Proximity
Her instrument fluttered like the humming bird
a harp humming strumming true
kneaded the Carolina gloaming.
Her hands were violin pure
her eyes twinkled like a harpsichord;
I, her eager audience,
sit memorized
by her fluttering finger-tips
inveighing a sorrowful tune
which came pouring over me
in the shaded night
on the patio
where she plays the piano
newly tuned, and I, new visitor
and suitor
am with her grandmother sitting chaperon
asking
'My boy what do you do?
It was the Latin American Way;
I lift my voice:
'I worship your grand-daughter;
she is my career
and I bask in the marvelment of the beauty
her mother and grand-ma-ma
have contributed to this moment;
this evening
where I benefit this star-lit night,
where moonbeam and fire-flies highlight
your granddaughter's hair
and I sit knowing I will never see
the marriage aisle with her-
I am from another continent-
but I sit this night content-
with mere proximity
reeling in the experience.'
Grand-mama smiled at the perspicacity.
Some times love offered
is the heart practicing
for a future use.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Grand Illusion
I saw you in a dream, it hit me like a bright light
Flashing on a screen, visions of my whole life.
I used to chase the moment of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a grand illusion.
Heart was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
I held you in my arms till the other side of midnight.
Kept you in my mind, you got me through some long nights.
Standing on the threshold of desire,
Caught between the madness and the fire.
Chorus
It was all a grand illusion.
Hand was quicker than the eye.
Nothing but a grand illusion,
Legends in our own minds.
I used to chase the moments of desire
Back to when my young heart burned like a fire.
It was just a, nothing but a, it was all a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was all a grand illusion,
Legend in my own mind.
It was just a grand illusion.
Nothing but a grand illusion.
It was just a grand illusion,
Legend in our own mind.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven
The piano played its final tune
And strings got torn in two
And the old lady sang her final song
As her grand-daughter cried all way through
It's the end of a chapter
An era in time
The piano lid closes
The old lady shuts her eyes
And drifts to a land far away
The last generation ends
But doesn't go to waste
It's a sad story that happens all the time
Unfortunately......
But one day this old lady will open her eyes, sing again
And the piano will mend it's strings and play again
And her grand-daughter will hear this song
And smile..... instead of cry
She'll smile again.
poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love, Luck, and Lies
How grand it is to be earnest,
To win the heart of one’s beloved.
Having the love of such a beauty
And even her hand in marriage.
And yet such a dense lady to adore;
For with my name she loves me true,
And without it, she loves me not.
Why do I, then, make it business
To take her as my wife?
Is her love so delightful and worthy
If she cannot love me if I were Jack?
Well marriage is but a misunderstanding
And divorces are indeed made in heaven.
And if it takes a lie to love
And to win her heart as well;
Then let love and luck and lies prevail,
For how grand it is to be Ernest!
poem by Sesame Cha
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My grand dad
I remember you grand dad
Back since I was only three
I remember you granddad
How much you adored me
I remember you grand dad
How you made me smile
I remember you grand dad
You made my toddler years worthwhile
I remember you grand dad
Your lovely smell of tobacco
I remember you grand dad
The love for others you would show
I remember you grand dad
When I came to see you, you would give me a jellybean
I remember you grand dad
You always made me feel like a queen
I remember you grand dad
And I miss you everyday
Father Freak (1) (Took Son's Wife And Killed Son's Daughter)
A 4-year-old daughter was murdered,
by a 45-year-old grandfather,
who had a love affair with his daughter-in-law,
who is a 23-year-old woman whose husband's heart got gnawed.
The husband found out the affair and had their marriage got undone.
The grandfather did'nt have any consideration for his son.
He admitted beating the grand-daughter to death,
stuffing his body into a suitcase and throwing into the river bed.
Murder occured in May, about 3 months ago.
3 weeks ago, her great grandmother contacted Authority for her no-
show.
Then the disappearance brought to police attention.
How could they commit a crime full of sins?
They have children of their own,
but about parental love they have never known.
The father not only robbed his son of his wife,
but also put an end to his grand-daughter's life.
There are actually some bad fathers,
who could be compared to freak Monster.
