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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Grandfatherdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: elephantasia
    ASL Info:    37/F/UK
    Elite Ratio:    3.54 - 398/490/159
    Words: 136
    Class/Type: Misc/Misc
    Total Views: 1349
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 951



    Description:
       I never knew my grandfather but would loved to have had one like this.


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

    dotsGrandfatherdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Peace is nought to do with silence you know?

    I remember my Grandfather;
    his papery face crumpling into a satisified smile,
    his work-worn and baggy body,
    sagged into the comfort of his favorite chair.
    Memories of my own childhood replaying,
    as an entourage of clambering, squealing,
    crying, laughing, love-hungry pups,
    of generations skipped,
    crowded noisily around him.

    The peace he felt shone through
    from his very soul,
    and resounded in all our lives.

    Silence has nought to do with peace.

    Our lives were in turmoil when they told us Grandfather was at peace.
    How we wailed, and cried, and screamed in our heads,
    as our silence echoed around the pews.
    Our hearts pounded,
    as our tears choked and threatened to break.
    Our aged, friendly giant,
    finally grounded to rest.




    Submitted on 2005-03-22 06:49:55     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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    ||| Comments |||
      Well, I was trying to stalk you, but it won't let me, says I can't add invlsible friends!?! So, I found this poem, and I am adding it to my favourites. This poem is bittersweet, and I was reminded of my own Grandpa (or Grandpa who lived downstairs, for my own kids). He used to sneak us off to the REAL bakery where we would eat tasty cream horns, and then tell us not to say anything to Grandma, because she would be mad that we ruined our dinner (that would never happen when eating my G'ma's cooking!), whilst our clothes were covered in powdered sugar! Also, he used to let me eat Rolaids ( I don't know, either), he had a huge bottle of them by his chair, where we used to watch M*A*S*H* and Andy Griffith reruns. Sadly, G'pa faded away soon after my youngest son was born, he only saw him once. And that is what makes me saddest, that our youngest didn't get to know what a cool guy my G'pa was. Anyway, I am suprised to read that you never knew your Granpa, because from this poem, it sure sounds like you did. Old people rock.
    | Posted on 2005-04-06 00:00:00 | by redthewitch | [ Reply to This ]
      Wow... I didn't read the fact you didn't know your granfather until after I read this piece. Oddly enough, it seems so personal. I thought this was extremely good, it made me sad. I think everyone would like to have had a granparent whom they can remember fondly and such. I love how you say silence is not peace. It is so true, and so many people mistake the two.
    | Posted on 2005-03-22 00:00:00 | by Cai | [ Reply to This ]
      I love this, you have really gotten to the heart and soul of yourself, it feels like a geuine inquiry you've thought about before you decided to write. I write in this way myself, fine tuning the lines as I become clearer with my definitions of feelings. but it seems as though you were there, watching as your descriptions are very keen, of both grandfather and your feelings, even those of family around you. Great job!
    Thanks for sharing,

    nansofast
    | Posted on 2005-03-24 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      This is one of the most senstive portraits I've ever read. I like the realism of "his papery face crumpling into a satisified smile,/ his work-worn and baggy body." I hate this youth-obsessed society. I think gray hair and well-earned wrinkles are beautiful.

    Memories of my own childhood replaying,
    as an entourage of clambering, squealing,
    crying, laughing, love-hungry pups,
    of generations skipped,
    crowded noisily around him.

    That's very sweet. I like comparing children to pups because a group of them can be just as frisky. The irony of all of the youth around him as he died is sweet because so many people in our society forget the aged.

    Silence has nought to do with peace.

    Our lives were in turmoil when they told us Grandfather was at peace.
    How we wailed, and cried, and screamed in our heads,
    as our silence echoed around the pews.
    Our hearts pounded,
    as our tears choked and threatened to break.
    Our aged, friendly giant,
    finally grounded to rest.

    That's very true about silence. You know you're truly broken if you can't speak or cry.

    I never knew my maternal grandfather and barely knew my paternal one, so this is bittersweet for me. I can totally relate. I feel like I know him so well from what my mom, aunts, uncles, and my granny have told me, but I wish I could have known him. This is wonderful. This is a bit like my poem in Faded Photograph of My Grandpa. Dan Shilton also has a great poem about his grandpa (the title escapes me now though).
    | Posted on 2005-03-23 00:00:00 | by cuddledumplin | [ Reply to This ]
      I have more than one grandfather, but my moms dad I hardly knew, I mentioned it in my last poem. I can't remember much about him. But My dads dad, hes cool. I could write something like this about him, buyt then I'd feel like I'm violating copyright laws.
    -Trouble
    | Posted on 2005-03-22 00:00:00 | by Death of Death | [ Reply to This ]


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