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Ainsley Apr 29
How it'd be if there's
A night sky with only the moon
Up in the sky...
So am i now without you nearby
Still wondering why
You left me alone
Passing on by
To me now
Forgiving is accepted now and forever
But forgetting is and will
Be denied
Missing you grandpa..Dad is missing you
Granny is missing you and i am missing...hope you are somewhere around watching over us...
Kay Reed Apr 21
its 7:45am and i'm barefoot in my grandparents kitchen
freshly brewed coffee steams in my grandfather's mug
as cinnamon rolls bake in the oven.
the tile is cold.
his smile is warm.

he lets me lick the spoon after he spreads the icing.
we pretend to fight over the best roll, he lets me win.

today, i was alone in my kitchen in a different state.
my coffee was mixed with bailey's and it steamed in my mug.
i bake the same brand of cinnamon rolls in my oven.
the tile is cold.
i smile at the thought of him.

i lick the icing off the spoon out of habit, its almost too sweet.
i don't have to fight for the best one.
The next dawn
I woke up when a raindrop touch my cheek
It started to drizzle and later it started to pour heavily
But it did not cease my search for your footsteps
I walked along with the rain
And it led me to the tree where you took shelter
I touch the tree
Not to feel its roughness
But to feel the warmth you left behind
For my grandpa
Kenshō Apr 5
sugar cane berry stains

lost friends life's bends

mountain still, in the end




there and back i've seen

we were kids, you were teens

we learned a lot where we've been




one more shot before we go

that sacred breath you always know-

when to call it a day
That windy night
I sat down leaning on a tree
And listen to the songs of the rivers till dawn
Not to find peace but to listen the tales of great hunter.
And to know where you walk
As I was one step closer to touch your footsteps.
For my grandpa
Anmol Mago Apr 2
The day,
my grandpa left me,
I decided to lock all my love
in a safe
to save it from the ravages of
this pitiless time

I think sometimes nowadays
I must have lost the keys somewhere
while I was busy getting older
Tbh this one is hypothetical, but still it is really close to home.
Be That Rock
by Michael R. Burch

for my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt Sr.

When I was a child
I never considered man’s impermanence,
for you were a mountain of adamant stone:
a man steadfast, immense,
and your words rang.

And when you were gone,
I still heard your voice, which never betrayed,
"Be strong and of a good courage,
neither be afraid ..."
as the angels sang.

And, O!, I believed
for your words were my truth, and I tried to be brave
though the years slipped away
with so little to save
of that talk.

Now I'm a man—
a man ... and yet Grandpa ... I'm still the same child
who sat at your feet
and learned as you smiled.
Be that rock.

I don't remember when I wrote this poem, but I will guess around age 18 in 1976. The verse quoted is from an old, well-worn King James Bible my grandfather gave me after his only visit to the United States, as he prepared to return to England with my grandmother. I was around eight at the time and didn't know if I would ever see my grandparents again, so I was heartbroken—destitute, really. Keywords/Tags: Grandfather, Grandpa, rock, shelter, fortress, strength, courage, angels, years, time, age, loss, truth, voice
That windy evening
I ran to the river side
To catch a glimpse of your soul
But only found your broken arrow stuck in the ground
So I walk along the river side
Hoping that it will lead me to the place where your footsteps once lingered
For my grandpa (who was a hunter)
She Writes Feb 19
I find you among the small things
And for that I am thankful
As the little things are all I have left

The warm tickle on my skin
From the heat of the sun
On a dewey spring morning

In the song of the birds
Not unlike those we used to watch
Flit across your yard

The scent of fresh cut grass
The same I smelled from you mowing
As I picked dandelion bouquets for Grandma

In the smiles of passing strangers
Because to you there is no such thing
Only friends you haven't met yet

I find you among the small things
And I will cherish them profoundly
Until we meet again
The one year anniversary of my great-grandfathers death was on Valentine's day. I think about him often, and wanted to write something in his honor. Nothing I write can truly convey the love I have for him, and the impact he had on my life.
Sometimes I wonder if I will ever love someone the same as they love me.
Will it always be too much or not enough or somewhere in between?
I'm not sure why I have it wrong time and time again.
But I always end up feeling lonely or want them more as just a friend.
Will someone ever love me like I love them?
Will we ever walk down the same path and not have to pretend?
I'm not sure why I have these vices but my grandpa I think had them too. I found poems he wrote on a typewriter, back in '62.
They weren't about love but they rhymed in a way that showed he hurt. If I could only know the memories that lay in his body behind his tobacco smoke-infused shirt.
For my grandpa
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