"grandads" poems
shadows cast into clouds of sand as footprints leave their mark
voices so full of fun with not a care in this world
summer sun washed over by the crash of thunder
the sea shouting against the shells to your ears
blue whispery skies feed warmness to the skin
as weeks of a worklife pass to say goodbye
ice cream melted to cheeks as tissue lips from a nan
feed a childs cry
this is what we live for in a world so left behind
donuts sugared a thirst as sticky fingers lay ******
fish from an ocean battered or fried to the best ive ever noshed
sounds of the beach washed over me as grandads snores a snort ..
too much lunchtime pie i guess ..deserving resort
dreams of a past ...dreams of another
football played and dogs all wet scenes from a beach
alive still ...kids gone red
searing sizzles from a sun at its best as rounders run
or frisbee fetched
photo taken a collection booth ..memories made as dreams come true
dreams of a summer
dreams of a summer
Feb 10, 2012
Feb 10, 2012 at 12:06 AM UTC
I'm no good in a kitchen but, I can cook stuff all the same
Around here, say "the recipe" and most folks know my name
It hasn't changed in fifty years, and folks still drink it up
I've been making it with my granddad since I was just a pup
I"ve been racing cars through out these woods since before most learn to drive
I've been chased by cops and revenuers, I surprised I'm still alive
The funny thing, they know the route, and I always make the border
Because if they ever caught me, I would just cancel their order
Magic comes from our hard toil
Once it travels through the coil
We cook it slow on a low boil
It's cooked according to old Hoyle
It's magic in a glass
And it'll put you on your ***
In all the years that we've been cooking we've only moved on twice
Not because the cops found us, but because of all the mice
Grandpappy started cooking when the jobs round here dried up
And me, I've been his helper since I was just a pup
Everyone's on credit, we all live on iou's
There's still no jobs around here, there just isn't no good news
But, if folks round here need healing, we've got magic in a jug
Our granddads old elixir is a moonshine mountain hug
Magic comes from our hard toil
Once it travels through the coil
We cook it slow on a low boil
It's cooked according to old Hoyle
It's magic in a glass
And it'll put you on your ***
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
I remember watching Grandad
Whenever it would rain
He would walk around the house a lot
You could tell he was in pain
See, Grandad fought in World War One
Though he never said a word
He was hearing things inside his head
Things no one ever heard
He hated rain, it made the mud
And that's where it began
Fighting, deep within the trenches
Keeping dry as best you can
Everything was always wet
You fought the *** and fought the sky
The battle in the trenches seemed
To find ways to keep dry
Fifty yards away, no more
The enemy was waiting
Would today be when we made a move
Both sides always waiting
There were no birds up in the sky
Just clouds and all that rain
That war was stuck in Grandads head
And it was driving him insane
My dad would watch as Grandad walked
To hide from that **** sound
You know that all he thought of then
Was that trench, and muddy ground
You'd wrap yourself in what you could
You'd use uniforms of the dead
Taken from your cohorts
Soaked in mud, and stained blood red
Boots, soaked through like paper
Feet wrapped up as best you could
The mud was everlasting
It covered everything but good
Dad, said it was painful
To watch Grandad on those days
He would hide so deep within himself
In a deep, dark, mental maze
The sun, it never dried the earth
The water just sat in little pools
With the sunlight bouncing off of it
Leaving drops shining like jewels
The smell, of rotting corpses
Piled high down at the end
Bodies of the fallen
The bodies of your friends
Dad said it was different
When he went off to fight
It wasn't like his father's war
It was just like day and night
I remember when my Grandad passed
It rained the whole day through
I remember as they lowered him
Now, I know what Grandad knew
The mud, the worms, the water
Filled his little six foot trench
And everyone was soaked on through
In my mind, I smelled the stench
I feel sorry for my Grandad
Because in truth, I like the rain
And I feel so sorry for him
That it caused him so much pain
The horror of the battle
And the act of keeping dry
You might defeat the enemy
But, not both...but, you'd try
I remember watching Grandad
And of how he hated rain
But, my Grandad was my hero
And, now I know...he's out of pain
Oct 29, 2015
Oct 29, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
The dreamy sea washed ashore bringing
little bubbles of life to its end
Children splashed and jumped as wave after wave fell in
Bucket and ***** at the ready as castles from the sky
formed from minds in youth and fairy tales
Cream at the ready as grandads cap retreats
crisped from the comfort of his strippy deckchair he waits
Mothers blankets blown from the wind held down by
a shoe to be lost and a stone found yet not cast
These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had
Ice cream sounds calling at fathers request
Is grandma still yawning from bingo's night fest
a donut for mother all sugared and warm
don't forget Charlie as woof is all heard
A match game of cricket from children about
or footy at lunchtime sweet sand in your mouth
These were the days we remember
These are the days we forget
These are the days to be treasured
A fine sad old memory from a past we most had
Asleep from the sun and a sneaky quick pint
as dad tries to doze be free to unwind
A call for 3 strikes as rounders is found
hear grandad all snoring more cream to be crowned
Tis time for a dip to twinkle your toes
to jump back a mile oh blimey its cold
These are the memories all children should have
a time when no phones when a time wasn't planned
No little computers to spoil the day
just fun and great memories of children at play
A time when your family all joined in the fun
a shame we have lost this to greed and the sun
Jun 16, 2012
Jun 16, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
my grandad he his funny he has funny teeth
he keeps them in some water they lay there underneath
then he takes them out and gives them a little shake
he tells me they are real but i know they are fake
he puts them in his mouth when ever he goes out
he never gets a toothache of that there is no doubt
but i will keep my own and brush them every day
the thought of wearing false teeth so very far away.
Aug 21, 2010
Aug 21, 2010 at 7:13 AM UTC
Some blokes are full of Dad jokes,
They have a wealth of these and are delivered with the corny expertise that only a Dad has.
They get a grin on their face as they lean forward like they’re about to say something profound.
“I used to be addicted to the Hokey Pokey, but I turned myself around.”
“What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground Beef.”
“I hate Russian Dolls, they’re so full of themselves.”
“Apparently, pet birds are popular this Christmas, they’re flying off the shelves.”
Passed down from Grandads to fathers,
One-liners for us to consume,
It’s the closest thing some have to a family heirloom.
“What did the first African phone user say? Kenya hear me now?”
“A cat's favourite Queen song? Don’t stop meow.”
When reversing his car, “This takes me back.”
Wedding speech, “It’s been an emotional day, even the cakes in tiers.”
There've been so many down the years,
Yes, they’re cringy but we should enjoy them while we can,
You never know what's in store, and they’ll be a time when we’d love to hear them just once more.
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 9:02 PM UTC
I have some universal advice to give
To help with all you do
It's a simple little thing you see
It's as easy as one two
A girl asked me out dancing
This is something that I dread
Then I remembered my old grandad
He was talking in my head
He said...
Always lead with the left my boy
The left's the proper one
They're expecting you to use the right
But, it's the left that gets things done
I got drafted in the army
And at marching I was sad
I always got my feet mixed up
Then I thought of my grandad
Marching was a treat from then
With my grandad in my head
I'll break it down in squads for you
Here's exactly what he said...
He said...
Always lead with the left my boy
The left's the proper one
They're expecting you to use the right
But, it's the left that gets things done
I joined the army boxing team
I was skinny, quite absurd
There was no way I could ever win
Then I heard my grandads words
I took two rounds to win my bout
My master corporal was surprised
I had listened to my grandads words
And only got me one black eye
He said...
Always lead with the left my boy
The left's the proper one
They're expecting you to use the right
But, it's the left that gets things done
I met a girl while home on leave
I took her home to bed
And in the back I thought I heard
something grandad once had said
He said...
Always start with the left my boy
The left's the proper one
They're expecting you to use the right
But, it's the left that gets it done.
..
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 4:54 PM UTC
The best way to forget the truth is to celebrate the lie
Poppies poppies poppies POPPIES and a big brass band
sea cadets in my home town forty miles inland.
Please dont be swayed to get your feet wet dont be fodder for a war
And you will if you forget.
