I don't put off any time with my grandchildren. I don't put off a thing.
quote by Lynn Redgrave
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)
i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,
it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people
inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses
she says
these are all for her children
and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren
what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due
to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible
but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see
perhaps
forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed
and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all
her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and
all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren
...and then justice shall reign
but when it comes
i shall not see this event anymore
but i will be happy
>>>ii
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love You Grandchildren
Calling the grandparents,
May make them happy,
When calling itself a problem,
How to make them happy?
When the thorns were sown,
in the young hearts,
When the ill memories are planted,
in the young thoughts,
When the bacterial and viral words were introduced,
to develop immunity,
Children have become immune to love and affection,
when they are old.
Be kind to your grandchildren,
when they are young
so they will be kind to you,
when you are old.
Be neutral to your grandchildren,
when they are in the cousin crowd,
so they will be neutral to you,
when you are in the elderly crowd.
Be generous with love to your grandchildren,
when they are sick and troubled
and they will be generous to you,
when you are really ill and worried.
Be the grandparents to your grandchildren,
As they do not have any other grandparents,
but you.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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In the spirit of Rumi - 50 - One Thing
Oh the pleasure, the happiness,
the delight, the joy, the bliss,
of doing just one thing above all!
When I was a child, I did many things;
that’s right for children – there’s the world,
go play in it; ask, what’s a horizon? but what
lies beyond? and why can’t I see angels
if angels can see me? …
When I was a young man, I did many things;
that’s right for young men – which one will I love?
which one will love me? And when we’ve together found our love,
oh what then? and oh what then?
But now I’m older, there seems less time
for many things; they will look after themselves
without my help… so, what delight
to give oneself to just one thing…
one thing at a time; and then
one thing…
and it seems, it doesn’t matter what;
roses need an expert to collaborate
in dreaming up new beauty from an older stock;
dogs need exercise, and a two-legs to look up to;
grandchildren are born to love grandparents
in a special way..
and, duties done, and hearts served well,
one thing…it might be poetry,
in which to say, look, all this
I’ve received: here’s recognition,
acknowledgement, and gratitude…
and the other things, like sleeping, eating,
become day by day like living in someone else’s poem;
someone else committed to one thing…
and then one day, perhaps,
life’s curtain twitches; and some great being
looks in the window, the very moment you look out;
and ‘one thing’, in the most natural way,
becomes…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I have never experienced being madly in love the way most people seem to have been, although it is not something I would miss. Instead I have had an enormous ability to love my children and my grandchildren and my great grandchildren.
quote by Astrid Lindgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Father’s Death
He had had six children,
Fifteen grandchildren and
Many great grandchildren.
He died with a son by.
Others didn’t see him last
And didn’t repent either.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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We need to work our level best in this legislative session to help grow Montana's economy, so that grandchildren can stay in Montana, grandchildren can visit their grandmother and grandfather by driving across town, not flying across the country.
quote by Brian Schweitzer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The great thing about baseball is when you're done, you'll only tell your grandchildren the good things. If they ask me about 1989, I'll tell them I had amnesia.
quote by Sparky Anderson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She Gave Birth in a Fox-Hole
Victoria Elizabeth Borg
Born June 22,1920 in Agana, Guam
Died Pearl Harbor Day 2009
Victoria sang many lullabies
to her
5 children
5 step-children
26 grandchildren
36 great grandchildren
2 great-great grandchildren
and a host of heavenly nieces and nephews.
She was married to Tomas T. Calvaron and his 5 children
on the island of Guam in 1943.
After giving birth to her daughter Rosalita
in a fox-hole during World War II
she made it through
to have 4 more children.
In 1950
she was widowed and remarried to her
brother-in-law.
She passed on to be with the Lord
surrounded by her children and granchildren.
