#grandparent
If you knew me from a bird's eye view
Would you dismiss me for the tiny islands you dislike
In the ocean of who I am?
Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 5:18 PM UTC
She collected lolly sticks,
The ones with jokes on them:
Why did the chicken cross the road?-type stuff,
Which she stained brown and used as floorboards
in her magnum opus.
The Tudor house was the best one.
It had servants’ quarters
And a kitchen with little hessian potato sacks made
of something or other she salvaged from
somewhere or other;
And the floorboards looked so real:
painted lolly sticks
but almost evoking the smell of varnish,
layers of polish on a floor trodden by centuries
in perfect miniature;
Almost.
This was the last of the three
or four
dolls’ houses she built;
The devil’s work for her idle widow’s hands.
She built this one while you were entering your final
stalemate
that doomed dance that sits so permanently
on your conscience
like a sack of compost
full of water.
(I choose this simile only because
I found this in my garden yesterday,
and it was ******* heavy.)
On paper it was simple:
You gave her your house,
She gave you hers.
And so her house shrunk around her and
became a dolls’ house of your own making,
Irrationally
she saw your god-hands reaching in
to manipulate and
extort her.
She was wrong, of course.
You were making good on your promise.
You would come through for her in her frailty.
You did – but
it was a promise you made more to yourself than her,
And she let her illogical mind
never analytical to begin with
now razed and blinded by grief and loneliness
(there was nothing to work with)
poison your good deed,
you were both dolls now.
Eight years later she died lovelessly.
She retreated into her sitting room
the only part of the house that stayed the same
after you moved in –
the walls closed in to contain it
constrict it
a hospital bed and vinyl chair with commode,
and the brown laminate floor
just like
her lolly sticks.
You administered painkillers
Admitted the nurses
Negotiated with your estranged brother.
but her paranoia rotted everything
and your hands cared with compassion but not love.
Gone, now,
the dolls’ houses remain.
An inheritance of clutter
in a house you bought.
You answer the phone
breathlessly
aggressively.
You have been heaving the big one up the stairs
that sack of compost
that heavy conscience of yours.
You will be heaving those ******* dolls’ houses around
until I have to buy your house and care for you.
But I am telling you now:
I am putting them in a skip
the moment I have the chance.
They are not imbued with the joy they gave her
any more than
by keeping them safe from landfill
you can imbue them with the love you withheld.
They are painted lolly sticks and sewn hessian.
They don’t contain any more of her
than the bits of paper she kept
passwords and bank balances
dates and instructions for the Sky box
There is nothing left of her to protect now.
Open up the hinged false front,
tip out the miniatures
let the little figures be free,
be landfill
(isn’t that what dying is anyway?)
all the tangible things she touched and loved
are not avatars for her touch and her love.
The past is not present through the preservation of objects.
The past is not erased by the advancement of time
nor can it be undone by corrective action.
Now she is on the other side of the road,
(why did the chicken–
behave.)
She has no further use for the things she left behind.
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 4:15 AM UTC
He was my papaw and he was my father's dad.
When he died in 1994, it was both tragic and sad.
If Papaw had survived, he would be celebrating his birthday.
If he hadn't died, he would've become 100 years old today.
He was born on July the 28th of 1923.
Today he would've lived for a century.
When Papaw took some medication, he became very sick.
He died six days after his birthday because he was allergic.
Dad was hurt by Papaw's death and so was I.
It's always painful to learn that a grandparent is going to die.
Jul 28, 2023
Jul 28, 2023 at 11:32 AM UTC
it was your birthday yesterday
mom reminded me
like it hadn’t been the only thing on my mind all day
she said she couldn’t believe that it’s been so long
but it felt like i had just hugged you yesterday
i didn’t want to believe it
i don’t believe it
and i’m not sure that i ever will
so i set up a number that leads to no where
because i wondered what it would be like to call you
to leave you a message
to tell you how my day was
and i think of you
whenever i see a flannel shirt
when i eat peaches
when i smell fresh flowers
and sometimes when i want to feel close to you
i’ll go into my spare room, open the closet
and put on your army green police jacket that you left
it even still smells like you
i was too young then
i was too young to be sorting through an entire house of things so the entire family could decide what i would be able to remember you by
but even now
i don’t need your things
i remember you as clear as the blue skies you loved
it would just be nice to have more of you around
but i know you’re there
i look up at the photos of you in the living room every single day and smile
you’re gone
but i know you’re here
twelve years gone
but i can still feel you all around
May 24, 2023
May 24, 2023 at 3:17 PM UTC
I went to your favorite restaurant today
I’m not sure why
I ordered your favorite food
And suddenly I started to cry.
