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I don't want my grandchildren to go through what I went through.

quote by Art Modell
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Peom For K. (The Banker With All The Conflicting Interests)

i shall now write
a poem for my happiest day,

it is all about an old, scheming and fraudulent
woman
stacking all her money and the money of the other
people

inside her room
inside her house and inside
her bigger storehouses

she says
these are all for her children

and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren & great great grandchildren

what is mad about this is
that she is taking the money due

to other people who are hungry and innocent
and gullible

but she is a very
wise woman and she gets what she wants
she gets what she all wants
practically everything that her hands can
hold her eyes can see

perhaps

forgetting that soon she will be
made to pay for the price of her greed

and avarice and dirty schemes and
foul techniques and it will be for all

her children and grandchildren and the children
of all her grandchildren and

all the coming children of more
grandchildren all the coming children of more
great grandchildren &
great great grandchildren

...and then justice shall reign

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Auntie Zousy

auntie zousy works
as caregiver for years in chicago
to raise her grandchildren

she sent her children
to the university and they got married
and got separated from their husbands

messy, the life of auntie zousy had
always been messy but she survives
somehow
always on the go
finding work as caregiver in the
united states of america

she's 75 now and on her birthday
a party is tendered
surrounded by her 30 grandchildren or so
and inside the grand old house
of her ancestors
the laughters redound
reverberating the happy sounds
of a big family

i look at her
she is short, and emaciated and
her cheekbones show that she is not at all well

sickly, that is what auntie zousy is now
bent and misshapen
and yet in her silence
she has not surrendered
to the sacrifices of
love for the family

her grandchildren now sing
her a happy birthday
and she blows her 75 candles
in one swift breath

suddenly the room is dark
and smoke rises in the air
and she makes her
silent wish and then the lights
are turned on and laughter
follows as it will always will

happy, so happy, that is what
my auntie zousy is all about
a life of sacrifice

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love You Grandchildren

Calling the grandparents,
May make them happy,
When calling itself a problem,
How to make them happy?

When the thorns were sown,
in the young hearts,
When the ill memories are planted,
in the young thoughts,
When the bacterial and viral words were introduced,
to develop immunity,
Children have become immune to love and affection,
when they are old.

Be kind to your grandchildren,
when they are young
so they will be kind to you,
when you are old.
Be neutral to your grandchildren,
when they are in the cousin crowd,
so they will be neutral to you,
when you are in the elderly crowd.
Be generous with love to your grandchildren,
when they are sick and troubled
and they will be generous to you,
when you are really ill and worried.
Be the grandparents to your grandchildren,
As they do not have any other grandparents,
but you.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Marvelous Millie

A sweet lady with a loving smile,
Millie Mercedes McCloud has gracious style.
St. Catherine, Jamaica is her birth place,
she is wise, smart with charm and grace.
She started a boutique in New York that was in good taste.
Millie sold jewelry, clothes and lingerie,
she named it 3M which was short for her name.
She was successful, but changed her fate,
she moved from New York to the Sunshine State.
Yes, she moved to Florida where she now resides,
her grandchildren are very creative artists,
which makes Millie happy inside.
Her grandchildren are two girls and one boy,
she is proud of them, they bring her joy.
Yes, Sedeya and Serae are her daughter Simone’s
they keep in touch, they always phone.
Long Island is the granddaughters birthplace,
Grandson Jewel born in Jamaica,
mostly speaks English till this day.
Millie has their artwork in her office and door,
she even has her grandson Jewel’s sculpture
in her office which she adores.
Tricia is Jewel’s mother, which Millie is proud,
her grandchildren really live out loud.
Now Millie has only one son,
His name is Christopher who is in college in England.
Once he’s finished getting his PHD,
He will go to Jamaica to learn Black History.
Millie, I bless your family with merriness and glee.

poem by Christina Sunrise
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Written on a Summer Evening

this melancholy dusk
as the rain falls into night
ever so softly
the breath of a dying woman
this bonechilling wind
trails the air
the darkened roofs
of the malay houses
add a solemnness to the place
filled with flowers
fruit trees, wild trees
a koranic verse is heard
and another cool breeze blows
the leaves rustle
the way a man shivers
big leaves, small leaves
twirl in succession
a twist dance
so cold the night
the old woman
sick bedridden woman
so long she feels she has been ill
a feeble mind
that could not make out
dawn from dusk
the old woman
her sigh
soft as the wind
bids her quiet farewell
around her grandchildren run
impervious to her pain
the leaves rustle again
the children's cry
divides her and the world
so long ago when she was a child herself
all seems a game, a film
heartfelt images of her own life
run through her mind
long lost husband, children, grandchildren
the breeze blows again
she feels its coldness
and slowly, slowly, surely
she feels herself inching
away from the alien surroundings
slowly and slowly
death to her has become something
to be embraced
she takes another weak look at the children

rewritten from:

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Seaside Visitation

Your grandchildren
play in the sea,
splashing and screaming
as the water chills.

