Poems about grandchildren often explore the profound joy, love, and unique bond shared between grandparents and their grandchildren. They celebrate the beauty of these relationships and capture the essence of the special moments and experiences they share.
Poems may express the deep love and affection grandparents feel for their grandchildren. They can highlight the joy of seeing a new generation grow and the overwhelming emotions that come with it.
Grandchildren are often seen as a source of innocence and wonder, reminding grandparents of the beauty in the world. Poems may focus on the childlike curiosity, imagination, and sense of awe that grandchildren bring into their lives.
‘Climbing My Grandfather’ by Waterhouse melds climbing with deep familial exploration, showcasing affection and discovery.
I decide to do it free, without a rope or net.
First, the old brogues, dusty and cracked;
an easy scramble onto his trousers,
pushing into the weave, trying to get a grip.
‘A Child to his Sick Grandfather’ shows a child’s love facing the grandad’s end, blending hope with impending loss.
GRAND-DAD, they say you're old and frail,
Your stocked legs begin to fail:
Your knobbed stick (that was my horse)
Can scarce support your bended corse;
‘The Minuet’ by Mary Mapes Dodge alludes to the many changes that the passage of time presents. This is specially related to the way that one speaker’s grandmother has changed.
Grandma told me all about it,
Told me so I couldn’t doubt it,
How she danced—my Grandma danced!—
Long ago
‘Letter to My Great, Great, Grandchild’ by J.P. Grasser is a powerful poem about the climate crisis. Throughout, the poet alludes to terrible planetary changes that occur in only a few generations.
Oh button, don’t go thinking we loved pianos
more than elephants, air conditioning more than air.
We loved honey, just loved it, and went into stores
to smell the sweet perfume of unworn leather shoes.
‘My Grandmother’ by Jackie Kay depicts the poet’s understanding of her grandmother. The includes a juxtaposition between her positive and negative qualities.
My grandmother is like a Scottish pine,
tall, straight-backed, proud and plentiful,
a fine head of hair, greying now
tied up in a loose bun.
Theresa Lola’s ‘Equilibrium’ is a phenomenal portrayal of decline in the face of what ought to be a family celebration.
My new-born brother wailed into existence
and my grandfather's eyes became two stopwatchescounting down his own exit. After the naming ceremony
my grandfather was quiet as a cut open for autopsy.
‘Times Like These’ weighs life’s capacity for joyous passion against moments that offer only despair, uncertainty, and powerlessness.
Too heavy-hearted to go walking
in beech-woods. At night the children's sleep
is racked by dreams. They wake crying of war.
Pushing a pram in 1961,
‘For Nanabhai Bhatt’ is about the poet Sujata Bhatt’s grandfather, Nanabhai Bhatt, who was an educationist and activist active during the Indian independence movement.
In this dream my grandfather
comes to comfort me.
He stands apart
silent
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