All images created by Rebekah Marshall’s prompts using AI on Gencraft.com website.
Lawnmower Grandad
Tag Archives: grandparenting
Eclipse
(Poem 99 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I saw your corona with my own eyes
and I was smitten with the overwhelming
knowledge that you have power over my
very existence because your presence
ensures that I can flourish and prosper.
Without you, I cannot live.
Without you, my world would be destroyed.
Without you, there would be nothing to be
bedazzled by and no home to inhabit.
Without you, there would be no me.
@Home Studio – 99th poem of the year
Runner ups for the eye eclipse photos to accompany my poem:
Contentment
(Poem 96 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Contentment is pajamas
and a fan blowing straight
on my bare shoulders,
flickering candlelight,
endless streaming of my
favorite shows as long as
I feel like watching them,
sweet tea, lines of poetry,
a chapter of a good novel,
a cool spring breeze that
rustles the tranquil curtains,
salt and pepper kettle chips,
the clickity clack of my
keyboard when my fingers
know what they want to type,
my husband hobbying a
few feet away from me,
the dogs playing outside,
the cats sleeping nearby,
my kids and grandkids off
doing their own things,
and the complete absence
of pain or discomfort.
@Home Studio – 96th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Contentment photos to accompany my poem:
Nap #8,943
(Poem 95 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I just woke up from
nap number 8,943.
My grandson was
supposed to wake
me up when my
alarm went off on
my phone he was
borrowing to play
his video games.
He did not do his
job, and I slept until
fully rested for once.
I had so much energy
that I was able to
clean out the cupboard
under the stairs and
organize the wrapping
paper and vacuum
the floor and sort the
donations and more.
I think I’m ready for
nap number 8,944.
@Home Studio – 95th poem of the year
Runner ups for the Sleep photos to accompany my poem:
Easter Bunny
(Poem 91 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
English pagans gave us the name of the celebration Easter from their goddess Eostre.
Germans gave us the egg-laying bunny, the cutest addition, in my opinion.
Jews gave us the lamb and the traditions of Passover to intertwine.
Christians gave us The Lamb to make it all about.
The Easter lilies, we took from Japan, sometime after WWI.
An Ottoman Sultan’s sweet tooth may have brought future jellybeans in the form of Turkish delight.
A Russian invented Peeps in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania.
New Yorkers started the Easter Parade, strolling down Fifth Avenue in their spring fashions after church.
In Malta, they carry Mary through the streets.
In Ireland, they eat a special breakfast.
In Spain, they celebrate for an entire week.
In Italy, they eat bread shaped like a dove.
In the Vatican, the Pope gives a blessing.
In Australia, Easter Bilbies are all the rage.
In The United Kingdom, you must have hot cross buns.
In my house, it’s a Cadbury Cream Egg.
All over the world, through time and place, may your Easter be blessed by family and good fortune.
@Home Studio – 91st poem of the year
Runner ups for the AI hands photos to accompany my poem:
The Tree that Holds up the Moon
(Poem 77 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
The tree that holds up the moon
had to be reinforced last month.
A branch broke and the light of night
nearly came tumbling down to earth.
We wept and prayed, wished we
had thought of something sooner.
Then the women gathered their
tools and began the tedious work
of stitching the bark strong where
the wound remained from the
gaping hole the bough left when
she fell away and broke our hearts.
@Home Studio – 77th poem of the year
Runner ups for the tree moon photos to accompany my poem:
Grief is Hard
(Poem 58 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“This is hard,” you say,
and point to her portrait,
no more words required.
Tears begin to flow;
you don’t want to cry
and say so.
I tell you no one knows
what you are feeling.
None of us have had a
best friend for 70 years
and had to feel the pain
of losing her.
Then I escape to my
room to weep into
my husband’s arms,
crying even harder
because she can’t
hold you.
@Home Studio – 58th poem of the year
I Provide
(Poem 55 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
“Who can find a virtuous woman? For her worth is far above rubies.” Proverbs 31:10
I provide an excellent income.
This priceless life has maintenance fees.
My husband dreams of being
a kept man, a trophy husband.
He knows I have his best interests
at heart and will provide if I can.
I find good deals on stylish threads
and am willing to roll up my sleeves.
I do the grocery shopping
with my own money, and cook
for four generations sometimes-
dark to dark are often my hours.
I buy land, cars, investments,
houses, furniture, animals,
goods (essential or frivolous),
and keep the lights on.
I am generous with my earnings,
always willing to share, ready for
winter and summer alike;
my home is a welcome oasis.
Our needs are met, as well as
many of our wants; my children
look to me for strength and
guidance as they make their paths.
My beauty is love, peace, work,
and teaching kindness through
craft – creation of story –
words strung together like pearls.
@Home Studio – 55th poem of the year
I Do Work
(Poem 52 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
I do work that I feel confident doing.
It stretches me and can be a complicated
puzzle that feels unsolvable at times,
but I am fully cognizant of my abilities,
able to slow my pulse, take a deep breath,
and start at the very beginning because
Julie Andrews says that’s a very good
place to start, and she knows things.
Old dogs can learn new tricks, though
they might need some accommodations
to help them master the same skills.
Honestly, whomever thought to suggest
phrases like neutral face and thinking-face
when hovering above emojis not only
blessed those of us who struggle to
read faces, but those of us unaccustomed
to reading little circular yellow faces
as part of our regular workday because
we grew up with rotary phones, and
being able to metaphorically clutch my
pearls by clicking on a gasp emoji
might come in quite handy someday.
My grandmother worked in the tech
sector via telecommunications back
when switchboard operators used
call signs like Capital 5 instead of
area codes and you could call an
actual human to ask for the time of day.
She never imagined she would add
butterfly emojis as her call sign in messages
she would send to her great-great-
granddaughter someday, and I never
imagined I would be helping AI
improve her reasoning skills, but I
come from a long line of women who
know how to adapt, are not afraid of
exploring the unknown, and will learn
what we need to learn to take care of
this next generation of forward thinkers.
@Home Studio – 52nd poem of the year
I Lotioned Your Feet
(Poem 48 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
My Mema passed away this morning. I had the privilege of spending 50 years in her presence. I will miss her something fierce. She has a husband she was married to for over 70 years, children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, and great-great grandchildren, not to mention every other possible connection to people far and wide.
I lotioned your feet, then hands
with white jasmine-scented
Bath & Body Works Miriam gave me
and tucked you in the way you like,
brushed your hair and read you your texts,
then some Bible verses of comfort—
Isaiah 40, the first one that surfaced.
The steady sounds of the ICU create
a strangely soothing white noise as a
backdrop to your labored breaths.
Lydia is here again to hold your hand
just one more time; one of many
one more times over the last few days
because each time could be the last.
The you I know is no longer here,
but the shell remains and deserves
gentle petting and reassurance.
Goodness knows how many times
you had to ‘there, there’ me in the last
50 years, buoying my spirits and righting
my sails with your steady faith and calm.
Boaz sat vigil until I arrived, and your
children and husband will take over after
I leave — we are all branches of a grand
candelabra you have lit with exuberance,
spreading across states and time, thankful to
have been influenced by the life you lived
and the love which from your cup overflowed.
@ICU Room 1 St. David’s Round Rock Hospital & Home Studio – 48th poem of the year
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