"granpa" poems - Hello Poetry

EPILOGUE: When wisdom fills the old calabash, It overflows and seeps in The sun dries it to be stronger That way it lasts with experience So was the calabash of Atanga’s Granpa On his very dying bed He called Atanga to his bed And had his last stream flow to him GRANDPA: My dear Atanga, Please in the name all great Atangas This is my last advice to you If you wish to take a wife Never choose either of these: The woman with light skin The woman with dark skin The woman who is short And the woman who is tall ATANGA: Ei! Grandpa! Then tell me not to marry Who then do you want me to marry? Not the fair Nor the dark Not the short Nor the tall? GRANDPA: Listen my boy To words of old The light skinned woman Is the fantasy of all If you choose her None will help you prosper Every man wants you to fail So they can quickly take your place So never dream of the fair woman No matter how much you crave for her ATANGA: Oh! I see I think I do understand Grandpa what about the rest? GRANDPA: Never go in for dark skinned woman She is the one that all your people loathe She is the one whose people hate you The only people interested are you and her When disaster strikes, none will hear So never go in for the dark skinned woman ATANGA: Oh! I see Now I know It is not the colour Nor the character A woman like that Would do me harm Now let us go on Explain the rest GRANDPA: Never go in for the short woman A short woman is the neighbour’s daughter Her house is so close to your house You can never have a moment of peace Whatever you do Her people poke their noses You can never have your lives to live ATANGA: Grandpa is wise So what about the last? GRANPA: The tall woman Is the woman who comes from afar Her home-town is far So you can’t have peace Any time there is trouble in her home You need to pay To get your people to go with you Amidst the feeding And transportation How can you proper? ATANGA: Granpa is wise Grandpa has lived Who would have thought Of these wise sayings To an infant where thoughts are concerned? Thank you Grandpa So which type of woman Must I marry? Grandpa? Grandpa? I am asking you a question! Grandpa!!!! Grandpa please answer!!!! MMA: Grandpa is gone To the land of beyond Where sorrow is nil And thinking is unreal Just be glad you sipped from his calabash Of wisdom before he left PROLOGUE: And that ended Grandpa’s advice Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

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Dec 11, 2014

Dec 11, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC

amoafowaa-sefa-cecilia

ATANGA’S GRANDPA’S LAST ADVICE

EPILOGUE: When wisdom fills the old calabash, It overflows and seeps in The sun dries it to be stronger That way it lasts with experience So was the calabash of Atanga’s Granpa On his very dying bed He called Atanga to his bed And had his last stream flow to him GRANDPA: My dear Atanga, Please in the name all great Atangas This is my last advice to you If you wish to take a wife Never choose either of these: The woman with light skin The woman with dark skin The woman who is short And the woman who is tall ATANGA: Ei! Grandpa! Then tell me not to marry Who then do you want me to marry? Not the fair Nor the dark Not the short Nor the tall? GRANDPA: Listen my boy To words of old The light skinned woman Is the fantasy of all If you choose her None will help you prosper Every man wants you to fail So they can quickly take your place So never dream of the fair woman No matter how much you crave for her ATANGA: Oh! I see I think I do understand Grandpa what about the rest? GRANDPA: Never go in for dark skinned woman She is the one that all your people loathe She is the one whose people hate you The only people interested are you and her When disaster strikes, none will hear So never go in for the dark skinned woman ATANGA: Oh! I see Now I know It is not the colour Nor the character A woman like that Would do me harm Now let us go on Explain the rest GRANDPA: Never go in for the short woman A short woman is the neighbour’s daughter Her house is so close to your house You can never have a moment of peace Whatever you do Her people poke their noses You can never have your lives to live ATANGA: Grandpa is wise So what about the last? GRANPA: The tall woman Is the woman who comes from afar Her home-town is far So you can’t have peace Any time there is trouble in her home You need to pay To get your people to go with you Amidst the feeding And transportation How can you proper? ATANGA: Granpa is wise Grandpa has lived Who would have thought Of these wise sayings To an infant where thoughts are concerned? Thank you Grandpa So which type of woman Must I marry? Grandpa? Grandpa? I am asking you a question! Grandpa!!!! Grandpa please answer!!!! MMA: Grandpa is gone To the land of beyond Where sorrow is nil And thinking is unreal Just be glad you sipped from his calabash Of wisdom before he left PROLOGUE: And that ended Grandpa’s advice Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia (c) 2014

105

Beware Hooray the Cavemen are comin jumpin up and don knock-kneed sweepin the hill with their new harvested beard Howdy chicky chicken leg What’s goozin under your sweaty shirt lookin like ma granpa with ur baby cream breath or is it maybe somethin else luscious spring of intermittent discharge making rainbows duplicate yep gimme two too when u come to me oh when u come to me cause I am a matured lovin n **** is my blanched bird nest neatly crowned above my head I shall unbind it for adorable is your lady color short pants I bet holographic daisies growin along the tri-d charm of your ****** if any yeah if any Beware Oh the cavemen Run flat out nou cause I shall feed you to my auntie’s aging dreams with the buncha hair on ur face u look lika somethin resembling a man before her famine Beware Oh the cavemen Auntie is comin

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Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC

dnalumuland

Auntie and the Cavemen

Beware Hooray the Cavemen are comin jumpin up and don knock-kneed sweepin the hill with their new harvested beard Howdy chicky chicken leg What’s goozin under your sweaty shirt lookin like ma granpa with ur baby cream breath or is it maybe somethin else luscious spring of intermittent discharge making rainbows duplicate yep gimme two too when u come to me oh when u come to me cause I am a matured lovin n **** is my blanched bird nest neatly crowned above my head I shall unbind it for adorable is your lady color short pants I bet holographic daisies growin along the tri-d charm of your ****** if any yeah if any Beware Oh the cavemen Run flat out nou cause I shall feed you to my auntie’s aging dreams with the buncha hair on ur face u look lika somethin resembling a man before her famine Beware Oh the cavemen Auntie is comin

33

Grandpa Tinker died a few years after I was born. I'm told he met me before he left though I was still asleep then. Lulled in a cradle, in a peace made possible by men like him. A Marine Corp officer stationed at Pearl Harbor who awoke to the sound of shouts on a day the world would never be allowed to forget. Mother said he never spoke a word about the war. Maybe that was his way of forgetting; his gift to my mother's generation was to bury that pain. He let it die inside so the fear, the anguish, the terror could not touch the ones he loved. The world gave him something he could not forget, something so painful he buried it in his heart with the memory of fellow marines and sailors in watery graves. Grandpa Harry was a gunner on a B-29. The son of orthodox Jews, a first generation American born in New York. When he was stationed in Texas he met a young W.A.V.E. who would become my grandma. They couldn't wait for the war to end before getting married. When Granpa Harry was shot down over the Burma theatre they sent grandma a letter. Heartbroken and desperate she prayed. He and the survivors of his crew were picked up weeks later in the jungle, but not before contracting maleria. They went on to have 8 children, 3 their own and 5 adopted. Grandma always loved children. She became a school teacher. Grandpa Harry died before I was born, the world gave him something he could not forget either. I do not like to think of the war as a battle between nations of this world. Good and evil do not fight under banners of nations, they have no borders, no anthems, only memories. They fight and die on battlefields of hearts that have buried hate, pain, and terror. My grandparents' hearts are memorials. Gleaming white tombstones on a field I cannot see, and cannot forget.

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Jun 3, 2016

Jun 3, 2016 at 4:44 PM UTC

andrew-siegel

Memorial

Grandpa Tinker died a few years after I was born. I'm told he met me before he left though I was still asleep then. Lulled in a cradle, in a peace made possible by men like him. A Marine Corp officer stationed at Pearl Harbor who awoke to the sound of shouts on a day the world would never be allowed to forget. Mother said he never spoke a word about the war. Maybe that was his way of forgetting; his gift to my mother's generation was to bury that pain. He let it die inside so the fear, the anguish, the terror could not touch the ones he loved. The world gave him something he could not forget, something so painful he buried it in his heart with the memory of fellow marines and sailors in watery graves. Grandpa Harry was a gunner on a B-29. The son of orthodox Jews, a first generation American born in New York. When he was stationed in Texas he met a young W.A.V.E. who would become my grandma. They couldn't wait for the war to end before getting married. When Granpa Harry was shot down over the Burma theatre they sent grandma a letter. Heartbroken and desperate she prayed. He and the survivors of his crew were picked up weeks later in the jungle, but not before contracting maleria. They went on to have 8 children, 3 their own and 5 adopted. Grandma always loved children. She became a school teacher. Grandpa Harry died before I was born, the world gave him something he could not forget either. I do not like to think of the war as a battle between nations of this world. Good and evil do not fight under banners of nations, they have no borders, no anthems, only memories. They fight and die on battlefields of hearts that have buried hate, pain, and terror. My grandparents' hearts are memorials. Gleaming white tombstones on a field I cannot see, and cannot forget.