You watch as you sit
on the stone wall,
your feet on the sand.

Anny stands staring out
at the broad horizon,
her ghostly hand
above her brow
to keep out
the sun’s bright glare,
her small phantom feet
touching the beach,
far from the water’s reach.

She hears the playful screams,
and ventures on down
between the crowds
who occupy the sands
with chairs and towels
and windbreaker walls.

She waits and gazes
at your grandchildren’s play,
her blonde hair and bow
touched by the sun’s glow.

You watch her as stands there
rooted in the sands,
knowing none see her
as you do now, her hands
resting behind her back,
seemingly in deep thought,
she wanders along the beach,
her eyes taking in
the seaside show,
her profile captured
by the sun’s warm kiss.

She turns and looks at you,
knowing that you see her there,
smiling she waves a hand,
then she’s gone from sight,
as once before
in Auschwitz’s hold she went.

[...] Read more

poem by Terry Collett
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She Gave Birth in a Fox-Hole

Victoria Elizabeth Borg
Born June 22,1920 in Agana, Guam
Died Pearl Harbor Day 2009

Victoria sang many lullabies
to her
5 children
5 step-children
26 grandchildren
36 great grandchildren
2 great-great grandchildren
and a host of heavenly nieces and nephews.

She was married to Tomas T. Calvaron and his 5 children
on the island of Guam in 1943.
After giving birth to her daughter Rosalita
in a fox-hole during World War II
she made it through
to have 4 more children.

In 1950
she was widowed and remarried to her
brother-in-law.

She passed on to be with the Lord
surrounded by her children and granchildren.

We
her many friends and family members
will keep her memory in our minds
and her love in our hearts

until we meet again.

poem by Bob Genevro
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I have never experienced being madly in love the way most people seem to have been, although it is not something I would miss. Instead I have had an enormous ability to love my children and my grandchildren and my great grandchildren.

quote by Astrid Lindgren
Added by Lucian Velea
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We need to work our level best in this legislative session to help grow Montana's economy, so that grandchildren can stay in Montana, grandchildren can visit their grandmother and grandfather by driving across town, not flying across the country.

quote by Brian Schweitzer
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Father’s Death

He had had six children,
Fifteen grandchildren and
Many great grandchildren.
He died with a son by.
Others didn’t see him last
And didn’t repent either.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Gravedigger

Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913,
Cyrus Jones 1810 to 1913
Made his great grandchildren believe you could live to 100 and 3
Made his great grandchildren believe
A 100 and 3, is forever when you're just a little kid so
You could live to a hundred and three
Cyrus Jones lived forever
A hundred and three is forever when you're just a little kid
So Cyrus Jones lived forever
Gravedigger
When you dig my grave
Gravedigger
Could you make it shallow
When you dig my grave
So that I can feel the rain
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
Gravedigger
Muriel Stonewall 1903 to 1954,
She lost both of her babies in the second great war,
Muriel Stonewall
Now you should never have to watch as your only children are lowered into the ground
1903 to 1954
I mean
She lost both of her babies in the second great war
Never have to bury your own babies
Now you should never have to watch
Your only children lowered in the ground
Gravedigger
I mean you should never have to bury your own babies
When you dig my grave
Could you make it shallow
Gravedigger
So that I can feel the rain
When you dig my grave
Gravedigger
Could you make it shallow
So that I can feel the rain
Ring around the Rosy
Gravedigger
Pocket full of posies
Ashes to ashes
Ring around the rosey
We all fall down
Pocket full of posey
Ashes to ashes
Gravedigger
We all fall down
When you dig my grave

[...] Read more

song performed by Dave Matthews Band
Added by Lucian Velea
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Wilber Jean

I have a grandpa named Wilbur Jean
He hails from a small town in ol' Kaintuck
Someone gave him the handle 'Web', it stuck

He married his sweetie, Loleta Ruth
She gave him four kids, two of each
Oh yes, four! That's no figure of speech

He went to war, went to work, went to church
She fed the family and washed the pan
They drove the 'Blue Goose', a Ford sedan

Now my 'Pa' is turning ninety, a major milestone
Wow! Grandchildren, great grandchildren, and beyond
Four generations of us their love has spawned

Happy birthday, Pa. We love you!

poem by Charles Hancock
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All Dad's Fault!

Great grandchildren…
More that just a few
Grandchildren…
Got a lot of them too

Lot's of happy
Lot's of sad…
Lot's of goodness
And a bit of bad

A few deaths…
Lot's of life
Many fantasies
Just one wife

Many lives created
Most due to chance (or luck)
It all started on a warm summer evening
In the back of my dad's ol' pickup truck

The lightning bugs were glowin'
The hormones were flowin'
The attraction was growin'
And we were too young to be knowin'

Of the consequences of that summer night
And all the joy and heartbreak to be
Well…It was all my dad's fault…
This patchwork quilt of family

It all began
when I held out my hand
And he gave the pickup's
key to me

I think he knew all the while
What was goin' to be in store for me
Cause he had a bittersweet smile
As he handed me that key

poem by David Whalen
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As

As around the sun the earth knows shes revolving
And the rosebuds know to bloom in early may
Just as hate knows loves the cure
You can rest your mind assure
That Ill be loving you always
As now cant reveal the mistery of tomorrow
But in passing will grow older every day
Just as all is born is new
Do you know what I say is true
That Ill be loving you always
Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky
Always
Until the ocean covers every mountain high
Always
Until the dolphin flies and parrots live at sea
Always
Until we dream of life and life becomes a dream
Did you know that true love asks for nothing
Her acceptance is the way we pay
Did you know that life has given love a guarantee
To last through forever and another day
Just as time knew to move on since the beginning
And the seasons know exactly when to change
Just as kindness knows no shame
Know through all your joy and pain
That Ill be loving you always
As today I know Im living but tomorrow
Could make me the past but that I mustnt fear
For Ill know deep in my mind
The love of me Ive left behind
Cause Ill be loving you always
Until the day is night and night becomes the day
Always
Until the trees and sea just up and fly away
Always
Until the day that 8x8x8 is 4
Always
Until the day that is the day that are no more
Did you know youre loved by somebody?
Until the day the earth starts turning right to left
Always
Until the earth just for the sun denies itself
Ill loving you forever
Until dear mother nature says her work is through
Always
Until the day that you are me and I am you
Al~~~~~wa~~~~~~~~~aa~~~~~~~~~aa~~~
Until the rainbow burns the stars out in the sky
~~~~~~~~~~aa~~~~~~~~~aa~~~~~~~~~aa~~~
Until the ocean covers every mountain high

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ive Known No War

Ive known no war
Ive known no war
And if I ever do I wont know for sure
And if I ever do I wont know for sure
Wholl be fighting whom
Wholl be fighting whom
For the soldiers lonely tomb
For the soldiers lonely tomb
Now opens as soon as the referees gun starts to roar
Now opens as soon as the referees gun starts to roar
Ill know no war
Ill know no war
Galbraith took his pen
Galbraith took his pen
To break down the men
To break down the men
Of the german army defeated
Of the german army defeated
On the nineteenth day
On the nineteenth day
Of a spring day in may
Of a spring day in may
Albert speer was deleted
Albert speer was deleted
And as soon as the battle was over
And as soon as the battle was over
I was born in victorious clover
I was born in victorious clover
And Ive never been shot at or gassed
And Ive never been shot at or gassed
Never tortured or stabbed
Never tortured or stabbed
And Im sure - Ill never know war
And Im sure - Ill never know war
I know Ill never know war
I know Ill never know war
And if I ever do
And if I ever do
The glimpse will be short
The glimpse will be short
Fireball in the sky
Fireball in the sky
No front line battle cries
No front line battle cries
Can be heard and the button is pushed
Can be heard and the button is pushed
By a soul thats been bought
By a soul thats been bought
Ill know no war
Ill know no war

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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Diamond Wedding

M uch joy you’ve garnered over sixty years,
U nited while time passed by both of you.
R esplendent is shared happinesss few knew.
I hope years wed to come will shed no tears.
E ach grandchild starting out on new careers
L ives out your hopes and dreams, reborn anew,
A nne, Jessica and Justin, others too -
R eal love returning. All here, volunteers,
C onverge, together clap, repeat three cheers,
H ope they in turn may celebrate, pursue
I dyll all will remember. Whose sky blue,
E ntirely cloudless is as yours’ appears,
L ife’s love of life confirms, content may be.
F irst, foremost Happy Anniversary!

(16 July 1989 Archie and Muriel Froomberg 16 July 1929 - 16 July 1989 Hyde Park Hotel, London. Muriel Froomberg, née Lazarus, celebrated her 103rd Birthday on 2 February 2012 and has currently 12 great grandchildren and two great great grandchildren)

poem by Jonathan Robin
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I've Done the Best I Can So You Can Do That Better

Beneath the tree
That falling leaves descended from,
I stand.
Thinking of the changes,
I have experienced being the man I am.

'She is now called 'Mama'!
Ma! Or Ms Mimmie'.
When she's with her children...
And grandchildren too!

