The house is burning and Grandma is combing her hair.
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Silver
Nirvana- Silver
Mom and dad went to a show
They dropped me off at Grandpa Joe's
I kicked and screamed, said please don't go
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Had to eat my dinner there
Mashed potatoes and stuff like that
I couldn't chew my meats too good
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
She said, well, don't you start your crying
Go outside and ride your bike
That's what I did, I killed my toe
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
After dinner, I had ice cream
I fell asleep and watched TV
I woke up in my mother's arms
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
Grandma take me home
I wanna be alone
song performed by by Nirvana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Snow Scene
When I walked out this morning
There was dandruff everywhere,
Dandruff on the pathways,
Dandruff falling through the air,
Somebody huge was high up there
Combing and combing his shaggy hair! !
'Why don't you use some shampoo? ! ' I shouted.
No answer.
Then there was a roll of thunder
And I ran back indoors.
I didn't know why I was frightened
But I thought it was rather sinister:
SOMEBODY was definitely up there,
Combing and combing his shaggy hair! !
Later a chap with a yellow face came along
And tidied away the dandruff:
He was a warm and jovial person
And soon the snowdrops and daffodils were blooming.
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Silently She's Combing
Silently she's combing,
Combing her long hair
Silently and graciously,
With many a pretty air.
The sun is in the willow leaves
And on the dappled grass,
And still she's combing her long hair
Before the looking-glass.
I pray you, cease to comb out,
Comb out your long hair,
For I have heard of witchery
Under a pretty air,
That makes as one thing to the lover
Staying and going hence,
All fair, with many a pretty air
And many a negligence.
poem by James Joyce
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Grandma
Knots and tangles in my hair,
grandma sitting on her chair,
me in front on a stool so low,
brushes and combs all in a row.
Grandma would wash it every day,
Saying 'We do this first, then you play.'
Waiting for the feel of every pull,
this became our ritual.
I anticipated every tug.
When we finished we would hug.
But before I'd leave she'd make a bow,
all different colors she'd use to show
that my hair was something she loved to see.
It was long and shiny black, like ebony.
I treasure her looks and the moments spent,
the combs, the brushes and her looks of content.
My grandma made me feel like a queen,
like the prettiest thing she'd ever seen.
Now as my hair is turning gray
I remember the words she used to say,
'Sit down dolly and I'll comb your hair.'
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Waiting
When darkness peeps gradually
The orphan boy met a little red riding hood.
She goes to her grandma's house
When she asked where he's going
He said; 'Nowhere to go.'
'First I go there and get permission from my grandma,
If she agrees to provide you lodging tonight,
I'll be hurry to you and please wait here.' She said.
But she never returned.
It happened a very long time ago
And she must be a grandma now.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Will grandma Mickey’s hair still be white, when we are in heaven?
My youngest son asked me this as we were
laying around arguing whether I was going to read more than one book or not…
will grandma Mickey’s hair still be white, when we are in heaven?
why do six year olds think about life and death?
why do they not seem afraid
and see it as a natural part of living life
we fear death,
we avoid hospitals, when friends are ill
and when we do go there it is quick to help speed the recovery
of the ill and get out as quick as you can
when people are ill we don’t see them as much,
they understand no one wants to be around seriously ill people
and don’t invite themselves to events they know
will cause others grief
will grandma Mickey’s hair still be white, when we are in heaven?
shows an understanding that she will be in a form that we will recognize
and still be our grandmother
and white signifies pureness, in every circumstance
except as related to hair
will grandma Mickey’s hair still be white, when we are in heaven?
is a question best answered by saying
what color would you want her hair to be
and hope he answers
whatever color she would want
poem by Oscar Mireles
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Grandmas Theme
Go grandma!!! go, go, go grandma!!!!!!!you know what they say. go, go, go
Grandma youll make it someday. shalalalala grandma youre doing fine. you and
Your dreams are ahead of your time!!! go go go go!!!!!
Go, go grandma ranger......
In space!!!!!!
What about grandpa? ? ? ? ?
