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ashley May 20
my earliest memory of yeye (grandfather)
is one with the garden
it was once a large space of emptiness, yet
sometimes emptiness is not a lack of but an opportunity
for planting and for growing

in this garden he planted memories
looping a hose around the garden suddenly created new meaning
chasing after turtles my cheeks turned rosy and drenched in the sun the details are so clear
it’s like watching a motion picture in slow motion, the speed of everything melting into a single emotion i can only describe as childish joy.

and when the sun slept the garden was still alight
with firecrackers and sparklers
the sizzling sound of springtime spirit
he kept the garden glowing, bustling and radiating with life.

as i grew the flowers did too,
a new type of rose, fruit, bud each time i came back
and this is where i learn
how life begins and ends
just like flowers we must seek the sun
wilt and
fall
root and rise
and only then
can we bloom
and he bloomed so bright that the Lord hand picked him

and so he may have left his own garden
but he has not wilted
he only continues to bloom
this time in the garden of heaven.
my granddad passed away recently. this is what i read at the eulogy.
Avary Oct 2018
No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I don’t have the desire to see another end;
after exhaustive months of getting to know
a fictionalised persona, fragmented, so

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last one hurt and you didn’t see,
but that doesn’t proclaim the scar less prominent to me,
my feelings numb, I no longer crave the intimacy - detrimental to me.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

The last boys touch was for him not for me
and my body still screams cause he won’t let it be
and you’ll never understand as the trauma won’t subside
and my self esteem is diminished by his lies.

No, I don’t have a boyfriend.

I humoured a guy who gave it a try
but all I could feel was nothing inside
and when someone bumps into me sauntering by
the unwanted touch still makes me cry.

No, I don't want a boyfriend.
Walking into the room
My mind goes boom
There he lie
Dead
As I try
Not to cry
I realise he's
Dead
I'm calm
My mind feels no harm
am I sick in the head
my grandad lays
Dead
And I show no emotion
brewing inside me is a
Potion of feelings ready explode
it hits he again
oh **** he's
Dead
but instead of crying I
hold it in am
dying inside
my mind is on a rolercoaster ride
what do I do
should I hide from my
Dead
grandad instead of any upset
I feel glad he had
a great long life
but now he's
Dead
from this day on I will strive
to be alike my
Dead grandad
I'm not okay
I must stay strong
can't break
stay calm
shauna-leigh Jun 2018
I regret not taking more time to talk to you,
and you're gone.
I feel like I didn't make you proud.
And now you're gone.

So I have to make you proud from up there.
I am doing my best.
I miss you truly, all the time.

I wish I had more memories of you.
But I only have photos.
I can't remember the days in those pictures.
Everyone can though.

If i had just one more day with you;
What would I do?
What would I say?

I'll never know,
Because now you're gone.
i was waiting until today specifically, june 30th, to post this because three years ago i lost my grandad.
Nic Mac Jun 2018
from the tears,
to the gold.
to the years you hold...
or 'held'.
so easy I forget...
or 'forgot'

Amber, Amber you,
now and forever,
folded into gold.
earthly embrace,
ground must fold...

rest my dear
the years were great.
for now though,
those Amber dreams await...
the tree we buried with you, for you.
Steve Feb 2018
Old bill
Sitting on the step at the front door
Gassed and shelled in the first Great War
He watched the kids play in Exley Street
And he called me **** sparra
I remember he warmed my hands
-from the snow
Mugged me when I went to the shop for him
-because he couldn't go
His cap hung from a nail in the wall
- in the corner where he sat by the fire
I'd usually buy him 5 woody's with the shilling
He was 14 when he started work
-as a can lad
I'd usually get to keep a thrupenny bit
74 when he retired
I'd usually buy sweets or a comic with it
-still making the tea
He was my grandad
A brickie for most of his life
Except when he was Johnny English
And continental travel was rife
Sometimes
-he couldn't even catch his breath
Old Bill, my grandad still.
My memories of my grandad, he died when I was 14.
Middy Oct 2017
I'm all alone
In this bright blue sea
That's turning grey in the dark
But I could cope
I used to

But now I can't
I'm alone on the wooden dock
Where boats lie on the sides
With shells and seaweed
Scattered around them

The sand used to feel so warm
Now it's colder than the ice cream
You'd give me and you'd laugh
Your deep gentle laugh
That I missed so dear

" hello poppet! "
You would say as I would hug him
Kiss his wrinkled and rough cheek
I'd hang upside down on my bed
As I wished him goodnight
You would smile and chuckle
On those lonely nights

You'd fly wooden airplanes
In the green parks
You'd throw them so far away
Now I fly alone
No one to turn to
No one to love

Your hair was silver as ice
Your smile wider
Than a child at play
You were a giant
You were so tall and strong
Yet you were so gentle
So kind and loving

You stuck a plaster and kiss
Upon my bleeding knee
And wiped my tears away
And gave me another cornetto
But now I'm still bleeding
And I have tears streaming down
My broken and crumpled face
How could you leave?
Why did you leave?
I love you...
In memory of my grandad who died of skin cancer in April 2014, barely a few days after his 75th birthday.
His last words: " hello poppet ".
All the things I mentioned are things we'd do together
Now I fly alone
Now I sail the seas alone
Terry Collett Aug 2017
Grandad never spoke.
Never spoke of war;
his war; 1914 -18 war.

Trenches, barb wire,
mud, blood.
Never spoke of it.

Drive the horses
and guns.
5'4" tall, fine framed.

Tattoo for love of Nellie
on his right arm.
Never spoke of what he saw.

Saw blood, mud, bodies,
horses and guns.
Granddad was quiet.

Soft spoken. Nightmares
haunted until he was woken.
Granddad never spoke.

War is no talking matter
-no joke.
A grandad and grandson. My late grandfather 1893 -1963.
Terry Collett Aug 2017
Don't look so sad,
Grandad said
when I was a kid
and feeling bad.

Worse troubles at sea,
he informed,
gazing at me
with his greying eyes,
all that's born
of a mother dies.

And in the war
I saw many a young soldier
who cried for his mother
before he died;
that's the way of it:
what will fit will fit,
you can only touch
what you reach,  
no matter what the priest
may say or preach.
Don't feel so bad,
Granddad said,
when I was a kid
and feeling sad.
Boy and Grandad
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