And I look up above me to witness the branches.
The twigs!
And the wonder of the tree...
All of this ascends from!
'Matriarch she is! ', I think with no doubt.

And the birds, squirrels and all that come to visit,
Are always welcomed

And I wonder if anyone wonders...
'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
How can this be done?
And by whom?
We all can't be vacant with a disconnected fate!
'Something' is planned by the doing in all of this!
'Something' is in control and knows everything that sits...
Within and 'out' of our midst.
'Something' about this most people miss.

'How can anyone disbelieve there is a God? '
And we are God's experiment!
And my 'sisters' were born to nourish the flourishment.
And I can see...
Looking at 'this' tree before me I inspect.
And 'It' observes...knowing!
Encouraging those after birth and going...
After growing up,
With a gentle toughness that is meant.
'I've done the best I can so you can do that better.'

Dedicated:
To my sister Andrea. Mim, Mimmie and MimmieD
'You have 'eight' grandchildren? EIGHT? How, Mimmie? '
Where was I when all of this happened?
And Tammy and Lisa? ? Naw. No way, yo?

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Speechless Sorrow

I have read in the 'Legends of Monastic Orders, '
The great saints found ecstasy in the pain endured
For the love of their spiritual convictions.

I found no ecstasy in my pain.
I found only irredeemable gloom hanging
Over the entire air terminal.
I observed an emotional hurt so deep it spilled over,
Flooding the hearts of all who witnessed
Its dibilitatiing affect.

Our son, the father of our grandchildren, wept
With a faint, melancholy, rueful, passionate weeping
So painful to see, it was like the stabbing
Of an already lacerated heart.

Hugging his children he, with heart full
Of speechless sorrow, released his girls
To the stewardess, and with a sort of mental depletion,
Wiped his tears and sighed in liqued grief.
The children's sobs were so deep their souls seemed to break
Loose from their bodies and leak with overflowing
Through their eyes.

Quaking with repressed anguish, for our son and grandchildren,
Their grandmother and I stood in silence
As if in deep bereavement.

Upon the departure of the girls, we all stood
Together in a small group, looking out the window,
Like Christians, huddled on the Coliseum floor.

We watched as the plane disappeared from our view,
Feeling we had been eviscerated by the hungry-maddened lions
Of divorce.

Blank Verse)

poem by Lynn W. Petty
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A Christmas Visitation

Anny stands by the door. Anny
Watches as your grandchildren
Open the seasonal gifts. Her blue
Eyes follow as toys are investigated
One after another. You see her there,
Her ghostly hand brushing back her
Curly blonde hair. She smiles at you
As she lifts her eyes from toys to you.
None of the others see her as she walks
About the room, her hands wanting to
Touch the toys, to finger the doll, to hold
Against her chest as once she may in
Better days before the Auschwitz death.
You sip your beer, your eyes watching
As she sits by your wife, taking in excitement
Of voices and grandchildren’s laughter,
Her bright eyes moving from you to laid
Down toys, maybe remembering her own
Childhood excitement of Jewish celebrations,
The candles, the singing, the feel of love,
The sense of awe. Speculation on your part,
You and your tender heart. Anny studies
Your wife as she talks of this and that to those
Around the room. Anny looks back at you,
Those blue eyes, that curly blonde hair, that
Ribbon tied in the hair, those 1940s clothes,
That sense of sorrow that follows her like
Perfume. You smile back and want to say
Other words you have said to her before,
But others might wonder why you speak to
One they cannot see, thinking maybe your
Dotage has taken a turn or that you’ve sipped
Too much beer in celebrational cheer. Anny
Understands these things and much beside
Since that Paris betrayal and train trip to
Icy Auschwitz where in 1942 she died.

poem by Terry Collett
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Satisfaction

My two grandchildren
both girls
always on my nerves
with their smart little pranks
asked me to accompany
to a fair nearby
I promised but as a standby.

Their mother gave a call
all of us zoomed to a big mall
saw a set of Barbie dolls
as lively as present day gals
trance-fixed
girls did not budge an inch
till their wish was not fulfilled.

Girls were happy
with great expectations they laughed & giggled
became chirpy and sizzled
their mother too
pride writ large on her face
as Barbies had cost
only rupees two thousand and fifty-two.

Back home Girls’ imagination ran riot
thinking of their buddies
walking, talking & singing Barbies
they wanted to play
but to their dismay
Barbies were showcased
for display.

Out of their reach
theirs, yet not theirs
saw their hopes sink
remembered ST Colridge*
“ water water every where, not a dropp to drink”
they could not express
their anger, anguish and distress.

Sensing their shock
least to say
took them to fair same day
they cuckooed with glee
had lot of rides for free
at their back & call
procured various small cute cottage dolls
Just for rupees fifty-three.

Sparkling eyes

[...] Read more

poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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