Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"grandpop" poems
That's it I've had it Tired of being ignored with a wink on the side I'm tired of being told what old men should do Going to start taking life on the flea..or is that the fly I'm going to hit the streets of the city And be known as that cool guy that raps After I add a tad bit more Poligrip So my dentures can get down with that I'll get me a ball cap and turn it sideways My pants already hang down past my crack I'll even learn the latest catch phrase Like, Hey dude..what's up wit dat?! Think I'll even rhinestone my walker For that little extra bling, bling They'll say check out that crazy rapper daddy-o Man that cat can really swing I'll keep the lyrics clean like I do my diaper That's why I bring my nursie with me After all she's a wonderful wiper Don't worry I pay the extra wiping fee I'll also get her to hold up the cue cards Since my memory over the years has waned No longer to be known as that old white ******* Beating JZ at his own game I'll get jiggy with it every chance I get As I fizizzile my way to the top I'll be bigger than that guy with the candy name That young whipper snapper will melt in the hands of this rapping GrandPop
0
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 6:47 PM UTC
I'm Going To Be A Rap Star
The room: never aired out. Smoke hung high, creating its own atmosphere. Pun intended. Box of cigars sitting on the coffee table, always within reach. Glass ashtray to smother your butts, when a forearm wasn't intended. Burning flesh, each circle telling its own story of a mistake. That's why I prefer long sleeves. They hide my stories about Grandfather's house.
0
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:40 PM UTC
Grandpop's Ashtray
My Grandpop's box has a word in bronze Nailed into the lid Of smooth plastic - fingerprints On the box where the past is hid. What cloistered things What daring lives in the passage of the years Lie dusted, browned, rimed with rust, Blotted of fargone tears?
0
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Grandpop's box
Memories will fade Hair turns gray, flesh into ash 'tis oblivion ------------------------ /dear reader, please whisper a prayer for my grandpop. Ty/
0
Mar 7, 2019
Mar 7, 2019 at 6:21 AM UTC
Death
That's it I've had it Tired of being ignored with a wink on the side I'm tired of being told what old men should do Going to start taking life on the flea..or is that the fly I'm going to hit the streets of the city And be known as that cool guy that raps After I add a tad bit more Poligrip So my dentures can get down with that I'll get me a ball cap and turn it sideways My pants already hang down past my crack I'll even learn the latest catch phrase Like, Hey dude..what's up wit dat?! Think I'll even rhinestone my walker For that little extra bling, bling They'll say check out that crazy rapper daddy-o Man that cat can really swing I'll keep the lyrics clean like I do my diaper That's why I bring my nursie with me After all she's a wonderful wiper Don't worry I pay the extra wiping fee I'll also get her to hold up the cue cards Since my memory over the years has waned No longer to be known as that old white ******* Beating JZ at his own game I'll get jiggy with it every chance I get As I fizizzile my way to the top I'll be bigger than that guy with the candy name That young whipper snapper will melt in the hands of this rapping GrandPop
0
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
I'm Going To Be a Rap Star (rerun for fun)
Spoiled centerpiece at table's edge red apples turned a dull brown grapes withered and wrinkled like the hand that lay motionless sprinkled with drywall dust tv screams in neutral static the only surviving kitten suckles it's lifeless mother's ****** in vain the burning corn fields crackle and snap the skies turn a smokey haze before the Sun disappears on schedule somewhere along the road Grandpop and Joe are in the truck with melted ice cream they were bringing back from town
0
Jan 18, 2016
Jan 18, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
burning fields
The room ticks like a cooling engine In a blue motel on the edge of Apache. A tranquil night of drunks and televisions. Poly-neon signs and road closures. Up the road apiece, just north of nowhere, Past the graves of Grandma and Grandpop, There’s a place that has no business being there, A place of cisterns and honeycombs. A wheel in the desert, the moon on some swings. 🌙 September 02 2024
0
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 3:05 AM UTC
Blue Mesa