Long Granny Poems
Long Granny Poems. Below are the most popular long Granny by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Granny poems by poem length and keyword.
As I am watering your withering white roses,
I wish I had separate simple tall glass vases
To share each and every white rose with family
Who loved you as their mother and our granny.
But really symbolically this glass vase is rather
As transparent as we are when we're together,
So I never want to see us separate nor shatter.
Times we shared are the stems of each flower.
Just as we come and go thru life and death,
I'll water these roses until their final "breath."
Though your suffering lasted until the winter,
News of your final night pierced like a splinter.
I'll water these roses and your cactus plant.
I'll think of you as I sing to songs like a chant.
I still love you, I wish I could know if you know
I have a lot of self-growth I am going to show.
Life is all about family and love.
July 20, 1969, this day in history
Astronaut Neil Armstrong walked on moon, 240,000 miles
From Earth, a billion people
Listening at home:
“That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”
This same day near midnight
A small town in Taiwan island, a baby
Was born. I was born!
This clinic nurse in the lobby
Told my grandmother: “It’s a girl.”
Disappointing granny then
Turned around and went on home: without hesitation.
Everyone wished I
Was a boy!
Life is all about family and love.
Introspective, peacemaker, stammering, am I so.
My order sister
Too, born as a special child. She
Blames my mother granting me a prettier face. She
Demands everyone rewarding her undivided attention. I
Pretended permitting her full control over me – until, I
Ceased pretending!
A blessing or a curse, am I not.
Lack of nurturing,
false, no one – mom and dad did their very best.
Celebrate. I am the pretty one.
Life is all about family and love.
Grounded, stubborn, fearless, am I so.
Sunrise; sundown; circle of seasons,
presenting the most powerful version of me – fiercely, am I not.
Schooling, work, duty, responsibility, I am so.
Tearful five years of family revolution – a summon
From entropy, chaos! Three people
again one – the disgraceful one as I
was named!
Shocking, awakening, baffling, agonizing,
Life is all about family and love.
Eccentric, curious creature, solitude endeavor, am I so.
A grateful heart roaring
Abundant resources, reaching
Extraordinary heights, a lifetime student, am I not.
Millions of mistakes. Countless mis-turns.
Knowledge applied become wisdom.
Walking this lonely road missing
A mentor. Not a road less traveled, but
A road worth travels.
Life is all about family and love.
Ecstatic, untethered, blissed soul, am I so.
My father – a giver, a protector,
a provider – kindest man on earth.
Along the way, without permission, his little girl makes him proud.
Truly my father’s daughter. I am so!
Redeem mother’s homemade
Cooking once more. That’s one
Small step for the self-chained mother, one giant leap
For a tranquil daughter.
Life is all about family and love -- forgivingly.
Folks say his mother used to read
Stories of ancient warriors indeed,
To give birth to a child as brave
As a legend beneath a historic grave.
'Achilles'- She used to call her son
And he grew up, fascinating like none,
Granny still zealous, planted ardor aboard
His mother gifted him a fervent sword.
Ninja granny took him to a wonderland
Where he was hailed as a warrior grand,
Every day he read of kings in wars
Every night he escaped worldly doors.
That night he was woken by an alphabet
It was an 'A' shivering in cold sweat,
"Achilles our savior, we need thee
To release our inmates and set them free."
Arose Achilles to the land of words
Where stories flew past like birds,
Colored houses of phrases spoken
Missing alphabets from windows broken.
The morning sun made up of a sentence
Pleaded Achilles for their independence,
Leaving A and C all had been caught
Their land left with stories that fought.
Achilles swayed his little gifted sword
Headed to the prison he'd never explored,
Oh what courage flowed in his veins
Passionate to free alphabets of chains.
The prison of punctuation was guarded
By creepy spelling mistakes disregarded,
He fought valiantly and killed them all
Released alphabets from the prison wall.
He met the King of Punctuation Marks
Demanded to know why he fired sparks,
"Achilles the brave! We hail thee
We were ruined by an unknown flea.
But now that you have saved our land
I plead you to let our message expand,
When people in the world pen their tales
Let them punctuate or the train derails.
As long as punctuation stays alive
Their stories will flutter and strive,
Or else mistakes might attack us again
Their follies will make our enemies gain."
Brave Achilles narrated to granny on his way back,
Tired, dozed off dreaming of another exciting track,
He mumbled "Hold on! I come to save the world afar";
Granny closed his book, tomorrow The Alexander or a Czar?
Poet's Note: Experimenting with the funny granny series, this is my first tale. You can read the second one here:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/ninja_granny_ii_-_exuberant_colors_1261206
May 17, 2020
BRIAN'S CHOICE L ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~Winner: 3rd Place
What is society? Dictionary.com doesn't say so, but it is, some say, an irresistible force that causes insensitivity, greed, or downright oblivion.
Sir, why did you ignore the starving man in front of your house this morning?
I was in a hurry to get to work. Society frowns on those who shirk.
Ma’am, why did you tell lies and sabotage your co-worker, who needed—and deserved—that promotion more than you did?
It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there. I guess I’m just a product of my society!
Hon, would you put away your earphones and ipod and talk to Granny?
No response—She doesn’t know you’re there! Society keeps throwing all these gadgets at us!
