Francie Lynch Jul 2018
I like what I see
In my kids;
Others may say, They're like her's or his;
That's okay, but they don't see
The subtleties revealed to me.

They were listening when I spoke,
And now they hear other folks;
They were watching when I'd act
In sync with our social contracts.
Please and Thanks was our mantra,
Repeated now as personal dogma.

I didn't see they were watching,
Watch they did, and they were copying.
Believe me, I'm not being boastful,
If that's the case, I too am blameful
For anything that causes pain,
Though unintended, it's the same.

I'm so pleased with my kids,
And they aren't just like
Her's or his;
They're mine.
And I like what I see in their kids.

Do you like what you see
In your kids?
Jackie Mead Jun 2018
Lying, sleeping on the couch.
Arms outstretched, he has no cares, tumbling blonde curly hair
A whirlwind by day, he is no slouch, for that I can truly vouch.

My grandson not yet turned two.
The apple of his grandads eye.
He will awake again in a few, so much to see and do.
Once awake he will run and fly our precious little butterfly.
My youngest grandson Roman
listening to the not so enticing news
that basically tells us that authoritarian idiots
are on the rise  

that neither the US nor Europe
are able to handle refugee flows
the proper legal and humanitarian way

that global warming is actually happening
and not just an invention of the Chinese etc.
    in order to misle U.S. American billionaires

that in the future
thanks to advances in technology
only experts in very sophisticated laboratories
will be able to  recognize the difference
between fake news and real news

I DO worry about the world
my grandchildren grow up into
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2018
A daughter is yours for life.
A son is yours till he gets married.
Dear daughter-in-law,
I very well know,
You are my son's cherished wife,
The LOVE of his life.
You have borne him two beautiful children,
A daughter and son.
You behave dicey,
With his family pricey.
My son,to you I have given away,
That is your right anyway.
In your lives I never want to interfere,
Have not an inch of fear,
With you he is happy,
You,also are a part of the family.
Then why be vindictive,
Jealous and negative?
In my son's presence act the victim,
Pick up a fight at your whim.
Just because for me he cares,
Calling me with affection he dares,
Something cooked by me he expects,
Treats me with love and respect.
Remember, I am his mother,
Not his bother,
Daughter-in-law, let's live amicably on this planet,
Love draw us closer like a magnet.
I want you to be my daughter,
To me relationships matter.
My daughter in law does not want anything to do with us.
Francie Lynch Nov 2017
Drove to London in a downpour.
My daughter's family lives there.
I had a picnic in the bathroom,
With Aine pouring tea.
She held out a sponge plate,
Offering watermelon soap,
And facecloth chicken salad sandwiches.
Though long lost,
I dialed in her perspective;
Her bubbles never burst.
I'll recall that wet picnic,
On sunny summer days,
As a favored meal.
Aine: Pronounced Onya
Francie Lynch Sep 2017
So cruel,
So kind,
Has taken my worries away;
The ones I wished would stay;
Worries, just memories.
I was left with my three,
So they obliged,
Now worries number five.
We know how worries grow,
They start so small, no worry at all,
Then they start to crawl.
We beget,
From their outset,
U Mims Jul 2017
Little arms that hold you
Little voices with
That warms your heart brings
SMILES 2 your face as yall play
123's ABC'S
Impressionable minds
With ?'S
Of Y
Talks that turn into
A SING Along
With hide & seek & péek a boo
With music too as we sing
From drawings on wall 2 measuring
Grandbabies Grandbabies
© KingandQueen Productions
Love  our children more love of our grandchildren in sum cases to fix what went wrong with our children thru our grandchildren
Francie Lynch Apr 2017
Hey, Xavy:
If we're still here
When you get older,
Check out the potholes on my street;
Are we still planting telephone poles,
Accusing animals for sky blue holes?
Are there tourists in S.E. Asia;
Did Manhattan disappear?

Are people dying with different bodies,
Still thinking with their transplanted heads?
Do we build schools, did the shootings stop?
Is work still measured by the clock?
Do well-heeled shepherds still manage flocks?
Have you seen our  fingers evolve,
Does anyone listen to voices at all?

When you get there, Xavy,
Take a look.
Did they heed the Richter scales,
The geo-thermal warnings,
The snow caps' warmings?
Does wildlife drink from Winter's brooks,
Is the soil capable of growth,
Does Spring herald re-birth?

Your spirit is indomitable.
No problem insurmountable.
Denial is unintelligible,
The sacrifice regrettable,
But no other choice acceptable.
And the legacy left remarkable.

Ah, Xavy, What I would give to be a small part of your unfolding world.
But I've got to go.
All the Best.
Xavy: Short for Xavier, my grandson.
The little girl danced
she took the stage
and she danced
She learned all the positions
one by one
The steps and moves
came naturally
she danced
Her heart and soul
on stage
on display
Music drove her
force of vitality
It was ardor
it was desire
she danced
Among her in-crowd
she was sweet but shy
A goodie two shoes
quiet and meek as a mouse
A scholar a
an unflagging student
Whenever she was sad
she danced
Whenever she was happy
She danced
When it was sunny
She danced
When she fell in love
She danced
She flew from
toe to toe
When she had children
She danced
When she had grandchildren
She danced
Across the tapestry
Of life
She danced
When the banshee howled
She danced
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