Full Grown Poems | Examples

echoes on a lake

flowing on a lake
of full-grown orchids and smoke...
through my lover's eyes
each bloom becomes a wasteland
in water-colored amber.
~
dusk of summer glides
tracing our mild water's bend...
sighs echo   farewell

2nd place

Peace of Mind

In the mere blink of a nightmare, I found myself rechained 
and trapped where my peace of mind had once before 
collapsed.

The die has been cast, an old challenge from the past, one 
I thought long ago smashed, has incited another battle and
painfully thrashed my peace of mind like collateral damage 
to aloofly leave behind.

It’s twenty-seven years later, and I’m altogether strength-wise 
lesser for this matter.  I’ve got mighty prayers but the sum-total 
of tassels for the best in life have battered and frayed my energy.  
It is retired and at rest, not lying in wait for another day or test.  
Now, I’ve no choice but to fake it, declare it is just hiding and 
there’s no abiding such when it's time for fighting.  

I know I screamed denial, felt a heavy weight disintegrate all 
to black. I remember holding him, sharing a crying jag while 
watching my peace of mind pack. 

My very heart, my special needs son, now full grown and still 
at home, woke me in the night in a state of fright, “Mama, I 
think I just had a seizure.”  The next day came four more and 
my peace of mind took its suitcase out the door.

yard will soon be camouflage for big cats

our yard is creeping with dandelions
clover and wild thistle growing too
soon it will be camouflage for full grown lions
black pumas, spotted leopards and king of the lions too

Mystery in Nature

Why does the sky keep falling —
but never fall?
Each dusk a slow descent,
yet it never shatters.

How do planets remember
the path their fathers walked?
No traffic signs, whatsoever!
yet still, none collides with the other.

Why do clouds — swollen and quiet —
give birth to rain,
already full-grown,
ready to kiss the earth?

Who whispers to the raindrops
which road to take?
Which village to visit,
which river to fill?

How do babies breathe underwater,
in secret wombs,
wrapped in fluid,
unafraid, untouched by drowning?

Who painted the sky blue —
and not red, or pink,
or gold like morning fires?
Why does it never peel?

Where do plants sew their green?
And who assigned them
a uniform so consistent,
a badge of life?

Who taught the birds
to weave with twigs and time,
to shape cradles from wind,
to fold shelter from nothing?

And the sun —
who tells it when to burn,
and when to blink?

So many questions,
so few answers.
But still,
the earth turns.
The sky holds.
And I —

I stand in awe. 

by Davie Kaliu

A Girl's Black Hair

when I
young I

was well
and tell

my friends
split ends 

my hair
not fair

but clean
not mean

I wash
and brush

my locks
like ducks

to say
like fay

I sing
and swing 

and fly
not cry

to dry
not fry

under
hot air

my own
full grown

long hair
black hair

love you
just you

sweet you 
black you!

The Silent Edge

In silence lies a hidden blade,
A subtle force, in shadows laid.
While others shout, their voices loud,
The quiet stands unbowed.

Rejection’s sting, a bitter art,
Yet fuels the fire within the heart.
Each “no” a step on paths unknown,
A test of will, a strength full-grown.

Watchful eyes with steady gaze,
Unspoken truths through crowded haze.
While noise consumes the restless sea,
The silent see what others flee.

Not always near, not everywhere,
Selective steps make moments rare.
Like treasures found in hidden folds,
Their presence gleams in whispered holds.

With quiet strength they claim the floor,
No need to shout, no need for more.
Their confidence, a steady stream,
A force unseen, a lasting dream.

And pain, though sharp, becomes their guide,
Through shadowed nights and tears uncried.
Each scar a mark, each wound a key,
To rise beyond, to simply be.

Unpredictable as rain’s soft flow,
A shifting tide that none can know.
Each move a question, each word a spark,
A glowing flame within the dark.

The world may favor voices loud,
But silence holds a strength unbowed.
A power hidden, yet reclaimed,
A force unnamed, but deeply claimed.

A whole pizza but a slice

Maternal never came natural to you
But laugh we did, crazy things you would do,
You caused so much angst, guilt and tension,
But my mother you were, with your fair complexion, 
Years went by and we muddled along more
My tears mostly dry, almost closed the door
Beautiful you were I see this all now, 
Wish you could see me, and express your pride how
I'm happy and safe, Ed is my rock. 
Wish you could meet my friends, my eddy, my flock
Think of you often, today is your day
So I'll bid you goodnight, one thing left to say
Your beauty is famed, your legend is known
I'll see you one day, when I am full grown

Libation for Chase Poole

Hear the 15-year-old crying 
 “Momma,” "Momma" as he lays dying 
Shot in D.C. Juneteenth crowd.
A voice of suffering rings out loud
to a country’s conscious ears,
that are deaf to blood and tears,
from bullets sounding through the air,
as joy and justice were on minds there.

Veins yet tender, young and bold
Rose with warmth and sleep in cold?

Where was his mind as he lay dying?
For his mother, he was crying
Not on his father did he call.
Had he known this man at all?

