What Grandy Told Me
My grandson,
Rush not to women
They smile
Their teeth are white
They have bitter intestines
Get a go-between
From her lands.
My grandson
If you wed
At her back, be not.
In the pot,
Count not meat,
Patience is divine
Or you miss a grandson
To tell my story.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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Related quotes
The latest lesson of my grandson
Four year old
Daughter's son
Just started talking
In some kind of comprehension
Returned from school
The other day
And there were some guests at home
Some of who were to
See our grandson first time
And it was my daughter's role
To introduce each
Of the guests
To her son
She is your aunty
Say 'Hi' to her
Which my grandson did
He is your 'Anna'
(Anna in Tamil means elder brother, it can be cousin too)
Say 'Hi' to him
Which my grandson did
This your grandma
Say 'Hi' to her
Which my grandson did
This went on
Till the time
All the guests were introduced
It is our practice
To give the child
A handwash immediately after
His retrun back home from school
And I took that charge
While I was helping him
In getting a wash
The fellow asked me
In a low voice like whisper
Are there no good person
Among our guests
Startled I asked him why
And he replied
Just today
School miss said
That all of us should
Grow to become a good person
Mom said these people are
Either grandpas, grandmas,
Uncles, Aunties, Annas or Akkas
But she said none
To be a good person
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Father's mother's love
She loves her grandson
Wherein she finds her son.
She loves her grandson
By which she charms her son.
Yet her love is not wholesome
For the child’s mother
Is her rival for her son.
17.07.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Place of Forgotten Memories
For years I’ve put odds and sods up into the roof space,
like old books, photographs, and the odd vase.
When my parents died I also put their memorabilia up there,
and now my loft holds many memories from over the years.
My grandson ventured up there and came down with a photograph,
he asked me why his picture was not in colour, and I began to laugh.
Of course it wasn’t him in the photograph it was his great granddad,
the resemblance was uncanny, which made me kind of sad.
The picture of my granddad was taken at the age of nine,
the same age as my grandson at this particular time.
I remember my granddad well especially in his later years,
and seeing him in my grandson fills me with tears.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Dads, Lads, And Granddads
Lads, Dads, and Granddads Free verse
My grandson,
skipping along, an eight year young kid
Behind his Dad, his hero, his idol,
his bright shining model
Sees him tall, straight, tough and confident
Sees a McMuffin buyer, a baseball coach and a dad
My grandson
sees not…. a loser, a slacker
Mostly absentee father,
lazy and irresponsible
Two days a week of being a dad
Providing little or nothing to ex-wife or son
My grandson,
I see in myself, skipping along
Following behind my dad
Who is tall, straight and confident
Giving me comfort, making me feel strong
My Dad
Taught me fishing and hunting
Not to lie, to attempt all manly things
and try not to fail or fall
he feared absolutely nothing and
could absolutely do it all
My Dad
was brave and made me proud
I skipped along behind him as well,
My bright shining model
Embarrassed by him? Never!
Proud of him always and ever
My Dad,
To others, a different man perhaps, than the man I knew.
likely so….Yes, most probably so
My grandson
in his memories I hope, forever sees
his dad, not as he really was,
but In the same way that I see mine.
Perfect! ….Yes, most probably so.
poem by David Whalen
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A Native American grandfather was talking to his grandson about how he felt. He said, "I feel as if I have two wolves fighting in my heart. One wolf is the vengeful, angry, violent one. The other wolf is the loving, compassionate one. The grandson asked him, Which wolf will win the fight in your heart? The grandfather answered, The one I feed.
My Grandfather – I
Oh how I miss him
A man of wisdom
His stories I heard
With the mind of a child
And the love of a grandson
Our fishing trips
Vacations in Boston
Baseball in the backyard
Football on the weekends
When I was older we talked
Spoke of his younger days
Spoke of my days to come
From grandfather to grandson
Yet days he did not speak of
Days of death and days of war
Battles on the beaches of the pacific
Battles of the Second World War
Fighting for our freedom
Fighting for those who live today
Not for honor or glory or power
But for the blessings of liberty
A man of wisdom
A man of honor
Oh how I miss him
My Grandfather
poem by Robert Crook
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Forget
Forget the suffering
You caused others.
Forget the suffering
Others caused you.
The waters run and run,
Springs sparkle and are done,
You walk the earth you are forgetting.
Sometimes you hear a distant refrain.
What does it mean, you ask, who is singing?
A childlike sun grows warm.
A grandson and a great-grandson are born.
You are led by the hand once again.
The names of the rivers remain with you.
How endless those rivers seem!
Your fields lie fallow,
The city towers are not as they were.
You stand at the threshold mute.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz
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Conversations That I Hear
i am into conversations
i do not speak much i listen well
like an absorbing sponge
and people suspect what i am
up to, but i keep on listening
to people who still have
the vigor to speak and
brag and expose what is
inside their guts
what they feel foremost
is important for i like to dwell
more on feelings rather than
logic and directions and
useful advices on how to live
and die perhaps,
and so this time i am inside
a bus bound to a far place
a hundred fifty kilometers
from where i live
an old man, i am surprised
talks much, complains and
scolds his grandson who is
there born to tolerate him
beyond the threshold of his
incompetence,
as he talks and sometimes
subside into murmur,
the grandson keeps on
listening to his apple ipod,
not minding what the old
grandpa is up to,
i smile and fall silent again.
the bus speeds its way to
the winding road climbing
a mountain,
the wind on my face is strong
and my eyes seem hurtful
to the flashes of trees
and bushes
along this road to another
city
the old man is asleep now
his grandson still busy
with his own
music
night is approaching
the headlights of the bus
pierces the road
like what a conscience does
to my heart
this time i hear myself
in a last ditch of conversation
to myself
before i also get a dose of
my own sleep
inside the bus now
silence reigns like a boa
who just swallowed
a whole pig.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Where our innocent warm tears flow?
