Tag Archives: grandparenting

Poetry, Writing

Sarah & Duck

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(Poem 161 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

https://search.app.goo.gl/pAxteJN

Charlotte and I, and Sarah and Duck
like to have tea together now and then.
We especially like it when we get visits
from Donkey, Scarf Lady, Bag, and Bug.
We gossip about Scooter Boy and the
Ribbon Sisters sitting with Umbrella.
We keep an eye on The Shallots to see
if they have grown, say hello to Plate
Girl, and wave happily to Hat Lady.
If it’s an especially lovely day, we might
see Bread Man, hear a squawk from
Flamingo, or chat with Leftover Wool.
And through it all, we sip our tea and
sigh, while whispering as many right
proper British-isms as we can muster.

@Home Studio – 161st poem of the year (after watching Sarah & Duck with Charlotte.)

Harris, Sarah Gomes, and O’Sullivan, Tim, Sarah & Duck, Karrot Animation, 18 February, 2013.

Poetry, Writing

Trampoline

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(Poem 155 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/mUyD9x

What goes up
might come down,
depending on the
amount of fun
being had by the
bouncers involved,
the relative weight
of giggles to the
equal and opposite
force of carefree-ness
being exerted,
tempered only by
the exuberant joy
of breathless
collapse.

@Home Studio – 155th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Trampoline photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Pre-K Graduation

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(Poem 142 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photograph taken by Lydia Sullivan

My grandson graduated from pre-K
and I was moved, not by his adorable
singing and dancing and attempt at
the gestures to match his teacher,
but by the tears flowing down his
mother’s cheeks while watching her
sweet boy performing his heart out.
When I see her love for her children,
I am transported to similar moments
in our past when I watched her or
her brother with the pride only a
mother can contain, so full of love
and joy and fear and anticipation
that nothing else exists beyond the
perfection of their little contribution.

@Home Studio – 142nd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

The Many Faces of Julian

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(Poem 134 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Photos taken by Rebekah Marshall 5/2/24

There’s nothing better than
candid shots of a 5-year-old.
The sublime modeling poses
inspire joy – pure silliness gold.

Everyone else might smile or
throw awkward peace signs.
Not a 5-year-old, oh no, their
forced presence turns to whines.

And if you know what’s good
for you, you’ll let them leave
because if you think you’ll get
good pics, you are really naïve.  

@Home Studio – 134th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Bath Salts

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(Poem 131 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/RTscjJ

My granddaughter left a gift
of lavender bath salts for me
on my desk with a sweet little
message written in half cursive
half print on a sticky note.
She left one for her DāDā,
and probably everyone else
in the house as well, because
she loves to leave treats for
others when she finds a way.
I am glad my prickly, lovely,
argumentative, emotional,
explosive, beautiful, forgetful
girl has a heart full of love.

@Home Studio – 131st poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Mema Day

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(Poem 123 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

I took this photograph on Mema’s front porch 5/4/24.

My sister bought a box
of butterflies to release in
honor of Mema’s birthday.
We gathered, all five
generations of us, and
watched in awe as they
emerged from their sleepy
coldness to warm to the
overcast heat of a May day.
Each butterfly took its own
time exploring this new
brightness of air and space,
flitting from tiny human to
big human to ground to
metal rooftop and beyond.
The last Painted Lady
dilly-dallied and decided
to rest a while on a potted
plant on Mema’s porch.
None of us really knew
what to expect and were
pleasantly surprised at the
loveliness of the little
creatures Mema loved so.

@The Writing Barn: Buddha Hall (in honor of Mema’s birthday that was on May 2nd and the butterfly release that was on May 4th. She would have been 89.) – 123rd poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

70 is the New 50

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(Poem 116 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/96djvD

70 is the new 50.
Bike, climb, hike, romance;
the world is your oyster,
the sky the limit.
You can smell the roses
and shoot for the moon,
throw your hat in the ring
and take the bull by the horns.
So, bite the bullet,
but don’t break a leg
because the ball’s in your court,
and it’s time to sing your own praises.
You make your own destiny,
for nothing is set in stone.
Since all bets are off,
pull out all the stops,
make a castle in the sky,
and do everything on your bucket list.

@Home Studio – 116th poem of the year

Runner ups for the Granny Fun photos to accompany my poem:

Poetry, Writing

Meeting in the Kitchen

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(Poem 115 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/vN0V7C

We had a meeting in the kitchen.
I cried and scrubbed the stove.
You told me to take better care of myself.
I scraped burnt cabbage and tomato sauce off a pan.
You left a cabinet open.
I cried some more.
You played with the wind chimes.
I said how much I miss our chats.
You comforted me.

@Home Studio – 115th poem of the year

Poetry, Writing

Lawnmower Grandad

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(Poem 104 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com https://gencraft.ai/p/sDAgCl

The lawn must be mowed,
and no one else does it right.
From the porch to the road,
keep the column lines tight.

Outline the driveway on the edge;
hold the steering wheel straight.
Get right up close to the hedge,
and be sure to mow near the gate.

Over time you’ll finish the job,
even if you take little nap breaks.
Use the steering wheel knob
to avoid too many muscle aches.

Someday you’ll have to do the task
of keeping this yard looking neat.
If you can do it without having to ask
for help I’ll know my job’s complete.

@Home Studio – 104th poem of the year

Runner ups for the lawnmower Grandad photos to accompany my poem: