When Grandma Cooks

I wrote this poem a few nights ago.I had to wake up and switch the lights on to write it because I know myself well. If I don’t note something down immediately .I forget it in the next three minutes.My friend Lewis - Electric Supermarket says my brain needs upgrading,a new software.Anyway. I was missing my grandmother so much.You’d love her too if you met her.She doesn’t speak much,but she encourages me to be tough.She hasn’ had it smooth in life but she manages.I am one of her fav’ grandchildren-a reason for bad blood in the clan.
So this poem was published last Saturday in the Standard’s Moment’s Magazine.My gran was in the house,washing my clothes.Her feet were beginning to swell for sitting down for long,she wanted some work,and what better work could I invent.I emptied my basket of dirty clothes. I was so happy.
She came for he presence was needed in a family matter{Her nephew’s Rurachio}

I liked the way it was edited,in the style of 3,5,1,4,but this here is in its original Ciss format.

When grandma sings,
You want to run and hide.
No ,her singing is not bad,
It’s what it represents-
Terror, anger, revenge

When grandma laughs,
The walls shake,
And every one laughs too,
Infectious, that’s what her laughs is.

When grandma cooks,
No one leaves the kitchen,
Until the plates are served.
Then we lick fingers,
And the neighbors come a visit..

When grandma smiles at you,
You feel like you own the world,
You want to skip and dance,
And give her a hug.

When grandma gives,
Its not with view of insurance,
Grandma, she gives,
More than you asked,
She gives to help.
.

When grandma works,
All supervisors go to sleep.
For she knows her work well,
She values the use of one’s strength..

When grandma says you are O.K,
Know that you are O.K for real.
When grandma says-nice dress,
Believe her; she tells no lies.
She doesn’t give empty praise.

When grandma talks,
you listen and nod.
She spews wisdom,
And counsel from experience.

When grandma scolds,
Your ears tingle.
But one thing is sure-
You’ll be well advised,
To never repeat the error.

When grandma weaves ,
Her fingers become spiders legs.
Colors come to life,
And our luggage is easily carried.


When grandma loves,
It’s with smiles and coos,
And gestures and winks.
It’s with tears and hugs,
She really doesn’t have to say it.