We
her many friends and family members
will keep her memory in our minds
and her love in our hearts
until we meet again.
poem by Bob Genevro
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Wilber Jean
I have a grandpa named Wilbur Jean
He hails from a small town in ol' Kaintuck
Someone gave him the handle 'Web', it stuck
He married his sweetie, Loleta Ruth
She gave him four kids, two of each
Oh yes, four! That's no figure of speech
He went to war, went to work, went to church
She fed the family and washed the pan
They drove the 'Blue Goose', a Ford sedan
Now my 'Pa' is turning ninety, a major milestone
Wow! Grandchildren, great grandchildren, and beyond
Four generations of us their love has spawned
Happy birthday, Pa. We love you!
poem by Charles Hancock
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My Auntie Zousy
auntie zousy works
as caregiver for years in chicago
to raise her grandchildren
she sent her children
to the university and they got married
and got separated from their husbands
messy, the life of auntie zousy had
always been messy but she survives
somehow
always on the go
finding work as caregiver in the
united states of america
she's 75 now and on her birthday
a party is tendered
surrounded by her 30 grandchildren or so
and inside the grand old house
of her ancestors
the laughters redound
reverberating the happy sounds
of a big family
i look at her
she is short, and emaciated and
her cheekbones show that she is not at all well
sickly, that is what auntie zousy is now
bent and misshapen
and yet in her silence
she has not surrendered
to the sacrifices of
love for the family
her grandchildren now sing
her a happy birthday
and she blows her 75 candles
in one swift breath
suddenly the room is dark
and smoke rises in the air
and she makes her
silent wish and then the lights
are turned on and laughter
follows as it will always will
happy, so happy, that is what
my auntie zousy is all about
a life of sacrifice
a lifetime of service
a life full of family laughter
a life full of love
age has not stolen
what she has treasured
now she waits for something
more exciting
perhaps, a happy death
a funeral surrounded by all
the grandchildren she always loved
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our Grandchildren
my grandchildren are children of my children,
sounds quite Biblical,
grandchildren are my children once emoved,
neither born nor reared under our roof
the status clear but the state of mind,
unwilling to grow apart is painful and smarting,
each time we see them, a growing warmth,
shining reflections, thrills of yesteryear
crowding the senses, choked with emotion,
we are drowned with sympathies of surrender
symphonies of hugs and embracing,
to kiss and to hold these children of our children
this affinity is like no other, special and particular
reserved only for them, a set, set aside, as we
incessantly seek to find resemblances and like,
about these children of our loins and womb,
remind us of when you were growing up,
their laughter and cheer fills our universe
their pain and fear clouds our horizons,
juat ask and we would give them the skies and galaxies
poem by Shimon Weinroth
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I reluctantly left the series because a) my age. I'm 68 tomorrow and time is very precious for me to spend time at home with my family and especially with the grandchildren. They're aged 7 and 5. After three years I became homesick for my home.
quote by Richard Briers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All Dad's Fault!
Great grandchildren…
More that just a few
Grandchildren…
Got a lot of them too
Lot's of happy
Lot's of sad…
Lot's of goodness
And a bit of bad
A few deaths…
Lot's of life
Many fantasies
Just one wife
Many lives created
Most due to chance (or luck)
It all started on a warm summer evening
In the back of my dad's ol' pickup truck
The lightning bugs were glowin'
The hormones were flowin'
The attraction was growin'
And we were too young to be knowin'
Of the consequences of that summer night
And all the joy and heartbreak to be
Well…It was all my dad's fault…
This patchwork quilt of family
It all began
when I held out my hand
And he gave the pickup's
key to me
I think he knew all the while
What was goin' to be in store for me
Cause he had a bittersweet smile
As he handed me that key
poem by David Whalen
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Seaside Visitation
Your grandchildren
play in the sea,
splashing and screaming
as the water chills.
You watch as you sit
on the stone wall,
your feet on the sand.
Anny stands staring out
at the broad horizon,
her ghostly hand
above her brow
to keep out
the sun’s bright glare,
her small phantom feet
touching the beach,
far from the water’s reach.
She hears the playful screams,
and ventures on down
between the crowds
who occupy the sands
with chairs and towels
and windbreaker walls.
She waits and gazes
at your grandchildren’s play,
her blonde hair and bow
touched by the sun’s glow.
You watch her as stands there
rooted in the sands,
knowing none see her
as you do now, her hands
resting behind her back,
seemingly in deep thought,
she wanders along the beach,
her eyes taking in
the seaside show,
her profile captured
by the sun’s warm kiss.
She turns and looks at you,
knowing that you see her there,
smiling she waves a hand,
then she’s gone from sight,
as once before
in Auschwitz’s hold she went.
Nothing now but the sea sound
and grandchildren’s laughter
and sea air and Anny’s scent.
poem by Terry Collett
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Loss of Eye Contact
You and I have one thing in common!
We both are attracted to exit signs...
Without a need to ask for direction.
Unfortunately...
Some folks are so hypnotized,
By their own ego...
They believe the display
Of someone's lack of attention
And loss of eye contact...
Is a signal for them,
To produce pictures of ugly children!
'I'm sorry!
I didn't know those were 'not' pictures,
Of you taken at a petting zoo!
Ooooohhh...I see,
They are your grandchildren? Well...
No offense, but can you point out which
Ones are which! ?
Will you ever forgive me? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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All Alone
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
HER CHILDREN GROWN
WITH FAMILY OF THEIR OWN
SHE WONDERS WHAT HAPPEN
CHILDREN ALL OF THREE
THEY HAVE GROWN LIKE FRUIT UPON THE TREES
GRANDCHILDREN SHE HAS SIX
GETTING HARDER TO REMEMBER THEIR NAMES
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
NO ONE COMES TO VISIT
HER GRANDCHILDREN DOESN, T KNOW HER
HER CHILDREN HAS FORSAKEN HER
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE LOVED HER CHILDREN DEARLY
WANTED NOTHING BUT THE BEST
WORKED HARD AND WENT WITHOUT
HER CHILDREN SHE WOULD DIE FOR
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE WONDERS WHY
SHE THOUGHT THEY WOULD BE AROUND HER
LIKE ALL MOTHERS DO
GET TOGETHERS ON SUNDAYS
SEE A MOVIE OR TWO
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
SHE REEKS HER BRAIN
WONDERS WHAT DID SHE EVER DO
TO GET SUCH COLD TREATMENT
FROM THE BABIES SHE ONCE KNEW
SHE SITS THERE ALL ALONE
THE ANGELS CAME AND CARRIED HER HOME
poem by Verna Ralph
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Old Age Doesn't Come Alone... Not At 53
Where does it come from old age
I took my family grandchildren included
To the beach today only to find out
That people who are unfit are excluded
Not to say I didn't try to reach the beach
'Come on Grandad! ' shouted my boys
But grandad was too ill for the beach to reach
So sat on an old wooden bench and viewed from afar
The shenannigans of my daughter playing in the surf
Made me so envious to be young again.
But I'm only fifty three with a heart of ninety
So thus it must remain until the hospital sort my problems
Without good odds I have been informed
My passing may be sooner rather than later
But I'd rather a day of running on the beach and my heart burst
Than to have to hear my grandchildren shout once again
'Come on grandad last one there is a rotten egg! '
poem by Craig Anderson
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Man Of Joy
The man of joy lives in his home here at home
The man of joy always gives joy toeveryone that knows him
The man of joy has 5 grandchildren already
The man of joy spend time withhis family onthe weekends
The man of joy has a big heart also
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Would You Like to Participate With Us
Would you like to participate with us,
During our global meditation?
Many of us are striving for a higher consciousness!
And we are going to do this the first of the year.
At 12noon!
'Excuse me?
A higher what?
Consciousness.
Oh, I'm conscious all right.
Ain't nuthin' wrong with my mind!
Naw...
Ya'll go 'head with that mess!
Since...
That's yo thing not my thing and my thing ain't yo thing.
And you and them that do those things think ya'll all that!
Well..
My feet is on the Earth,
And I ain't got time to waste on nonsense!
I ain't 'bout to raise 'nuthin' no time soon!
I ain't got time to waste on that! '
So, that is a no?
'That's yo thing not my thing and my thing ain't yo thing.
And you and them that do those things think ya'll all that!
You better come down to Earth and be real! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Torn Between Two Worlds
We're headed to the southland
to avoid the wintry scenes.
I will not miss the falling snows
or temperatures in the teens.
What I will miss is the comfort I feel
of being where I was born.
Whenever I travel away from here
a part of me does mourn.
Still I await the reunion with my sons
and their families that I love.
My grandchildren's smiles and interests
that to me are far and above
my loneliness that nags at me
to be where I'm at home.
It's strange what familiarity does to the heart.
It tells me not to roam.
Being torn between here and there
is never an easy thing.
It's like being in the middle of a song
that you've forgotten how to sing.
But off we'll go and the south will appear
and we will settle in.
We'll bide our time and enjoy our families
and southern living will begin.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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