Grandpappy poems on Hello Poetry

John Edward Smallshaw May 2014

Babysitting
for grandchildren yapping
and yipping and grandpappy silently
slipping away.
To bed at nine and out comes the bottle of wine,which
is ever so slightly
a bit out of line and
grandpappy's silently slipping away.
Then it's up at six
for hot milk and two weetabix,then some film show
on Sky or Netflix and
grandpappy's silently slipping,with red wine surreptitiously sipping
away.

Bill murray Jul 2015

Grandpappy and grandmama

Grand pappy isn't happy when his wife goes to the store

Grandpappy feels ****** when he has to lay down on a floor

Grandpa's has got his wife's back

When the bellowing skiddish make their move

Grandpappy and grand momma

We are two chitlins so cool

For little *****

Bill murray Jul 2015

Grandpappy is jolly

Getting the ol' Santa claus hat out for the coming season
Grandpappy is ready
To be the jolly ol' delight
By sleigh this old St Nick
Will take a presented ride

Roger Turner - Poet Sep 2013

Grandads Elixir

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 ***

#recipe #mountain #elixir #grandad #moonshine #revenuers

Bill MacEachern Mar 2023

Roots On The Rocks

Roots On The Rock

Oh…
Newfoundland
Newfoundland
I’m here to see
My roots on
The Rock
Out here
On the sea
I’m Billy
From Boston
And happy
To be
Here in St. John’s
With my Newfie family

Oh…
Newfoundland
Newfoundland
I have to say
Your warmth
And your kindness
Make us want
To stay
We Drink
Of the screech
Then kiss a cod fish
I’m happy to stay
If that’s
All of your wish

Oh…
Newfoundland
Newfoundland
Grandpappy’s
Home
He left
You for Boston
When fish
Went to roam
He met
My grandma
A lass from Kilbride
Then both said "I do”
And became groom & bride

Oh…
Newfoundland
Newfoundland
I’m here to see
My roots on
The Rock
Out here
On the sea
I’m Billy
From Boston
And happy
To be
Here in St.John’s
With my Newfie family

Bill MacEachern March 12, 2023

#newfoundland

Waverly Jul 2018

Ghosts.

there are two dimensions
to this living.
One is the surface,
the ethereal,
the light to the dark.
The shadow to the skin:
The depth of pigment.
But then, there is the deeper sin
the battering within.
The judgment of blackness
based on skin.
It has hounded us,
through our history,
from House to field.
from basketball court
to court house.
From boardroom
to dorm room
to class room
to living room.
Granny used to say,
ooh girl you've got good hair.
Nice and wavy,
like your grandpappy's.
Used to say,
see you're the pretty one.
Running her fingertips
along our cheeks,
mired in awe
of our caramel complexion.
while like tar,
it stuck to the minds
of our classmates,
cohorts,
coworkers.
With jealousy
they said light-skinned,
not black enough,
not us enough.
not us enough.
when one day in class,
the teacher had asked,
"what do mommy and daddy do?"
Janitor.
Works for the state.
Garbageman.
we piped up proudly,
"my mommy and daddy have college degrees,
one creates houses
the other works in network security"
all the while,
our classmates had laughed,
made fun of us,
"so, that's why you don't talk black"
Two smart ******,
bred a smart *****.
And so the story of us,
had morphed
from the days of Angela Davis,
to this new form of self-hatred.
the valley between us
suffered a cataclysm
and became a canyon.
Continued to grow,
our skin a stain,
and as actors we had to train,
mellowing our dialect
just to make it seem as if we had intellect,
cause we all know a succesful black man,
has two distinct voices,
and not through his own choices,
it is bred from necessity.
can't sit in front of white man
and talk like pickaninny.
got so comfortable out of our own skin,
that we felt we were the ones
digging out the edges of the canyon.
So far thrown from blackness
that maybe this is how they separate us,
make us hate ourselves
and love they wealth.
make us hate our hair
and love they locks.
Cause like superheroes
we switch from day out
to day in.
Being dark, light or caramel complexioned
we stay hounded by
how close we get to whitening.

Bill murray Jul 2015

Meter-maid

Grandmammy just turned
64 today
Grandpappy bought grandmammy
A shirt like a maid

Bloodline of King Yashayah Mar 2017

A Fear Of Reincarnation

am i hearing voices in my head?
maybe its just a call from the dead godspeed
my heartbeats to the ***** streets enemies in a creep
will i be put to sleep or will i
evade the conflict? cuz everyone on my ****
i gotta make a move quick strategist from past war tactics
makes me react quick oh ****?
there they go i see shots galore I'm on the floor
i see man the mirror with mad gore
is it god tryna store in a blessin **** sessions
my spirits full of aggression **** i shoulda had my smith n wesson
will i die or will the lord spare me an eye?
and let me live so i can i see my future kids
sippin' on this henny aint makin it no better
i got mad pain i remember my homies blood stains
tattoo tears hidden my fears bo longer worried
so i aint scared to be buried dead or alive im like a beehive
honeys surroundin' me tryna milk me for my money
but they gets nothing but a gun blast then i laughhhh
right in they face trading places eradicate the racist politics happy bday *****
know yall goin to the ditch
crooked i in the media eyes but they cant help it until i die
i get hated then cremated back to hell where i originated
dont care whos there empty rooms for the wombs
while im sleepin in the tombs earthquakes hearts shakes
once god tears drop satan just waitin' he aint in hesitation
ghetto heaven is my destination
uh cops is full of **** tryna get every brother in my hood hit
then they try smile like they happy just like they did my grandpappy
but papa wasnt no punk he had to dump
eyes red bloodshed im seeing pain ancestors speak to me
while im on liquor mayne half down the bottle im feelin' queazy
so when ya see me take it eazy
im just rumblin born revolutionist truth hurts the most
enemies stay real close til ya a ghost
light up a blunt to keep my troubles loose i aint scared to die
my only fear of death is coming back reincarnated
cuz in heaven there no phonies just gangsta *** homies and thugs with galore drugs
and slugs hit it?
cuz my own fear if being reincarnated after death

Bill murray Jul 2015

Shining pappy

Shrine marbles roll
Like little baby told me to go
So I went with the flow
And like gold
Grandpappy shined

Bloodline of King Yashayah Dec 2014

Win Some Lose Some & Draw

Deep in my notes
I ponder a closer look
To reality no fidelity
In this fantasy called life
I was made strife
Pain sticking deeper than knife
In my heart try not to part
From good deed but enticed to evil deeds
Cuz pappy planted a corrupt seed
Ignorance and greed feed of one another
I look at my other brothers
They either strung out drugged out
Wined out or blacked out
Two on the third strike ya dead
Visions impaired have ya ever seen
A man scared? Before death glared
Over his shoulder tryna to avoids the crossover
But its over life's gone life goes on
I wouldn't mind a daughter or a son
And I've done did a lot wrong in my time
Lost my baby before it perform and embryo
Soul burning slow tryna hide my tears
Deep within my fears pressure begins to hunt me taunt me
Feel as I'm.a failure momma girl always yellin' at me wish they could see
What misery I was brought upon
Try to be close to the Most High
But subjugated by the Fallen One
Two three death comes in threes
So I promise my grandpappy
Since he's resting in peace
I told him I'll keep the peace and put down the peace
Deep down inside that's my pride
My thoughts frozen but they began to thaw
Raw with the wisdom I saw
We still gone die wither we lose win or draw

Bloodline of King Yashayah Dec 2023

My testimony,

Time keeps on slipping,
Never see me crippin,
Or a blood, I play cool as a stud,
Aint funny like Doug,
See I be the plug,
No talking about drugs,
Talking bout putting' slugs,
Into ya cranium,
Knowledge I'm aimmin' em,
Til we touch,
Armageddon, ain't no letting,
Or tripping, from the settin,
Fools throwing, they threats in,
Only to bet in,
They life, they be throwin'
Away I'm on the highway,
With my sugar baby, daily,
Spread this gravy,
Ocean beat, put it on slo,
So it can be, played on repeat,
I'm far from neat,
Nasty competition,
So I had to complete,
The perfect rhyme, til I shine,
Break out the darkness,
Enemies stay, hawking this,
Chunking up the duece,
Call a truce,
No never, I stay under the weather,
Like may,
Or stay in the golden, time of day,
Jammin' on that haze,
I'm in a daze, spiritual dust,
Got me phased,
Chin checked myself,
Positivity, over negativity,
Still trailing, in my SS,
1996 still up in the mix,
Hoppin' like a 6-, 3 yah you know me,
Rest in peace, to the grandpappy,
Quick to rough like scrabby,
Never crabby,
With the flows, I may hit the killer slow,
But that's just , a plot to grow

Christopher Brander Dec 2020

Hare poem

for when my thoughts make icycles and drip.

when my thoughts thaw into streams adjacent swamped cheap land, gutters by my family.

fuzzy red raw swollen hands, fists clenched on goose hearts,
on dartmouth writing clubs, my ivory skin sought tanning.

I remember my favorite russian girl i met there, long gone, her polyglot charm ringing like chinese bells tinkling,

Thoughts remember my daughter, grown under my intermittent sun,
As if she too is a visitor,
like visitors bless a place.
Like a place wishes to be flat
and run across by the rapid heart,
of a brown hare across the wet black asphalt,
of trapped wet lips, of an elderly man,
and balloons of blushing boys cheeks.

I squeezed the shoulders of baby's mum who's heart i broke as a fool stone. I gave her kisses rich as strawberries, because that's what she is.

Rabbits catch on hooks and crushed and stuffed in the black cool summer night full of ambitious boys' erections,

Reason to recall the things that are, the way they are wide inside the empty around that, which is most of everything, most of what blindness is.

My grandpappy went up Italy. And sixty years later this girl came here from Milan to explore. Tide in, tide out.
Now the hangover. Time to be sick.

-cbrander

— The End —