Domestic Shades16
For angst theirs against
Infants and babies shut in classes
Montessori 'holidays' means a lot
That grand-mas are the happiest
Running behind grand children
Bleating to grand-son 'yes sir, yes sir'
Towed by grand-daughter like 'little lamb'
Boasting to daughters
Their baby care olden days..
Kept running behind me
My grand-daughter
My daughter behind her
A cypher-contest finally
Caught defeated for bath
But bath-towel crying elsewhere
Escaped to rescue, my daughter
Little wee locked in momentarily
Battled on a chaos further red mouthed
Poking 'Grandeur''s tongue
Prostrating to my back 'toothsome'...
And...
Now, I am not for Montessori Holidays
poem by Indira Renganathan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Grumpy Grandpa
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
As if they had been dipped in gore,
I'd like to set you lugging pails
And make you scrub the kitchen floor.
I'm old and crotchety of course,
And on this point my patience fails;
I'd sue my old girl for divorce
If she showed up with painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Like to a Jezebel are you;
Do you expect to snare the males
With talons of such bloody hue?
I could forgive your smudging lips,
Your scarlet cheek that powder veils,
But not your sanguine finger-tips . . .
Don't paw me with your painted nails.
Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails,
Were I the sire of maidens ten,
I'd curse them over hills and dales,
And hold them to the scorn of men
If they had claws of crimson dye;
Aye, though they sang like nightingales,
Unto the welkin I would cry:
"Avaunt, ye hags with Painted Nails!"
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Buckskin Bag of Gold
Last night I met him on the train--
A man with lovely eyes;
And he gave me a searching glance
Of sweet charm'd surprise!
I knew 'twas he the lady meant,
Who once my fortune told,
By his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Yes! (Ha! ha!) Yes! (ha! ha!) his is the man
Who does your fortune hold!
He has jet black eyes, a grand moustache,
And a buckskin bag of gold.
Tall! (Ha! ha!) slim! (ha! ha!) quick as a flash!
And twenty two years old;
He has jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
The dearest man you ever saw
How much I love him now!
And if I should live a thousand years,
No other hears my vow.
Like Judas--no, like Jupiter,
He look'd so brave and bold,
With his jet black eyes, his grand moustache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
Sweet boy bring me the "Morning Call"
Perchance I'll find his name;
At the "Grand Hotel" he must have stopp'd,
I wonder when he came!
He must have charm'd those Lumpkin girls,
So haughty, proud and cold,
By his jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
How can I seek a name unknown?
Oh, tell me where he went!
What is this I read! why Papa's bank
Is robb'd of ev'ry cent!
The thief, it seems, left town last night,
Well, well! I'm nicely sold!
He had jet black eyes, his grand mousetache,
And his buckskin bag of gold.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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Domestic Shades-17
Wishing My Grand-son
I let my heart open
To let all my wishes soar..
Golden flowers in showers
At the behest of the Sun
Merrily sporting in the breeze
Further to Heaven zoom
Begetting blessing sprinkles all
In showers then to pour
My dear Grand-son,
On every pace of yours
Heightening you to the steeple
People to applaud thronging
As you play
On harp of your heart
Your mind your bow
A soulful life harmonious
A signature-tune your life..
Bowing to this Granny's singing
Ever on as ever
'Happy Birth Day To You....'
For ever long dear Grand-son
poem by Indira Renganathan
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My advantage
There were three women on travel,
Sitting in front of me on a train,
And they seemed to be lass
Her mother and her grand mother.
The girl was tenderly lovely.
Her mother was firm and striking.
The grand mother had majesty.
My age of seventy is an advantage.
02.08.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Life's Been Grand
(Merle Haggard/Terry Gordon)
My life's been grand
I been a hand at livin' it up all the way
I've had good times and bad times and hard times and done time
But life's been a blessing every day
My life's been grand
You know I'd write home and tell 'em
But they wouldn't believe how good my luck's been
And if it ended today I've been all the way
My life's been grand
My life's been grand
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Love, My Love!
