Long Granddaughter Poems
Long Granddaughter Poems. Below are the most popular long Granddaughter by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Granddaughter poems by poem length and keyword.
When Grandma died I inherited things,
jewelry, dishes, furniture and a doll;
I loved all 'cause I am a person who clings,
the best was her rocking chair and shawl.
It became clear that the chair had a ghost,
you guessed it, Grandma had come along;
but I did not mind and could see her almost,
and often I heard her singing an old song.
A friend who claims to see ghosts came to visit,
walking around she stood by the chair;
she was staring and I whispered can you see it,
and turned to me saying there is a pair.
A pair? Whatever do you mean dear friend,
well, it seems your Grandma brought her cat;
oh, do not be afraid as into your life they will blend,
so, I have a ghost with a cat- wearing a hat !
__________________________
January 13, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/The Ghost in My House
Copyright Protected, ID 01-1421-165-13
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, A Ghost Story
sponsor, Angela Tune, Judged 01/13/2022
Honorable Mention
I really honor Elizabeth Dole foundation
what it really means to be a caregiver
I'm the caregiver of my husband's
memories now ipte y wn anxieties
all 101 airborne west Mooreland
my husband is indeed a hero he was
captured a pow Vietnam he was placed
in what they call a hooch he and four other
troops managed to escape set out searching
for other pow's they went in and found senator
John mccain with tears in his eyes he describes
how broken and brave John was he referred
to him as his brother who couldn't walk the four
men carried him out he describes a cage with rage
not as glamorous as the hooch a hut infested
where he was stored the four men rescued
John who was flighted out the four men stayed
on their post starvation and draught the water
contaminated three men refused to drink the crater
water meaning water standing in left over bombs
my husband drank the crater water the three others died
that night from dehydration my husband survived
only by drinking contaminated water suffering
tremendously today my granddaughter has orders
to Kuwait in deep prayers I anticipate the upcoming date
RELATED BY CHOICE
For my adopted grandmother Nancy Enloe
I met you at a friend’s house,
standing stately on your cane,
tall and rosy-cheeked like me.
In your smile, I basked and thought,
“Long-lost cousin, could you be?”
Like my great aunt long ago,
when you learned I love to write,
you gave me three r’s of verse:
Robert Wash, Service, and Frost,
and asked to read my own work.
Like my aunt in my childhood,
you invited me for swims.
In your pool, I splashed and laughed.
Like her, you asked to hear me play
my organ -the whole grand staff!
On a ten-day Rockies trip,
Jasper, Banff, and Lake Louise,
friends asked if you were my mom.
We smiled at that pleasing word
like Gilead’s healing balm.
One day, as we drove along,
you said just out of the blue,
that you’d be Grandma to me.
As if you spoke my own thoughts,
I grinned as wide as you could see.
Oh, once we got to be twins
in blazers you bought for us.
You knitted us two rainbow scarves
for walking in wintry air
or through the winds on the wharves.
You’ve been family to me,
all six relations in one.
How fun it would be to find
on genealogy sites
if we’re related for real.
No matter! It feels just right!
So Proud of You Bella
By Franklin Price
10/27/2016
So proud of you Bella
AKA Lieutenant Kemp
You've grown to quite woman
In the Air Force, not a wimp
Still excelling as you do
With more effort than appears
In the top of all your classes
You are wise beyond your years
Always there to lend a hand
A rock for every friend
They know you've always got their backs
On you they may depend
Learn a lesson from yourself
Real friends should be the same
You may depend when you need them
Part of the friendship game
Wrote this to remind you
That though we're Gram and Pop
We're always friends here for you
And that will never stop
She wakes up early morning
to prepare me breakfast
Dress me up for school
she holds my hand tight
filling my ears with words
of wisdom which always
sings in the back of my
mind like the tune from
the first morning light
that is not known to man.
This day I become like her
taking in her role in
bringing up her granddaughter
'fill mine heart Lord, that
I may lead them in your
own way,' so I heard her
plead with Father on our behalf
I made a solemn promise
with my heart to take care of her
till end of mine own.
I hear her granddaughter singing
her the songs she took time to teach
me day by day
I saw how beautiful they were
together
'I am lucky,' so I thought
to myself in having both of them
in my life.
I will forget you not Mother
for showing me the beautiful
colors of life around me
for dipping your finger in
my life just to write in my heart.
I will forget you not Mother
for painting my today yesterday
with colors of rainbow
that I may be blessed to have
you.
I will forget not, Mother.
Cartoonist since age four; gave it up at twelve
After spending nine months in the clutches
of the meanest art teacher alive or dead
Did not take it back up until I was forty-four
During grad school when I was in the clutches
of another evil professor.
Happily did not need it as an outlet
until I got terrifically bored, around age sixty.
Grabbed up my pencil and began drawing
dragons, witches, pirates, wild warrior women
peter pan, cats, unicorns, flowers, hippies,
anything and everything that amused me
My nine-year-old granddaughter Molly was
such a cartoonist! A natural! I bought her canvases
so we could keep her creations. One day she
begged me to paint with her. Waste a canvas on me?
