropes like rope
Enough room to breathe enough room to choke
A room alive with voices who thrive, healthy hearts,
spirits of joy abound, sounding like the melody of family,
Intimate pieces of yesterday, mixed
With the present and the presence of grace.
Unspoken, the words – still, roaring, a lion heard through the silence,
Softly whispering kindness, stirring light
Who gently plays with the moments, hesitating
Like the painting on the wall - of Jesus, the bible
On the coffee table, a statement from her heart.
A room alive with songs so bright, vibrant hues of hope and love, faith
Insight into the psalms and proverbs, pieces of miracles, wonders surviving
All the fears, the tears, the years – before peace soothed away every doubt,
Leaving His presence in the house…
Beneath the nights who try to consume,
There is a grace that reassures, a prayer that abides to prove…
Granny’s gift left the world with an inheritance
Measured in light, flavored with insight
God’s glory shining bright, as the world keeps turning,
Remembering, discerning – Jesus is returning!
Granny decided this week
To no longer wear false teeth
So she eats soft food
Like beans and stew
Much less meat in her cheeks
Granny, I know you love me so,
But please just let me be, just let go.
Granny needs a little pick me up
So she makes her coffee extra thick
Dances around the kitchen
And gives her husband a gentle kick
He barely notices, for he is reading the news
Nothing that he wants to read, crazy liberal views
Did you have granny glasses with peace signs?
I pause, thinking, trying to remember.
I know that I had three pairs in the late sixties.
My favorite ones had square blue lenses.
Another one had smaller oblong lenses, which were green.
The third pair had round red lenses.
I could not see out of them well, but they were fun to have.
Her vined plants strangled her in her sleep
We knew it might happen, she sleeps so deep
Only ninety-nine, one of the cousins said.
We felt bad too that our young grandma was dead.
Ninety-nine is not that young said the doc.
To say it was the plants is kind of a crock.
Women at age ninety-nine often die in their sleep.
We stopped talking to this imbecile, he was a creep.
This was written for sheer fun, months ago!
I did not have the courage to post it then,,,
But I do now…Hope you enjoy this fantasy!
9/30/2023
Now I lay me down to sleep.
I want Rob Schmitt to rub my feet.
I could take care of him, alright.
He’d scream with pleasure in silver starlight.
If I should die, with a smile, before I wake.
Know,he was more delicious than strawberry cake!
Bury me please, next to Johnnie Walker.
He was always with me, such a sexy stalker.
Red, hot and rolling, stud Johnny was he.
I’m truly fed up, with writing about pine trees!!
Prefer a young dude to have a last tango with,
Oh, if only…it would be my heavenly,Rob Schmitt!
*****Rob Schmitt is a newscaster on.Newsmax.com.
Available on PC, iPad or any cellphone.24/7****
Kaaliammal Palanisamy...
Count to be nascient grandmammy..
Though pecuniary gravy of grandpa made family patriarchy,
The fish gravy of grandma maintain the family matriarchy.
Now you kids, listen up
Donchya ask Granny for nothing
But when Mama trotted off to the outhouse
She brought out what was hidden in the oven
A spread fit for a KING
My Big Granny was my everything
She utilized the land and all her skill
To let those she touched with what is real
...LOVE
Those who had nothing
Shared what they had collected
While granny's soup
Fed the areas not yet perfected
When the time came, for grown up talk
Us young 'uns would take a walk
Up the hill to our cousin's house
Big Granny gave Mama gold
As the Holy Word would unfold
Til all the despair was let out
...running about
.............on sacred land
Written by Trudy Schrader on 03-07-2023
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