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Grandpa Was A Carpenter

Oh, grandpa wore his suit to dinner nearly every day
No particular reason, he just dressed that way
Brown necktie with a matching vest and both his wingtip shoes
He built a closet on our back porch and put a penny in a burned-out fuse
Grandpa was a carpenter, he built houses, stores and banks
Chain-smoked camel cigarettes, and hammered nails in planks
He would level on the level, he shaved even every door
And voted for eisenhower, cause lincoln won the war
Well, he used to sing me blood on the saddle and rock me on his knee
And let me listen to the radio before we got tv
Well, hed drive to church on sunday and hed take me with him too
Stained glass in every window, hearing aids in every pew
Grandpa was a carpenter, he built houses, stores and banks
Chain-smoked camel cigarettes, and hammered nails in planks
He would level on the level, he shaved even every door
And voted for eisenhower, cause lincoln won the war
Well, my grandma was a teacher, she went to school in bowling green
Traded in a milking cow for a singer sewing machine
Well, she called her husband mister, and she walked real tall and proud
She used to buy me comic books after grandpa died
Grandpa was a carpenter, he built houses, stores and banks
Chain-smoked camel cigarettes, and hammered nails in planks
He would level on the level, he shaved even every door
And voted for eisenhower, cause lincoln won the war

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandpa Was A Carpenter

Grandpa wore his suit to dinner
Nearly every day
No particular reason
He just dressed that way
Brown necktie and a matching vest
And both his wingtip shoes
He built a closet on our back porch
And put a penny in a burned out fuse.
Chorus:
Grandpa was a carpenter
He built houses stores and banks
Chain smoked camel cigarettes
And hammered nails in planks
He was level on the level
And shaved even every door
And voted for eisenhower
cause lincoln won the war.
Well, he used to sing me blood on the saddle
And rock me on his knee
And let me listen to radio
Before we got t.v.
Well, hed drive to church on sunday
And take me with him too!
Stained glass in every window
Hearing aids in every pew.
Repeat chorus:
Now my grandma was a teacher
Went to school in bowling green
Traded in a milking cow
For a singer sewing machine
She called her husband mister
And walked real tall and pride
And used to buy me comic books
After grandpa died.
Repeat chorus:

song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Over The Hills And Far Away

A LITTLE bird flew my window by,
'Twixt the level street and the level sky,
The level rows of houses tall,
The long low sun on the level wall;
And all that the little bird did say
Was, 'Over the hills and far away.'

A little bird sang behind my chair,
From the level line of corn-fields fair,
The smooth green hedgerow's level bound
Not a furlong off--the horizon's bound,
And the level lawn where the sun all day
Burns:--'Over the hills and far away.'

A little bird sings above my bed,
And I know if I could but lift my head
I would see the sun set, round and grand,
Upon level sea and level sand,
While beyond the misty distance gray
Is 'Over the hills and far away.'

I think that a little bird will sing
Over a grassy mound, next spring,
Where something that once was me, ye'll leave
In the level sunshine, morn and eve:
But I shall be gone, past night, past day,
Over the hills and far away.

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Love Song: I And Thou

Nothing is plumb, level, or square:
the studs are bowed, the joists
are shaky by nature, no piece fits
any other piece without a gap
or pinch, and bent nails
dance all over the surfacing
like maggots. By Christ
I am no carpenter. I built
the roof for myself, the walls
for myself, the floors
for myself, and got
hung up in it myself. I
danced with a purple thumb
at this house-warming, drunk
with my prime whiskey: rage.
Oh I spat rage’s nails
into the frame-up of my work:
it held. It settled plumb,
level, solid, square and true
for that great moment. Then
it screamed and went on through,
skewing as wrong the other way.
God damned it. This is hell,
but I planned it, I sawed it,
I nailed it, and I
will live in it until it kills me.
I can nail my left palm
to the left-hand crosspiece but
I can’t do everything myself.
1 need a hand to nail the right,
a help, a love, a you, a wife.

poem by Alan Dugan
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Grandpas Rocking Chair for M lady Chitra

On the front porch a rocking chair
nobody uses no one dare
Nor dare they move it anywhere.
Grandpa decreed it must stay there

What grandpa said was what he meant
he left no room for argument.
He simply stated his intent
Though other folk felt different

When Grandpa died the family tried
to set his iron rule aside
You’ll rue this day their Grandma cried
Your Grandpa will not be defied.

They moved the chair to show they could
though grandma did not think they should
She warned them all that nothing good
would come of this. She understood

although she knew Grandpa was dead.
She knew he’d rise in wrathful pride
to reinforce what he has said.
His last command before he died.

The chair was moved despite her pleas.
Her warnings were not listened to.
From that day on they knew no peace
Til grandma told them what to do

The rocking chair must be restored
to where Grandpa said it should be.
They all agreed of one accord
the chair replaced immediately.

Sometimes at night it seems to be
moving gently slowly rocking
Although there’s nothing they can see
they know that Grandpas visiting.

To see his word is still obeyed.
That no one moves his rocking chair.
Nobody will they’re too afraid.
They know sometimes he still sits there.

27-Oct-08

http: // blog.myspace.com/poetic piers

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wish I Could

I wish I could tell you I love you
I wish I could take back those times I did not
But I can't and I never can
I wish I could take back those times that I was mean
That I had an attitude
But I can't and I never can
I realized to late what you mean to me
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you….I'm sorry for my tears

You saved me from the orphanage where you were forced to go
You saved my baby brother's life but I never said thank you
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you…..I'm sorry for my tears

I can never again hug you
I can only see your smile in your pictures
I can never ask about the wars you fought in
I can never hear your stories again
Grandpa I love you
Grandpa I miss you…….I'm sorry for my tears
I wish I could tell you I love you
But I can never do it again

poem by Rachel Dowd
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You 'Were' Looking For Your Shoes

I can not find my socks.
Who misplaced them?
And why are they not in my sight?

'Grandpa? '

WHAT IS IT! ?

'I've spotted your socks.'

Okay.
Then where are they?

'Grandpa...
They are on your feet.'

Oh.
Well...
Who put them there?

'You did grandpa.
Just before you said,
You 'were' looking for your shoes.'

What are you trying to say?
You know where they are too?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I'm My Own Grandpa

It was many many years ago when I was twenty-three,
I was married to a widow, she's as pretty as can be.
This widow had a grown-up daughter who had hair of red,
my father fell in lover with her, and soon these two were wed.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

This made my dad my son-in-law and changed my very life:
My daughter was my mother 'cause she was my father's wife.
And then to complicate the matter, though it brought me joy,
I soon became the father of a bouncing baby boy.

This bouncing baby then became a brother-in-law to dad,
and so became my uncle, though it made me very sad,
for if he was my uncle then he also was the brother
of the widow's grown-up daughter, who, of course, was my step-mother.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

Father's wife then had a son who kept them on the run.
And he became my grandchild, for he was my daughter's son.
My wife is now my mother's mother, and it makes me blue,
because although she is my wife, she's my grandmother, too.

Now if my wife is my grandmother, then I am her grandchild.
And every time I think of it, it nearly drives me wild.
For now I have become the strangest case you ever saw.
Husband of my grandmother, I am my own grandpa.

I'm my own grandpa, I'm my own grandpa.
It sounds silly, I know, but it really is so, oh
I'm my own grandpa.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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I remember we were all horrified to see Grandpa up on the roof with his Superman cape on. 'Get down' yelled Uncle Lou. 'Don't move' screamed Grandma. But Grandpa wouldn't listen. He walked to the edge of the roof and stuck out his arms, like he was going to fly. I forget what happened after that.

Jack Handey in Deep Thoughts
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Warm Milk And Toast

Warmed milk sweetened with honey
toast buttered with a thin spread of jam.
A bedtime story told by my Grandpa
times of Castles and Giants, living in some Fairy Tale land.

The warmed milk would make me sleepy
the toast would fill that nightime hunger need.
Sounds of Grandpa's soft loving voice
as he would sit on my bed and read.

My Grandpa's gone so many years ago
now I am one myself.
I warm and sweeten my Granddaughters milk
and take that same book down off her shelf.

Her eyes are wide open, as she chomps away
at the toast with butter and jam.
She tells me how much she loves me so
and just how neat of a Grandpa that I am.

I see her eyes growing heavy now
as I continue to read the story.
And am proud that I'm a Grandpa
and now can read, my Grandpa's Fairy Tale Story.

poem by Linda Winchell
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Bouncing Pony

Joey is an adventurous little boy
A bouncing pony is his birthday present
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.

Let me help you into the saddle to enjoy
Youthful squeals eagerly express intent
Joey is an adventurous little boy

Into the stirrups Joey’s feet are employed
Energy is engaged one hundred percent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.

Reins are grasped by a miniature cowboy…
The eager steed bolts and away they went
Joey is an adventurous little boy.

The spirits of two generations join as one…
Their smiles and laughter are frequent
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.

Motion slows as Joey dismounts and runs
Bouncing onto Grandpa’s lap and giving a hug
Joey is an adventurous little boy
Grandpa Joe’s heart is filled with joy.

(9/10/07)

poem by Theresa Ann Moore
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Thankless Scions

Grandma was in isolation
She was in an isle of distress
The children whom she fed
With the blood turned milk
In her breasts
Have all flown and vanished
And she left abandoned
With the linings all over
In mind and skin
Heralding the arrival
Of the frail old December
Of the life, the end of the span!
The marvelous culture
Of a house- hold adorned
With grandma and grandpa
With children and grand children
Went into oblivion!
The grandma and grandpa
Is a hindrance to their children
Is a bad omen to scions
And an inconvenience
To the young and dynamic!
Grandma and grandpa
Are ignored and caged
As of a dog or parrot
And fed like a slave
Tied to a pole in chains!
The thankless sons and daughters
Never care the sufferings
And sacrifices of Ma and Papa
And they want to be alone
As being youthful in spirit
And are eager to enjoy
The spring of life
Where they hate the face of autumn!
Grandma, Grandpa, Ma and Papa
Are omen of autumn
That they never wish to sight!
The young whose blood
Rushes with the fuel of Ma's milk
Forget that the green leaves
Will turn yellow
And wither away
And an autumn is is hibernation
To embrace them tomorrow!

poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Falling From Above

Grandpa said to cousin Jed
Sitting on the porch,
"I won't retire
But I might retread."
Seem like that guy singin' this song
Been doing it for a long time
Is there anything he knows
That he ain't said?
Sing a song for freedom
Sing a song for love
Sing a song for depressed angels
Falling from above.
Grandpa held the paper
Pretending he could see
But he couldn't read
Without his glasses on
"How can all those people
Afford so many things?
When I was young we wore
What we had on."
Mamma said, "A little love and affection
In everything you do
Will make the world a better place
With or without you.
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
A better place
With or without you."
Slamming down some late night shots
The artist and the hero compare
Those envisions and afterthoughts
For the twenty first century.
But mostly came up with nothing
So the truth was never learned
And the human race just
Kept rollin' on.
Rollin' through the fighting
Rollin' through the religious wars
Rollin' down the temple walls
And the churches' exposed sores.
Rollin' through the fighting
Through religious wars
Mostly came up with nothing...
"Grandpa, here's your glasses;
You'll see much better now,"
Said that young girl
Of Edith and Earl's.
But Grandpa just kept starin'
He was lost in some distant thought
Then he turned and he said
To that young girl,
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
Will make the world a better place
With or without you.
"A little love and affection
In everything you do
A better place
With or without you."
Hear the rooster crowin'
Down on the Double E
It's a new morning
Breaking on the green.
Bouncing off the Towers,
The sun's heading for the street
The business meeting
Window shades are drawn.
Another morning edition
Is headed for the porch
Because Grandma puts down the paper
Before Grandpa raises his fork.
A little love and affection
In every thing you do
A better place
With or without you.

