Long Grandchildren Poems
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Deep in the middle of the backyard said my Auntie May
There is a crystal cave, placed way down, under the clay
Almost no relative of ours knows that it is there
If you ever find it, there is a statue of a large golden bear.
Bears lived in this magical cave many eons ago
I stared out her window, looking straight out at snow
When can we dig? I asked her. She said “maybe in the spring”.
But she was gone by then, so we had a funeral dirge to sing.
The homestead was sold to strangers, we did not have the money.
I told the story to my grandchildren – Lucas, Drake, Ben and Honey.
I pointed out the house and told them about the crystal cave too.
When I get rich, Drake said, “Grandma, I am going to buy it for you.”
Remember that scrawny little tree in the front yard. A tiny shade for the children to play on summer days. Its protection of wide limbs adorned with green still remain firmly planted. Fifty years have really brought about change with thoughts wondering what will come next. The tree is no longer a sapling clinging to the hillside for it securely holds back floods, wind, rains.
spring rains bring rivers
flowing to the creek and sea
deep roots help sustain
Slowly that sapling grew higher, spread its strong limbs, caught the cool breeze, rebuked the sun's strong rays. It has survived through several minor tornadoes and
continued to grow reaching many feet taller than the home it has protected. In each spring its tassels of chartreuse green release pollen that irritates eyes and nose. We have lived to experience the growth of that tree with its changes each season..
bare limbs exposed naked
come alive with buds popping..
allergy season
Summers brought life to the red oak. The bright yellow sun, summer rains and thunder storms made it stronger each year. The pointed green leaves fed the tree with nutrients necessary for survival. Now English Ivy runs up the trunk higher each year. Could this suck the life out of the strong sturdy tree over 50 years old? Will great grandchildren dig at its roots with their shovels and fill their buckets or swing in the shade of this grand oak?
laughter echoes now
down the hollow to the creek..
fall's cool days outside
Winter is on its way once again. Will a noreasterner rattle your aging limbs and rip some of them away causing serious damage to your weakening limbs and roots? Trees are unpredictable no one knows what the future holds. We can only live in the moment for that is all that we have to hold onto.
rain and winds still come
autumn with many gray days..
acorns rain 'pon the roof
Written over several days November 6, 7, 8, 9, 2015
Inspired by contest of Charolette Jade Puddifoot
Finis'
It’d been years since Grandma died and our family was totally engrossed
in a conversation remembering her…and the things we missed the most.
Her smile was mentioned often…her laughter…how she was always the first to share,
the hugs she so freely gave…the aroma of cookies in the air.
Then our attention turned to Grandpa…who smile and with a wave of his hand
Said, “Yes, I miss all those things too…but I mostly miss our AND.”
"It’s hard to describe the feeling.” he said. “I imagine one day you’ll understand
but in all the years we were together we were connected by our AND.”
“After we were married…which now seems so long ago…
we were called Joe and Sarah…sometimes Sarah and Joe.”
“And when we started our family…the two of us were glad…
to add to Sarah and Joe…our new names…Mom and Dad.”
“Next we were called Grandma and Grandpa…when you grandchildren came along.
names your grandma loved to say were the words to her favorite song.”
A tear dropped on to Grandpa’s cheek…which he wiped away with his hand…
“Yes of all the things I miss about your grandma.” He smiled.
“I mostly miss our AND."
Here I stand-
in front of a forsaken farmhouse;
Reminiscing how it used to be
a once warm abode
Goats and chickens cheered in unison
When grandmom yelled for munchies
While lost at play grandchildren-
filled the now deserted haven;
Memories echo- like a long lost melody
in the silent sanctuary;
Now, as I gaze upon the relics
of this forgotten farmland
I feel the warmth once again
Remembering my grandfather
how he labored...
To raise us~
what we are today.
Honouring my grandfather who raised me since I was 20 days old on this
(Happy) Fathers' Day - June 2020. I am grateful.
She said to her husband one evening…”Here’s something I don’t understand…
how in the world have I acquired so many lines upon my hands
So many tiny creases…so many wrinkles…so many veins and spots and folds.
When…oh when…I wonder…did my hands become so old.
Her husband took her hands in his saying, “In all the years we’ve been married…all the years together we have grown…I think I probably know your hands even better than my own..
When I look at your two hands…the two hands of my best friend…my wife
I see all the balance and the beauty they have added to my life.
When you look at your hands ”I think you, too, should be thrilled….
at all the hopes and dreams and wishes your two hands have fulfilled.
Your hands have helped to guide our family…that’s been no easy feat…
Look at all the times we’ve fallen and your hands have helped us back upon our feet.
Think of all the the ways your hands have nursed us night and day…think of all the faces they’ve cleaned…all the tears they’ve wiped away.
Think of all the love your two hands have joyously revealed…
all the scrapes and scratches and bruises your two hands have helped to heal.
Think of all the cookies your two hands have baked for our children and grandchildren too…Think of where we’d all be…without your two hands…and you.
Your hands have kept us safe and warm…happy and well-fed…think of all the pages they’ve turned…all those bedtime stories read.
Think of all the letters your hands have written…all the good things they have done…
Think of all the lives they’ve touched…all those flowers they’ve planted in the sun.
Think of how your hands…though silent…have the ability to say so much…
with a soft caress…a warm embrace…a kind and gentle touch
When I look at your two hands all these years of holding us…helping to guide us through…I have often wondered to myself…is there anything they cannot do?