My mates grandads wife never got his war pension
he got shot on the wrong day
I think there was an R in the month or was it a why (Y)
there's a statue on top of our cenotaph the Angel of the Somme
thee sea cadets parade around it tiddley um pum pum
Tiddley um pum pum
Pum pum pupum
The best way to forget the truth is to forget the lie.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 6:24 AM UTC
Sunday - the weekend's tombstone,
burying the worst of last week.
The silent ringing of church bells,
best suit coffined in my wardrobe.
I see proud parents pushing prams,
grandads toddling after toddlers,
but no young couples promenade,
as we did when teenagers.
Some sought their compensation
in sensational Sunday press.
It's surely generational.
We were schooled for Sunday rest.
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 6:17 AM UTC
grandad used to tell me about his days at war
and how the world has changed to what it was before
fighting in the trenches bombs dropping on the ground
soldiers lay there dying scattered'all around
fighting for our freedom so we can go on
for the' years ahead now the'war has gone
he showed me all his medals for his bravery
if it wasnt for the soldiers we would never be
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
grandad had false teeth they kept falling out
they were far to big of that i have no doubt.
oneday he went fishing he began to sneeze
and his teeth fell out and came out with such ease.
he put on his glasses and had a search around
he couldnt find his teeth they where no where to be found.
then he saw a fish who had a great big grin
he had found his teeth and he had put them in.
grandad found it funny to see a fish with teeth
then it dissapeared somewhere underneath.
grandad he went home to the dentist he did go
now his teeth fit properly and there as white as snow.
Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
grandad had false teeth they kept falling out
they were far to big of that i have no doubt
one day he went fishing he began to sneeze
and his teeth fell out and came out with such ease
he put on his glasses and had a search around
he couldnt find his teeth they where no where to be found
then he saw a fish who had a great big grin
he had found his teeth and he had put them in
grandad found it funny to see a fish with teeth
then it disappeared somewhere underneath
grandad he went home to the dentist he did go
now his teeth fit properly and there as white as snow
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
Appeared to be a normal day,
At our University of the Third Age,
Grannies and grandads writing epic lit.,
Forgot our hearing aids and blankets...
We walked away from the class,
Drank our coffees on the grass....
One old moll began this thing,
We cast off inhibitions and wedding rings,
Decided to have a greys' love-in,
One last winter's love fling,
Before hearses the morticians bring,
We were all senile, obese and ga-ga,
Our grey scrawny ***** made us ha-ha,
We gave those grandpas some thrills,
We all forgot our cardiac pills,
The old boys were gasping for breath,
Moribundi, close to death....
So, appeared to be a normal day,
On the grass, after class, at U3A,
Love-in amongst the greys,
It was grey liberation day!!!!
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
Down town in the torn town,
the pit town with no pit,
no coal and life's **** but we
got nuclear not far away,
across the bay,
the dead bay so the fishermen say.
What a way to carry on,
the men tired out
the youth all gone,the
pit town's no place to be when you're young
but don't believe you're free
it's in your soul.that
big dark hole where boys and men slaved from
6 am 'til the lights went down in
pit town.
Remembering now
how Grandad looked when he came home his
back all crooked and
dirt that clung onto his lungs like an
extra skin,
He never put much hope on coal or on the job or in the hole
and all he got was a silver clock for forty years,
his life in hock and then he died.
We all cried until the whistle went and other dads with backs as bent as Grandads was set off to work,to work and cough while some bald headed toff marked cards and paid them for the shift they'd done and
now pit town's done and
best forgot what
Thatcher's hatchet men done, a shady lot of (they'd say gentlemen) but
******** all the same,
across the bay, the fishermen say is dead
is where our future's led us,
where the ******** bled us dry
where one day
we all will die.
without a coal fire in sight.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 7:31 PM UTC
GRANDFATHERS WISDOM
6 July 2012 at 01:24
Two grumpy old men
One named Rolly, one named Den
Two authentic diamonds in the rough
Both made of real tough stuff
Yet neither would harm a single hair on my head
Never was there a truer word said
Both very proud to be a mans man
Both intent on drinking as much alcohol as they can
Both my yard sticks, by which, all males I measure
Both my darling grandads, whose love and advice I shall always treasure
"Keep your powder dry" Oh and Grandad I really DID try!