song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Upright Piano

For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.

song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grandpa Told Me So

(mark alan springer/james dean hicks)
If you dont get in the water youre never gonna learn to swim
He said a snake is just as scared of you as you are of him
He could tell by the moon when the fish would bite
Seems there was nothing that he didnt know
And as a kid I believed cause grandpa told me so
He talked daddy into letting me have my first car
I thought I was really something til becky thompson broke my heart
That first taste of love really did me in
Getting over her slow
And I knew someday I would cause grandpa told me so
He said life is made for you to live
The best love is the love that you give
Therell be times when you wanna hold on but you gotta let go
And I live by those words cause grandpa told me so
I promised him I wouldnt cry when it was his time to leave
Thats the only promise I made him I couldnt keep
He smiled from his bed and said well meet again
Somewhere down the road
And I believe cause grandpa told me so
He said life is made for you to live
The best love is the love that you give
Therell be times when you wanna hold on but you gotta let go
And I live by those words cause grandpa told me so
He said life is made for you to live
The best love is the love that you give
Therell be times when you wanna hold on but you gotta let go
And I live by those words cause grandpa told me so
Yeah and I still believe
Grandpa told me so
Grandpa told me so
I still believe
Grandpa told me so
I still believe...

song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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where did I park my car?

1
where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

had a coffee at the center
caught up with some friends
watched a movie
and bought some stuff for home
and now I can’t find my car
though I’ve searched past 10 minutes

where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

no, that’s not mine
that’s a Mercedes;
that one’s too shiny;
and maybe it’s this one
- no, mate,
we won’t go any nearer
this car is too clean
mine will look like
it’s not been washed since Noah

where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

2
well, yes, help me look out...
it’s an old Nissan
blue faded into white;
no, nobody ‘ll steal that
and the only people
who’d give it a second look
will be the traffic police
who’d wave as if to say:
Pull over, Sir;
let’s have a look at
your rego and front tyres

now, where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

well, damn,
I’m sure it hasn’t moved
it’s not that sort with smart technology
self-park, self-drive or with sensors;
it’s like an old useless dog
completely lost without its master

where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

now that we’ve looked
about 30 minutes or more
I’m not sure if this is the right level;
Oh, did I stop at Yellow Level
or Blue or Green or Pink?
was it level 1 or 2 or 3 or 9?
it’s completely out of my mind

where did I park my car?
I’m sure I left it here
on this level
just hours before

ah, there it is
that old boneshaker;
thanks mate, for helping me look
You were saying you want a lift –
yes, come - I'll dropp you…no trouble…
yes, it’s just on the way…
Hey…Where you going?
What? Don’t want a lift?
You’d rather walk home?
Hey, what’s wrong with my car?
OK, suit yourself…
at least I found my faithful car…

where did I park my car?
it was Level 5, Yellow Sector
Lot 125
all the while
and that beauty was here each second
an old helpless dog, waiting for its master

poem by Raj Arumugam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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We Built This City

Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Say you dont know me or recognize my face
Say you dont care who goes to that kind of place
Knee deep in the hoopla sinking in your fight
Too many runaways eating up the night
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Chorus:
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Someone always playing corporation games
Who cares theyre always changing corporation names
We just want to dance here someone stole the stage
They call us irresponsible write us off the page
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Its just another sunday, in a tired old street
Police have got the choke hold, oh then we just lost the beat
Who counts the money underneath the bar
Who rides the wrecking ball in two rock guitars
Dont tell us you need us, cos were the ship of fools
Looking for america, coming through your schools
(Im looking out over that golden gate bridge
Out on another gorgeous sunny saturday, not seein that bumper to bumper traffic)
Dont you remember (member)(member)
(whats your favorite radio station, in your favorite radio city
The city by the bay, the city that rocks, the city that never sleeps)
Marconi plays the mamba, listen to the radio, dont you remember
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
We built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
Built this city, we built this city on rock and roll
(we built, we built this city) built this city (we built, we built this city)
(repeats out)

song performed by by Starship
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You're still here

At the finest level of my being you're
still with me.
We still look at each other,
At that level beyond sight.
We talk and laugh with each other,
In a place beyond words.
We still touch each other
On a level beyond touch.
We share time together
in a place,
Where time stand still.
We are still together
On a level called love.
But I cry alone for you,
In a place call Reality.
[Missed by your loving family, wife, daughter and son.]