So I can say with true conviction…as I hold your hands in mine….
each wrinkle has formed with elegance and richness and beauty….
two hands aged to perfection…just…like a fine wine.
Today was a different day for Deborah and I…let me now review…
We decided to attend a funeral of a person we never knew…
To understand our reasoning…why this is not as crazy as it appears…we must take you back in time a little…back 14 and 1/2 years.
That’s when our granddaughter Ava was born…we made a plan we couldn’t resist…we would purchase a charm bracelet that, one day, she will wear upon her wrist.
The idea is to add a charm each year…representing a time, a place…a scene…we keep the bracelet with us…until she turns sixteen.
We found a jeweler, her name is Kim, we liked the tattoos she had on her arm.
We told her the story of Ava’s bracelet and she said she’d be happy to attach the charm.
The first charm turned out beautifully…Kim’s expertise as a jeweler was quite clear…so we decided to take Ava’s bracelet and new charm back to her each year.
Now every year around the same time…just as we did the year before…we show up with bracelet and charm in hand…in front of Kim at her jewelry store.
We talk about Ava and how quickly our children and grandchildren grow…then Deborah and Kim get together to decide where the charm should go.
In the 14 years we’ve been doing this…as one year into another blends…we ceased to be jeweler and customers…and along the way we became friends.
I find it difficult to explain…as the reasons are often unclear…how a friendship can form with someone we see only once or twice a year…
But isn’t that the thing about friends…the thing that gives friendship its flair…You don’t have to see them often…to know that they are there.
We stopped by to pick up a ring Kim was fixing for Deborah the other day…and her emotions…she was unable to hide…through tears she could not control she told us her only son had died.
We did not know her son…never met him in these 14 years…?but there is something about a friendship…when a friend cries you can feel her tears.
So that’s how we ended up in the back of a church…
sitting in the very last pew….
there to support a friend…
at the funeral…
of a person we never knew.
Being from Florida
after a severe nervous
breakdown I suffered
social phobias anxieties
fear panic isolated raising
my children witness
protection I collected
every Disney movie
every Disney book
I wasn’t able to watch
regular TV or news
only movies we collected
this kelp the children
occupied when video
games were just starting
Mario brothers funny
looking back my grand
children get to hear
the stories of how
granny collected every
Disney movie real treasures
the real treasure is having
my 97 year old WWII
grandfather watching his
favourite Disney character
with us my being a retired
daycare teacher from Munich
Germany retired PTA organiser
special olympics organiser
volunteering from the cover of
the healthy start magazine
Fox News having 8 children
26 grandchildren two great
grandchildren i feel absolutely
blessed to be apart
of so many positive lives
from gifted honor students
architecture engineering
orchestra stem drone pilots
Bio med teachers
whom I raised in Florida
and it all started with
Disney 100 years ago this
is why I collected every
Disney movie being an
American Mouseketeer
we’d visit Disney every year
M.I.C.K.E.Y M.O.U.S.E U.S.A
our wedding day portrait
two made one
misted by years
masked by smoke-filled skies
bobby, gina—two of our three
days seared with sun and a child’s scuffed knee
through spelling tests piano recitals saturday games
kneeling together strokes of unquestioned belief
caps and gowns, crystal and dented brass
degrees in business and medicine
marriages grandchildren colors filling the sassafras
then job losses metastasis scares hospital gowns
loneliness
values smudged
quibbles spatter pigment
no one budged
boredom drowned in tanqueray the glass smelled of pine
blue smoke, screens, two strangers behind painted glass
lost in a bell jar of belladonna
two martini glasses, an untouched olive
the letter’s paper like granite, vows sun-washed away
body mind and spirit—desaturated
a torn canvas split along jagged lines
no reconciliation
reimagining life with unfamiliar faces
a torn canvas becomes two paintings
no masking tape or super glue
can ever repair a canvas torn in two
=======
as we travel forward once again
i am noticing a smiling pattern
the rivers and the lakes still sparkle in the sun's reflection
our similarities only elevate the compromising chemistry of our contrasts
in the center of our goofy laughter, we remain realizing that we have many more miles of anecdotal smiles to go
we have memories to tell our nieces, nephews, and grandchildren now
we hope they will be awe struck and, more importantly, inspired
from the moment we put whatever vehicle in drive, we will never give a stint of a hint that we are retired
we want our travails to be warmly remembered as well as happily admired
as we travel forward once again
Me? Corny?
No.
But...
...
...
I dream that I could go to war
simply so a picture of her is nestled
in my top shirt pocket
at all times.
I'm still not corny, man.
But...
...
...
I fill my mind with thoughts of entering Noah's ark with
her for a (150 day) date
Hand in hand
As a pair of anteaters
(makes long-distance kissing easier)
I'm still not corny.
But...
...
...
I sometimes hope that I need a blood transfusion from
her every 42 days so that I can always have
a piece of her
with me
at all times.
I'm not corny.
But...
...
...
But everyday,
Without fail
I pray that one day at the ripe age of 70
I could
herd my grandchildren around my chair so
I could
explain every little thing that she did that
would humble even Frane Selak,
Only for her to come in and yell
"You left the dishes, again"
in that hypnotizing voice that I know all too
well to which we all will erupt in laughter
and-and-and....
Ok.
I'm corny.
Damn it.