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Best Growing Up Poems

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Don't stop! The most popular and best Growing Up poems are below this new poems list.

Growing Up With The Language of Kings by Nunez, Kim Patrice
Growing Up Down South by clark, david
Growing Pains by Worthington, Drew
Growing by Runyan, Janet
Growing In Christ by Pemberton, Jim
SEEDS GROWING by Jolo, Neldy
ITS GROWING BIGGER by Guyler, Ian
Growing up on Old Bank Street by Broadbent, Robert
We're Growing Up Alone by Coan, Christopher Steven
Kids Growing Up by williams, john

View all new Growing Up Poems

The Best Growing Up Poems

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

FORGOTTEN TREASURE- The Rebirth

FORGOTTEN TREASURE

I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle,
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter!
Looking down with a puzzled face
I peeked to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was my face
In wonder, I asked what this vision could be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me

      ~SKAT~

repost- My first poem on the soup

More great poems below...


Details | Growing Up Poem | |

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi, grandpa it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass
Do you remember the tears grandma sang before she passed?
The way she looked into your eyes, 
Moments before she said her goodbyes
Grandpa, I found a note from grandma, she doesn't want you to cry.

Hi grandpa, it’s me again!
The rocking chair is old and dusty
Do you remember the way grandma sat me on her lap?
Read many stories before I took a nap
How she enjoyed brushing my hair with her hands
Love the way she rocked me to sleep every night until I grew. 

Hello, grandpa!
I stored your hearing aid away
Do you remember that special musical box in grandma's drawer? 
I opened it last night, to watch the ballerina dance
I wish you could hear the tiny chimes grandma lived in
I hope you don’t mind, I’m keeping grandmothers favorite scarf.

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Do you like the way she looked in that pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
I like the walking stick she handcrafted, the day your needed support
It kept you in balance every time we took long hikes in the woods.

Hello grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see grandma
Please tell her hi, and I know you will be there the day I die
Bye, grandpa
Give grandma a kiss, and tell her I miss her

By; PD

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Will You Tie My Shoes When I Grow Old

You were beautiful, 
my tiny child, 
wrapped tightly in my arms, 
close to my heart.
I listened to you breathing.
I counted your fingers
and your toes.
Helpless, 
you cried out to me
and I loved you
with every ounce of my soul.

Will you hear me
when I cry out? 
Will you hold me close
as I held you then? 

I remember the day
You took your first step.
There was no stopping you.
Your feet gave you freedom
to explore the world
like never before
but danger lurked.
I opened those doors anyway, 
cautiously, 
and introduced
you to the world.
Where will you be
when my legs
no longer run? 
no longer work? 
Will you realize
that I love
freedom too? 

I laugh
about that day
you first tied your shoe.
We tried and tried
to get that rabbit
in that hole
and you finally did it.
You pointed your toes
for everyone to see
how proud you were.

I am proud too, 
of my writing
and my drawing, 
of my needlework
and my cooking.
But my hands are beginning to ache
and my fingers will not bend.
I will lose the things
that make me proud
except for you.
Hopefully not you.
Will you let me
brag on you? 
Even tell wild stories
that are a bit beyond the truth? 
Will you be proud of me too? 

I waved good-bye
that morning when you left
on that large, yellow bus.
I was so scared.
I know you were too.
You waved at me bravely
through the dusty window
but I saw the water
forming in your eyes.
You came home, however, 
full of pride and joy.
You sang the alphabet song
and got most of it right.
You practiced for hours
until you could sing it
even in your sleep.

But 
I'm afraid.
I forgot
whether I took
my pills today or not.
I forgot
if I told this story before.
I even forgot once
who you were
and it terrified me.
My mind
is my treasure
the only thing I have left, 
and I heard you make
fun of me
for not remembering
that I gave you the
same gift as last year.
Will you love me
when I no longer
know who I am? 