Ha! That was six years ago. My house is filled with my cartoons now.
I count seventy-eight canvases of mine in my living room.
Thanks to an insistent nine-year-old who would not let up.
A little wild warrior woman!
Collata is my daughter’s daughter
And she barely knows me.
They have lived too far away.
I am having a day with her finally.
She is six, beautiful, and funny.
We eat sandwiches and have a great morning.
In the afternoon she wants to wander in my garden.
I hesitate only because I have not shared it for a long time.
Collata dances along delighted, spotting bees, wasps,
Laughing at grasshoppers, excited about the marigolds.
She begins to dance in the cone flowers.
She wants to make a garland out of them.
I show her how, and we sit together, joking and smiling.
I have not had a day like this for a long time.
There is a honk. Her mother is back.
She pops the garland on her head and begins to dance.
My daughter comes over and puts her arm on my shoulder.
I knew you would be so good for her, Mom.
I have not seen her smile like this for a long time.
My granddaughter laughs, prancing around.
I feel sad that her daddy has passed,
But so glad that her mother trusted me
With part of her recovery. I hold my daughter for a long time.
And we watch her little faerie girl dance and laugh.
We are two women, foot-loose and fanci-less-free,
My fourteen-year-old granddaughter and me.
Her mother started saying “don’t get too crazy,”
So I waved my credit cards at her and said,
“You know me! These puppies are empty too!”
“You have to pay for the stuff eventually, Mom,” She chastised me.
I looked at my granddaughter and said “Eventually is not today.”
My granddaughter laughed, and did a little happy dance.
“Momentous,” my daughter said sternly to her,
“I expect you to be the adult here. If grandma gets too crazy…..”
We both laughed and ran into the mall.
I turned and waved at the entrance,
So she would know I am not stealing her child.
She was grinning when she waved back.
No one hates to shop as much as my daughter.
She despises shopping as much as I love words.
She despises shopping as much as I despise math.
Maybe, which is why Momentous chose me to shop with this week.
We travel from store to store, in an indoor mall.
On the prettiest day in the world, outside, yet retail-ugly in here.
We pass concrete walls, and outrageously strange clothes posters.
Rap music is piped in around us, under us, and into my nose.
It is the most glorious birthday week buying trip ever! I am so glad!
grandma never knew her name until she was an adult
and it was Helena (some kind of birth certificate mix up)
she embraced her new found name
it was lovely sliding off the lips like a waterfall
later, she found her Ojibwe roots
and I hear the drums of my ancestors in my heart beating
grandma was our family storyteller
she fascinated me and sparked my imagination
I would watch her lips as she spoke
how her voice changed
how her facial expressions changed
I never grew tired of listening to her stories
stories told over and over until her death of people and places
nothing was written down
they died with her. . . I think that was meant to be
grandma had given me a book
a journal for my small girl thoughts
and told me- write it, write it
write it, for the world to know
so I did, I wrote in my room stories about my cat and flowers
in time, I wrote of my sadness that made grandma cry
I had a gift just like Helena
I was a storyteller but in words
a poet was born
in a old attic room
I was lost in a sea of emotions
everyday over tea I would read my words for Helena,
I was able to pour my heart and soul on paper
my skill grew with me like a cool rippling stream
the drums of time ceased
for my Helena and I wrote and read her eulogy
my heart swelled with a sea of tears
then, I heard weeping echoing in the church
within the stained glass window glow
and I knew then that I had a power
Helena's gift... I had inherited
because of her I am a writer
the bond between us a delicate flower
and she had said to this sad little girl
find the sweetness in the dregs of sorrow
for life is a lighted window and a closed door
_________________________
August 3, 2019
Poetry/Verse/For Helena
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1223-804-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted into Strand No 670 Contest,
sponsor, Brian Strand
Second Place
Missing Kristen
Bright blue eyes that sparkle;
And gentle chestnut curls.
She dances through my heart strings;
My skinny baby girl.
So proud to be her Grandma;
Even though I'm kind of fat.
I chased her round my garden;
While she shouted, "I want that."
I miss her so this morning,
My skinny baby girl.
Though she's gone to Mississippi;
She's right here in my world.
She's in my broken what-nots;
In the pictures on my wall.
In the stains there on my sofa.
She's my baby after all.
My first beloved Grandchild;
Little keeper of my heart.
I am missing little Kristen,
Though I know we'll never part.
There's a bit of me inside her;
She's my Grandchild after all.
And a bit of my dear husband;
And our families one and all.
She is so much like her Mother,
Yet also like her Dad.
Though she fractures my best china,
I will never call her bad.
We are always linked together;
By duty and by love
By the design of our great maker
Our Lord and God above.
Yet I'm missing my Granddaughter
Though she leaves me in a whirl.
My big-footed, darling Kristen;
My skinny baby girl