Get Your Premium Membership

Best Growing Up Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Growing Up poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of growing up poems written by PoetrySoup members

Search for Growing Up poems, articles about Growing Up poems, poetry blogs, or anything else Growing Up poem related using the PoetrySoup search engine at the top of the page.

See Also:

Poems are below...



New Growing Up Poems

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

Growing up by Schmitz , Edward
GROWING UP BLACK by curtis futch jr, kurtis scott aka
Growing Up in the Ghetto by Baums, Roosevelt
Growing Up by Allison, Robert
Growing up in govan as a wain by Quigley, Rosina
growing up is voluntary by Ray, Kacie
Growing Up Is Optional by Ellison, Jack
growing up untitled 16 by sansam, ej
Growing up in the 70's by Dollie , Shereen
Growing up in the 70's by Dollie , Shereen

View all new Growing Up Poems

The Best Growing Up Poems

Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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? "


Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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

      ~5/31/11~

repost- My first poem on the soup


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

To Take Each Day As It Comes

To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.

To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.

To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.



*A resolution during a time of disappointment.

Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

GRANDPA

*GRANDMA WAITS IN THE GARDEN*

Hi, grandpa, it's me again!
Your dentures sit in an open glass above the nightstand
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 waits for you.

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

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

Hello, Grandpa!
I'm caressing grandma’s picture frame
Remember the way she looked in the yellow pretty sundress?
Grandpa, I miss the things grandmother did for you
Like the walking cane, she handcrafted before she left

Hello, grandpa, it's me again! 
Here I sit holding your hand
I have no more tears
Soon you will see her again
She will no longer be alone
Say hi to her, give her a kiss
Tell her I miss her so much
Bye, grandpa

~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

With Divining Heart I Could Have Foreseen

With Divining Heart I Could Have Foreseen

With true divining heart I could have seen
little ripples of thy deep discontent.
My heart a meadow, once lush and bright green
now aching from lost days so sadly spent.

If thy heart sought the truth instead of lies
thee would have held, fast and firm loving vows.
These tears would not splash down from dark skies
as I seek anew, fertile fields to plow.

Blame I, ignorance of deception's wiles
trusting in our dear love and happy bliss.
Pray I, for miracle that reconciles
this distance, preventing thy soft-lips kiss.

With divining heart I could have foreseen
how thy lost heart would fail us, sweet Colleen.

R.J. Lindley
4-23 -1977

Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Words: 108

Note: My ignorance of a friend and his lies once cost me ever so dearly.
Lesson learned in youth, sad but one I suspect a great many others may have learned as well.


Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

A Beautiful Day

Bright eyes,
blue skies,
it's a beautiful day!

"Let's go, Mama!" her cheer,
down the tall slide, no fear.
Twisting, bumping, "this is fun"
one more bend then it's done.
from the bottom goofy laughter.
One more go, another after.

"Come on, Mama!" she tugs
off to the swings after hugs.
back and forth, smiles soar
keep on going, swing some more!
Chain rattles with gaining speed,
she kicks her legs with excited need.
"Look at me Mama, I'm going high!
Look Mama, look Mama, I caught the sky!"

"There Mama, let's play in the sand"
off the swing in a quick demand.
Castle made with stick flags on top,
another bucket and we don't stop.
Laying back she buries her toes
and wiggles when sand gets in her nose.
Shake it off she says "I'm hungry"
it's time for a picnic, her and me.

Days like this, so fun and sweet.
Mama and daughter, summer heat.
True smiles of discovery
always to be cherished... my girl and me.
 

Blue skies,
Bright eyes,
it's a beautiful day!



Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2018


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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


Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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


Copyright © Edwin Hofert | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Speck

People walk in and out, 
Through me, it seems,
My presence barely sensed.
I coil around the pain,
And recoiling I make my way out, 
Heaving relief into the dark.
Around me, night crawls about like a baby, 
The moon, with arms outstretched, 
Cradles me gently, lovingly.
And feeling a large crack in the universe
I am swallowed whole
And taken home.




Copyright © Charles Hamouth | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

WHITE CHRISTMAS

My thoughts drift back to my childhood days Of so many years ago All the family gathered by a roaring fire Whilst outside glistens with sparkling snow We had such fun making snow angels and snowmen Our little frozen fingers and rosy faces were aglow Memories of Christmas now firmly in the past I look back on happy days of so long ago Our Christmas tree was draped with tiny twinkling lights, Bright baubles, tinsel and candy canes just for our delight Oh how the years have flown by so fast Sadly, like the snowflakes our childhood days don’t last I scan the list of Christmas cards that I’ve got to write Each year it grows shorter, with loved ones we now miss I dream of turning back the clock and returning to the past My memories of Christmas are ones I hope will always last Sponsor: Kelly Deschler Contest: Christmas Carols Song Chosen - White Christmas 12~03~15


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Collateral damage

Mara- Collateral damage

Hi, my name is Mara, I'm six years old, I have brown hair and brown eyes. People say I'm pretty like my mom, but, I don't know how that matters now.

My mom said she named me Mara because it means bitterness, my being born has only caused my family bitterness, as we are 4 children, in a war torn land. I am a girl and no one wants a girl, unless they are useful in some way.  

My father escaped the war, and fled to America, he says to find us a better life. I don't understand how leaving us here would give us a better life!  It's so dangerous here for woman, and even girls like me. 

The only men we see are soldiers, or freedom fighters. My three brothers Ahmed 13, Sammir 12, Nicolo 11, went to get food at the market last week, they were looking for huma...humana....humani..tar i an relief. They were all killed when a bomb went off.  I miss them a lot! No relief for me, I haven't eaten for a week.

I would love to go to school but all the schools are closed, most of the buildings are blown up, so I don't think I will go to school anyway.  

My Mom left yesterday to play with the soldiers, she told me if you play with the soldiers they will give you food. I'm so hungry!! 

Rat atat atat ata atatt       knock knock knock open up, open up this door!!!  Mom?      I'm so glad your back! (opens door) 

hey your not my mom! 
Rat atat atat. 

(Voice from behind) hey there's nobody here!! Let's go, lets go!

My name is Mara, I was 6 years old, now I'm dead. I guess I'm what they call collateral damage!

John Derek Hamilton
July 11,2017
First place premium contest winner
but who cares about a win really in this case.




Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2017


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Goodbye Darling Peter Pan


Dearest Child-Adventuring Man, My Darling Peter Pan:

Since that never to be forgotten day when Wendy first brought you my way, my heart has been enchanted thru and true with love for you.  You are as magical as your happy-thought dust that brought me flight thru star-glimmer skies, shimmering great joy from my soul-core straight to my eyes.  With you, I have felt amazing fantasy as enthralling reality because of the wonder that is you and your purview.

I love Neverland, Tinker Bell, the boys and the countless joys that made 
up the minutes of each day we shared. Though nothing in my future will 
ever compare, I can no longer deny that I am compelled to step into adulthood, that such is what I should do, what I am meant to do, and must do without you. In your world, I will always be your girl, but in the traditional world, I must let my woman unfurl. What is calling me onward and forward is all that you would never walk toward and risk dying adult-bored.
 
By the time you find this tear-smeared note, I shall be gone for I am not strong enough in my convictions to look into your eyes of Neverland insistence.  Peter, as long as I have breathe, you will own a room in my heart depths that no other could assume, and though said room will hold initial sad-gloom, it will, in time, be a room of constant memory-joy in bloom.  

Turn any woe into a splendid crow of much ado, repeat until woe has winded you, then smile to know - 
                      I shall always gratefully and lovingly remember you …. 




... CayCay Jennings
March 28, 2018




Copyright © CayCay Jennings | Year Posted 2018


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

THESE ARE THE DAYS OF MY LIFE

I recall fond memories of happy childhood days When life was so much simpler in oh so many ways As children we played outdoors and had so much fun No tempting computer games, just pure fresh air and sun! We’d make a wish as we blew on fluffy dandelion clocks and build enormous sandcastles in my yellow sandbox I can’t believe how fast each day is whizzing by As a child they went slowly, as I age how they fly! I’m now approaching the autumn years of life blessed to be a mother and a beloved wife My son is just amazing - he’s simply the best But my house feels empty since he flew the nest Some days aren’t easy, they can be very challenging But on reflection, I wouldn’t change a single thing I know my days are limited, who knows when life will end I’ll make the most of every one, on that you can depend Days Contest Sponsored By Daniel Turner Poem Inspired by ‘These are the days of our life’ By Queen 6/4/18


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2018


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

read this please

They hate you because your you
They make up lies and call it true
They're fake behind your back
Hoping someday that you'll crack.

They hate you because your real.
no matter what they say you always heal
They're surprised to see you rise,
That you're not affected by all these lies


They hate you because you smile at them
It shows them that your a real gem
You are always true and do your best :)
Sometimes these haters just cant test

They hate you for no reason
Despite it all, you smile
whatever the reason
At the end of the day
All i'm gonna say
All i plan to be 
IS ME


-Sanderline Fleury :)


Copyright © Sanderline Fleury | Year Posted 2013


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

To Be A Kid Once Again

This time I didn't need to remember what it was like to be a kid This time I didn't need to memorize when all the fun have been . This moment wasn't that moment of madness and responsibilities , this was a brief moment to live , I lived in my dream . How I danced , there I danced with the flutter of a butterfly ,over and over again. There I was , immersed in the body of a little brown eyed girl. Dressed up neatly in a white collar shirt ,and a navy blue pinafore dress. How I ran , I ran breathlessly in evergreen fields full of buds that barely blossomed through the eyes of women , and men . How I jumped , like a frog earning its freedom , doing my utmost to catch the sky, to reach the soaring hand-made kite ,that kept moving far and high. My left -hand never letting go of that special red balloon , it was mama's reward , that afternoon. Each following morning, so hard to get out of bed ,but that only lasted till I saw Uncle Frans'hat. How happy I was to sit on his lap ,, and listen to stories He read. How happy I was , to lick early raindrops that ran fresh down my cheeks, How different , from the once I feel when I'm out of my sleep. What moments to preserve....There , on the back seat of papa's new second-hand car , Our chitty chitty bang bang , travelled so far. There , me and my brother , our face against the wind, Open mouths , Indian sounds , humming along , waiting for tree-birds to sing. What a moment , of hide and seek, and musical chairs ,Of midnight mass and Christmas prayers . I lived them all .... Splashes of waves , and buckets on sands , Autumn's foliage , picnics , with cousins and friends. There I was , immersed in the body of a little girl with long noichettes french -braids swaying in the breeze , Playing hopscotch, out in vacant cobbled streets. This time I didn't need to remember what it was like to be a kid This time I was there, in the dream , I have lived . This time I tasted sweet honey before I 've been kissed Before years cursed the pink of my innocent lips .


Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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.....


Copyright © Richard Palmer | Year Posted 2012


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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!


Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2014


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

ONE STEP AT A TIME

adventure, growing up, hip hop, repetition, word play

A ONE STEP AT A TIME ©
Life is but a hopscotch path
Players vying for placement
Rules to follow aground
Tokens used for good luck
Practice runs lead to safe landings
Over ever-changing terrains
Hop skip and jump!

Land on a crack
You break your Mudder’s back
Marbles fill a bag of loot
Once directed into home holes
Missed turns are your takings
Marbled cat eyes forever coveted!
Crayons come in packs
Pick a colour to your taste
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Black is for rain clouds
Gone is a sun yellow

A is for Apple-
B is for Bunny-
C is for caterwauling
Letters up for a draw
Lettered tongues speak
The bad, good and the ugly
Making mountains out of mole hills!
Name-calling never hurts 
Pain hurts from thrown stones
Calling one to take a chance
Towards another hopscotch
With hop skips and jumps
One step, two steps, three steps more!



Copyright © Diane M Quinlan | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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


Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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.






Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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 ****”
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)





Copyright © John lawless | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Both Sides for Me

The look of pity on the saleswoman's face said it all
my paint spattered clothing, however the jeans fit
just didn't have that panache, chic pizazz, tongue hanging
inspiration for desire a young woman out to have.

The car dealer took one look at me, led me to the far
corner of the lot, showed me the used hot rods
the beater four doors, the budget cutters like I'd rode
but I wanted glossy black, silver hood ornament, brand new.

Paint is supposed to sit on top of your nails, but underneath
is advantageous when compared to oil, to muck, to dirty guts
so I was a step on the ladder of the working man, 
I could even afford to buy hose, which I still don't wear.

There's something to be said for the over glasses, safety 
glasses look, white paper coat, something comical 
one supposes, but the purple overalls worn for skiing
which suddenly I could afford, made me my nephews joke.

At times I waited for a date who preferred the bar
called and said maybe later, because passion rumbled
between us when we kissed but I didn't want a flit,
disease, broken promise, I wanted to be embraced

Cozy now, body motion are promises and content
passion is beyond me, the bar on the patio in back
the hand I always hold a missing app that answers
more lonely than any mistaken wish that he'd be the one.

Stars, too, I climbed to them in my dream, climbed
the Space Needle and found my self with no safety net
I always avoided those climbs the dreams more nightmare
even though I do what I am told, to reach, to soar.

Sometimes now I wear black on gold dresses which fit
to the nth inch, so I can barely sit, hold champagne
to watch golden bubbles float against the elegant
white linen against starry night event, that's rich, success.

Dump it gladly for a romp on the beach, the missing
something like threads through a woven maze,
like an angel's hope. When I dump it all and seek
there's grace lying on the shores between the rocks

a pooled place where deer come to lick minerals,
boulders come unglued and sail down river
and think, maybe I could do that. Maybe I could
unglue all the expectations and rearrange the world.


Copyright © Sheri Fresonke Harper | Year Posted 2014


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Childhood Dreams

Naiveté wraps the child
until the chills slowly
begin to snuggle in,
smothering the illusions leaving
the residuals of sickness
and disappointment
that is man.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Contest: Fallen
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Entrant: Rob Carmack
Written: 11.29.15
Word Count: 25

My person was the entire human race.  As a child, I viewed adults as ethically advanced and emotionally stable.  Thought of world as an Utopia – the best trip I ever had.  From this disappointment, I was given the contrast to appreciate forgiveness and those I found that are advanced.  


Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015


Details | Growing Up Poem | Create an image from this 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.


Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2012