You came home blushing
from the glow of
your first kiss.
Your first love, 
the one you thought was real.
You talked about him non-stop.
You changed for him. You gave.
But he left you anyway
for a blue-eyed girl
and I held you
while you cried for him.

I too have a
broken heart.
The love of my life
left me after
fifty-six years.
He left me here
to live life on my own
while he moved on
to another realm
And I cry for him too.
I long for his shoulder
and strong embrace.
I feel betrayed
because he and I
made a deal
that we would never
leave the other alone.
Yet I am alone
sitting in an echoing house
with no hands to hold.

You welcomed her home today- 
your tiny baby girl.
She has your eyes
and possibly your toes.
I see you counting them
as they roll me
into the room.
You finally came
to visit.
It has been a while.

You look up at me
with tears in your eyes
and ask
almost desperately, 

"Will she tie my
shoes
when I get old? "

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Little Wishes

Little wishes on great big stars.
Daughter, I make a wishes for you.
Keep on growing and keep on smiling.
And I'll keep loving all that you do.

Little dreamers wishing big things.
The world is your stage to display.
You can sing and you can dance.
Enjoy all that comes your way.

Little hopes in a great big world.
Nothing can stop your free spirit.
Make some noise, play a beat.
It's beautiful music when I hear it.

Little kisses from my now big girl,
You're growing up so fast it seems.
Pretty soon you'll leave the nest
And fly after all of your dreams.

Little girl I love you,
And I love you even more.
Because I made a wish once,
And you're what I wished for.


Written April 09, 2014

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

The Secret

The Secret
Somewhere someplace not far away a couple lied together.
No talk about the future no talk about forever.
They had lovers of their own their lovers were not there.
It's best if kept a secret the love that they would share.

Lost in loves great passion covered in each others sweat.
They're going to have a baby but they don't know it yet.
In nine months the baby born a secret softly cries.
So much still for him to learn of life conceived in lies.

Often he just played alone it seemed it was his way.
Then one day the secret was sent outside to play. 
He grew strong like others did he gave it all his best.
Without one clue he never knew the truth beat in his chest.

Overwhelmed again and again the sadness he can't shake.
The devil whispered in his ear “You are a mistake”.
Still he tried through tears he cried to somehow rise above.
Getting lost time and again in his search for love.

When the walls came crashing down his whole world fell apart.
Welcome to the world of secrets and to your broken heart.
Shattered like a piece of glass his dreams fell to the ground.
Somewhere up near heaven even angels heard the sound.

Tears poured from his heart and soul through both day and night.
Searching for some healing in words that he would write.
Broken in so many ways all he meant for good.
Forever somehow secret where some misunderstood.

Now he walks in shadows seeking shelter from the rain.
Don't you dare look in his eyes you'll get lost inside his pain.
Like the secret long ago he spends his time alone.
It seems being by himself is now his comfort zone.

Asking nothing from no one wanting only just to give.
The only dream he still dreams is live and just let live.
A million miles on his heart and tears that he still cries.
So it is for secrets and those conceived in lies.
Edwin C Hofert

More great poems below...


Details | Growing Up Poem | |

TRANSITION - for adult contest

The day I truly became an adult – oh I remember it like it was yesterday The moment I gave birth to you my son – my life changed forever Nothing can prepare you for the responsibly of having a child Children are helpless, vulnerable and totally dependent on us Decisions I made then shaped you into the person you are today Yes, I made mistakes – I am the first to admit it But parenthood is a steep learning curve for us all I tried my best to nurture and guide you - as my parents had with me Hoping that you wouldn't make the same mistakes I have done Let you make errors and do things for yourself – it’s the way we grow Now you have spread your wings and have flown the nest When times get tough I wish I could revert Step back in time to the halcyon days of my childhood But the transition has occurred - I am no longer a child 04~22~15 Contest:- F J Thomas The true meaning of being an adult

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

The Cuddling Cricket

It’s not enough to have a Dragon plus his penguins and pigeons, too?
Darn it! I had a limit, until a cute Cuddling Cricket found my shoe.
He was just a little baby, who saw the pigeons and decided to hide.
Now, he won’t let go of my pants leg; he’s definitely along for the ride.

