Several of you have asked that I publish my continuation of the poem about Grandpa so I'm doing that now. My cousin was 23 years old when he wrote his poem. There aren't many young men that age writing poetry today – especially about their grandfathers.
The picture on the left depicts two of my brothers and me on our creek bank in Leon, West Virginia, with Grandpa fishing in the background, of course. I was wearing a hand-me-down bathing suit from my Aunt Millie. It was gold and black and made me feel very grown up. And don't overlook those Roman sandals!
Here is my continuation of:
MY GRANDPA – NOW FINISHED
‘Ja ever listen while he sang?
Try not to when he said, “Gol Dang!”
‘Ja ever help him plant a tree?
Or have him hold you on his knee?
‘Ja ever shiver as he spoke,
Of ghosts and ghouls and “hanted” folk?
‘Ja ever see his strange delight,
At Coalie in a groundhog fight?
With strong cuss words when he was riled,
He sometimes drove my Grandma wild,
But no matter what we heard,
We didn’t dare repeat a word.
‘Ja ever learn to row a boat?
Or build a raft of twigs to float?
‘Ja ever fly a June bug kite?
Or watch a snapping turtle bite?
His old harmonica made me dance;
Round and round and round I’d prance.
Played soft and low, could make me weep;
I still can hear it, in my sleep.
‘Ja ever watch him light the fires?
Or help him grub the running briars?
‘Ja go with him to the berry patch?
Or help him clean his fishy catch?
Sometimes we woke at dawn’s first light,
To watch a baby bird in flight.
We looked for pearls in mussel shells,
Dug ginseng roots in ferny dells.
He was tough as nails and soft as gauze,
From hollow reeds he made us straws.
Blew bubbles in the fading light,
And watched with us the dark’ning night.
My Grandpa never spoke of love,
Just made our lives a treasure trove.
Although his body I can’t see.
My Grandpa’s spirit lives in me.
......Now Finished
The picture on the left depicts two of my brothers and me on our creek bank in Leon, West Virginia, with Grandpa fishing in the background, of course. I was wearing a hand-me-down bathing suit from my Aunt Millie. It was gold and black and made me feel very grown up. And don't overlook those Roman sandals!
Here is my continuation of:
MY GRANDPA – NOW FINISHED
‘Ja ever listen while he sang?
Try not to when he said, “Gol Dang!”
‘Ja ever help him plant a tree?
Or have him hold you on his knee?
‘Ja ever shiver as he spoke,
Of ghosts and ghouls and “hanted” folk?
‘Ja ever see his strange delight,
At Coalie in a groundhog fight?
With strong cuss words when he was riled,
He sometimes drove my Grandma wild,
But no matter what we heard,
We didn’t dare repeat a word.
‘Ja ever learn to row a boat?
Or build a raft of twigs to float?
‘Ja ever fly a June bug kite?
Or watch a snapping turtle bite?
His old harmonica made me dance;
Round and round and round I’d prance.
Played soft and low, could make me weep;
I still can hear it, in my sleep.
‘Ja ever watch him light the fires?
Or help him grub the running briars?
‘Ja go with him to the berry patch?
Or help him clean his fishy catch?
Sometimes we woke at dawn’s first light,
To watch a baby bird in flight.
We looked for pearls in mussel shells,
Dug ginseng roots in ferny dells.
He was tough as nails and soft as gauze,
From hollow reeds he made us straws.
Blew bubbles in the fading light,
And watched with us the dark’ning night.
My Grandpa never spoke of love,
Just made our lives a treasure trove.
Although his body I can’t see.
My Grandpa’s spirit lives in me.
......Now Finished
By Sallie Burns Atkins
