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.
My dream was to be a Jane Austen - or a Virginia Woolfe,
whose novel, "Mrs. Dalloway" rocked the world,
or Kadambari - the muse who inspired the Bard in Bengali Literature.
a few fearless women -
Debjani, and Gandhari, and Draupadi, from Indian classics,
but before anyone else,
I want to be the woman who appears in my dream!
never went to school, she was not allowed,
picked up any paper when sweeping the floor,
and read - she was warned - women became widows if they read,
she was unstoppable!
she had ten kids - two still-births,
she cooked for thirty people each day,
ate her meals after she fed everyone,
she hand-knitted blankets, to keep children warm,
prayed every day for well-being of her family,
and for the universe.
my grandmother, and many women of the world of yesteryear,
started a revolution, carried the torch,
without realizing the legacy they left for us,
the burden they lifted!
The love of learning, the spiritualism, the kindness -
we imbibed as blessings...
did they see us - the women of today
in the horizon?
the modern, liberated, emancipated women,
we are today,
we attend school and choose our path,
we decide to marry or not, who to marry,
we raise our children with confidence.
we don't ask for money, we earn money,
we lead, we invent, we do miracles.
sorry Jane Austen, I would rather be my Grandma's granddaughter,
before anyone else!
March 8, 2022
My mom raised me
She fed me
She cared for me
My mom is a saint
Raising five boys…
How can you say she ain’t?
My wife is nuts!
She is worried she may get laid off,
Yet she is hoping she will :\
She worries too much
But takes it all in stride
She is so strong and so weak at the same time
Dealing with all the stress
Yet the dog farting is too much!
My daughter is mine
She is too much like me,
Only more so
She doesn’t worry enough
Life brings what comes along
Her heart is full of song
But it’s mostly metal and punk and rap
And I just don’t get that crap
My daughter is also an addict you see…
Which is hard for us to understand, you see.
Addicts can’t “just stop”.
They let the drug-of-choice rule their life
They don’t care about the strife
There are triggers you know
That make the addict so
Stress, anxiety, depression, loneliness and boredom
They all push the addict towards the ledge
And their low self-esteem is the finale step
Over
The
Edge.
She is in recovery now…
She is doing well
She will always be
An addict you see
We love her the best we can
We will stick to the plan
And take each day
As it comes in to play.
My granddaughter is great!
She’s not yet two
She is nuts too.
She knows nothing of how
She came to my house.
(refer to the stanza on “My Daughter”)
She loves unconditionally
She loves Grandpa you see.
She doesn’t yet speak
So she cries her fears
And I dry her tears
And just like with her grandma and her mother
I try to read her mind
To see if I can tell
What it is that makes her yell
But she is sweet and kind and beautiful
And grandpa spoils her so…
Bet he can’t help it, you know.
It may be politically incorrect
But I don’t care;
Sometimes there is too much estrogen in the air
So grandpa gets out of the house
And meets his buds
And drinks some suds
And tells dirty jokes
About the kind of women
My mother and wife never were,
and I hope my daughter and granddaughter never will be.
So point your finger at me
And yell Hypocrisy!
I don’t care
Because you wouldn’t dare
Live my life for me.
But I would not trade all of this
To be rid of the drama (and the bliss)
It’s four against one
the ladies and me
Walk a mile in my shoes
And you will see
It takes great strength to do what I do
Four-to-One, and two dogs too.
I was born, Bronx, New York, in the year 'Thirty-Nine',
the first child with a brother who followed in time.
Ten years later, moved North, Hudson Valley, same State
where I've settled, lived on with my loved ones to date.
But when young, in my school, two fine talents emerged,
and my teachers spared hours to encourage my urge.
I enjoyed my young years while I painted and penned;
lots of canvas and paper used up without end.
At eighteen, I then married the love of my life
and enjoyed my new path of becoming a wife
to my US Marine, very handsome and true;
Parris Island, our home for a year, almost two.
By the age twenty-five- was a mother of three;
a fine son, two sweet girls, a complete family.
We worked hard every day and our life was so good.
I wrote poems and painted whenever I could.
Later, painting with oils was the pastime for me-
while I studied for years at an art gallery.
Varied art shows, displays, and a job filled my time.
