Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Dreams

Dear chubby little hands around my neck,
Loving me so,
Holding me tight.
Only an angel sent from heaven to bring
Cheer and delight.
And then to grow
To manhood strong,
(It won’t be long.)
But oh, for me – what then will there be for me?
Evermore with dreams
I’ll live. Dreams
Of an angel with chubby hands around my neck
Kissing, hugging,
Loving me so.
Lullaby baby,
Sweet and low.

~Dana B. Nelson

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 as 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

The Black Eye

They look at you and try
To hold their laughter in,
And say “What a humdinger fight
That must’ve been!”

Shall I tell them the truth,
That you were hit by a swing?
Or just smile and go on
And ignore the whole thing?

I have to admit
It’s a shiner alright.
It looks like you really
Were in a big fight.

Perhaps it is best
To smile and go on,
I’m supposed to explain
Who lost and who won!

I don’t for a minute,
Believe that they buy
The truth when I tell them
How you got that black eye!

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Lullaby

Little boy that’s cuddling so,
Sleepy boy, I know, I know.
Put your head upon my breast,
You have earned your evening rest.
Quiet now, and bye-lo-bye,
Stars are lighting up the sky.
Close your eyes, I’ll hum a song,
‘Til the sandman comes along.
Bye-lo-bye, I love you so,
Cuddly boy to sleep you go!

~Dana B. Nelson

Poems My Grandmother Taught Me

Little Boy Spanked

You poor little boy that I spanked,
You think you’ve been hurt very bad,
But if you could really know
How it hurt your, poor old Dad

To even touch one hair on your head,
I know you are sorry for what you said!

Oh, I was a little boy once,
And I often got spanked like you,
But I never found out until now
What a task it is to do.

Stop crying, I tell you! Or even your Dad
Will have to break down, and that would be bad!

You poor little crying, sad boy,
Don’t think you’re the only one hurt!
I hated to punish and scold,
Regardless of black eye and dirt!

I once was a little boy like you
Who would fight and get a black eye, too.

So I know just how you feel,
And you honestly weren’t so bad.
And I’m sort of happy to know
You’re so very much like your Dad!

~Dana B. Nelson

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