The first time I saw him, I Eeekk’ed and I jumped, yep, about to pounce.
But at my response he sighed, and slumped, and he began to cry, at once!
At first I couldn’t believe it, so I pulled out my magnifying glass.
What I found were soulful eyes, and a face, so very cute, but sad.

So now when I stand, A Cuddling Cricket, comes along for the ride.
Yeah, he’s now part of the family… Well, of course! Sigh! I replied…
He sleeps in a cute little plastic bug box, with a matchbox for a bed.
But it’s hard to explain, to others found, in my life, which have fled.

I bring a magnifying glass, so they can see him bow so proper and nice.
But carrying my Cuddling Cricket around, does have a certain price!
Food stores aren’t very understanding, and restaurants, Not At All! Truly!
But the paparazzi seem to understand a Cuddling Cricket, completely!

He does have his own type of novelty as he carries around his blankie!
And he’s just a baby, who needs a Mom, and of course, his little binkie!
Honestly, I’m not kidding! There’ve been a few, strange turns, in my life.
But, if I have Trolls and Dragon, then a Cuddling Cricket seems, so right!

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

The Worst Parts Of Me

Im a little out of tune
Im havin trouble inside
Cant explain the chayos 
that I feel tonight
Everythings a mess
I can barely breathe
And your wonderin wonderin 
When I stopped bein me
I couldnt tell you the truth
I couldnt lie to you 

Im a little out of control
I swear Its not my fault
I try and I try 
But nothin seems to work
Gotta break me down
Gotta take away this diesese
Its like im addicted 
To the worst parts of me

And inside I am filled to the brim
No one can see how hurt I am 
So confused by all these things
So abused by my own creating
Somethings wrong inside my head 
and I feel, I feel, almost dead.

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

THE SONG OF WISDOM

Upon the wind I hear her whispered song
she says “Come to me” with such urgency
I listen now as I’ve been all lifelong.

I turn to look, straining my eyes to see
just like a child who knows his mother’s voice
she says “Come to me” with such urgency.

This Lady who is not everyone’s choice
I follow her and choose the road she’s kept
just like a child who knows his mother’s voice.

For those who left her have bitterly wept
with Wisdom I will daily walk in faith
I follow her and choose the road she’s kept.

In quiet times the small voice I await
I will be strong, mild, teachable and kind
with Wisdom I will daily walk in faith.

I’ll heed her call, that I don’t walk like blind
for in the wind I hear her whispered song
I will be strong, mild, teachable and kind
and listen now as I’ve been all lifelong.




*small voice- rhema    

22 June 2015
Villanelles and Terzanelles Only Contest -4th Place
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

writing to inspire

I want to write something that makes people say “I wish I wrote that”
I want to write something that gives the hopeless their hope back
I want to write stuff that Tupac would be happy to have on his notepad
I write for everyone who had a broke past

I write to cure heart-break
I hope my words offer light to those going through dark days
Good times are ahead even though they appear far away
Sometimes you have to get things the hard way

I’m writing for that girl who just got cheated on
Hope my words are a bandage to people who don’t know where they’re bleeding from
I’m writing for people who think their chances of succeeding’s gone
I write for those whose parents chose to lead them wrong

I write for those fighting discrimination
I only get offended when people give me limitations
Notorious B.I.G told me the sky is the limit
So I write till I’m out of ink or my pen is breaking

I write for those battling depression
I write for those struggling to see their reflection
I write for those who want to stand up tall
I write to inspire but I can’t please you all

My rhymes are far from perfect
But I’m honest in all of my verses
I’m trying to give worth to those who feel worthless
Because I was made to feel like I had no purpose

