The Poet Grandmother
There is one in every family, isn't there?
The Poet Grandmother
With a glint in her eye, mischief untamed,
A poet at heart, her soul never framed.
Her fingers grasp pencils, ideas take flight,
Spinning her magic in the hush of the night.
Wrinkles like rivers, each tells a tale,
Of laughter, of heartache, of winds that wail.
She carves out her world with rhythm and rhyme,
Defying the boundaries of logic and time.
Her smile, a secret, she’s plotting her art,
Each word from her pencil, a piece of her heart.
She scribbles with fervor, her passion aglow,
Unveiling the stories only she knows.
Oh, grandmother poet, your wit is so shy.
Your verses enchant, they’ll never run dry.
For in every line, your spirit remains,
A legacy blooming in ink-stained refrains.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (5)
lovely-- very sweet too
Fantastic
I can see this grandma and her devilish writings. Good job.
You’re a fantastic storyteller through your poetry.
I adore that picture and the poem as well. Definitely makes me smile… My 8th grandchild is due in March.. 😂😉