They seep from
long fissured asphalt,
and plaster cracked years.
Hollow houses, boards rotted
by the chew and gnaw of prying winds,
old-time forgotten burgs
lost now within a retreating landscape.
They used to thrive in a hard-scabble way,
used to be owners of hunting hounds
the daughter’s offspring of grit-hardened men,
blood kin to the furnace and the fields.
Both factory and Mill printed a community
upon long dusty summers,
winter launched many a lunch-pail march
and it was good in its bench-made way.
It all fell away so swiftly,
a bottom line in a thick read ledger
scratched through.
Thereafter great-grandparents
were buried in tall clocks,
then carted away upon jumbled flatbeds.
Piece by piece small towns were sold
for pennies - their very own, well-worn,
long spent pennies.
We’ve always known violets are beautiful
when part of a miniature bouquet
but as we held Violet, our great-granddaughter
for the first time yesterday…
as we looked into her beautiful eyes…
as she fell asleep inside our arms
as we watched her breathe and smile and yawn…
we were captivated by her charms.
It’s funny the moment we saw her photo on the day that she was born
we fell in love with her right then…
and holding her for the first time yesterday…
we fell in love with her again.
We realized holding her…
something from experience we already knew
that falling in love over and over again…
is what parents, grandparents and great-grandparents do…
And since we’re already in love with her
without making too much of a fuss
we started wondering when is the moment
she’ll fall in love with us.
We’re not sure when that will be…
but for now, like her parents, we’re content to keep
her safe and warm and happy…
and hold her as she sleeps…
These are the thoughts that ran through our minds
on the day we officially met….
two great-grandparents blessed to enjoy…
the beauty of one Violet.
????FOUR GENERATIONS?? ??
Four generations, a family's might,
A legacy of love, a shining light.²
Great-grandparents, wise & gray,
Lived thru the years, in a bygone day.
Their stories told, of trials & strife,5
Of dreams & hopes, of a better life.
Their love & strength, a foundation strong,
For the generations, that followed along.8
Grandparents, with hearts full of cheer,
Built a life, without a speck of fear.
Their laughter echoed, through joy & tears,
As they nurtured, their family's hopes & fears.¹²
Parents, with guidance, & a gentle hand,
Shaped the minds, of their children's stand.
Their patience & devotion, a constant stream,
Helping their little ones, to grow & beam.¹6
Children, with wonder, & eyes so wide,
Explore the world, with a curious stride.
Their smiles & giggles, a treasure to see,
A new generation, wild & free.²°
Four generations, a family's tree,
Roots of love, a legacy to be.
Each branch unique, yet connected at the heart,
A beautiful heritage, a work of art.²4
???? VICK MANUEL POETRY?? ??
{VMP}
Copyright ©?July 2024.
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.
They seep from
long fissured asphalt,
and plaster cracked years.
Hollow houses, boards rotted
by the chew and gnaw of prying winds,
old-time forgotten burgs
lost now within a retreating landscape.
They used to thrive in a hard-scabble way,
used to be owners of hunting hounds
the daughter’s offspring of grit-hardened men,
blood kin to the furnace and the fields.
Both factory and Mill printed a community
upon long dusty summers,
winter launched many a lunch-pail march
and it was good in its bench-made way.
It all fell away so swiftly,
a bottom line in a thick read ledger
scratched through.
Thereafter great-grandparents
were buried in tall clocks,
then carted away upon jumbled flatbeds.
Piece by piece small towns were sold
for pennies - their very own, well-worn,
long spent pennies.
a long journey home
from germany to baltic
a new beginning
(My great-grandparents moving from Germany to a small town in the middle of nowhere)
Little things touch my heart,
Things give my day a glow,
A kindness acknowledged
Or the call of a cheery hello.
Family gatherings are noisy but fun,
Four generations
Great-grandparents to Great-grandson
It isn't all sweetness and light
We don't always agree
But we never fist fight.
Life isn't dull,
It's complete and exciteful
Although at my age
I find a lull
Welcome and delightful.
Like all families
We have shared memories galore,
And in the future
There will be many more
Losses and gains
Happiness and joy
But they will forever remain
Our Girls and Boys
Even when I am gone
And no longer there
The collection of memories
Generations will share
A photo of the near past
The year is 19O1, a market on a muddy field
selling, God knows what, I see cattle, and children playing around
the muddy ground, it had been raining in the morning
but this does not dampen the excitement of the day; the people
back then did not bother with posh umbrellas.
The men wear suits that look like hand-me-downs from the rich
people on the hill, the women too, try to look elegant
wear hats, the children run around in long dirty frocks
they look happy living an alternative life among the adults;
not to forget the ever-present dogs.
At a farm workers' market, everyone has a half day off
before returning to work to feed and milk the cows.
On the scene rests peace of an unchanging world that will
Soon be shattered by wars, hunger and economic forces.
Nothing will be the same again as the 19th-century approaches.
I look at the photo and think, every living thing at the market
on that day is long since dead a few of them are remembered
perhaps a faded photo of great grandparents as young is found
in a cottage for workers, due to be demolished for a new road.
Forgotten is the life lived by farm workers of 1901
Write my name onto your body so you'll never,forget about me. On the attachment we've grown for one another.
Write my name on your hand with a smile on your other hand.
Remember that I can make you laugh wherever i,might be.
Write my name that one name that brightness up, your day till the next day.