* All of a sudden I found this cutting among my rubbish of papers.A widow has sent this sad poem to a local newspaper remembering of her deceased beloved husband's third year memorial.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Grandpa Danie Brand [2]

After taking part
as a youngster of sixteen
in the second Anglo-Boer war
where he had to spend nights in the open veldt

fired so much on the British
that his hands were full of blisters
from the rifle
of which the barrel got white hot

he married Lenie Swanepoel in 1918,
was really in love with her
and from 1926 he farmed on the farm Welgemeen
near to Steekdoorns in the Vryburg district

where he himself build his own homestead
from Josef’s stone and put up fences
and turned the wild veldt
into a viable farm.

Grandpa Danie did not have time
to sit on the porch,
as it goes with farming,
work took his attention constantly

and before early morning light
he was already in the fields
or at the diary busy with the cows
but was held in high esteem by the labourers
although he was strict.

On a day grandpa Danie
visited another farmer
to buy Afrikaner cattle from him
and while they walked into the lounge
of the other farmer’s house

he lit his pipe
whereupon the other farmer said to him:
“Mister Brand, I do not allow anybody
to smoke in my house”
and it was a big embarrassment to him,

so much so that while he was riding home on his horse,
busy driving the cattle with his workers
he stopped at a big rock
that rose into the air

and knocked his pipe against it
causing it to break in two pieces
and it was also the last time
that grandpa Danie did smoke.

When he got appendicitis
and his appendix erupted
grandma Lenie took great care of him
nursing him back to health

but he continually got pain
when he ate maize
and his brother Frans
who lived in Johannesburg

convinced him
to have a appendectomy
whereupon dressed in his black coat
grandpa Danie left for the hospital in Vryburg

and at the hospital
grandpa Danie got inflammation
and died from the operation wound
that got septic,
in a time before antibiotics
was discovered.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Bedtime Story

I'm going to tell you a bed time story
it's the one my Grandpa told long ago to me.
But the bed time story I will tell you tonight
will become a part of, now your families history!

It will tell of the days of covered wagons
that once rolled across the prairies green!
And tales of hunting and fishing
you will invision all of my story telling scenes.

Of indians and cowboys!
around the camp fires and hunting buffalo!
And homes built from the lands trees
and those fields, that the farmers plows tilled to grow.

I will tell you a bed time story
that you will tell your own children one day!
I will tell it the way my Grandpa told it to me
then you can tell your story, in your way one day!

poem by Linda Winchell
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Rain On A Scarecrow

Scarecrow on a wooden cross Blackbird in the barn
Four hundred empty acres that used to be my farm
I grew up like my daddy did My grandpa cleared this land
When I was five I walked the fence while grandpa held my hand
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry there's no legacy for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
The crops we grew last summer weren't enough to pay the loans
Couldn't buy the seed to plant this spring and the Farmers Bank foreclosed
Called my old friend Schepman up to auction off the land
He said John it's just my job and I hope you understand
Hey calling it your job ol' hoss sure don't make it right
But if you want me to I'll say a prayer for your soul tonight
And grandma's on the front porch swing with a Bible in her hand
Sometimes I hear her singing "Take me to the Promised Land"
When you take away a man's dignity he can't work his fields and cows
There'll be blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Blood on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Well there's ninety-seven crosses planted in the courthouse yard
Ninety-seven families who lost ninety-seven farms
I think about my grandpa and my neighbors and my name
And some nights I feel like dyin' Like that scarecrow in the rain
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
This land fed a nation This land made me proud
And Son I'm just sorry they're just memories for you now
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow
Rain on the scarecrow Blood on the plow

song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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