Long Nostalgiagrandmother Poems

Long Nostalgiagrandmother Poems. Below are the most popular long Nostalgiagrandmother by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nostalgiagrandmother poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member October Morning

As I gaze out the upstairs window
Looking at a scene from yesterday
This place from my childhood
This place of cherished memories
It is early, and a burst of sun gleams proudly
As it began it's rise over the distant horizon
A string of washing waving on the line
Looking like colorful flags flapping in the wind
And the doves strutting on the cobbled path
Cooing their song, or perhaps complaining 
About the chill of the October morn.
Perhaps it is not quite the same now,
As it was on a long ago October morn
Yet, something of those days hang on
The washing no longer blowing in a breeze
The doves have found a home beyond
My grandmother has long been gone
But there still prevails a peaceful song.


Premium Member Bird Songs

I wake to the songs of the birds
I hear them calling my name
I know their comings and their goings
Just as they know mine.

I have woken to the songs of the birds
They know me as I know them.
Season after season
My age has kept the count.

Generational eternity
The going's on of time...
I know these birds
Just as my grandmother before me knew hers

And hers before her knew theirs
And so on, and so forth
Ongoing forever
Forever and ever throughout time.

Repeating, always repeating
Just as a repeating decimal would
Always and forever repeating
with no ending ever in sight.

 

(January 22, 2011  Wausau, Wisconsin)

(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Form: Pastoral

Premium Member Grandma's Kitchen

The kitchen, on the weekend mornings
When company came for a visit,
Habitually simmered like a cauldron of furious activity.  
Despite a balmy morning on a September day,
The temperature rising by the moment
My  grandmother would stand,
Red faced at her kitchen table
Rubbing flour and butter briskly
Through her fingers into a large mixing bowl
Apples already peeled and sliced would lay
Like pale green petals in the pie plate,
Waiting for the crumbled topping.
She may have fallen asleep the evening before
In her big, fat, over-stuffed chair
Long before her house guests had even
Stifled a lazy yawn
But on this bright, sunny morning
She was as young as a new bride.

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