I’m not trying to save people
Just trying to offer a little help
I believe everyone should be made equal
Regardless of age, race, sex, looks or wealth

I hope my words will one day lead the blind
I hope my words encourage people to go against the system
That doesn’t mean to commit crimes
Just don’t be afraid to be different

I may not make a change in the world
But maybe I can help to take away the pain from a girl
Or offer a little guidance to a fatherless boy
I hope my words inspire, but I started writing to fill a void 

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

CHASING FOOTPRINTS

CHASING FOOTPRINTS

Some feet are bigger than others
none bigger than those
left by your brothers -
that you tried to fill.

The foot that Dad
would put “right up ‘ur arse”
and the one Mom said
you must put forward.

The meter and feet
we poetically treat
in attempt to conform
to rhythm and beat.

One foot we must
“take out of our mouth”,
while trying to get
“one foot in the door”.

Footprints that litter
the sands of our mind
that cannot be followed
by looking behind.

The foot of the stairs
the foot of the bed
the footsteps of night
the footsteps of dread.

Huge footprints of carbon
Al Gore and his ilk
charging the cows
for the grass to make milk.

One foot on the gas
One foot on the brake
one looking to give
one looking to take.

So don’t judge the size
or the depth of the root
nor measure the soul
by the size of the boot.

John G. Lawless 

submitted to – BIGFOOT (A Poet Destroyer contest)




Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Redux

I found a box when my mother died
And saw the me I was inside.
Big blue eyes and auburn locks,
Rolled up skirt and blue knee socks.

Glee club programs, old year books
Awards and rings tucked into nooks.
And there, a picture of a boy
Who filled my teenage years with joy.

Jeans and tee shirts, hockey skates,
Rock and roll and concert dates.
A soul that made my young heart sing-
First love, first kiss, first everything

As we grew up we slipped apart.
For other places we’d depart
To different schools and different lives,
On to lovers, husbands, wives.

But sometimes I would feel regret.
Years passed and I could not forget.
I’d wonder what he’s doing now -
The where and when and why and how

Fate intervened one Fall and then,
We found each other once again.
I met him on the street one day
And forty years just slipped away.

And right away with no surprise 
I saw the boy in the grown man’s eyes.
Our fingers intertwined. The thrill
Told us that we were in love still.

We strolled around that day and kissed,
And spoke of all that we had missed.
Though the happiest we’d been in years
I knew that it would end in tears.

The old desires stirred up anew,
But we knew what we had to do.
Aware some lines must not be crossed
Because there’d be too great a cost.

We left each other and slept alone
Each with a spouse in a lonely home.
To dream of things that might have been
And hope that we cross paths again.

I cherish my handsome rock and roll boy
Who gave a young girl so much joy.
By loving the girl with the auburn locks
The rolled up skirt and blue knee socks. 