Soon I sold many pieces and life was sublime.
Yet, the years went by fast and at age thirty-nine,
I enrolled in a college to study part-time.
Six years later, I earned my prized English degree-
a BA—and a Minor in Business for me.
Then my pictures with words replaced those done with art,
and I soon published poems of life and of heart.
Yet along in this time of my great writing spree
I worked hard every day as our business VP.
For a full twenty years, we worked hard faithfully
after hubby retired as the Chief of FD,
selling our fire equipment, all types, big and small
to FDs, factories, district schools, and the malls.
Our dear children all married, with families too,
are involved happily in whatever they do.
Happy grandma of five- twenty-five to eighteen-
and one granddaughter married two thousand thirteen.
We retired, sold our business thirteen years ago,
still so busy with life, with its ebb and its flow.
We are proud and so blessed and thank God up above,
for our days and our life of good times filled with love.
April 11, 2015
~1st Place~
Premiere Contest: Where Are You From
Sponsor: Joseph Soper
Judged: 08/01/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Bio of a Poet
Sponsor: Tammy Reams
Judged: 04/18/2015
Form: Anapestic Tetrameter (12 syllables, 4 feet per line)
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
She has seen so much before Her eyes
they have lost their sparkle
She sits in Her chair to watch the hummingbirds
flit and sip at the bird feeders She has prepared
She has made those for years
i remember sitting with Her and talking
about boys and schoolwork
and how beautiful the hummingbirds
sounded as they zipped past the screen door
we know they will return
Her taste for pecans never
prevented Her from collecting them
off Her land for pies and candies
Her legs hurt from walking too long
how i miss picking pecans with Her
as i grew time was lost
and i visited Her less and less
with regret i think of
all the talks and fun and laughter
while we canned fruits and jellies together
i wish i could bring back those years
the summer before i was married
we talked of love and happiness
and i was privileged to know how
Pa and Ma met when she asked,
"Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?"
we stayed up 'til morning talk of
mike and how She believed he was an
angel and how She met her first husband
and the birth of mimi, i know She has
always love me
i am Her pride and joy
She has lived a long life that was hard
but worth it because She has produced
a wonderful family
that babies Her in Her old age
oh, how She hates that
She talks about Her last days as if
tomorrow Her soul will take flight
and wonders why God hasn't sent for Her yet
perhaps She is not done
or He wishes Her to see something precious
i wonder if it is for me (how narcissistic)
to see my wedding or the birth of the daughter
that will carry Her middle name
She cried when i told Her that
but that's how much She means to me
i vainly pray that She will live long enough
to see these things that are important to me
when She will be able to hold
with Her middle name
Her great-great-granddaughter, LEE ellen
now She sits in her rocking chair
watching the hummingbirds
Her soul takes flight upon a gentle
breeze that carried Her far away in time
when She could pick pecans and can jellies
when She and Pa met
or when Her children were born
i know many stories from Her past
and i am proud that i am the only one
that has taken the flight with her soul
on one of those gentle breezes
One lone rose tumbled from the basket,
the same as the others but set apart
All were beautiful. They congregated
in one basket, these Southern belles,
but she, with her pink cheeks, tumbled,
she’d cut her ties. She loved them, indeed,
but not exclusively. No one was there
to hold her by the hand. She knew
and cared about the world out there.
all the southern belles
beautiful, adorned in pink ~
one lone rose cut ties
She’d end up in a beautiful bouquet,
dusted off, picked up from the floor.
She was the bride’s favorite - was she
something new or something old?
She wasn’t sure - it didn’t matter,
she was used for a moment in time,
carried as the piano played, as
the crowd stood to admire the bride.
how the bouquet served,
open to severed flower ~
the pride of the bunch
Puffed-up in the part she played.
The lovely pink dustable would be saved,
dried, sprayed. She was loved, as surely
as if she was the velveteen rabbit, boxed
up - almost nearly ever gawked at. Her
favorite time was when a little girl, who
looked so much like the bride of years-
gone-by, opened the box and picked her up.
surprise opening
admired, crushed, and scattered rose
a little girl laughs
She was admired and crushed and
a puckered up lady scooped her up
and kissed her over and over again
telling her of her favorite flower - a foundling
she admired even with its scattered petals.
kisses are gathered
strewn on the cheeky lassie ~
she’s a gift of life
She gave one petal to the mischievous girl -
“God bless you! May this grow into
a pretty bouquet, special and unique.