- I miss you.
Oct 29, 2020
Oct 29, 2020 at 10:32 PM UTC
I watch,
the ocean of emotion
welling up
through limpid eyes
in fearful, tearful panic
clutching at the straws
that are granddad
that true constant
love
unspoken.
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 3:57 AM UTC
Generational gaps of knowledge and experience
Bringing to you some kind of appearance
Like the technology at our fingertips
Or the way an old clock ticks
Differences in us by decades of age
Though, similar in so many ways
Like the way we love
Or want be loved
Like the need to dance
Or taking a chance
Generational differences
But human nonetheless
Apr 7, 2020
Apr 7, 2020 at 9:49 PM UTC
Generational gaps of knowledge and experience
Bringing to you some kind of appearance
Like the technology at our fingertips
Or the way an old clock ticks
Differences in us by decades of age
Though, similar in so many ways
Like the way we love
Or want be loved
Like the need to dance
Or taking a chance
Generational differences
But human nonetheless
May 12, 2020
May 12, 2020 at 11:19 PM UTC
I always felt the warmth of your embrace
When I ate melting Mac and cheese.
The bright yellow cheese gleamed like your eyes
I saw your smile in smirking elbow noodles, curled upwards.
Ham and bread crumbs sprinkled the top,
Creating the perfect symphony of savory on my taste buds.
The blueberry muffins always tasted so sweet...
I miss your sweetness.
The call of your voice echoes now
As a distant shout for dinner to be served.
It’s been years since you’ve passed,
But I still hear your words call down the hall
floating over Jeopardy playing on the television.
I can’t hear your voice anymore saying you love me,
But I can always hear it haunt me when I eat Mac & Cheese.
It’s the only time I can hear voice...
I miss your voice.
The smell of Mac & Cheese makes me sick now.
Flavor doesn’t dance on my taste buds anymore.
The cheese tastes cold.
The blueberries taste bitter.
The savory ham now tastes sorrowful.
And the bread crumbs feel like sand scraping my mouth.
No one else makes it like you did,
Even if the recipe is the same.
But I still eat it.
Because I feel you with me when I do.
It’s the only time I do...
I will always miss the warmth of your melting Mac & Cheese,
And the warmth of your embrace.
May 18, 2019
May 18, 2019 at 7:17 AM UTC
her grandmother stood at the window in the kitchen
the corners of her mouth turned up into
an unconscious slight smile
at the sight
of a spinning yellow blur
under the big oak
in the middle of the pasture
surrounded by green grasses
wonderous hues of wildflowers
she quietly called out to grandad
come see this
the lanky cowboy sauntered in
from the breezeway
with his umpteenth cup of coffee
peered at the blur of yellow
opened the side door
stepped out on the deck beside the metal glider and
called out in his smooth baritone voice
sheeeeeelllllliiii...
sheeeeeelllllliiii lllllloooooooooo...
she might have
been 4
or perhaps five
precious in the way
innocent girls that age are
dressed in smocked yellow lawn
white lace
patent leather
up to her shins in spring grasses
slowing her spin
she turned toward her name
her face radiant she took a wobbly step or two
then broke into an off kilter run
arms stretched out before her
he took a few long strides
bent his tall body low
offering a bent knee
wide open arms
she flew into them with all her might
knowing she would be caught
rough housed with
and given a wickereye
from the window her grandmother took it all in
sighed
said to herself
hold this dear
hold this snapshot of the soul
for. ever.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
The first time I saw you ***** out the lights
You took the blood from a kitten with ten thousand bites
I was young and did not understand
I could take it, no need to hold a hand
Sadly, little did I know
That day I only saw your shadow
The second time I saw you, I was about ten
I could not prepare myself for you, not then
Walking in your house, or rather your gateway
Quiet rooms filled with bodies painted gray
There you stood just around the corner
Keeping to yourself like an exotic foreigner
But when you took Libby from me
That is when I started to see
You were in the room with us
In fact, you were the one causing all the fuss
No one was fighting, Libby was old
Still, how could you take a woman so strong, so bold?