September 26, 2016
Every morning before five
She was bustling around the kitchen
Creating her breakfast of biscuits
Gravy and sides of bacon or sausage
Eggs fried long enough to color
The yellow yolk with a seal of white
Barely concealing the liquid gold
She set the plates on the table
With forks and glasses of milk for the kids
Coffee, black and boiling, for the adults
Freshly bubbled on the wood cook stove
Where he had placed wood the night before
So she could light a fire when dawn
Rose silently over the mountain’s peaks
Granny and Pa had been together
For long enough to raise six children
And see most of them raise their own
As I was, still a child, but a part of their world
Their oldest daughter’s only girl who
Fell silent when it came to the details
Of just why she was growing up at Granny’s
There, at Granny’s, it was where I learned
About telling the truth and being kind
Working hard and minding my manners
Allowing others to go before I did
Accepting the challenges of being the youngest
In a family of older siblings who were my
Aunts and uncles, and who I loved so dearly
The only hard part of growing up at Granny’s
Was reaching adulthood and discovering
That my grandparents wouldn’t be there
For many more years – their age caught up
With me and with them and with our family
And they left me behind before I was ready
To let them go – to heaven, where we’re meeting
Dusty musty air hit me as I open the attic door. Turning on small torch, I pause whilst my eyes gently get acclimatised to the dim light. Brushing away the long cobwebs which hang from the low ceiling, I cautiously make my way to the back of the attic. In a dark corner I find Granny’s old ottoman, its pink damask silk top is now worn and faded. Carefully I begin to raise the lid, its hinges creak like granny’s arthritic knees. I gently lift out her silk wedding dress which, as a child, I’d help granny wrap in layers of crinkly tissue paper. She had always promised I will wear it one day, and as she’s a gifted seamstress I know it will fit perfectly on my June wedding day.
family heirloom
I’ll wear on my wedding day
precious memories
she told me she wanted her flowers
while she was still alive and well
her children collected bouquets, offerings
meant for her finicky nose to smell
she told me love was the reason
for this life she lived before saying farewell
her heart was filled with such kindness
a love that no one could buy or sell
she told me to bring her my flowers
because only time could tell…
when her time on this earth had passed by
her spirit would leave her body, only a shell
I miss this woman I called granny
I miss how her light would swell
glistening like the stars in heaven
now, she’s the hope I’ll always tell
friends, family, those I love - because
she’s still enjoying God’s carousel
I have a little grandma
she used to be a witch,
she’d fly high on her broomstick
and make it roll and pitch.
She’d turn bad people into frogs
and take away their gold
but says she doesn’t fly no more…..
I think it’s ‘cause she’s old!
She’s a lovely little granny
and she likes it when we stay,
she gives us sweets and tasty things
and plays with us all day.
But sometimes she is very stern,
when we’re not being good,
I don’t think that she’d use a spell……
although I know she could!
She says that she has give it up,
she ain’t a witch no more,
but looking at the sky last night,
well now I’m not too sure.
For flying high above my house
and lit up by the moon,
I sure it was my grandma……
with her poodle on her broom!
Ivor G Davies
Granny said there’s signs from nature we’ll get,
and it would behoove us not to forget.
You’d best listen when she threw out her words,
because she knew the ways of critters and birds.
She knew how to read the nature she’d see,
more accurate than some guy on TV.
She could tell if it was fixin’ to rain,
if we’d have hard winter or early spring.
Things like how an Ozark persimmon’s seed,
will tell if it’s a snow shovel you’ll need.
When autumn’s squirrels up and disappear,
then old man winter will be coming near.
If the air’s heavy and you’re feeling low,
more than likely a storm’s going to show.
But if the air is crisp and full of light,
then you better be out hunting tonight.
When there’s a misty ring around the moon,
tulips and pimpernel close up their bloom.
If the flowers have cranked up their smell,
rain is on the way is what these foretell.
If a rainbow rises high in the east,
then that means the chance of rain is the least.
But when it shows its face low in the west,
that’s when any chance of rain is the best.
See a Red sky at night, sailors delight,
red sky of morning, sailor take warning.
If the sheep are gathered in a huddle,
then you’ll be stepping into a puddle.
When leaves fall early winter will be mild,
when leaves fall later winter will be wild.
If leaves wither but don’t fall to the ground,
an extra cold winter will hang around.
If roosters start molting before the hen,
can look for a winter that’s mild and thin.
If the hen starts molting before the cock,
then prepare for a freeze hard as a rock.
Having one's person embellished with tattoos is all the rage today.
Used to be that only carousing tars got tattooed in old Mandalay!
They might have an 'anchor' or 'Mother' branded upon their chest,
Their ship's name or a naughty quote of which they were obsessed!
As an inquisitive lad I paid a dime to see tattooed ladies on a dare,
Where they 'bared' their gaudy hides at a carnival or the county fair!
Nowadays, for free I can see 'art' displayed on gals sashaying down the street.
Some are very discreet - others flaunt tatoos most everywhere replete!
Let me hasten to say it's none of my affair - I think they're very brave,
But do they realize they're stuck with the things 'til planted in the grave?
I can hear this question from their grandkids when they become a granny:
"Nana! What are all those funny pictures doing on your arms and fanny?"
Entry for Carol Eastman's "Humor Contest"