A sad message from Dandenong, Australia;
Our loving daughter Tharindu
Who's delivered a premature stillborn son today!
How do we send our deepest sympathy?
We realized the present distance darling daughter!
It's like the sky & Earth.
Do you feel our warm tears?
The cruel invisible hands taken our unseen Grandson
Earlier he took our Granddaughter too during my absence.
To whom we claim this unfair gamble and offer our inner cry?
Darling daughter be patient and we're with you till our last breath.
I have a name for you my unseen Grandson!
Lucky! (As you have not seen this cruel World)
We never forget our Lucky!
Your poor Grandma cries behind me like an Antelope.
You're the luckiest Portrait printed in our fragile hearts
And very soon we come to your lonely resting place sonny!
Yes, with my teary loose-leaf book of Sorrow!
*A humble dedication to our new grandson who bid Goodbye without seeing your poor Grandma & Grandpa! Our dreamy rainbow bridge collapsed, and we checked our old Passports, validity already expired it seems and we're very near to you!
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Teach Them Well
Wealth never guarantees
Good character is bred
It takes much time for these
Where Discipline is led.
The young don't grow up Good
Respect implanted there
We teach them as we should
What's honest and what's fair.
We teach them Gratitude
And how to say 'thank you'
We teach them attitudes
That bless in all they do.
The young can never gain
Whatever is not taught
At Home and so attain
The virtues that we sought.
'Train a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will depart from it.'
PROVERBS 22: 6
A friend of mine gave his rich grandson a birthday gift in cash, the grandson did not bother to say thank you and kept watching his hockey game. Such are the young people we dread will be the adults of tomorrow.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Are You Content?
I CALL on those that call me son,
Grandson, or great-grandson,
On uncles, aunts, great-uncles or great-aunts,
To judge what I have done.
Have I, that put it into words,
Spoilt what old loins have sent?
Eyes spiritualised by death can judge,
I cannot, but I am not content.
He that in Sligo at Drumcliff
Set up the old stone Cross,
That red-headed rector in County Down,
A good man on a horse,
Sandymount Corbets, that notable man
Old William pollexfen,
The smuggler Middleton, Butlers far back,
Half legendary men.
Infirm and aged I might stay
In some good company,
I who have always hated work,
Smiling at the sea,
Or demonstrate in my own life
What Robert Browning meant
By an old hunter talking with Gods;
But I am not content.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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A Sunday Prayer of Thanks
Dear Father in Heaven, today I'm not going to ask anything of you.
I want to praise you Lord and give thanks for all that you do.
As of late Father I've asked you for many blessings and you have granted many of them Father. You helped my daughter find her way and open a wonderful art shop, oh Lord I thank you. You kept my children out of harms way Lord and showed my grandson the error of his ways bringing him back on track Lord, I thank you. You granted my grandson, my daughter and myself a trip to Nova Scotia this year Lord, I thank you Father. You made sure my mother isn't suffering with her leg Father. You saw to it that David Harris came home from the hospital and is recovering nicely, I thank you Father. You took care of some issues for my friends Shelley and her new husband Michael Lord, I thank you.
Father God, I'm sure I've missed some, but you know what they are and that I want to thank you on their behalf.
Father God, thankyou for all the wonderful things you do and most of all Father, thankyou for your precious son 'Jesus'.
poem by Melvina Germain
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What advice do I tell my grandson? I listen to him.
quote by Roy Haynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brighton Cemetery's very far from us dear Son!
First of December Two thousand ten
Tattooed in our mild hearts with a pickaxe!
Our precious grandson Prabashwara's buried
With another eight Roses in Australia.
The tiny caskets nine in a row
On the altar and above the Virgin Mary's magnanimous Statue stands
With that kind face and I read her conveying Expression!
'I'll look after them well! '
Oh! The Baby Lawn among the innocent tombs
And Earth quietly accepts the new arrivals!
The sky looks so sad like in a funeral.
A Red Rose on each casket with a tear
And they sleep in the mass grave peacefully.
But we're the sinners never get such a proper sleep
Until we go there leaving all the attachments?
*To our loving grandson Prabashwara, May you rest in peace with your unseen friends! One day we visit there if time permits.....and bring you this poem, your poor Grandma would sing a song of our hardship & haven?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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I don't know who my grandfather was; I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I don't know who my grandfather was I am much more concerned to know what his grandson will be.
quote by Abraham Lincoln
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Eve of My Death
The eve of my death, a baby was born, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, a baby took her first stumbling steps, and this kept me
alive.
The eve of my death, a school bus filled with laughing children drove away,
and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, I looked out my window to see my child be swept
away to prom, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, my baby, my child reached out her hand to accept her
diploma, she is not a baby or a child any more, and this kept me alive.
The eve of my death, I walked with my daughter down the isle, and this kept
me alive.
The eve of my death, I held my new born grandson in my arms, and this kept
me alive.
The day of my death, I feel my grandson's tears hit me like a cool spring rain,
I see his father behind a podium an inch away from tears, I feel the
flowers on the casket that holds the only thing that keeps me alive.
poem by Stephen Howard
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My grandson sees me as Lois on TV every Christmas, and that scores me points.
quote by Margot Kidder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are fathers who do not love their children; there is no grandfather who does not adore his grandson.
quote by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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