Chorus:
Go granny, go granny, go go go granny!!!
Yeeeehaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!
Yeah thats right
I love u grandmama
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Grandma
Dear Grandma, I remember
When you were there for me
Dear Grandma, I remember
Your smile was a joy to see
Dear Grandma, I remember
The wonderful dinners I had
I remember how you cared
You dried my tears when I was sad
Dear Grandma, I remember
All the wonderful things you gave
You would let us play around
You would always be there to wave
Dear Grandma, I remember
All your loving care
Helping when I was sick
You were always there
Dear Grandma, I remember
That you are there for me yet
Always a comfort to me
Dear Grandma, I wont forget
Grandma
his son wants to get rid of
grandma
she removed the stickers
of his childhood from the walls
of his room
his cabinet cleaned of his toys
and he did like it
he has a mind of his own
and does not want to be
grandma's victim
like his papa
he thinks that when
grandma dies or when
she leaves to finally
return to her ancestral house
their family
shall be one again
he wants his pride whole
his ego unfractured
unlike his papa
he does not want any
stories about a boy
who was beaten almost to death
in the name of parental respect
when grandma begins to speak
he shuts his ears
and closes the door of his room
he still dreams of his
stickers and his toys and
a world without grandmas
and now papa must choose
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bazonka
Say Bazonka every day
That's what my grandma used to say
It keeps at bay the Asian Flu'
And both your elbows free from glue.
So say Bazonka every day
(That's what my grandma used to say)
Don't say it if your socks are dry!
Or when the sun is in your eye!
Never say it in the dark
(The word you see emits a spark)
Only say it in the day
(That's what my grandma used to say)
Young Tiny Tim took her advice
He said it once, he said it twice
he said it till the day he died
And even after that he tried
To say Bazonka! every day
Just like my grandma used to say.
Now folks around declare it's true
That every night at half past two
If you'll stand upon your head
And shout Bazonka! from your bed
You'll hear the word as clear as day
Just like my grandma used to say!
poem by Spike Milligan
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Hearts On Fire
my heart races as the fire grows
until there is no way out
you can smell the burning flesh
as you just simply watch on your television
as you wonder if your best friend made it out alive
you go to school telling yourself that nothing was happening
but when you arrive, people are shouting all over school about it
it pains you inside not knowing if she is dead or alive
you race to the burning house
praying to God that they are all okay
you get there, and only two out of four made it out
you sigh heavily that your best friend and her mother are okay as far as health goes
but their hearts are heavy with the loss of the house and the other two family members that did not make it out
we all gather to mourn the loss of your best firend's grandparents
Rest In Peace Grandpa and Grandma Burrus
poem by Victoria Shoemaker
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My Mothers Hair
One of your hairs fell out last night:
A piece of your life was gone without a sound.
I know a difficult day is coming,
My heart, pierced, utters a quiet cry.
Let my childhood smile again in the sun
And turn me into an innocent little head louse
So I can crawl through the jungle of your hair
And sing a song of darkness in its fragrance.
Under your fingernail-roof Ill sleep in my house;
In my black dream Ill water your black trees.
Ill pick black fruits, and hair-jungle bees
Will bring me black poems to be opened.
How will I live, without your hair?
How will I breathe, without its fragrance?
How will I survive, when I am discovered
By ghosts of wooden combs combing your hair?
Let me wear shows made of dawn-flowers
And crawl without a sound into your sleep.
Ill take the place of the hair that's gone
And sing of hair-clouds flying from night to day.
poem by Ovwigho Joseph Ovedje
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grandma Didn't Spend A Dime To Find Logic
Those who believe they can predict Mother Nature,
Are the same ones who perceive,
They can create the flavor and taste...
Of Grandma's award winning Sweet Potato Pie.
Only to realize,
Such predictions are a waste of time...
And money spent,
Educating themselves to 'be' Grandma.
When Grandma didn't spend a dime to find logic.
Grandma had a mind of her own.