I’ve been so blessed, dear one.
May your life be so blessed too.”
understanding not
but love was never forgot
for girl’s heart was full
Then the worn out rose saw the old
bride kiss her granddaughter, again,
as they laughed and the girl’s cheeks
turned an eternal pink, taking on the hue
of reignited petals. She would stand apart
from the rest, though she loved them all
would serve the world. Her name was Rose.
her namesake of old
ruffled, lacy, magi’s gift
a blessing from God
9/1/2022
my grandmother’s name is Verna
some look at her and see section 8, welfare checks, abuse and neglect
they see insufficiency, ignorant independency, a trench-condemned wreck
no collegiate education, no high-school diploma, they see a lack of dedication
they look in my grandmother’s eyes and with the snap of their fingers subject her to poverty, they banish her to being a pawn in their monopoly
they gratuitously perpetuate their hate and generously project their mental state
and to this? my grandmother smiles, she says Ladybug, don’t worry about me, they don’t know
They don’t know that my grandmother has built diamonds of men in the rough
she has made roses of women out of concrete
mountains move at the sound of her step
she makes even what is long lost feel kept
her smile could make a fish breathe out of water
i could posses no humanly title more noble than her granddaughter
there is no greater honor that I am allowed
no duer justice of mine than to make her proud
my grandmother sculpted my spirit with calloused hands and a heart overflowing, imbuing me with a strength born not of privilege, but of fiercely earned knowing
they don’t know about the lullabies she’s sung through thin walls, how many time she’s picked me up from my falls, and more importantly how she doesn’t keep count
her motherhood, a tapestry woven with threads of sacrifice and strands of grace, a masterpiece unseen by eyes that only value pedigree and place
my grandmother has raised generations of excellence. don’t believe me? just open your eyes-you never met a woman so sagacious-so wise-so gracious-even with my words you couldn’t surmise
I’m talking about a charisma you wouldn’t believe, a resilience you couldn’t conceive, a wit you could never deceive, a love you wouldn’t know how to receive,
if i died and said I never knew unconditional love, I would be a bold-faced lie
i think my grandma would raise up out her grave and set the record straight with a fire burning in her eye
hell, call it blasphemy but I think my grandmother’s touch could make a blind man see
her soul breaking chains and setting lives free
my grandmother’s name is Verna
and if God was a woman on earth, then I’ve been a disciple since birth
She measured only five foot tall,
With her stooped shoulders, even shorter.
Towered over by her strapping son,
My mother and each other daughter.
Grandma came from sturdy stock.
On her own strength, she relied
To raise her five young children,
After my grandpa died.
Mother was only six years old,
She could barely remember when
Her daddy died of consumption.
That’s what they called it then.
There was no such thing as welfare,
So Grandma was left alone,
To find a way that she could raise
Her family on her own.
Opportunities for women
Before the First World War
Were almost non-existent.
The wolf was at their door.
So my grandma took in washing,
Ironing and clothes to mend.
The enormity of her labors,
I can’t even comprehend.
I have pictures of her and her family,
All so neatly dressed
In crisp white dresses and starched shirt,
Attired in their Sunday best.
Did her children know her sacrifice,
How this woman had to strive
To see they were fed and sheltered,
And to keep them all alive?
My memories of my grandma,
Are when she was old and alone.
She was frail and ill but managed
To face life on her own.
She had her little garden,
And planted by the moon.
She bragged that no one in the town
Was eating fresh peas so soon.
I never heard her grumble
About her difficult life
Or that she had been a widow
Much longer than a wife.
My grandma had the steely will,
That has made this nation grow.
Without her kind, we wouldn’t have
The ease that we now know.
So when ever the days are rainy
And I’m feeling sorry for myself,
I start to remember Grandma,
Take her album from the shelf.
Surrounded by life’s luxuries
Of the kind she never knew,
I wonder at my grandma,
And the way she battled through.
She barely knew of radio,
And would have been enchanted
With television and its wonders,
Which we take so much for granted.
Grandma was a true pioneer.
