Grandad

Agoraphobia confined him to the house,
a single street and the wireworks walls,
where he laboured, picking up on the soles
of his shoes shiny nuggets of copper.

A creature of habit, home for dinner at one
and tea at five, he exuded the tang of toil
and lingering smoke of Navy Cut on
his breath and the fabric of his overalls.

A victim of the Blitz, his hands shook,
but in the garden, with a mint-scented
whistle on his lips and sun on his back
he recited flower names like prayers.

He taught me how to dead-head a rose
and sprinkle dry earth with can and hose.

Kim M. Russell, 12^th April 2026

On Day 12 of NaPoWriMo, the optional prompt introduces poet Amarjit Chandan, whose poetry often focuses on place and memory. Our example is his poem ‘Uncle Mohan Singh’, which recounts, with a sort of dreaminess, a memory of the titular uncle playing the accompaniment to a silent film.

Our challenge is to write poems about memories of beloved relatives and something they did that echoes through our thoughts today. I could only think of my Grandad, so I took an old poem and reworked it into a sonnet for the prompt.