Details | Growing Up Poem | |

She Hulk

When I was a child I only ever wanted to be strong.
I wanted to be able to compete with the boys
and when I foot raced them at recess I won every time.
They called me ‘She Hulk’ because of my muscular frame
and from the way I only ever wore soccer t-shirts and sweat pants.
After that nickname was implanted into my brain like a growing weed,
I’ve only ever wanted to be feminine.
I started wearing skirts and dresses 
and in middle school they shrieked at the site of my makeup and done up hair.
But that weed inside of my mind only grew, and grew, and grew
until I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part anorexic and two parts lonely,
because I thought that the definition of feminine began with the word frail.
No one ever realizes how greatly words affect us,
how a simple nickname can turn a pretty girl into a skeleton.
I stood at five foot two weighing seventy nine pounds,
so cold and frozen,
yet I still considered myself a ‘She Hulk.’
You could see my ribcage through my t-shirt
and my spinal cord protruded loudly through my weathered skin,
as if somehow my bones were dirty knives
just trying to cut through the flesh of judgment.
As I grew older I became the girl that was never enough.
Not good enough to speak poetry.
Not good enough to lay paint on a canvas.
Not good enough.
Not tall enough.
Not big enough boobs for them.
Not primped to perfection.
Not undeniably straight.
Not smart enough.
Not dumb enough.
Not ditsy enough.
Not cool enough or fun enough.
And I began to believe, too, that I wasn’t enough.
I never told my mother that I had been in madly in love with a girl.
I never told anyone about the night we first kissed 
because I was too vulnerable for the judgment.
And parents always justify saying that ‘kids will be kids’
But when we are kids our brains are still growing
and the smallest of seeds that get planted will one day bloom
into one giant regret,
will one day affect the choices that we make,
will one day influence us about the clothes that we wear,
will one day shape us into the person who we thought we would never be.
I only ever wanted to be strong,
and as a child I thought strength was only about being able
to lift a bar stool above your head.
I thought that strength was only about being able
to beat the boys in bare foot running races.
I was told that strength was something only
a man could have.
But as I’ve grown older I’ve realized that strength
isn’t about muscle at all,
but it’s about weakness,
and the ability to overcome the social anxiousness.
It’s about carrying around a lifetime of baggage
on your broken back
because the ones that kicked you when you were down
are going to be the ones that were  ultimately wrong.
I thought that the definition of woman 
began with the word disappointment.
And I became a mixed drink cocktail
with one part freedom
and two parts Sailor Jerry
because every girl needs a stiff drink once and awhile.
We are not disappointments.
We will never be the ones who gave up on hope.
We will never be the ones who gave up on each other,
or god,
or our mothers.
We will always be enough;
enough for the ones who shunned us 
enough for the ones that cursed us
enough for the ones the hurt us
and destroyed us
and beat us when we were covered in bruises.
But you see, bruises fade
and the scars of our flesh are only stories
things we have overcame
and there are things out there that we will overcome.
When I was a child, I only ever wanted to be strong.
I hid my vulnerability.
I hid the parts of me that were true.
I never told my mother about my girlfriend
because I was afraid she wouldn’t understand,
kind of like all those people who never understood 
just how much words effect us. 
I can’t say that I can beat the boys at foot races anymore,
because, well, I smoke cigarettes now.
And I can’t say that the nickname of my childhood didn’t affect me.
But I take that name now and embrace it.
Because I am strong.
I am the ‘she hulk’.
I am a mixed drink cocktail
with three parts greatful.

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

New Dawn

As I roll out of bed tomorrow
I’m gonna say goodbye sorrow
Fare thee well Mr. Cynicism
See you later Mr. Pessimism
Adios to Mr. Skepticism
Exit negativity, enter positivity
No procrastination and inactivity 
An idle mind is the devils workshop
That’s why I’ll exert myself nonstop
No more misery and depression
As exuberance replaces dejection
Success is around the corner
It’s coming now and not later
Victory is surely heading my way
No matter what people may say
I quit banking my future on luck
Time has come to break the duck
A new dawn has shown its face
My home will be a better place
I’m a potential winner, a true born victor
Within me lies a superstar, a megastar
No I’m not building castles in the air, 
I’m not dreaming, I’m not hallucinating
I have to earn my place in history
Put a good ending to my unfinished story
My story is about confidence, not arrogance
I advocate humility, not vanity
Trials and tribulation come and go
Sticky situations are not unique to you
But we all know as well as you do
You need hard work and determination 
For the youth, education is the only solution
You’ve got to make the decision
To extract yourself from destitution 
Leave nothing at all to chance
For fortune favours the brave
No sweet without sweat, no pain, no gain
Each time you fall recollect and try again
A dream doesn’t become reality through magic
Lazy genius is not only sad but also tragic
Stay focused, keep your eyes on the prize
There is no substitute for hard work
There are no secrets to success
Only in the dictionary does success precede work
We are all gifted, skilled and talented 
Unshackle that innate ability 
Let loose that latent capability
I’m gonna prepare, plan and plot
Execute and give it my best shot
Until the day that I hit the jackpot

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Generation Next

Babies are gems and diamonds,
Babies are pure right through,
Babies are such little angels,
Especially when smiling with you,

Bouncing babies are such a charm,
For them we want no harm,
Baby need milk,cry up a storm,
Burp,tummy full,so cuddly and warm,

Babies will learn from me,
Babies will learn from you,
Remember,they are the next generation,
So teach them the right things to do.....

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Disturbed Child

That disturbed child
The teen girl with no friends, 
and is rejected by her loved ones
She feels broken inside,
like theres no other choice
She takes the iron razor, 
she puts it to her arm and hopes the pain will fade,
but in the end it only makes her feel worse
She does this to herself not because she is sad, 
but because she doesn't think any one cares
She thinks 
What if I put this razor to my throat,
and ended my life
Would they care then?
She feels like no one cares 
What she doesn't realize is, 
if she died a river of tears would come,
even faster then the blood would run from her
If she only knew life can be brighter 
If she would only see, 
that she is loved
That disturbed child, 
We miss her
and theres no getting her back
What could we have done
Was there any changing her mind
Only God knows

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Rainbows Dreaming of Gray

Scrambling tooth and nail for a patterned fate
I approached the lofty mansion of Learning's Gate.
All cued up for a slip of paper - the one they call Degree,
halfway convinced that I hallucinated humanity.
For who under their own free will would venture
into this spiraling sameness:
this illustriously-in-debt, this Regal Club
of the Nameless?
I bellowed my voice into the air
(This great atrocity!).
But not a single student seemed to care:
So well fashioned they were,
adorned in their prized medals of mediocrity.
Along with their unwillingness to ever stray,
all too content to be but rainbows dreaming of gray.
I hung my head in such morose emptiness.
As I fashioned myself: the uniquely ubiquitous.
And what a fool I was to join the crowd - and yet so halfheartedly.
Striving for the cirrus clouds, the silver moon, and then the galaxy.
For my actions didn't match my cerebral creativity
I was statue still cursed with a meandering mind
(and other such extremities).
Exploding with hopes large enough for two
I sat clearly convinced languid leaps would do.
But one cannot daintily decide to dream the Dream
for it is merely the seed, another earthly deed.
You're not allowed to walk away, gandering as it grows,
for we are likened as the summer sun - keeping the rivers a'flow.

"Picturing profits in your hands
do not till the all too ready land"
explained the elderly gent with leathered palms, 
"Someday soon you will understand."

And though we aim to be ourselves
gravity inevitably
brings us to the grid.
Imagination like a heavy rain;
we the paper people
so helplessly hid.

But fear not ye denizens
of the cherished cubbyhole:
where you keep under lock and key
your dust-laden soul.
If one burgeoning blunder
tore it all asunder
surely one single spirited spark
could heal even the most
dormant of hearts.

So fare thee well oh Cookie Cutter Coop -
Another day on that wretched plain, and I'd surely die.
I'm glad just to sever sameness in one fell swoop
by hanging on a star in the midnight sky.



NOTE: I always enjoyed using alliteration when I could... and with this particular one I went a little bit nutty... but I think it turned out okay.

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Fatherless Child

There once was a day I would watch every airplane.
Praying you was on it to come take me away.
As a child I wanted you around until the day, you actually came.
The day you came is the day my life forever changed.
I remember as if it was yesterday when you physically violated me.
Mental visions as early as the age of eight, but old enough to vociferate.
Visualizing mental pictures in my mind while I am awake very aware of the improper abuse I take.
Your body on me feels something like an autopsy of a dead body.
While you lay on top of me as you press aggressively on me.
Against my will your force kept me still.
I am trying to understand if you recognize who I am.
I try to say no hoping you can comprehend; I am weakling as you apprehend.
Mentally and physically I became involuntarily your property. 
A main character in a horror story, and you were my predatory.
I asked “God why?” as I bare to stare into his eyes.
This is not thee love I seek; all I wanted was my father to love me, but not like this injustice of violation of my rights.
This love is not real; not the love I wished to feel.
As he tries to stick his tongue into my mouth too young to know what this is all about.
I grip my lips painfully tight as he tries to slip his tongue inside.
I close them tighter with all my might, as he whispers, “let me love you right” 
I beg him to leave as he pried my legs open with his knees my insides scream “somebody please help me!”
As he whispers how much he loves me I’m praying for God to just kill me.
I rather be dead then a man’s punching bag.
As I lay there my body was dead, and I laid my soul to rest.
I looked around the room and seen the Old Spice on the desk the same fragrance he wore around his neck.
The sun began to rise as he began to close my thighs.
In that moment in time I had made up my mind any man that ever say they love me was just telling lies.
I learned the hard way that love does not kill your inside; love does not take your pride.
A fatherless child I shall forever reside.
Every day that passes that little eight-year-old girl dies slowly inside.
Asking Jesus,” Why permit this?” and he slowly whispers…as I gently whimpers, “faith is the light that guide you through the darkness, my words reflecting as a lamp unto my feet.”
“Walk unto my path I’m here to carry the weak, come into me you are weary and overburdened. I will carry the pain you have obtained.”
“I am your father and you are my child you are never fatherless because I’m always around.”

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Blossoms And Bubbles

Dancing butterflies and laughter
without a care. A day full of sweet
smelling blossoms fill the air.

Sister's golden hair glistened in the
Summer sun's glow, as Mother blew
colorful bubbles that bounced off
her little nose.

Mother's  heart was always full of
love to share and the day of blossoms,
and bubbles will forever in my memories
be kept with  loving care.

Precious and few are moments shared
together. This wonderful day of blossoms
and bubbles, in my heart will last forever.


April 6, 2015

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

A Darkened Path

A Darkened Path 



 l. 
 Into a dark hallway I pass through
 rest relics of dead days and dark nights;
 my body ever so sorely bruised, the pains
 speed me onward into another realm,
 gathering strength to fight this new abode
 so like my imagined image of raging in hell


 ll.
 Down from nowhere flies rays of purple rage
 a past deliverance from bygone age,
 as those cuts soak my heart in saddened blood;
 stones pile neatly around my deadened feet
 a tribute to my callous heart and ways,
 another justice blocking my desired path


 lll.
 A window opens into a shining room,
 the glare sings out words that so shock,
 my eyes see but my ears fail me now
 as silence binds with words in the air;
 death rests within the next door in my path

 I that embraced rage with such delightful passion
 find no comfort in this massive new fear,
 a fruit of my dark days racing upon this earth
 with hate in my heart and a mouth full of dirt

 
Robert Lindley,
 1978

Note--  Written so long ago.  Very  rarely did I write in any form other than rhyme.
tucked into an old book. I was shocked to find this written in a letter that I never sent, then tucked into an old book.

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

WHEN WISDOM WALKS

WHEN WISDOM WALKS Lies, shams, they cloud the truth's eyes. They seed buds of sin which unfolds to depravity, as they... can smother hope or stroke all lobes of the mind but if we let honesty spearheads our deeds then there we permitted wisdom to walk... ______________________________________________ Sponsor Rob Carmack Contest Name Fibonacci ==Placed 1st== O.E. Guillermo 12:32 pm, March 14, 2015

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

The Bridge

I walk towards you,
as you stand waiting at the center of the bridge.

Beneath my feet, aged timbers span the churning river below.
With each step I see you more clearly.
My eyes search out the younger you,
that wild child with chestnut hair.
I can still remember your pigtails and ear to ear grin.
Back then, laugher was such an important part of us.
Somehow,
thankfully,
from the start, 
we just seemed to get each other.

As I approach,
I see both of us in your eyes.
The twinkles hidden within the wrinkles,
laugh lines, the evidence of our pleasure.
As you open your arms we embrace.
For a moment, time relinquishes its dominion.
Two friends once again, occupy a sacred moment,
grieving and celebrating the passage of everything.
We wonder, what if anything can be reclaimed?
Together, wishing yesterday forward!

The bridge groans under our childlike expectations.

In a split second everything changes!
We place young hands on the bridges revived splendor.
Amazed, we look over its railing.
There below, the river reverses upon itself,
flowing backwards until it stops.
The glass like surface reflects back images of our younger selves.
I look back into your eyes with wonder, 
how is this possible?
Once again we are both twelve,
standing on this baby blue bridge.
You too look shocked,
What is going through your mind?

Age has loosed its shackles!
The years reeling back like hands on a sprung clock.
I think my eyes deceive me, but it is you.
A cowlick sticking straight up and you have that crooked smile.
Your blue eyes playfully daring me,
to follow you into a new adventure.
This adventure occupies the reaches of our imaginations!
Your hand rests beside mine,
it feels familiar and safe.
How I have missed you my friend,
missed your voice, your exuberance for life.

As twilight lingers
and the stillness of time settles about us,
I see us as we were.
Long ago we said our goodbyes on this very bridge.
We promised one day we would return to this very spot.
A pinky swear magical promise!
Then we waded into our unknown years.
The river of time split us in two directions.
Many escapades, broken hearts,
triumphs and horrors.
Somehow, we grasped at the memories of a forever friendship.
A phone call, a transformative whisper,
beckoning us to return,
to a bridge,
to a time,
to a feeling.

Twelve years old,
hands clasped and swinging.
We skip to the beat of our own accordians. .
Together we dare life to give its all.
We are ready once again,
for skinned knees,
adventure,
perhaps some heartache,
but mostly belly laughter and ear to ear grins!

Written in collaboration with Monterey Sirak.
It is a pleasure to work with such a talented poet.





Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Early Morning Chase

Sat Mar 05, 2011 1:19 am 

                           Early Morning Chase 

Forest so dense and dark

sky dancing with the river sound

dogs begin to  race and bark

along beautiful virgin ground

 

fleeing critters rushing away

some silently scurrying up

as if to boldly say

silly , silly barking pup

 

the sky loves us still

hunt on down the river

deep into the lurking hills

cold morning fog sends a shiver

Details | Growing Up Poem | |

To Sit And Watch The Snow Fall

I like to sit and watch the snowfall as I’ve done in my memory.
Falling upon the deck, falling where my toys used to be.
Where as a child I’d sit and watch the woods turn from brown to white.
I had so many dreams back then, as I do here tonight.

The smell of ginger bread cookies and cider filled the house.
Where there was good cheer for all including the visiting mouse.
The sweet taste of maple syrup from Teatown I recall.
As the snow fell on the ice where we used to slip, slide and fall.

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Details | Growing Up Poem | |

Dust and Fire

Standing naked …

above silent buildings ,silent with a smile …
riding soft and smooth rhythm(non usually played in his time)
behind him stands the well-famous small stormy desk ,
deep bottomless bed, pair of shoes, briefcase and a clock on top .

Deception, ignorance, duty and doom filling room,
In everything and in nowhere, in cement and bricks,
Making walls, streets, cars, wires; dressing in grey and bathed in dust
Fed by sweat and blood, from dawn till dusk …

Standing naked …

Filling oneself, dressing one's skin  …
Caressed with saline breeze of distant sea …
arrived at that timeless moment, did not ask in
drawing on dust shapes of you and me

Under the blue breeze I set a fire
none would stop the flame's desire
to break free, to born as  new
Humans aren't made of dust,rather,
of fire. Demons too