Coming(A) Poems - Poems about Coming(A)

Growing up to fast and coming of age

Growing up to fast,
Coming of age. 

Both about maturity but different

One witnessed something they were not supposed to see, while the other saw when ready

One forced to be a man, the other gradually becoming a man 

One having a parent who would mentally abuse, while the other has two amazing parents

One having to work hard

Coming and Going

                              Creating               
         

Long time Coming

Sunbreaks pierce the clouds of gray,
Genuine happiness finds its way,
After shadows stretched like endless night,
Light spills in, and my heart takes flight.

For so long, joy was a distant hum,
Lost in sorrow's weight, in darkness numb,
But now a warmth begins to seep,
Through cracks in walls where pain did creep.

Smiles feel foreign, yet welcoming like they belong,
Like

Combing And Coming -

Noise and surf
blown over, 
I remember 

Shade of flowers,
they look very mismatched
in my corner here

These city streets
ebb and flow like the sea,
let me

A close shave
of thighs, 
my window's je t'aime

I must have walked out — 
my nose choked 
~with the rain~

Seconds pause.
please remember
the seconds of flowers.

The Second Coming,Delayed

The ass on high protein diet
Thinks he can really fight the beast 
The beast has lost his instincts and 
He is struggling to just live 
The genius is being mocked 
Mediocrity is being preserved 
Monk is yelling abuses 
The preacher is moaning in the jail
The poet prophecied of "second coming"
I can just cry for him

The Coming Bloom

A seed is planted, a stem breaks forth
Leaves appear and buds grow north.

In time a blossom begins to form
Until a beautiful flower is born.

We celebrate the magnanimous bloom
Forgetting the seasons from seed to tomb

Know times of trial, built the bouquet
The perianth and the vibrant display.

If your season is barren, missing God’s presence
He is pruning and

OLD STORIES COMING BACK

I remember when our children were children…and we were younger as well…
In a time they believed everything we said…oh the jokes and stories we would tell…

We could tell them the moon was made of cheese, fool them with card and magic tricks
and when we told stories around the campfire..they would sit and listen…transfixed.

One of my

A Storm Is Coming

dark clouds are forming
     a smell of rain in the air
calm before the storm

Hopping Trains

On Friday nights we’d sneak into
the railyard and wait
in the shadows 
between the floodlights for a train
slow enough for us to hop,
our hands already tingling
with the promise of flight.

We trotted beside the train,
waiting for the right moment
to grab a boxcar’s ladder
and climb to the roof like outlaws—
aware of the danger
and thrilled by it—
as the train

Renee Vivien English Translation of her 'Coming Out' poem

Renee Vivien English Translation

Words to My Love
by Renée Vivien
translation by Michael R. Burch

This is Vivien’s “coming out” poem, although the term wasn’t coined until many years after Vivien’s death. The poem was written about forbidden love to a girlfriend and lover. 

Please understand me: an unusual creature,
not so very good, or bad; perhaps a bit

Of Coming Storm

The Spirit’s rise of coming storm,
Spoken before first fertile drop.
How did I know? It seems the norm.
The Spirit’s rise of coming storm.
Thunder, lightning, and blust’ry form.
Husband says, he didn’t hear a drop.
The Spirit’s rise of coming storm,
Spoken before first fertile drop.

Changing Trains

I used to ride the train
from school to home and back,
every other weekend,
in an old Pullman car
built in the nineteen-thirties.
It smelled like my grandma’s house—
a little musty, like time 
had curled up and fallen asleep 
in the cushions.
Too warm, always,
but the clickety-clack over 
tie bars and rail frogs
lulled me to sleep,
rocking me gently
as if the

Oreo Coming Home

Picture of Little Oreo’s arrival

I can’t believe you bring so much love and mischief
You were carried in by a stork
Too much wait for your arrival
Now that you’re here 
Wasn’t told you do parkour
I can’t stop loving you
You’re so sweet little Oreo

Turtle Sees the Coming Storm

Turtle is ancient, he speaks now and always
for the indigenous who have lost their voices.

By day, Turtle's form embellishes,
he sits outside of a Chinese restaurant
by the side of an ornamental pond.

The traffic creates a dusty coat on his
stone shell, yet his eyes are wide open,
they capture past and future
as the present cascades along.

He remembers the

Coming to Pass

Let me be perfectly clear
The end of this world is very near
Father against son
Mother against daughter
When in time is all this slaughter
What great change could draw the line
Between a generation of so small a time
Who could cause so great a crime
The Day's of Noah finally defined

How will come about this great change
The why of which

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