Long Grandads Poems
Long Grandads Poems. Below are the most popular long Grandads by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grandads poems by poem length and keyword.
May all sacred,
but not quite omnipotent,
fathers learn this day
as we impatiently correct
our stress-disordered sons
That respect is earned,
so maybe disrespect is too
positive and negative layered
for and against authority
for and sometimes restlessly against
repeating Business As Usual
white middle-class dadisms:
You snooze
you lose
May apply to your lethargic
chronically anxious
thuggish
couch-surfing
cannabis-fed son
And yet feels counter-intuitive
for babies
and us great grandads
who need our outside rest
away from commercial
too lit up
and loud
and relentlessly plastic
inhumane degradations
In such a rabidly anxious hurry
to wait for inevitable pandemics
and genocide,
floods
hurricanes
tsunamis
forest fires
drought
dry river beds
famine
insomnia
rabidity
insurance company bankruptcy
government balkanization
supremacist tribalism
Silent self-medicating snoozes
feels like a healthy alternative to:
capitalist narcissism
anthro-supreme monotheism
monoculturing nationalism
painful survivalist isolation
demented diseases
species extinctions
self v other criminalizations
weaponizations
May feel like hoarding safety
for defense-oriented males
on a bad day
in a depressing moment
Become
yackity yack disrespectful
feeling entitled to rightwing exclusively define
"real [unwoke narcissistic] men."
Yet quietly hiding
under these sacredly respected
and secular unrespected unsuspecting layers
of diverse manhood hues and warring cues
lie traumatizing patriarchal cultures.
Capital co-invested resilient climates
prefer cooperatively active integrity
over passive faith-based respect
and dramatically traumatic disrespect
and unenlightened
stress-triggered verbal unrespect
accelerating competitions,
dis-integrity
unhealthy desecrating excommunications.
Consecrating sacred solidarity feelings
learned today
converge synergetic need/want supportive
resonant polyvagal
resilient communication systems
searching for win/win reconnections
Even when sometimes disrespectfully correcting
my pre- and post-traumatic
stress disordered father
son.
Five years on from writing this,
My doctor I could kiss,
As my children do not, me have to miss,
And my grandson has given five years of bliss,
We now have identical twin grandsons for me to bless.
My yard is less,
Of a mess,
With my health better than before the cancer almost found success,
In handing death my address,
And to the cat my crimes I can still confess,
My poems continue to caress,
Helping others to progress,
And grandads slippers have avoided a bin toss.
A win in lotto may yet to me come across,
The pension is still free of moss,
Of the remote control I am still the boss,
When others are not at a loss,
And my good fortune every day I bless.
With crumbs I still make a mess,
And of chocolate I still seek more not less,
A smile from a lady still excites I confess,
I could kiss my doctor for all of this,
And the opportunity to seize yet another day,
Before death comes my way.
I Owe My Doctor Big Time
Given he choice between winning the lottery,
And changing my Doctor,
I'd stick with the Doctor I have.
There is only one other I have more faith in than my Doctor,
To get to the bottom of any health issues I may have.
He always orders the right tests,
And goes easy on the pills.
All the money in the world,
Is no good if your Doctor is a pill pusher,
With the belief that being overwhelmed,
Is the same as being depressed.
I shudder to think where my health would be at,
If my Doctor was not my Doctor.
I am halfway through my Chemotherapy,
Mainly due to my Doctor,
Who went to bat for me, to overturn a refusal,
On the request for a colonoscopy,
Without which I would not have even started Chemotherapy.
Copyright © David Smith | Year Posted 2019
Appeared to be a normal day,
At our University of the Third Age,
Grannies and Grandads writing epic lit.,
Forgot our hearing aids and blankets....
We walked away from our class,
Drank our coffees on the grass,
One old moll began this thing,
We cast off inhibitions and wedding rings,
Decided to have a grey love-in,
One last winter's love fling,
Before hearses the morticians bring,
We were all senile, obese and ga-ga,
The grey scrawny pubes made us ha-ha,
We gave the grandpas some thrills,
We all forgot our cardiac pills,
The old boys were gasping for breath,
Moribundi, close to death......
So, appeared to be a normal day,
On the grass, after class, at U3A,
Love-in amongst the greys,
It was grey liberation day!!!!!
Papa bear, no longer there?
Who are you? This can't be true.
Gone are you smiles, our distance is miles
Poor Vinnie wants peace, but you dance to the beast
Greed is you shame, wish we did not share a name
The dad I once loved, to be held to be hugged
Your motives are clear, but grandads still here
Much to your angst, oh just piss off to France!
Leave him to me, we'll be fine him and me
Long live the king, I won't let you win
Go off on your jaunt, but know this will haunt...
Lost your only flesh, now as for the rest
Don't know how you sleep at night, what you've done isn't right
But God is swift these days, you'll get karma for your ways
Julie too, crocodile tears are moot
You can both whistle, she's prickly as a thistle
Me and mine are just fine, going alone in our prime
I'm nursing a headache the size of Corfu
my stomach is tied up in knots,
it's the seventeenth time that I've been to the loo
feeling sick with a dose of the trots.
My memory's blank as to how I behaved
but from texts on my phone I can see
that Doreen who I met said 'yes' when I proposed
(she's retired now, and seventy three).
I lie on the bed still in suit and loud tie
no effort to climb in the bedding,
my backache tells me as the evening went by
I danced like Grandads at a wedding.
A bad move to mix all those drinks, that's for sure,
I think I may have crossed the line,
there's a photocopy on the floor by the door
and I'd swear that those buttocks are mine.
in this room, i sit and find
explore my thoughts explore my mind
one conclusion, weird but funny
greed for hate,love for money
do they lie,tell us the score
the young ones die while the rich wage war
box apon box comes home the dead
a war for oil, our soldiers bled
terror attacks when will we learn
a nation united, stand stong and firm
curuption and greed its dog eat dog
political ********, we are lost in the fog
raise up my fellows, hold your head high
together with one voice, we shall never die
we sing all together, our voices loud and clear
we keep to our guns, and they'll have to hear
do it for your grandads, and the ones before that
they died to defend, while our leaders grow fat
brother by brother, all come together
we are the people,to give in we can never
defend till our last breath, our hope's flame's relighted
cos we are one nation
we are the people united.
Form:
Granddads slippers started to wear,
And then tear,
Until more than a stitch here,
And stitch there,
Would be required, or a new pair,
Needed by the end of the year.
A suitable needle and thread did appear,
And for another year did sit there,
Maybe next year,
I will do the repair,
And another year did disappear,
Without use of needle and thread to repair,
Then the day came,
Shall we put them in the bin out there,
I said no fair,
And searching for needle and thread became a good idea,
Once found under there,
A plan to repair ,
Was whispered in my ear from somewhere,
Not sure where,
First the crater in the toe to work out how to repair,
A thought did appear,
For a bridge to be built there,
What about a suitable piece of torn cloth from that box over there,
To pull the sides into shape to help hide the wear,
Now for the next repair,
Another thought did appear,
Use the holes that are already there,
And now the other slipper and we are finished here,
Oh what a clever grandad I am,
With my slippers now again fit to wear.
For many a year,
Giving my family a chance to eat humble pie here,
As they never thought I could repair,
What they sought to put in the bin out there.
Hooray for grandads everywhere.
My Grandad wore his leather belt with pride
Lions head buckle he'd polish till it shone
Always said I could have it when he died
His death came and then I felt so alone .
During the D. Day landings on sword beach
Fellow soldier hit in German air raid
A place of safety he just could not reach
But grandad saw him and went to his aid.
After the war he sent Grandad a box
Inside was a belt and note which read
A lions courage and strength of an ox
If you hadn't helped me I'd have been dead.
I look at his belt and courage I see
Feeling honoured that he left it to me.
Written 25th September 2018.
The above verse is a fictional write.
What’s gone wrong with Granddad’s dong, it used to be so long
Once the length of Granddad’s dong made Gran burst into song
His dong would go throughout the night, to Grandma’s sheer delight
And Grandad’s dong and Grandma’s song would brighten up each night
But now when Grandma wants a dong, my granddad grasps his mallet
It’s very old and feels like it’s made from a wooden pallet
He grasps it with both hands and Grandma yells, “Just swing that sucker!
Remind me how you swung it round in your best bib and tucker.”
So Granddad grips it in both hands and swings for all he’s worth
He hopes to get a lengthy dong and not just Grandma’s mirth
Granddad couldn’t tolerate another dong that’s dud
And so he whacks his mallet hard, which makes a dull, flat, thud
But Grandma said, “I see what’s been occurring with your dong,
And why of late your dong has been a little less than long.
A dull dong cant reverberate, a dull dong can’t play long,
It’s no good up against the wall; you should have hung that gong!”
It s only a wrist watch
with a faded leather strap.
With it's gold numbers
a precious possession that's kept in a box.
Shown to the grand kids
His pride and joy.
"But grand dad its only a watch !"
"It is only a watch !", but look what does it say ?.
45 years service to the railway.
My life is engraved on the back of this watch.
I gave of my all my sweat and my blood.
See my grey hair and calloused hands
these are the things I got with the watch.
When I pass on, this watch it will be yours.
hold it close to your heart, as I will be gone.
__
,;'--`:.
// \\
(( __ ))
\\,' `.//
``.__,''
__( )__
_.-'_......_`-._
,'.;::;''''''::`-.`.
/ /:;'' _><: (':,.;') :__|:| |
| |:|--: `' ;==|:| |
: ::: \ / ;:; ;
\ \:\ `..__..' /:/ /
\ \::. ___ .::/ /
`.::::._|/\_..:::;,'
`:.::.`''::.:' SST
_..--''.-- --.`--.._
`._`--...________...--'_,'
``--...______...--''
Comp entry 24102016 old jewellery or just old things