Satisfying each and everytime AND was unpredictable!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bad Hair Days (A Fun Poem)
Everyday is always a bad hair day for me
Mine is very curly, they told me it's kinky
I have a hard time combing my hair, you see
Have to visit my hairdresser to fix it for me
It was very shiny, as straight as can be
It was always like these since I was a little lady
Now, I am used to see this everyday
Ummm, I don't see what happened to me
Getting up early in the morning is not that easy
I have to have a ribbon to hold it, the neighbors might see
Never mind If they laugh at me and call me crazy
I have a God who loves me and take care of me.
Hey! I am elated this way, God created me like that,
And no bad hair day will ever make me give it back,
Yes! Truly blessed to have hair as pleasing as can be,
Think what you want, I absolutely adore it. He he he!
Hmmm..not a bad hair day at all...I love it..! ! ! He he he
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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Grandma’s Little Angel
Grandma’s little angel is what you will be called, sent to us from the wings of another angel, heaven has a kiss of blessing with your name all around it, a loving gift from God “Grandma little Angel.”
Grandma’s little angel is who we are waiting for; I have been blessed with a grandchild that I will love forever more.
Grandma’s little angel I will truly adore, cherish the ground she walk upon, kiss her baby feet, hold her tiny hands until she falls to sleep.
Grandma’s little angel the apple of my eyes a wonderfully feeling of joy until the day I die. Little angel kiss my heart, touched my soul I can’t wait until the day comes that I could behold “Grandma’s little angel.”
Grandma’s little angel has already embraced my soul, our eyes has not yet seen the love that will soon unfold. She is my little light the fire that burns deep from within Grandma’s little Angel a kiss from heaven sent.
Grandma’s Little Angel from blossoms flowers grows, beautifully like a red wine rose touched my heart like no one really knows.
Grandma’s little angel I did not fully understand the blessing that was sent from God’s loving hand, he opened my eyes so I can clearly see the love that he in trusted in thee.
poem by Kimbaline Navas
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There is no point in combing where there is no hair.
As Bald As My Boot (Fun Poem 79)
I woke up one morning
my hair all over the pillow
where my head should be.
I looked in the mirror
and was shocked at what confronted me.
My head was as bald as my boot.
My wife screamed, “We’ll have none of that! ”
She then started combing like mad
our poor old cat.
“I’m going to make you a toupee.”
Now whenever my hair gets wet
I start smelling like something
that popped out of a smelly old dustbin.
She never did say which end the hair came from,
the front or the rear.
I’ll leave you to guess that little bit of fun.
23 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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My sister’s fate
A man comes
To our house
To take my sister’s hands
Grandma meets him
Leads him from the floor
To the stairs
Then for a talk in the
Living room
Brings him to the
Dining room for
Light snacks
While sister arranges
Some flowers in the vase,
Grandpa stares at him
From the tip of his hair
To the tip of his toe,
And then sister and him
Have a sweet talk
On sweet nothings
Just like any lover
After a while,
He is excused
As it is dark
And grandma and
Grandpa have their
Own kind of talk,
And then tells sister,
“He is no good,
We have seen his eyes
And his footsteps
Drop him”.
But her heart beats
For him and she is ready
For future regrets.
Oh, how she follows
Her heart that loves
The man who deceives
her from the very start
(sequel follows in due time)
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sea Is Very Calm This Morning
the sea is very calm this morning
the talisay leaves are not disturbed by the breeze
my mama is sitting on a bench
combing her long hair
saying nothing
under a tree
beside our little nipa hut
facing the horizon
on the other side is a big house
whose iron gate is painted red
a big man comes out
rushing as though
he is chasing someone
holding a stick on his hand
shouting at the child
playing with my small brother
inside the yard
of our house
the child of that man is frightened
and runs as fast as he can
back to their house
his father catches him
beating his legs
with the stick on his
right hand
i can still hear the cry of that frightened child
from the very beating of his own papa
what a mess!
i could have told you once again about the peace
and the calm and the quiet of the sea on a morning like this
but it is not true anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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