"Never mix the grape and the grain" these words I recall, as I recover from a killer hangover once again!
"No one likes a liar, nor trusts a thief" -" Its never too late to turn over a new leaf" Phew, now that is a relief!
"Hide your tears and smile, not matter tough this trial"- "always respect your elders, for they are who made us"-" Live and let live", and "always give the best that you have to give"
"Never, to yourself be untrue, no matter what **** you are going through"
"Keep your head held high" - "Be sure to look everyone in the eye"
"Never let those that hurt you, see you cry!"
"Time really will fly!"
"Play no part in idle chit chat or gossip, have enough about yourself to rise above it"
"Work hard, play hard, keep you private business confined to your own back yard"
"Home-made chips always taste better when fried in lard"
"Neither a lender nor a borrower be, unless prompt repayment you can guarantee"
"Love is to be given and returned for free,unconditionally"
These precious, priceless pearls of wisdom were imparted to me
By my two wonderful Grandads,
By two grumpy old men,
One named Rolly, and one named Den.
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 2:48 PM UTC
When the skylarks would warble hover and sing
at about a hundred feet, high on the wing, and we…
on a heat clicking Sunday between Salt End and the sea,
well we knew - just from the ozone, on the breeze
that we’d be off …a shimmering heat haze convoy of old crocks,
Bud, Margaret, Brian and me to Tunstall,
a diminishing, mystical land of sun, sand, sea - and tumbling rocks.
But it wasn’t just us…it was a cavalcade - motors galore.
Uncles, Aunties, Cousins, Grans, Grandads and more
in Austins, Morris’s, Vauxhalls and Fords,
And a big old Rover wi’them wide running boards,
a motor bike’n’sidecar with Maurice, Denise & our Val
to wring the best from the day a’la Plage de Tunstall’…
The beach crackled in the heat…
if you walked too slow it’d burn your feet.
and our Dads, our ‘civil engineers’, built a brick oven and in a
giggling gaggle… Mums cooked a real Sunday dinner.
Kids’d run back & forth to the sea and back
buckets & spades, hacking big holes and shots in goal,
cricket with fallen rocks for a wicket and,
after pudding, burying drunken dads in the sand.
Heavy, wet woolen cozzies, sand in groins,
...changing in turn, under a soaking wet, gritty towel.
“Don’t dry me with that, Ow! Buddy hell - watch my sunburn.”
Then, all back in the cars, for our return
into the sunset and driving away.
Chaffing sore shoulders.
Chuffing good day! - yeah…Parfait!!
Apr 17, 2020
Apr 17, 2020 at 12:07 PM UTC
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.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 5:36 AM UTC
i love grandads chips that he makes for me
pizza and the beans that he makes for tea
better than the chip shop made in grandads way
i love grandad chips i could eat them every day
Jan 22, 2023
Jan 22, 2023 at 8:33 AM UTC
Running down our hall at52wright street at what seemed like a hundred miles an hour with an apple in my hand racing into the summerheat that was barging its way through our front door...SMACK.i just remember the full force of my face hitting the square indent of the marble porch floor where the doormat was supposed to be.that would be the earliest thought that I can remember mum walked me up church street to my grandads house.was also a very warm morning,it must have been just before the start of the summer holidays i was crying it was toy day in school the last day the school year.and I couldn't find the right toy I wanted to take in with me.mum must of been off to work because grandad would take me over to school half an hour later,,mum left and grandad sat in silence looking out of his window where he always sat .the huge tree swayed and tumbled like a velvet sea of green scattering the morning sun into a thousand mornings... but still I cried,,then grandad sighed and said ,,what are you crying for on a beautiful morning like this.......i didn't answer...i did not know if it was a question.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 11:19 PM UTC
Sitting home alone,
In my Grandads old chair,
A bird feather on his hat,
and pipe smoke in the air.
His fake teeth so white,
Like some pearls from out at sea,
And his humour so silly,
He'd make a clown out of me.
Sitting home alone,
In my Grandads old chair,
dog treats on the table,
And gel in his hair.
OCD plagues him,
so you cannot move his things,
Listening to an old vinyl,
Loading the dishwasher whilst he sings.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC