Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Her Father’s Child

She was just a little tyke,
Six or seven, I guess
The kind you often see
With too old, too long a dress.

Her hair was straight, the color
of too hot, too dry sand.
Her walk was the walk of a soldier,
Her hand in her father’s hand.

Her eyes so clear, so beautiful,
The brightest star would dim;
Eyes used for both of them,
For she was leading him.

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Perplexed

She sat by the mouse trap and softly cried,
Because a little grey mouse had died.

“He’s such a tiny Little Mouse Grey,
He couldn’t harm us in any way.
He wanted to live as much as I.
And now you’ve left this little mouse die!
One time our kitty hurt a mouse,
And I found him near the house,
And I held him carefully
In my hand, and he liked me.
I petted him and we talked a bit,
Then I said goodbye to it.
He was my friend when he ran away,
I know he’ll come back to see my some day!”

As I saw her there with tears in her eyes,
And the faith that only childhood knows,
It saddened me to think of what
One loses as one older grows.

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

To Shawn

I wish I could go to a store today
And say to a clerk, “I’d like to see
A dear little boy with big brown eyes,
And dimpled cheeks, between two and three.”

And maybe she’d show me a lot of boys,
And maybe she’d just have a few,
But the one I’d take would have to look,
And act, and be exactly like you.

And she’d say to me, “Shall I wrap him up?”
And I’d reply, “Oh, never mind.
I’ll take him just as he is. You see,
I’m so awfully glad that I could find

Just what I wanted. I like him this way,
With a dirty face and uncombed hair,
His knees all skinned, and his pants coming down,
His shoes untied, and his midriff bare.”

And he’d come to me with his arms out-stretched,
And I’d say, “I love you!” as we walked to the door.
Oh, I wish I could go into town and get
A dear little boy like you at a store!

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Healing Balm

Hurt somehow, to me you run,
Your sad experience tell,
This part is the part that’s fun,
“Kiss it, Mother, make it well!”

Oh, if in some future years,
Life’s problems grow and press,
I could kiss away the tears
And bring you happiness!

Bumped head or bruised knee,
What tender memories spell,
Dearest, when you come to me,
“Kiss it, Mother, make it well!”

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Questions

With eager hands she pulled him some,
“I wonder — where is this grass from?
What made the sail that held it so?”
He answered her, “I do not know.”

She saw a rose, yellow with white,
“How do the petals fit so tight?”
How can these thorns her let it grow?”
He said to her, “I do not know.”

“Why don’t the clouds fall from the sky?
What makes the mountains up so high?
What keeps the water in a well?”
He answered her, “I cannot tell.”

The thousand things that we pass by
And never question, bring a “why”?
From little hearts, “What made it so?”
Unless we tell them they won’t know.

We brought them into a world full of
Things to smell, to see, to touch and love.
We put them here on this earth and to
Explain it to them is the least we can do!

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Healing Balm

Hurt somehow, to me you run,
Your sad experience tell,
This part is the part that’s fun,
“Kiss it, Mother, make it well!”

Oh, if in some future years
Life’s problems grow and press,
I could kiss away the tears
And bring you happiness!

Bumped head or bruised knee,
What tender memories spell,
Dearest, when you come to me,
“Kiss it, Mother, make it well!”

~Dana B. Nelson