Write my name down because I'm hard to forget, but easy to love.
Write my name in your book of your next,chapter.
Write my name on the mirrors of your house, so whenever. You feel lost I'll be,in your thoughts to guide you out of harm.
Write my name in the history of all history, of staying true to you.
Write my name on a tree that's in the backyard of, your great grandparents home. Beside there tree, and your parents tree.
Write my name on a necklace or on a Rolex. With my beautiful face so if you get, lost. You won't be alone I'll be there, to help you out of your own time of thoughts.
Write my name on your napkin and keep it close to, your pocket.
The miracle of life
granted us a wondrous gift today.
Oh, how we're blessed!
Another new bud on our tree-
a tiny babe to hold and love
has come to us-
a little one to join her sister
who, thirty months ago, lifted us up
as first-time great-grandparents!
And, now- her baby sister just arrived!
How blessed we are
to share this gift again-
now to watch the two of them
grow, thrive, and learn as loving sisters.
So, thankful that we
as grandparents of their Daddy-
and parents of their Grandpa
now have this amazing gift
to bless our lives once more.
Thank you, dear God-
For another miracle of life!
February 22, 2022
Premiere Contest: Best Blessing
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
True: Our second great-granddaughter
was born today, February 22, 2022, at 1:28 pm EST
Age prompts us, pay attention
Time sliding by there before us
Family tree, a good idea
Photos, documents, try to avoid them
The Internet helps make the search easier
Sites aplenty offering help
Always a brick wall before the end
When it is interesting, excitement swells
Names elude you testing patience
Mother Father without a hitch
Grandparents and Great-grandparents
All of them join the queue
Tree starts growing day by day
Losing interest on some days
Friend requests there for choosing
Comments sometimes raise people's ire
Others tag along without question
The tree now grows several branches
Then, it all unravels
Hey you! YES, YOU!
Get back on your branch
Stop confusing me
Check the names once again
Then the branches start to bow
Who are you, explain yourself?
Next-door neighbours do not count
Time to reflect all the effort
Sorry, Uncle I appear to have left you out
Dreams take over and early mornings
Floating leaves have started falling
Awaken shouting but at who?
Family tree puts it branches around you
Sleep and sanity are now surrounding.
Acrid smoke in the scientist’s bell jar
Blankets of chenille-covered snow
Crystalline carbon diamond star
Drips forming stalactites grow
Effervescent waterfalls’ dreams
Frothy-topped cappuccinos
Gelid surfaces of lakes and streams
Halos of angels in holy repose
Icebergs splitting from their source
Jasmine-covered pergolas in Spring
Knuckles clenched in fear or remorse
Love’s purest form sobering
Mandala patterns on frosted window
Newly-born flamboyant flamingos
Opalescent lustre of pearls on show
Pineapple-licious snow cones
Quills of the porcupines’ defense
Ringlets of great-grandparents’ hair
Steamy hot springs vapor intense
Trailing wisps of London fog air
Undulating winter foothill maze
Veils of fine tatted lace purity
Wieliczka Salt Mine passageways
Xilinous spider webs artistry
Yahrzeit candle flame in memoriam
Zephyrus ballooning sails on a whim
We are apples growing on our parent's tree, planted by our grandparents from the apples of our great-grandparents ~ author
October skies still reflect in your eyes
the way they once did on that day we were wed.
Autumn's bright leaves recall fond memories
of sweet days together through dark, stormy weather.
Once we were young, with our songs still unsung
As we both wondered, "what's it like to grow old?"
Nights fell, the months turned, new calendars came,
Now leaves in chill weather, in love, fall together
in orange, in crimson, in yellow, in suburn, in gold.
Our sunrise has faded, our sunset is near
The springtime has passed and the winter
we once thought we'd fear
is now here,
this love we still share is so dear.
The season's deep magic hides changes within,
A rose's young bloom that won't open again,
like children that change right in front of our eyes -
the soft painted ceiling of October skies
in orange, in crimson, in yellow, in auburn, in gold.
// My grandparents had an October wedding. This song was a gift to them on their 60th anniversary. //
written October 1979
Diana asked father to change her into a mighty, formidable centaur.
He was surprised; she would not relent his determined child, his star.
So he sent her to the wizard, who had spells to do most everything.
Wee wizard changed her into a centaur and gave her arrows that zing.
Arrows were magic, but he knew she would need them more than ever.
Road would be more difficult, she would return to a human never.
Her suiters were stunned, they ran away, fast, horrified by her change.
She was in her element, however, living life in her intended range.
Spent her life making sure the forest animals were nurtured and safe.
Diana of the woods let go of the human men – William and Rafe.
They could go live with others who wanted to be wives who deferred.
Living with animals in the forest is what she truly keenly preferred.
Her god father watched her from his high seat in Olympus, and smiled.
Saw his true daughter -a mighty formidable, happy centaur, and wild.
Her mother, her grandparents and great grandparents were proud too. Diana living the life that she had always wanted, so heartfelt and true.
We got do better
Its time to wake up with love
fill a bond where no one can shatter our dreams.
We got do better
Start a new day with an original thought, a new mindset. The biggest hurdles are not going through it; we can change together, let dream big like High Roller Vegas Ferris wheel, and look over the strip.
We got to do better
Today needs to be the new day we can reinvent our self-get closer with our inner feelings and build a foundation a family a love child, so one day we can have grandparents or even great-grandparents.
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