Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Grandma in the kitchen, making apple pie,
Grins at me with a naughty twinkle in her eye.
Oops, there they go, her teeth on the floor,
I laugh until I cannot stand it anymore.
She's gumming on her apricot with quite a certain pride,
Smiling wide and toothless, no dentures to hide.
Funny grandma dear, you make us roar with glee,
The best part of our memories will always be with thee.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
There's Grandma with her quirky ways,
A packrat storing stuff for days.
Extra toilet paper stacked on high,
Napkins too, she'll justify.
Laughs we share, her quirks a joy,
Ever frugal, her favorite ploy.
Oh dear Grandma, pure and bright,
Who keeps us rolling in delight.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
In a chair with a twinkle, sits Grandma so dear,
Telling stories we begged her never to smear.
Mischiefs and pranks once safely concealed,
Now to our parents, embarrassingly revealed!
Oh, the tales of cookies stolen, past bedtimes and more,
Our small naughty deeds she gleefully wore.
But amidst our blushes, in laughter we dwell,
For no one tells tales quite like Grandma herself!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
While snowflakes danced in winter's trance,
Grandma thought she wore fleece-lined pants.
Decked out head-to-toe in pajama flair,
She traipsed the aisles with an unknowing air.
A jest for the lenses and the talk of town,
In striped nightwear, she wore her crown.
Grandma, so chic, never was a bore,
Pajama queen of the grocery store.
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Grandma's memory, quite a charm,
Misplacing glasses, causing alarm.
Oh, that dentist? He can wait!
That appointment was yesterday, mate.
"Dinner at seven?"— She denies,
But won't forget the apple pies!
Selective memory is the game,
Forgetting chores, but not her name!
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Grandma grips her trusty old dial,
Smartphones, she says, aren't her style.
A phone that can browse? Oh, what a ruse,
She'd rather stick to delivering news.
Give me wires over WiFi!, she'd declare
No GPS! I'll get there if I dare.
Old school charm in a cellular world,
In grandma's hand, the cord still twirled.
Grandma Poems
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Grandma's gown, so quaint and fine,
Laughs at designs of current time.
Lace and frills, old yet bold,
Charming tales if truth were told.
Pearls nestled, they softly glow,
Finer than new gowns that are for show.
Old wardrobe so perfectly planned,
Fresher than the newest fashion brand.