Her road was long and rough.
Her granddaughter should be ashamed.
To claim she has it tough.
I salute you Grandma and love you.
I was proud to call you Gram.
And no one needs to tell me that
You were of sterner stuff than I am.
Debbie: Perhaps we could have another category such as "Provider"
.
for my ever so intelligent, beautiful granddaughter, Juliette
Waking in the garden,
she was the lone bloomer out today-
Peeking from behind her petals,
she saw a few faint sunshine rays-
Soaking in their goodness,
but wanting company-
She sang a melancholy song,
sweet with melody-
Her delicate face smiled,
when she thought she heard a lark-
But it splashed around the birdbath,
then flew off to a near-by park-
“Sweet Juliet” was strong in nature-
all roses knew that true-
But standing alone in the garden,
was beginning to make her blue-
The garden entry was opening,
she could hear the creaking gate,
And saw the ‘ole time gardener,
give his head a shake,
“Well, pretty little lady,”
he said right into her face,
“Bet you’re kind of lonely here,
inside this rose bed place“
Spring was making its entry,
very late into the year,
And “Sweet Juliet,” was finding it,
very hard to quell her fear-
She knew she’d be tended well,
by those hired to give her care-
But usually by this time of year,
there’d be flowers everywhere-
This quaint little English garden,
did not like the winter cold,
And “Sweet Juliet” was wondering,
how much longer her stem would hold-
Then for a moment she was startled,
when upon the ground she saw-
Cornu aspersum - a garden snail,
looking at her in awe-
Her beauty could not be denied,
with cupped rosette form of old-
A popular choice for brides to be,
a “Sweet Juliet” bouquet to hold-
Of 15,000 cultivated varieties,
She’s referred to as the £3 million rose,
After high costs and 14 years of breeding,
She debuted in 2006 flower shows-
She is the royalty of many gardens-
with her peachy-apricot hued blooms-
And not to go unappreciated,
is the scent of her tea-rose perfume-
Well protected through the winter,
with burlap enclosures ‘round her rows-
She’s safe in inclement weather,
and out of reach from cold winds that blow-
It took four weeks for the chill to go,
and the clouds to float away-
“Sweet Juliet” awoke to a buzzing sound,
and knew that spring was here to stay-
She glanced at the roses around her,
and smiled because she wasn’t alone-
For nothing gave her greater joy,
Then having friends to share her home-
38.4154017°, -76.5341214°
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that determines the amount of light reaching the camera's sensor. manufactured by Kurtis Kraft in 1949 and 1950.Punganur Made cars and had a Milling Mill on the Creek. in the 1930's they built Sports cars and sold hovercrafts in the 1933 the sold shares of there company to the public. They became famous when the wife woman began infusing honey with vanilla beans:infused honey is made by adding whole Vanilla Beans to our raw and unfiltered honey. It's a perfect balance of sweet and vanilla taste.They shut down the company
and moved all the equipment to an undisclosed place Selling the Motor Company to Frank Muntez
Expenditures/costs negotiated/spent before filming begins, including source material rights (for adaptations) and salaries for director, producer screenwriter, and actors.
Whammy Bar ( Little Black Egg.....)
Funks Pond(revamp)
(RUMOR HAS IT) Ernest T. Bass was involved in an interracial relationship with black model Donyale Luna_ they had a child in 1967 he never recognized the child. In 2001 his unrecognized granddaughter began tossing stones at a Mall in Mississauga Canada. It was said she was sing "The Creeks to Dry" skip along in bootie shorts, a white tee shirt and a sleeveless blue jean vest. It was said that she had large beetle bugs in her purse. Crazy! Crazy! Crazy!)
Written By: Pro.Tuum Proximus Maritus
and Doctor Uxor Eius Est
of Wobble Board Fame Inc.
Red Cow Music and Lyric Company
British White Recording Academy
Belgium Blue Sound Prep Inc.
all Produced and Ex-Produced
By Black Angus "Jumpan-Pumpin"
with permission by Star Anise Leather Co. LLC
Copyright Pending
Patent approved
"Cheezey-greazy sour Dill
with Yeasty rolls: Man thats
deliisous!"
Written By:
Huba Datl Chol
Circa 1969
Revised the other day(2023)