Grandpa's Owl Poem by Linda Ori

Grandpa's Owl

Rating: 3.0


My father believed in legends of Indian folklore -
Being raised in the Ohio River valley, he knew his share
He always believed the incessant hooting of an owl
Was the harbinger of imminent death.
My youngest son was three when my father died,
And though he had only met him a few times,
The bond was strong between them.
One morning he came to me with a dream -
During the night 'Grandpa's owl'came to him
As he was playing outside in the yard,
Swooped down and picked him up
And flew him off to see Grandpa.
He never knew about the legend of the owl;
That morning, mother called to tell the tale -
My father had passed during the night.
He had heard the owl hooting outside his window
For three nights, and he knew he would pass on soon,
For that was the Indian legend he believed.
Although my son barely remembers him,
He feels that he had a special visit that night
And it's kept Grandpa alive in his heart.
To this day, we always think of him
Whenever we hear an owl hoot -
Everyone says.........'There's Grandpa! '

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Danny Reynolds 18 November 2006

Nice tale of family warmth, traditions and culture. (And a fair bit of truth I suspect?) Danny

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Sue Ann Simar 29 May 2008

a good telling of your family mythology

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Not a member No 4 22 January 2007

A very moving and mysterious tale Linda. There are things which we simply cannot explain yet. This sounds like one of those. This kind of lore should be preserved and handed down. Maybe sense will be made of it eventually. I'm glad you've put it on record here. Exceedingly well told as usual. Right down the middle and the reader is left to try to make sense of it. xx jim

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Diane Violet 01 December 2006

Such a beautiful poem Linda, a wonderful gift of love this vision in a dream between Grandpa and Grandson.............Diane

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Alison Cassidy 24 November 2006

Linda this one is so sweet and so wise and your son - what a wonderful blessing and a wonderful bond. One of my favourite books is The Education of Little Tree by Forrest Carter. My son gave it to me and I have read it many times. Your poem reminds me of this superb story of a Cherokee boyhood. Delightful penning. love, Allie xxxxxxxxxxx

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Frank James Ryan Jr...fjr 18 November 2006

You continue to out-do yourself, my dear, with each story you Pen...A touching tale of family & sentiment...memories that travel with you forever in time...you always have them to embace at your desiring...That & your 'GIFT OF TH' SILENT WORD''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''fjr

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