I’m going to meet Dad’s mother for the first time today;
so that makes her my Grandma, I hope she likes to play.
We’ve never met before because she lives overseas,
but she’s been begging Daddy to bring me, please.
Well, here we are at her place, we’ve come on holiday.
We’ve travelled far to get here, so for a while we’ll stay.
Everything is different – the language and the food;
I don’t think that I like it, so I’m in a grumpy mood.
I’m also missing Mummy and I’m very tired too –
but when grown-ups make their plans, what can a kid do?
I really want to go back home and cuddle my black dog,
I’m missing him already; he follows me when I jog.
My Mum’s Mum is pretty and she wears stylish clothes,
and makeup too and perfume: she smells just like a rose.
Her curly hair is lovely; she’s got blue eyes and is thin.
But Dad’s Mum is fat and she’s got this THING on her chin!
It’s hard to see she’s smiling, she’s got little piggy eyes.
Oh no! She’s come and grabbed me, much to my surprise.
I can see that a straggly hair is sprouting from her face,
it looks really horrid and I’m squirming in her embrace.
She’s sobbing now and wailing, squashing out my air,
but I am just transfixed by that curling single hair.
Ooh, it’s touching me and tickling, waving like it’s alive.
I’m trapped in her strong hold, no matter how I strive.
Well that awkward introduction is now left in the past.
When I got used to her we had such a fun-time blast.
She can ride a unicycle, balance a chair on her head,
and yum, she smells so tasty, just like fresh-baked bread.
She sings lullabies at bedtime. She has a black dog too.
We play hiding games, then she jumps out and says “boo”!
She likes to roll down grassy slopes and jump in mud.
She even juggles knives then writes her name in blood.
She’s so cuddly, warm and friendly; her brown eyes are kind.
What was I thinking before? I must have lost my mind!
Those three weeks went so quickly – it’s time for us to go.
Now it’s my turn to start sobbing, to let my feelings show.
I looked up into her sad face and saw that hair again,
then cried and moaned and wailed, I wanted to remain.
She plucked that hair from off her chin and put it in a box.
She showed me she had hairs of MINE, from my baby locks.
That hair is in my pocket now, it can make a wish come true.
And when I make that magic wish, I’d really like to undo
all those awful thoughts I had when I didn’t really see
that Dad’s Mum, my Nonna, is crazy in love with ME.
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| Writing Prompt |
Through the eyes of a child (under 12): In any style of poem, be the child describing time spent with a grandmother or grandfather. The poem could be a description of relationship, emotions, activities etc. Fact or fiction. |
Author Notes
The Internet photo could possibly be the grandma in this poem when she was much younger.
My poem here is an imagined construct as I never knew my grandparents. They all died before I was born. I had 2 families, so that is 8 grandparents I never knew. And as I don't have children myself, there goes my chance of being a grandparent. A lot of what I know about grandparent emotions, going both ways child to grandparent and reverse, has been gained through reading your stories and poems here on this site. Thank you for sharing such stories of love and connection. I can live vicariously.
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