Here is where you crossed the line
When you took Her, you filthy swine
She had her flaws that's true
But not enough to stay with you
She was my savior, my salvation
There's not much left of someone after cremation
When my time comes to meet you in the ring
Fist to face I'll make it sting
If I could do one thing for all mankind
Killing You comes to mind
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
You came into my life
aged 4
Such a sweet wee thing
and to this heart
of mine
much pleasure
you did bring
I had laughter
and love
with my little boy
But girls
bring a different joy
You really were
a lovely girl
You put my life
into a whirl
We did crafts
dress ups
had days
filled with fun
Your hair
shone golden
when out in the sun
Now you're an adult
Into a lovely young lady
you've grown
with a husband
and a baby girl
A family of your own
So now I have a grandaughter
to give me years
of pleasure
and I'm sure just like her mum
she'll give me memories I'll forever treasure
Sep 3, 2017
Sep 3, 2017 at 10:17 AM UTC
When she walks into your kitchen crying,
put down your half scrubbed ***
turn off the faucet,
wipe the water off of your hands with a white dish towel.
Like her eyes are trying to dry themselves on her pale cheeks.
You wrap your arms around her
and let her cry into your hair.
You feel like a mother
comforting a child who has just lost their favorite stuffed toy.
Her grandfather just passed away,
and this is the first time she has left her house since that night.
The night she couldn't drive fast enough to say goodbye.
You don't wipe the tear from her jaw line.
You're afraid your water wrinkled fingers
will remind her
of him.
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
Your passing broke me into pieces-
I am now incapable of love.
I'll meet you soon,
Grandfather.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 1:58 AM UTC
When I gaze into the mirror
my mother's eyes peer out
on the first day with a twinkle
on the next a wistful pout
Though our eyes are different colors
more alike we are then no
still her thoughts to me a mystery
she may never choose to show
The mirror on another day
my grandmother becomes
watching birds at breakfast
saving them the finest crumbs
Formidable and frightening
she could also often be
all too human and imperfect
still she helped to make me me
Great-grandmother another day
the mirror then became
though much lighter of complexion
now the eyes were much the same
Though a humorous and honest soul
emotions quite repressed
she affects me still more deeply
than I ever would have guessed
Today within the looking glass
the only face I see
is the youngest culmination
of these elder women three
And I see them all within me
in my talents and my quirks
still I wish that they had taught me
how to stay away from jerks.
Sep 27, 2015
Sep 27, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
From baby
to sitter
in sixty flat;
Ozymandais,
Try speaking to that.
But I am here,
And He?
Her smile,
And drip
On my knee:
And then,
She looks up
At me.
Jan 28, 2015
Jan 28, 2015 at 6:08 PM UTC
She thought that no one would come.
Everyone's someone was there
laden with sweet kisses so craved.
She felt his gaze on her back,
gentle warm strokes like the sun.
She had seen him in the night,
longing's whisper brought to life
an image her heart had saved.
She heard him call out her name
felt her lungs draw fresh breath
and her tears kiss her pale cheeks.
He thought he'd never get there.
His body trembles and aches
underneath the mask he weaves.
He draws her into his chest
kissing the top of her head
breathing in golden blessings.
Every pretense leaves him then.
He feels her spirit in his bones.
He holds her tighter, closer,
feeling familiar pain pangs,
as fears' tears stream down his face.
They thought more of each other
choosing not to dwell on self
but to give rather than to receive.
Fingers tracing round faces.
Eyes locked dancing together.
Hospital stench, ****** sheets
fade into wedding vow fabric
made clean by a lifetime's love.
Wander, wander, wandering
and though neither knows to where
shared is a love that knows all.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC