Top 10 Best Poems about Grandparents

The green betel leaves cool a patch of sky
Cháu still remembers the silent lime scents
Red lips, eyes watering
Oh ...
A childhood region where cháu sees bà busy
Methodical, worried, hurriedly sorrowful
And today, cháu returns to homeland
The green of the betel remains
The young betel nuts have just returned
The lime jar placed in a corner
Desolate ...
Spider webs have quickly covered
Cháu still smells something really bitter
Like bà's betel scent in the past
By the pond and rows of trees, smooth leaves
Bà's shadow is gone
This afternoon there's a lime kite
Flying over the house pond, cháu walks slowly
Also the sound of this uncle bird, also the wind blowing wildly on the water's surface
Like bà's dress once turned upside down
The gentle bà of the old days, why cháu can't see you, oh bà.

Today I pen down a few words
Talking about grandma in difficult times
Old age weighs heavy on grandma's shoulders
Caring for grandchildren every hour
Love in grandma shines bright
Like the vastness of the sea and sky
Oh grandma, do you know from afar
Grandchildren always remember the old songs
With sweet lullabies to sleep
Every word, every letter, none forgotten
Now life is uncertain
Thinking of my grandma, my heart longs for home
Living alone in old age
No one to care, truly distressing
Anger towards fate, so pale
Blaming the unexpected misfortune
Grandma always waits, hopeful
Far away, grandchildren hear grandma's longing
Home still waits for grandma's return
But why do grandchildren not come back...
Today, I vow with this pen
That in the future, family will be peaceful here
I and the young ones, innocent
Will return to the village, bring grandma here to live
Grandchildren gather joyously
I promise to erase the hardships of life
From now on, I will care for dear grandma.

Fortunate I am to have grandparents
Mother called them grandma and grandpa
Grandpa often wore soft brown clothes
Looking gentle as the autumn trees.

Grandma often sat on the swing singing lullabies
So fervently in love once upon a time
Opening her eyes wide to listen to grandma's tales
Stories of yore, of the heroic Thanh Giong...

Grandma liked weaving black scarves for her autumn hair
Grandpa with wooden clogs strolled on stone paths
Grandma tended the garden, grandpa went fishing
Grandma sold goods, grandpa took grandchildren out to play...

Oh, the laughter of the past, how merry
Grandma showed off her betel-stained teeth glistening black
Grandpa, tall and noble, with silver-white hair
Enjoyed reciting 'Tale of Kieu' to lull grandchildren to nap.

Grandpa often recounted the days of fighting invaders in the past
The village then witnessed many deaths from starvation
Several in grandpa's family did not survive
Sad memories, lingering for years.

Simple was the small thatched roof we lay beneath
Yet so warm and affectionate it felt
Uncles, aunts, all the loved ones of yore
Loved us grandchildren immensely.

Then grandpa departed suddenly, leaving us choked with tears
Grandma stayed back with a heart heavy, hair turned white
We, still in our schooling years, not yet accomplished
Caring for our grandparents, we penned a few verses...

Until now, grandma has also gone far away
Reunited with grandpa, surely she's happy there
Occasionally in the night, I still dream
Of grandma and grandpa returning to us like the old days...

Ta Thang Hung

“Cuu Vien well is cool and clear
Cuu Vien street is sandy, easy to walk…”

Those old lines lead me back
The scent of grandma's guava garden in the breeze
The old road now exists no more
The entrance to the garden has changed too

Remembering childhood, at six and ten
We climbed... competing for half-eaten guavas
“That one's delicious...” grandma reminded with a smile
We listened to grandma... choosing guavas to eat

Grandma picked the best ones for us to keep
Driving away the summer heat, the well's water refreshed us
Grandma cooked a diverse soup... we waited
Falling asleep unintentionally... by grandma's guava tree

We often tagged along with grandma
Bringing guavas to the temple on ritual days
The fragrant guava filled the solemn space
Dreamily yearning... the temple courtyard's incense!

Grown up now, miles away on various journeys
In Europe, Asia... knowing many beautiful gardens
But grandma's guava garden surpasses them all
Its sweet aroma, the rustle of its branches

Rustle, don't eat the guavas from grandma's garden

Filling baskets... early market days come
Returning at noon... the bustling children
Waiting for sesame rice crackers... eagerly sharing

The guava garden remains, but where has grandma gone?
For me to search... remnants of old memories
Soup of spinach, sweet amaranth forever
Braised goby fish... fragrant until now

Many years have passed, childhood memories
Nurturing me to maturity through the years
Though life's journey takes me far and wide
I'll forever cherish... grandma's guava garden.

Author: Xanh Nguyen

A hearth's warmth in the early mist's embrace
A hearth's glow, an embrace of fervent grace
Grandchild loves grandmother, through rain and shine!

At the tender age of four, accustomed to the scent of smoke
That year, a year of famine, of weariness and of toil,
Father away, battling, the horse gaunt, carting dry twigs
Only memories of smoke softly stinging the child's eyes
Reflecting upon a life where even the nostrils sting!

Eight years hence, the child and grandmother by the fire's side
The kettle's whistle across distant fields they ride
When the kettle whistles, grandmother, do you remember?
You used to recount tales of days in Huế.
How fervent the kettle's whistle sounded!
Mother and father, busy with work, couldn't return,
The child stayed with grandmother, listening to her teachings,
Grandmother taught, grandmother cared for the child's learning,
By the hearth they bonded, grandmother's toil and care,
Why does the whistle persist across distant fields?

Years of war, villages burnt, charred remains
Neighbors return, lost and forlorn
Assisting, grandmother erects makeshift shelters
Steadfast, she advises the child firmly:
“Father in the war zone, father has his duties,
Don't mention this or that, just say home is peaceful!”

And again, morning and evening, the hearth grandmother tends,
A flame alight, her heart always prepared,
A flame harboring enduring faith...

Through life's trials, grandmother endures rain and shine
Decades have passed, up until this moment
Grandmother still maintains the habit of rising early
A hearth embracing fervent love,
A hearth sharing joys, sweet potatoes and rice,
A hearth sharing freshly cooked rice, spreading happiness,
A hearth nurturing even the smallest of emotions...
Oh, mysterious and sacred – the hearth!

Now the child has ventured far. Smoke columns rise,
Fires alight, joys abound,
Yet never forgetting:

- Tomorrow morning, is grandmother tending the hearth?...

Translated by Bằng Việt

Thirty Tết, I returned to my motherland
A solemn porch, shrouded amidst bamboo
Grandfather, weathered, seated on the veranda
A sense of regret brims, bitter and poignant

Fellow villagers think me fortunate
Yet I feel burdened by a heavy heart
My grandfather still has two meals of vegetable porridge
So far away, how could I possibly worry?

Suddenly, I find myself yearning
For a miracle to split me into two
One to stay and care for grandfather day by day
One to head to America and plow the fields each day

My life is no longer just mine

It's bound to two innocent children
My weathered grandfather and his two innocent grandchildren
Two generations, yet every hour so earnest

Oh, familial love, how truly harsh
Though sorrowful, I know not what to do
My steps hesitate to part from any path
The road to America echoes with sorrowful regret.

Returning here in profound affection
Yet now, it tastes so bitter
Humanity still embroiled in daily strife
My attempts at reconciliation seem increasingly futile

Returning here, I now truly understand
To witness life defining the essence of love
Amidst joy and sorrow, I speak little
For I still carry an ingratitude

Oh Spring, will you ever understand?
Why does our homeland Spring lack affection still?
The road back home, though long and winding
I've completed the journey back to my grandparents' home

For years, my heart has yearned
For the first day of Spring to visit beloved grandfather
And now, his hair has grayed considerably
I see it all, like a hundred reproaches

I suddenly feel my heart weeping
Grandfather is aged, yet tirelessly perseveres
Grandfather is aged, yet fate has not relented
Making me feel boundless sadness

I suddenly feel my heart cracking
As life undergoes myriad changes
As my heart wrenches with each passing day
For filial piety, this hand remains empty.

Donna Mai Hồng Thu

My grandmother, with silver hair and a stooped back
Nights spent leaning against the door, awaiting my return
The long road stretches over myriad hills and valleys
Hearing the rain, melancholy weighs heavily on the mind

This afternoon brings news of floods overflowing
Sweeping away homes, leaving everything in ruins
A heart saddened by grandmother's solitude
She sits in the leaf-thatched hut, watching the rain

Returning footsteps to the old homestead
I come to visit grandmother, swaying gently in the hammock
My heart warms to hear the lullaby once more
Outside, the garden echoes the call of the flock of birds

Pomelos, lemons, mangoes, and jackfruits still remain
So many memories from childhood days
Several seasons of plum and apricot blossoms
Where are the friends from our youth?

The pond's edge overgrown with gourds and pumpkins
Coconut palms lean, casting shadows over my home's bridge
Mist mingles with silver hair… and the lure
The stooped figure of my grandmother… forever cherished…

Compiled

Dear Grandmother, each word sincere
Your grandchild scribes for you in absence
This morning, gray clouds seem to grumble
The grandchildren leave you, solitary in anticipation
You slumber, dreaming like a vision
Above, do you see the poem your grandchild crafted!
Henceforth, dreams must be tempered
You are no longer here for visits
Eighteen years… since father's departure
Now grandmother's gone, home mourns
Gazing at your photo, a slice of life!
Blame the harsh heavens, the cycle of life and death
Just a few more dawns
The grandchildren return, overflowing with affection
Ode to Grandmother, tears overflow
Heart aches like salt on countless wounds
Grandmother dear, bridging the realms of yin and yang
My heart sends you this poem, this love!
If tomorrow's skies rain
No longer will you revel in the downpour!
So the grandchildren may drink, each sip
Refreshing their souls, handed down by you
Our boat moors at the riverbank
Remembering the days without my stooped grandmother?
This betel nut tree, this lime mortar
Does it sadden you, grandmother, no longer chewing betel?
Separated from you for so long
I miss you dearly, sorrow surrounds
You no longer count the days on your hands
Tallying years, tallying months, waiting endlessly for grandchildren
Grandmother dear, now rest in full slumber
Your lullabies etched in my heart's core
“When you grow up, my child
Don't forget your ancestors for generations
Though far, through mountains and rivers
Remember your roots, your lineage, your heritage”
Your grandchild lies embracing you in silence
Each word pouring affection into the heart...