Sleep in peace, Oh "native son,"
shot on the streets of Washington.
Libations to your memory,
a soul the struggle has set free.
Slain by a wanton hand unknown,
before you were a man full grown.

Full-Grown Delinquent

Woke up yesterday morning with a dreadful thought -
fall property tax was due last November and this is
the end of January. I am a full-grown delinquent.

I am also recently widowed; my Mister always did taxes.
But God had brought it to my attention (who else,
could I hold responsible?) so I faced the music.

Went to the bank where they quickly advised
me - they don't accept early payment until April/May.
THEN at my confession, they don't take past-due taxes either.

The clerk's office downtown says the tax office has moved
to the county, only seven miles out at the new River Ridge.
BUT they've not been there and aren't really sure where.

With God as my pilot and maps on my cell phone,
I discover the yet under-developed GatewayCampus,
taking delight in God's mysteries of memory and momentum.

Anaphylactic

DJ spin me hard,
hit me with peppermint spit;
Sick turntable bark;
Break off a word and dip it,
coat it in cocoa sweetness;

How fast can you go? 
Do you have mic control? 
Come on let’s hear it;
I don’t want delicate licks,
I want a total knockout;

A full grown viper
firing such venomous bars;
Anaphylactic;
Aromatic, rhythmic; 
Indulge me a biting rhyme.

In the Cycle of Existence

In her arms
an infant wails 
as my daughter walks the hall
soothing her new babe, and the miracle unfolds. . .
Her wee one's pangs will vanish.
Soon enough, brown hair, like the child's older sister's,
will lighten up and lengthen, 
and sleepy eyes will brighten!

All that is strange
to the newborn's searching eyes
will then become familiar, as seeing, then testing, 
the small girl goes from crawling, 
then to toddling.
All too soon, full grown, she'll walk the hall herself,
a young new mother comforting an infant
in her arms.

MY FAVOURITE TEACHER

MY FAVOURITE TEACHER

My favourite teacher is life itself
Experiences help me understand
What worked, and what did not
Which only afterwards did I spot
Learning that will extend a hand
That can grow, almost by stealth

Such a teacher is always faceless
The years accumulate as degrees
Respect for knowledge obtained
Nothing learned, nothing gained
Wasted time shooting the breeze
Ignorance ends up being tasteless

Can I say life is still my favourite
As a teacher with no personality
One on one tuition is full grown
It has a curriculum all of its own
Yet each year has its seasonality
With harvest done, just savour it

power animal reassures me

I spent my first day of retirement chopping down small trees.
Renegade brambles full of ivy and poison vines, Kansas kinds.
Tripped on several of them, landing hard, without using my hands.
I heard my mother’s voice yell “Don’t break a hip, that is the end!”
Dripping sweat and exhausted, I came into the house to shower
My husband returned from his supper-hunt in ten minutes.
He is a tattle tale.
"There was a full grown doe in the driveway eating the leaves you chopped."

I am not surprised.
Deer is my power animal.
She symbolizes gentleness, grace and beauty.
She is also a symbol of freedom.
I feel I have escaped my captors.
Deer teaches us to be compassionate and kind.
I had found almost none of either at my last workplace.
Full of meanness, backbiting, jealousy and hatred.

Great-Grandma's Table

They sit around the table
     and a few will shed a tear
Thinking about the kinfolk
     who are no longer here.
The photos on the mantle
     are fading quickly with time,
Just like all the memories
     which become so hard to find.

The youth have become restless
     as they are close to full grown;
Soon they'll be out in the world
     finding places of their own.
For that the elders worry,
     at the table now and then,
Because no one wants to say
     if they will come back again.

There are nicks and cuts and dents
     in the table top that's worn;
Its hosted funeral dinners,
     held the food for babies born.
A leg or two can wobble,
     its old feet can shrink or swell,
But if this table could talk
     so much hist'ry would it tell.

And now it's there on its own
     as the house's shell is gone;
The paint is cracked and faded,
     its legs won't hold it for long.
Sadly, though, the end is near
     for the hour's growing late;
There's no one left to return
     to retrieve if from its fate.

WHEN I WAS WHERE

I remember me when I was until
I become what I am I was just a child
And I began to walk. Then as I walked
I also I tested my talk. Voraciously 
Yeah I spoke I began walking on
Further I stalked adulthood and 
Knowledge as well and fell a few 
Times within my lines of rhymes
As I walked and turned the corner
Before I knew it I was a full blown 
Full grown adult! But oh now wait
This was Not my fault! Where'd my
Coloring books and crayons sweep
Off to what was this CRUEL CUE?! I need
The glue! FOR SURE MY LIFE WAS
FALLING APART?  maybe Coming
Somehow together whoa! WHATEVER!
Alright I have the mic. I need maps
Charts  statics I AM SERIOUSLY 
AFFLICTED! HEEEY! WHO DID THIS!
Have to grow though I can't  so...
I have to strain. In pain nooo I know
But I know things I know every avenue
Of my strife...I know... thing? 
MY LIFE  CHANGED.

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