Grandfather

By Andrei Guruianu

Dead before I came into this world, grandfather,

I carry your name, yet I’ve never met you.

I hear my name, and know

that somehow they refer to you.

When I scribble those six letters

fast, to sign some document

or print them neatly in a box,

I feel your presence flow with the ink

stain and burn through the paper,

forever imprinted in my mind.

Late summer nights

gathered around the dinner table,

leftovers being cleared away,

faces clouded in cigarette smoke,

I hear voices pass the word

back and forth in reverence.

Somehow I know it’s not me

the little one grabbing for attention.

They speak of you, Andrei,

the one I’ve never met,

whose name I carry.

Subscribe
Join Our Community
Subscribe
Join Our Community

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad

Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
Dear Black Child - Grace Storm Ad
Subscribe
Join Our Community
Subscribe
Join Our Community
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
LEVEL UP!
Drop your email and we'll send you 25 poetry editing guidelines to help transform your creative writing!
Send It!
Get On The List
We'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
SIGN UP NOW!
Get On The List
We'll let you know whenever we launch a new event, competition or service!
SIGN UP NOW!