My love, my love! Your love is so pure
My love, my love! Your kiss is so sweet
My love, my love! Your touch is so grand
My love, my love! You have me at your hands
My love, my love! Your faith is so real
My love, my love! Your face do appeal
My love, my love! Your hair is so soft
My love, my love! You make my heart froth
My love, my love! Your voice is so melodic
My love, my love! Your skin is so smooth
My love, my love! You make my heart swoon
My love, my love! You are my love it's true
poem by Alex Fischer
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Hillbilly Hollywood
I can still remember my first guitar
Bright and shiny like a brand new car
Even took it with me when I went to school
And I practiced every day till I got real good
I learned every lick on the radio
From wabash cannon to go johnny go
I majored in rhythm with a minor in blues
Then I hit the road with my blue suede shoes
And I dreamed of seeing my name in lights
Grand ole opry on on a saturday night
Standing where my heroes stood
Hillbilly hollywood
I played some bars where you never wanna go
From oklahoma city down to tupelo
My ears would be ringing like an old fire bell
When Id lay me down in some cheap hotel
And I dreamed of seeing my name in lights
Grand ole opry on a saturday night
Standing where my heroes stood
Hillbilly hollywood
And I pray before too long
They will hear my song
And I dreamed of seeing my name in lights
Grand ole opry on a saturday night
Standing where my heroes stood
I dreamed grand old opry on a saturday night standing . .
Hillbilly hollywood hillbilly hollywood hillbilly hollywood
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandmother Told Me So
The declaration has been spoken,
For Grandmother told me so.
The darkeys have got their fetlocks broken,
For Grandmother told me so.
Oh, won't they have a lot of iron on hand!
And when the news travels,
Oh, won't it be grand!
'Twill sweep like a sugarcane over the land,
For Grandmother told me so.
American Eagle! hysterical bird!
Oh, flap your wing and crow!
The slaves are embellished--yes, that's the word,
For Grandmother told me so!
There's curious times in that ur section,
For Grandmother told me so.
They think they will have a resurrection,
For Grandmother told me so.
The penholders raving like persons insane --
The darkeys in exodus, raising cane,
And singing like martingales after a rain,
For Grandmother told me so.
But President Abe forgot Kentucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
And Geneses, too -- and that's unlucky,
For Grandmother told me so.
Malicious champagne will be open'd in vain,
Until we shall break the last ox-yoke and chain --
Till through the Benighted States freedom shall reign,
For Grandmother told me so.
poem by Henry Clay Work
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The Great 'Grandma
The fussy Grandma
was on her last moments.
Sensing that she was knocking
at the doors of 'Death',
her grand children were
brought one by one before her.
Memories stinging
of momentous years
began to come into her mind.
How with tricks she drove out
her aged mother-in-law
just a week after her
coming into that house
as the first daughter-in-law!
The eldest grandchild
trickled down sugary water
into her mouth.
Her henpecked husband
reared his head in her mind.
Her eyes got wet
when her mind recalled
how her husband hanged himself
believing her feigning torrid looks
at some neighbours, as true.
The next grand child
dripped water into her mouth.
When she remembered
how her first daughter-in-law
sought herself divorce
being afraid of her torture,
her lips moved a bit
and the third grand child
rained sweetened water.
When she thought of her
second techie-daughter-in-law
who escaped her ill-treatment
by settling down abroad
and refused to take her there,
she tried to gnash her teeth.
Her upper jaw lowered a little.
The foreign-settled in-law
came by flight and entered
at her mother-in-law's last minute.
She poured pure honey down
into the gaped mouth of her in-law.
