Vasant 2024 Poems - Dennis Williams


Grandma’s Hands
By Dennis Williams


Grandma’s hands weren’t as strong as Mike Tyson’s,hands
But it was strong enough to hold us together.
It fed us, then tend the crops, and chop the wood,
That’s the strength of my Grandma’s hands.


We all could depend on her to prepare the meal,
there was always something on the table when Dad emerge from the field,
And there was always a slap at hand for those who breach her rules,
Those hands, my grandma’s hands.


The house was always clean,
She kept it so,
Through every day that Godsend,
So reliable were grandma’s hands.


She washes us clean in the morn,
And send us off to school,
Grandma wanted us to be worthwhile citizens contributing to the well-being of our country.
She loved our country and wanted it to prosper, that’s my grandma.


She reaps coffee,
She picks cholate,
She beat Annatto,
She busts cola bean.

Late at night when we were weary and all asleep,
She was outside with her lamp,
Preparing tomorrow’s chore


Dennis is a poet/writer from Sandy Hill, St. Catherine, Jamaica. His work is published in the Agape Review, the American Diversity Report (ADR), Alchemy Spoon issue #7, the Health Line Zine #1, the independent literary magazine, Adelaide #54, EgoPHobia # 74, livina Press issue# 3, and many others.


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