Squashed together in the back of the
Vauxhall Victor Estate - green -
Three sisters cocooned in sleeping bags.
Surrounded by pillows and other
Camping paraphernalia,
They fidget and bicker,
Moan and cry.
They are:
Too hot, too close, too hungry
Too uncomfortable.
Parents try to distract,
Send back sweets
Even though
The sun has yet to come up.
Five thirty at Dover docks
Morning light from the East,
Glitters on sea,
Reveals White cliffs.
As they drive onto the ferry.
Their nostrils delight
In the salty, fishy hope
Of holiday.
This is the first
Of many excursions
They will make to the continent.
Welcome to my blog. Grams is the name my first grandson gave me and it's stuck. My great loves: My husband, our nine children, twenty five grandchildren, four great grandchildren, my Faith, writing- prose and poetry - and travelling , especially in our camper. My posts are eclectic and I appreciate getting comments. So, please feel free to comment or offer advice on what you would like to to see more of.
Friday, June 26, 2015
Monday, June 22, 2015
Number 19
Grandad's New Little Darling
So small, yet so perfect,
Head the size of
A medium orange
Fingers like tiny twigs
On thin branches
Legs as thick
As grandad's fingers.
You open your eyes
Look into his,
Smile,
No, it was a smile.
Paying attention to
His love.
You are,
His new,
"Little Darling"
And already,
Little one,
You know.
So small, yet so perfect
So small, yet so perfect,
Head the size of
A medium orange
Fingers like tiny twigs
On thin branches
Legs as thick
As grandad's fingers.
You open your eyes
Look into his,
Smile,
No, it was a smile.
Paying attention to
His love.
You are,
His new,
"Little Darling"
And already,
Little one,
You know.
So small, yet so perfect
Wednesday, June 10, 2015
Haunted House
Thank you to all my followers...
As Anna-Marie is visiting today I thought I'd look back to the poem that she did that I posted on my blog in June. She is very talented both with words and visual art ( drawing and painting in particular..
This lovely picture and poem from Anna Marie, my grandaughter. Fabulous...
I looked on your blog Grams and your poems are very long so I thought
I would add a little more to my poem all is the same I just added
a bit more .... Here you go
Haunted House
the derelict building standing still,
being taken over by an army of tall grass,
crumbling away on the tall geriatric hill,
growing old very fast,
the Robertson house is its name,
located in alton,
it is no haunted game ,
it's amazing time is being shortened,
it is not very important but used to be,
the main attraction on earth is he.
will you dare enter the building?
even though it is slightly tilting,
cracked windows ,
blood stains,
blood pumping through your veins!
the old mental asylum,
on the top of the hill,
with vengeful ghosts ready to kill...
-Anna-Marie Elizabeth Pasquet green
( Aged 11)
Acrostic
An acrostic poem using my name:
Many are the talents
And great is the wisdom
Roaming in bones and mind
Inspired by need , by thirst, by awe,
Aptly used to bury injustice
Not waiting for decay.
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