3

It makes me feel alive when I sing. My mom playing piano and my granpa on guitar my dad calls us Uncle Johns Band. Which is a song that makes me happy because it makes me think of my family and all the good times we have together. Music is the most magical thing because it makes everybody feel better even deaf people. Because they can still feel the vibrations because sound is air vibrations. Harmonica sounds crazy and loud. Piano sounds sweet like an angel. Guitar sounds like all kinds of things. But singing is the best because singing is good for your lungs and everybody sings differently and when people sing in harmony they make lovely music. Music is the one thing that everybody should love.

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Jul 7, 2012

Jul 7, 2012 at 10:06 AM UTC

alice-curtis

Music is The Most Magical Thing

It makes me feel alive when I sing. My mom playing piano and my granpa on guitar my dad calls us Uncle Johns Band. Which is a song that makes me happy because it makes me think of my family and all the good times we have together. Music is the most magical thing because it makes everybody feel better even deaf people. Because they can still feel the vibrations because sound is air vibrations. Harmonica sounds crazy and loud. Piano sounds sweet like an angel. Guitar sounds like all kinds of things. But singing is the best because singing is good for your lungs and everybody sings differently and when people sing in harmony they make lovely music. Music is the one thing that everybody should love.

20

i could write the story of my life remembering all that was, forgetting the things i forget. i couild start at the beginning, work through to the end when it comes. it could be that way. may be, i have already written much of it in bits and scraps here and there. such is the way of it. some things come random. not as you expected. i was to tell my story, you said. i cannot be bothered. there is no interest. if there is, it can be googled, gathered, stitched quilt like into some image. i cannot remember my granpa fondly, for he was dead a while before. you told me your tale, silked tongue, the things you wished me to know. not impressed. no need to impress. cat **** leaves on skin leave black marks. remember? recall the smell. i could write the story of my life. sbm.

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May 23, 2017

May 23, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC

sonja-benskin-mesher

. the story of my life .

i could write the story of my life remembering all that was, forgetting the things i forget. i couild start at the beginning, work through to the end when it comes. it could be that way. may be, i have already written much of it in bits and scraps here and there. such is the way of it. some things come random. not as you expected. i was to tell my story, you said. i cannot be bothered. there is no interest. if there is, it can be googled, gathered, stitched quilt like into some image. i cannot remember my granpa fondly, for he was dead a while before. you told me your tale, silked tongue, the things you wished me to know. not impressed. no need to impress. cat **** leaves on skin leave black marks. remember? recall the smell. i could write the story of my life. sbm.

18

Grandad did keep a pig and chickens also a monkey which was either sat on his shoulder or up on the clothes rack which was set high up in the kitchen..sometimes we would unfasten the rope that tied the rack, and did that monkey chatter as it fell towards the kitchen table..happy days. My Grandad kept in the back garden ,a big fat rosy coloured pig. Not the one that did a jig but another which was certainly a smelly thing. Granpa would bring it bits and bobs and the pig would grunt in its approval until the day came for the pig's removal. It ended up in 16 dinner bowls and on one big serving plate. I have to say pig tasted great with apple sauce But of course I miss him all the same.

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Apr 23, 2013

Apr 23, 2013 at 4:08 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

A bit of 1963

Grandad did keep a pig and chickens also a monkey which was either sat on his shoulder or up on the clothes rack which was set high up in the kitchen..sometimes we would unfasten the rope that tied the rack, and did that monkey chatter as it fell towards the kitchen table..happy days. My Grandad kept in the back garden ,a big fat rosy coloured pig. Not the one that did a jig but another which was certainly a smelly thing. Granpa would bring it bits and bobs and the pig would grunt in its approval until the day came for the pig's removal. It ended up in 16 dinner bowls and on one big serving plate. I have to say pig tasted great with apple sauce But of course I miss him all the same.

11

Teachers are great people they dedicate their lives to helping others and they don't get paid alot of money. My favorite teacher is Miss Possick. She teaches english, and writes poetry, and she is a very special person that my granpa would say is one in a million. She is the first person to read my poem and tell me she liked it, and she always tells me encorogging things, and she is always kind to me and everyone else, even the bad kids. She knows almost everything about me, and we like all the same things, she tells really funny jokes, and she makes me smile all the time. And she laughs at my jokes, and she has a beautiful laugh and a happy smile. My dad says that me and Miss Possick are simpatico which is spanish for we are very similar, because we both love animals, and nature, and laughing and reading poetry and stories, and we both think that people should be kind, and help others, and teach what they know. Miss Possick knows all sorts of stuff, and If she doesn't know something she can tell you the next day, because she is real good at looking stuff up. Besides my family Miss Possick is my favorite person in the whole world. And I love her very much.

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Jul 6, 2012

Jul 6, 2012 at 7:25 AM UTC

alice-curtis

A Tribute To Miss Possick

Teachers are great people they dedicate their lives to helping others and they don't get paid alot of money. My favorite teacher is Miss Possick. She teaches english, and writes poetry, and she is a very special person that my granpa would say is one in a million. She is the first person to read my poem and tell me she liked it, and she always tells me encorogging things, and she is always kind to me and everyone else, even the bad kids. She knows almost everything about me, and we like all the same things, she tells really funny jokes, and she makes me smile all the time. And she laughs at my jokes, and she has a beautiful laugh and a happy smile. My dad says that me and Miss Possick are simpatico which is spanish for we are very similar, because we both love animals, and nature, and laughing and reading poetry and stories, and we both think that people should be kind, and help others, and teach what they know. Miss Possick knows all sorts of stuff, and If she doesn't know something she can tell you the next day, because she is real good at looking stuff up. Besides my family Miss Possick is my favorite person in the whole world. And I love her very much.

23

*Our wind chimes sound like loose - change jingling in Granpa's britches He's coming in the door from a day at Scott - Lake with a wry comment on Bluegill fishing Every time the wind blows at the house I'm wishing that I could be with him for just a smidgen* ...

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Oct 4, 2016

Oct 4, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

C.D. Carlisle ..

*Our wind chimes sound like loose - change jingling in Granpa's britches He's coming in the door from a day at Scott - Lake with a wry comment on Bluegill fishing Every time the wind blows at the house I'm wishing that I could be with him for just a smidgen* ...

6

They aren’t listening You could find it if you looked, but Just because someone hasn’t proven it doesn’t mean that it is not there Hey, even the animals have same gender *** why shouldn’t the humans? because I only think of santa clause one time a year And how my parents lied to me So what if I like when my celebrities run for office It means someone with money cares Someone young Someone who probably knows what it is like to hit rock bottom somewhere outside in an unfamiliar place with the stench of the night lingering into that sudden clarity that makes you scream at the top of your lungs WHAT THE **** AM i DOING WITH my LIFE?!!!!? And why am I still awake? Define Improvement So what if our stomachs were made to eat plants We eat meat now. Can you imagine if we started shooting our dead into the sky? I could say Granpa was in the stars That everyone went to heaven when they died And about the Arc Maybe they didn’t have to. Maybe they Were where they needed to be all along

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Mar 24, 2015

Mar 24, 2015 at 12:49 PM UTC

victoria-ovalle

Stumble

They aren’t listening You could find it if you looked, but Just because someone hasn’t proven it doesn’t mean that it is not there Hey, even the animals have same gender *** why shouldn’t the humans? because I only think of santa clause one time a year And how my parents lied to me So what if I like when my celebrities run for office It means someone with money cares Someone young Someone who probably knows what it is like to hit rock bottom somewhere outside in an unfamiliar place with the stench of the night lingering into that sudden clarity that makes you scream at the top of your lungs WHAT THE **** AM i DOING WITH my LIFE?!!!!? And why am I still awake? Define Improvement So what if our stomachs were made to eat plants We eat meat now. Can you imagine if we started shooting our dead into the sky? I could say Granpa was in the stars That everyone went to heaven when they died And about the Arc Maybe they didn’t have to. Maybe they Were where they needed to be all along

22

Hey dear Granpa, I know that I owe A letter to you A verse for thou. On this father's day I write one with a lot to say Firstly, your presence was my gay Your love didn't let me cross the bay. I have a father who looked after my expenses. Whereas, you brought me up with all the senses Showing how to go beyond one's fences by using mind's lenses. I tried to follow your ways But I kept going in search of love Forgetting no one can be you And, I was caught facing anxiety. How can I forget those Long walks which didn't last long The endless conversations which did end Bicycle rides which steered away to sides. I saw the people, and I understood the world, I witnessed the love, and I saw the sacrifices, But I couldn't see you.... My heart yearns to end my best moment with you. I wish I were able to see you I hope I could feel you I beseech I were long gone with you I wish, I wish, and I wish to be with you. I don't want love my dear I don't want marriage my dear I don't want parents my dear All I need is those loving moments with you Can't we read a novel again Can't we fight over a book again Can't we talk for hours about it again Can't we seek a judge to wave a victory flag for us? dated: 21/6

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Jun 21, 2020

Jun 21, 2020 at 8:25 AM UTC

Sasevardhni

Ode to My Spirit

Hey dear Granpa, I know that I owe A letter to you A verse for thou. On this father's day I write one with a lot to say Firstly, your presence was my gay Your love didn't let me cross the bay. I have a father who looked after my expenses. Whereas, you brought me up with all the senses Showing how to go beyond one's fences by using mind's lenses. I tried to follow your ways But I kept going in search of love Forgetting no one can be you And, I was caught facing anxiety. How can I forget those Long walks which didn't last long The endless conversations which did end Bicycle rides which steered away to sides. I saw the people, and I understood the world, I witnessed the love, and I saw the sacrifices, But I couldn't see you.... My heart yearns to end my best moment with you. I wish I were able to see you I hope I could feel you I beseech I were long gone with you I wish, I wish, and I wish to be with you. I don't want love my dear I don't want marriage my dear I don't want parents my dear All I need is those loving moments with you Can't we read a novel again Can't we fight over a book again Can't we talk for hours about it again Can't we seek a judge to wave a victory flag for us? dated: 21/6

37

I will tell them back in Rhodesia that the wazungus who called themselves Superiors who barked orders and strode around like Atlas who took all from us because we didn't know better who lived on the hills and never came to the shanty who ate with silver cutlery on silver plates and drove in cars that shone like gold that those wazungus are cheap common liars where I live among in their towns they are ***** unwashed and miserable they don't have money, steal like pikins in the shanties they even envy us who have made it in their town they are reduce to harassing and hounding us like street dogs imagine a wazungu now having the time to do this they are not all educated, infact most don't go to University they still drink and talk ******* now they are all mostly common lot struggling in buses and queues wearing jeans all the time, some beg for money on street corners like the boys from Kakatoya used to do Remember them wazungu, so principled and incorruptible it was all a facade, they are liars, cheats, unpleasant, conniving corrupt-able, indiscipline, unthinking, thuggish, hooliganistic louts I wish granpa could see them and what they really are like he used to wash and iron his suit six times to go to see Mr Ponce the tobacco Merchant at Sanagogo Trading Post. They're still racist and ignorant but its done underhand now They will pick on successful conscious blacks and say they are greedy, can you imagine wazungu who took all from us saying this and they say its a revolution, that black man is taking from poor they call it revolution....hahahaha....I know you are laughing now Ah, this is serious matter, you won't believe... Lets talk again soon....Stay away from Federal Palace Hotel not a good place for a black man...they destroy them there.. even if you are a paid guest....

0

Aug 31, 2019

Aug 31, 2019 at 11:51 PM UTC

yenson

this you must know....

I will tell them back in Rhodesia that the wazungus who called themselves Superiors who barked orders and strode around like Atlas who took all from us because we didn't know better who lived on the hills and never came to the shanty who ate with silver cutlery on silver plates and drove in cars that shone like gold that those wazungus are cheap common liars where I live among in their towns they are ***** unwashed and miserable they don't have money, steal like pikins in the shanties they even envy us who have made it in their town they are reduce to harassing and hounding us like street dogs imagine a wazungu now having the time to do this they are not all educated, infact most don't go to University they still drink and talk ******* now they are all mostly common lot struggling in buses and queues wearing jeans all the time, some beg for money on street corners like the boys from Kakatoya used to do Remember them wazungu, so principled and incorruptible it was all a facade, they are liars, cheats, unpleasant, conniving corrupt-able, indiscipline, unthinking, thuggish, hooliganistic louts I wish granpa could see them and what they really are like he used to wash and iron his suit six times to go to see Mr Ponce the tobacco Merchant at Sanagogo Trading Post. They're still racist and ignorant but its done underhand now They will pick on successful conscious blacks and say they are greedy, can you imagine wazungu who took all from us saying this and they say its a revolution, that black man is taking from poor they call it revolution....hahahaha....I know you are laughing now Ah, this is serious matter, you won't believe... Lets talk again soon....Stay away from Federal Palace Hotel not a good place for a black man...they destroy them there.. even if you are a paid guest....

34