Grand Dad

His hair is the iron grey of strength,
streaked with black remnants
of youth,
like steel tempered in the furnace of life,
made stronger by the heat
and colored by the experience.

The skin on his hands is the color
of burnished bronze,
tough and soft as the cured leather
it resembles, bearing the scars
of favorite stories
and secrets never to be revealed.

He is reserved, but loves
with passion, pride in his family
apparent in every smile.


taken from the art of Christina Gault




Filed under Poetry

14 responses to “Grand Dad

  1. Stunning work! Like how you used what could be thought of as old to show strength!

  2. Lovely. There has to be an upside to growing old!

  3. I like the way of the scars of favorite stories… And secrets not to be revealed.

  4. ZQ

    Another great piece…

  5. that is cool…both of my grand dads were gone by the time i was ten…the skin on the hand is a very tangible memory of them for me…the scars…the one that lived til i was ten was a fireman.

  6. A loving portrait of the archetypal aged man.

  7. “like steel tempered in the furnace of life” the character is here…so vividly descriptive…

  8. Scars of favorite stories – what a great line and just excellent almost Biblical, i like the association you draw. Great writing.

  9. Beautiful. I had the most wonderful grandad. Yours sounds lovely.

  10. What a loving portrait of your granddad, Mark! I love to read poems like this.

  11. I was blessed with all my grandparents, and great! for all of my childhood. I observed, learned, connected, adored them. And now I see the genesis of those hands, that skin, that commitment in my own hands. Life is so very full!

  12. this made me think of my own grand dad – he was a farmer and his hands were hug and rough – and sometimes in the evenings he sat down in a chair by the fire and sliced apples with those big hands – that always fascinated me

  13. Very vivid and beautifully penned. 🙂

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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