The great grandma lost her breath
and was lost for ever.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The day my Mother died I for never forget
The day my mother died I know it broke everyone heart. And nothein will ever be ablr to make it. It's been four years. Please take the time to remember my mother. My mother was a woderful person. Grand mother amd great grand mother. written 5/19/08 Posted 11/30/08
poem by Susie Sunshine
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I Love A Piano
[1st verse:]
As a child I went wild when a band played
How I ran to the man when his hand swayed
Clarinets were my pets, and a slide trombone I thought was simply
Divine
But today when they play I could hiss them
Evry bar is a jar to my system
But theres one musical instrument that I call mine
[chorus:]
I love a piano, I love a piano
I love to hear somebody play
Upon a piano, a grand piano
It simply carries me away
I know a fine way to treat a steinway
I love to run my fingers oer the keys, the ivories
And with the pedal I love to meddle
When padarewski comes this way
Im so delighted if Im invited
To hear that long haired genius play
So you can keep your fiddle and your bow
Give me a p-i-a-n-o, oh, oh
I love to stop right beside an upright
Or a high toned baby grand
[2nd verse:]
When a green tetrazine starts to warble
I grow cold as an old piece of marble
I allude to the crude little party singer who dont know when to pause
At her best I detest the soprano
But I run to the one at the piano
I always love the accompniment and thats because
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Grand
It's grand to be a squatter
And sit upon a post,
And watch your little ewes and lambs
A-giving up the ghost.
It's grand to be a "cockie"
With wife and kids to keep,
And find an all-wise Providence
Has mustered all your sheep.
It's grand to be a Western man,
With shovel in your hand,
To dig your little homestead out
From underneath the sand.
It's grand to be a shearer
Along the Darling-side,
And pluck the wool from stinking sheep
That some days since have died.
It's grand to be a rabbit
And breed till all is blue,
And then to die in heaps because
There's nothing left to chew.
It's grand to be a Minister
And travel like a swell,
And tell the Central District folk
To go to -- Inverell.
It's grand to be a socialist
And lead the bold array
That marches to prosperity
At seven bob a day.
It's grand to be unemployed
And lie in the Domain,
And wake up every second day --
And go to sleep again.
It's grand to borrow English tin
To pay for wharves and docks
And then to find it isn't in
The little money-box.
It's grand to be a democrat
And toady to the mob,
For fear that if you told the truth
They'd hunt you from your job.
It's grand to be a lot of things
In this fair Southern land,
But if the Lord would send us rain,
That would, indeed, be grand!
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Homesick
I’ve lit the Christmas candle,
As we used to long ago
When it shone through cabin windows
On Holly-hedge and snow.
In this fine new house they’ve built me
That is furnished rich and fair-
But I’m hearing now the breakers rolling round the cliffs of Moher,
And my heart is aching, aching for a breath of Irish air.
The wren boys on St. Stephen’s Day.
Went singin’ up and down
With their poor dead wren and thorn bush,
I heard them through the town.
But to-night down lighted city streets,
I hear the distant band,
And when’er they play ‘our own’ hymns or tune of dear old Ireland,
The poor old foolish heart of me is in another land.
‘Twas a lonely hillside chapel,
Where we tramped to midnight Mass,
With the flaring lights we carried
Throwing shadows on the grass.
But to-night my boy will drive me
In his grand new limousine,
And he’ll wrap my furs around me, proudly caring for his Mother,
And I’ll ride to the Cathedral just as grand as any queen.
Ah! No, I’m not repinin’,
And I love this wide new land,
And I’m proud to see the childer
Growin’ prosperous and grand,
But roots strike deep in Irish soil,
Old memories are sweet,
And to-night my heart is yearnin’ for the cabin I was born in,
And I smell the reek of turf-smoke driftin’ up the city streets.
poem by Alice Guerin Crist
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The Grand British Brew
I declare unto you there's a brew that is true,
Golden brown until we make it white;
It's drunk in the morning, it's drunk after noon,
In the evening, and also at night.
The procedure to make this infusion
Is quite ceremonial in China;
But this king of all drinks well deserves it,
To be honest there's just nothing finer.
Some take it with milk, some take it without,
Then the question is: 'One lump or two? '
But whatever the colour or sweetness of taste,
You can't beat The Grand British Brew.
If your preference is for the Darjeeling,
Earl grey or 'P.G.' or 'Typhoo, '
It makes not a farthing of difference,
You're choosing The Grand British Brew.
Now the yankees would drown us in coffee,
The fed's, in their wisdom, would too;
But that bean is a poor substitution
For the leaf in The Grand British Brew.
I've tried every other refreshment
That the world has to offer to me,
But I find myself always returning
To the brew that is true: to my tea.
Written Oct 1994
poem by John Carter Brown
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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