Home > Poetry > Last Of The Line

Last Of The Line


a faded monochrome
of four generations
clings to the present

I don’t recall much
of the occasion
cradled by a loving father
and admired by
granddad from one end
of the sofa
and great granddaddy
at the other

of the four
only I still live
and laugh and
love like
they all used to

we move forward
through time
one generation down
the line to a more
colourful picture and it’s
my turn as
doting father
cradling my son
with admiring ancestry
looking on

maybe one day
my son will look
at that photograph
and read these words
and think the same thoughts

and again we jump
another generation
another photo
but now there’s
only me and dad
remaining from the
the past
and the roles have changed
I’m the granddad
and my dad is great
my son is handsome
and my grandson

now we wait
for the next generation
dad is gone
and we are but three
and I can only
be patient
knowing that one day
it will be my turn
to be last of the line
when I too
will be great


  1. January 11, 2011 at 21:59

    The self appointed family historian and last in my line, this poem should be my epitaph!

  2. January 11, 2011 at 22:15

    Oh, lovely little one this, thanks! It’s very tender, and i like how each line is so condensed, falling into the next one. The images and sentiments are warm. Ah.

  3. Yvonne
    February 3, 2011 at 22:27

    Oh my Goodness, I had to read your poem three times, the first time I cried, you are sooooo right , and soooo in touch with your feelings to be able to set them down in such a truely meaningful way.

    I am especially in tune with your thoughts after loosing my own dear hubby recently !!

    Just wonderful ……………your scrabble matie Yvonne :o))

  4. April 3, 2011 at 04:57

    what a heartwarming post and a beautiful photo. Very touching.

  5. April 3, 2011 at 08:02

    It must have been a special occasion with the men wearing ties. Special photograph also,

  6. April 3, 2011 at 08:26

    That is a really good piece of writing. As with all really good pieces of writing it is not words for the sake of words, but words that manage to capture a feeling we surely all must have an illustrate it in a way that is personal to us all, and in a way that leaves us thinking, “so true” after we have finished reading it. Thanks so much for sharing it.

  7. Jo
    April 3, 2011 at 10:26

    Lovely 🙂 I see your Dad has his slippers on, and someone to the left has a glass in hand to celebrate! Jo

  8. April 3, 2011 at 13:09

    Everything Changes yet Still stays The Same.
    Thanks For Sharing Wonderful Thoughts+Photo

  9. April 3, 2011 at 21:55

    That’s an interesting photo and a lovely poem.

  10. tattered and Lost
    April 4, 2011 at 00:25


  11. April 4, 2011 at 11:50

    wow! awesome! This was about life, family, generations, acceptance, welcomes and goodbyes…awesome!

    Enjoy the rally!

  12. April 4, 2011 at 16:17

    awesome mixture of life as a folder…
    well done.


  13. April 4, 2011 at 16:24

    this is a beautiful poem, and it complements the photograph very well. nicely done

  14. April 5, 2011 at 05:46

    that was so sublime it made me cry.

  15. April 5, 2011 at 09:33

    wow and such harmony is great! my potluck.. http://fiveloaf.wordpress.com/2011/01/21/remain/

  16. April 5, 2011 at 11:02

    An interesting and moving post. Well done.

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