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    dots Submission Name: GRANDFATHER GRANDDAUGHTERdots

    Author: hanuman
    ASL Info:    3 score & 10 & some!
    Elite Ratio:    5.99 - 804/1015/239
    Words: 208
    Class/Type: Poetry/Serious
    Total Views: 1889
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 1452

       It is fascinating watching the physical and mental development of a 14 month old as she changes day by day. She is cutting her third tooth. I am wondering why we weren't provided with 3 sets of teeth. I am beginning to really need that third set.

    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.


    My granddaughter is just a baby,
    Much like any other maybe.
    Retrousse nose, rosebud mouth,
    Bald as an egg, soft as butter;
    A little pink mammal -
    Sans hair, sans teeth, sans talk,
    Sans table manners, sans walk.

    Now I see her frown and smile,
    Totter bipedally
    From knee to friendly knee.
    Success is putting one foot before the other.
    Although strangers in supermarkets
    Remark what a funny little boy she is,
    There is a definite femininity
    In the way she manipulates
    Her grandfather.

    You know that dumpy
    Old woman at the busstop,
    The one with varicose veins
    And hair with the lilac perm?
    The old fellah with paper skin,
    Stooped and bald,
    Still wearing a tie,
    Regimental stripes and gravy stains?
    Of course you know them,
    The generic old person
    We all become.
    Success is putting one foot before the other.

    I try at least to be idiosyncratic,
    My hair in a ponytail,
    My tie of Van Gogh’s sunflowers.
    (Did I really say “tie”?)
    I try to convert Jehovah’s Witnesses
    To atheism.
    I am rude and arrogant
    At the bridge table.

    My granddaughter
    Is a personality,
    An opening flower,
    A burgeoning intelligence.
    I am a little grey old man.

    Submitted on 2009-01-14 08:50:51     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Funny that I am reading this just as I am in the midst of writing a poem about my grandmother.

    Time transcends.

    Your refrain: success is putting one foot before the other. How it loops, it's both of you, how without saying it at all you make me keenly aware that once you were a baby and one day your granddaughter will, too, be old.

    I hope you give this to her to read when she's old enough to comprehend it. It's a gift, someone writing a poem about you. Something you can hold on to for the rest of your life.

    This is personal, and intimate, and like you're showing me a bundle of photographs rather than a poem. And it's light-hearted. There's not enough of that on this site.

    I'm guess you've guessed I don't have masses to say. I just wanted to acknowledge this one, really. Because I like it. And I guess that's all :)
    | Posted on 2010-09-13 00:00:00 | by AlyRose | [ Reply to This ]
      But isn't it great, the welcome you get from the little ones? Made me realize why I needed to live so bloody long: it actually WAS good luck!

    Get the third set of teeth. It is a wonderful relief.
    | Posted on 2009-06-11 00:00:00 | by Glen Bowman | [ Reply to This ]
      Ohhhh, you are everything I wish to be and more in this poem.... how wonderful and lovely, it was like seeing through a window into a beautiful soul. I almost wish I had a child around, after reading this... (ALMOST, mind you!)
    | Posted on 2009-02-01 00:00:00 | by SmokinG | [ Reply to This ]
      A delightful insight into the growth of a child.
    It is sort of adoringly piteous in your portrayal of youth versus old age sort of like, 'I have no experiences any longer thus I sit and relive my bygone days watching my progeny grow.
    In the line, "I try to convert Jehovah Witnesses to Atheism," brings out the axiom: 'Possibilities don't work for me, thus I try the impossible.'
    | Posted on 2009-01-14 00:00:00 | by realpoet | [ Reply to This ]

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