Long Grandson Poems
Long Grandson Poems. Below are the most popular long Grandson by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Grandson poems by poem length and keyword.
Grandson in a university in the south,
Grandma, writing poetry in the west..
Our family survives the distance test!
Including, our sweet pets, the very best .
Being Republicans, helps us survive the miles!
We withstand attacks, by far left, life styles.
A card from President Trump, to our Eddie!
Made our political hearts, for life, to be ready!
Edward had pizza, and a visit with his uncle
and aunt, from out our way. He got to see a
a professional hockey game for the first time.
Hurrah! He lis a member of Turning Point!
Best wishes to all of you and your families.
Hugs~~~~Grandma Pangie
We cherish and love you!
(9/27/2025}
What's your name LeiNah what's your last name Williams who am I Papa
What's your name come here talk to me(sounds of high pitch screaming from a little girl)
Shhhh! Ahh! Ahh water! Ahh! Ahh Ahhh!
How old are you? I'm 5 . How do you know, you are five. Cause I'm m five years old
How old are you Carlin? Twos year old, 2 years old.
You are going to be three years old tomorrow, how old you gonna be, you'll be a old man at three. And PA pa I am gonna turn 6 years old,when I turn six I'm gonna have smiley face emoji A happy face emoji party next year when I'm 6 .
Let's color here Carlin you use these big crayons and LeiNah you get the colored pencils
Let's make a picture for me so I can take it home and put it on mine wall.
So Carlin are yours stranger. "NOO OH"
I not NO stranger
No! LeeNa thats mine!
Wait let's share with your sister
You are both making me a picture that I can hang up at my house.
Pa pa
Pa pa
How you write your name?
PA PA J. A. M E S L E E
NO!
OH, OH. It broken (Carlin accidentally drops his orange crayon)
It's O K
You just broke tip end of the crayon, here let me see
We can't fix this here bring it here I can tear away the paper, now you can use it
Oh, let's see
Pa Pa see J. A
Hey, LeiNah you draw(on table Carlin's crayons keep rolling off the table onto the floor)
Here's my picture well that's good what's this it's blue no it's not blue actually it's purple
Can't you make a house I can't make a house, sure you can, look a square on the bottom and there's a triangle on top. Good see you made a house. Carlin what's that " It's a octopus! Oh, that's scary. Look an octopus look at all those arms
Get another piece of paper
What is this? I don't know what this is, it's "if" . If you put a g. In front and l on the end you'll have the word GIRL
part one. A day of baby sitting my Grand Children LEINAH AND CARLIN WILLIAMS
ART SESSION
3/11/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr and
5 year old-LeiNah Williams
2 year/ no tomorrow's 3 year Carlin Williams
If I had
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
If I had
this little granddaughter or
that little grandson
of my own
I would award them
a little bucket and spade
and uniform
of their own
with a little
tip up truck
for their litter load.
I would give em
some garden space
of their own
to plant a little
muddy seed
to start
their little garden
on their own.
Their little
muddy cuddy fingers
to dig and grow pumkin
carrot, strawberry,
potatoe and tomato
on their own
I would buy for those
little muddy face's
earthworm and compost
to dig and learn
how things grow
same they do.
and ask them ever
to never forget
their little garden
they grow by their own.
And dearly
i love would
love to see them
grow to 21.
You were so tired
You couldn’t wait to go lay down
Mom was standing in the kitchen
I was outside locking things up
As you went through the back door
You hollered, See you soon
Moments later the air began to fill with Dread
Getting thicker with each second of Mom's screams
By the time I got to your side
You laid unmoving, straight as board in your bed
I could hardly bear seeing you that way
As your Grandson dialed 911
My vision blurred and the world disappeared
All I could see and hear were you
Twenty three Chest compression's, Six breaths later
You opened your eyes and looked into mine
I could hardly bear seeing you so helpless
As I held you in my arms
Mom and others began to Pray
I felt each word spoken go through me to you
Flowing through your nephew's Hand that laid upon my shoulder
I couldn’t help but to hold my breath
And wrap myself around you even tighter than before
I could hardly bear seeing you struggle
No one had to tell us how bad you were
To life-flight you to St. Jose’s was the only chance you had
I tried to climbed in with you, but they wouldn’t let me
I knew how terrified of heights you were
As they closed those doors I hollered... See you there
See you there Daddy, I’ll see you there
There were lines and tubes and doctors everywhere
I stayed up for day’s right beside you in a chair
Mom sat across from me and held your hand
The others circled around us in your room
We could hardly bear seeing you that way Daddy
Alyssa sang "Jesus Loves Me" for you in your little Church
There must have been over a mile of cars parked
Family and Friends coming to say Goodbye
You'd think after almost 3 years it wouldn't make me cry
It’s almost like you must’ve known
The night you spoke those words to me
That you’d be heading up to Heaven soon
Not to take a nap
When you closed that door and hollered... See you soon
We'll meet again at those Pearly Gates, Daddy
You have our word..
We'll see you there.. We'll see you there
I found a bunch of letters
Dated 1993,
Which were written by my son from camp
And forwarded to me.
It was his first time staying there,
For one month, in a bunk.
He was away, with new routines
And he was in a funk.
His letters said he missed us
And was homesick just at night.
Aside from that, it seemed that he
Was managing all right.
A theme that was recurring
Mentioned we should send him stuff.
It sounded like, to him, our parcels
Weren’t filled enough.
This summer, his own son’s at camp -
First time, a different place,
But now in photos sent
We see his mostly smiling face.
His emails sound more upbeat
(Just a tiny “miss you” cloud),
Though he can’t request a package
Since today, they’re not allowed.
The last time I went to the beach
Watching my grandson play
He was caught by rogue wave
Was being pulled out of the way
I tried to run through waist deep
Water, to pull him safely in
Just had grabbed into my clinch
When a horrible a pain did begin
I was sure something humongous
That had bitten me
Shark had to be his name
I screamed and let go and no one came
I ran to get the child again
Even though I was in terrible pain
Just as I had him in my grip
The thing bit me again
I held on this time
Dared to not let go
In horrendous pain
I pulled him safely to the shore
When I got out of the water
The pain was even worse
I went back and washed
In the sea water to try to ease the hurt
We evetually got to a pharmacy
To see what they suggest
He gave me some medicine
With which to keep the places wet
The lesson that I learned from this
Be careful at the beach
Because there could be something lurking
Just under your feet
(It was a jelly fish which I never saw and he stung me twice. I had places on my thighs and
both lower legs. To this day I have an indented place on my lower leg where I guess the skin
was digested by the poison. Two weeks after it happened I shaved my legs and the intense
pain started again and I had to go to an emergency room. I had to have shots cortizone and
dose packs and anti-itch creams and antibiotics. This was no fun. I do not have an
understanding husband and this was one of those hurts that was in the poem "Unloved".)
Form:
372.
The Prayer of a Warrior's Heir
Oh Father God, this is the best time to make me a millionaire
This is the greatest moment to be merciful & fair
Merciful to the one being thrown into lion's lair
Fair to the one who cannot escape the snare
Consider this not a temptation nor dare
So with Thy miracles, I can gloriously share!!!
Listen to the Prayer of a Warrior's Heir
The grandson of a soldier allied to those with golden hair
Whose national emblem is still under our care
For their country's our jewel so precious & rare
Whose relation with ours no one can impair
Although our system is corrupt & unfair
Prices going up from veggies to fare
Stomachs are empty, pockets are bare
Yet the aristocrats' banks eternally glare
Glaring with gold they're reluctant to share
Where is your Christianity? Where is your care?
-07/11/2015
(Dumarao)
*My Prayer Poems for Ultimate Victory Collection
He grabs the wheel; his eyes are wild
A reckless danger in this child
That comes from never having suffered loss
He points us down the rocky road
My foot, the gas, or he’d explode
And do his best to launch us into space
I grip the frame and hold it tight
Both serious and a delight
I must admit I love to see him grin
Though I pretend a fainting spell
In truth, he drives it rather well
But let’s just keep that fact between ourselves
In no time flat, we do arrive
All limbs intact, all have survived
Already planning when we’ll drive again
----------
a Tripadi: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/tripadi-poetic-forms
I went to the beach one June day
Took my grandsons to swim and play
Told them not to swim out of reach
One June day I went to the beach.
We had ice cream to cool us down
Sun was hot we were turning brown
Such a great day it felt like a dream
To cool us down we had ice cream.
A boy with a kite flew it high
We watched it dancing in the sky
It darted left it darted right
Flew it high a boy with a kite.
Big grey clouds came the sky turned black
Picked up our things and headed back
The day cut short it was a shame
The sky turned black big grey clouds came.
Written June 10th 2020.
Raised up by earlier than early spring
the daffodils thrust their honking horns
at the promise of this newness, earned again
by slumbering through last year’s losses.
Zach placed them in a deep red bowl
(one Mama Sal fancied for its shade
and reasonable price at the Goodwill Store)
and watered their toes to keep them dancing.
I will not have to climb poetic hills
to hear these honking daffodils.
I know preserving short-lived thrills
breeds sadness when they soon fade;
that’s one of life’s favorite drills.
But predicted snow might have chilled
them sooner if my grandson hadn’t cut
them in the sunlight before the storm.
They will survive a day or two, I hope,
buoyed up by the beauty of the bowl.
I will greet them every time I pass,
the yellow honkers in the deep red glass.
Then I’ll tote them to the compost bin
where they may blend to foster life again.
How charmed I was that, when Zach
brought the blooms, I could give my celiac
boy gluten free cookies from the spring rite
of the girl scouts outside the Safeway store,
the rite Mama Sal helped run years before.
May he savor them a day or maybe more,
suffering not one jot, not an inkling of ills.
Thanks, Zach, for the honking daffodils.