Thursday, February 05, 2009

A little poem -- Grandpa's Day OSI (Slowly)

Previously posted on JIM'S
February 1, 2008
(it is not a Grandparent's Day post)

Grandpa's Day

slowly he turns over in his bed
push down his feet to straighten his back
his shoulder aches his side cries in pain
child's voice -- I wish my Grandpa'd be here

crawls out of bed so slowly he dresses
holed socks torn shirt one pair faded jeans
clean yesterday shoes by door there lay
child's voice -- my Grandpa needs a new suit

lane's end he goes -- find his paper there
the dogs explore cold's white field of frost
song birds all know new to read there not
child's voice -- why doesn't Grandpa have a TV

boiled egg he eats the kids cooked last week
puzzle to work next he'll read past's news
for better word radio would work
child's voice -- my grandpa should have a mac

lunch time comes its baloney and cheese
pickles are gone meat has spots of green
safe in his jar peanut buttter there
child's voice -- did we cook grandpa enough

now get the mail sure glad frost is gone
the dogs do roll grass is very dry
no letters here from anyone dear
child's voice -- I'd e-mail my Grandpa dear

comes supper now eat before the dark
one hot dog cold on bread that's his dole
better he fares when grand kids are there
child's voice -- hot dog for Grandpa I'd make

its off to bed you kids get some sleep
your grandpa goes before the light is gone
early we leave fix him for the week
child's voice -- can grandpa come live with us

Grandpa my son lives in Grandpa's day

Copyright © 2009 Jimmiehov. All Rights Reserved

Tag for more poems on One Single Impression (Slowly)
prompted by Nancy Bea at
Genre Cookshop, thank you
Tag for more by Jim: Jim's OSI
Painting is easy when you don’t know how, but very difficult when you do. Edgar Dégas
The same may go for poetry? (whatever, I enjoy painting with the words!).

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Where is this "Grandpa's day" that grandpa lives in?
Happy grandpa's day, Jim.
happy day!
Dear Mr. Jim.
I love your grampa poem. Here is a grampa poem I have always loved;

Little Bateese

You bad leetle boy, not moche you care
How busy you 're kipin' your poor gran'pere
Tryin' to stop you ev'ry day
Chasin' de hen aroun' de hay--
W'y don't you geev' dem a chance to lay?
Leetle Bateese!

Off on de fiel' you foller de plough
Den w'en you 're tire you scare the cow
Sickin' de dog till dey jomp the wall
So de milk ain't good for not'ing at all--
An' you 're only five an' a half dis fall,
Leetle Bateese!

Too sleepy for sayin' de prayer to-night?
Never min' I s'pose it 'll be all right
Say dem to-morrow--ah! dere he go!
Fas' asleep in a minute or so--
An' he 'll stay lak dat till de rooster crow,
Leetle Bateese!

Den wake us up right away toute suite
Lookin' for somet'ing more to eat,
Makin' me t'ink of dem long leg crane
Soon as dey swaller, dey start again,
I wonder your stomach don't get no pain,
Leetle Bateese!

But see heem now lyin' dere in bed,
Look at de arm onderneat' hees head;
If he grow lak dat till he 's twenty year
I bet he 'll be stronger dan Louis Cyr
An' beat all de voyageurs leevin' here,
Leetle Bateese!

Jus' feel de muscle along hees back,
Won't geev' heem moche bodder for carry pack
On de long portage, any size canoe,
Dere 's not many t'ing dat boy won't do
For he 's got double-joint on hees body too,
Leetle Bateese!

But leetle Bateese! please don't forget
We rader you 're stayin' de small boy yet,
So chase de chicken an' mak' dem scare
An' do w'at you lak wit' your ole gran'pere
For w'en you 're beeg feller he won't be dere--
Leetle Bateese!

William Henry Drummond

Have a happy day Grampa Mr. Jim!
Love Terry
Terry, thank you for this nice 'Grandpa poem,' with a view of the rural grandson through grandpa's eye.
William Henry Drummond (April 13, 1854 – April 6, 1907) was an Irish-born Canadian poet.
He was elected a fellow of the Royal Society of Literature of the United Kingdom in 1898 and a fellow of the Royal Society of Canada in 1899.

Thank you all for the nice wishes, Grandparent's Day is in September.

Kenny, Grandpa's day is where grandpa is if he likes being there. It is mostly a state of mind, happiness where one is.
i have some bitter sweet moments with 5 of my grands being boys between 2 and 9....they have tripped me in the street, told me they hate my dog, kicked me in me privates, and yet when i read to them they seem like angles, i mean angels

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