Grew Poems - Poems about Grew

Somewhere

I saw you there
sitting alone in a corner
while our classmates played.
The look in your eyes—
longing to belong
but fearing to fall.
We were seven then,
in all the chaos,
still finding our places.
You noticed me or not,
I never knew,
but I saw you smile
when you saw the chocolate
I hid in your bag.
Then… one day, your seat was empty.
The next day,

Why The Grey Sky Grew

Why the grey sky grew
Could it be because of you?
Or because my heart's feeling blue
The sun only shines when I'm with you
When we're far apart
The world grows dark
It thunders and rains
Blowing wind that chills my veins
Occasionally striking the garden we grew
A garden of love built by me and you
The anger of fire will destroy the

Like The Ones My Father Grew

It was a summer of living next to my father. He turned every ordinary day into pure laughter with his Italian antics and beautiful smile.  When it came to gardening he had the magic touch.
He would plant morning glories and each morning he would water them with caring hands. 
I would get up early

Hurting

“what hurt the most?”, he asked.
Struggling to hold back the tears that were threatening to resurface I replied,
“I’m not sure but, maybe it’s the fact that you didn’t hurt as much as I did,
You were not the one churning through each of our memories late at night and wondering where it all went wrong,
you were

He Grew Old

When he was young. I thought he was old. It never occurred to me that I might be wrong. That old wouldn’t show up for years and years, decades even. He wasn’t tall like my grandfather. But he wasn’t short either. He had a habit of biting his cuticles that I inherited and would be

GREW WEARY

I look at the wall
I see nothing
I hear whispers
Yet there is silence
My Faith grows weak
Belief I don’t seek
Wondering if God even cares
Is it worth to pray?
Waiting and waiting with no change
If, when and how are not communicating
Tears pour
The heart turns sour
Beyond seems still
No movement to fulfill
Weary goes on and on
But for how long?
Stubbornness comes on
My

The House I grew up in

I watch everything goes up in flame and there was nothing I could do to shut out the pain the evening and the morning become one and the fire spread out all over the land and I watch the house that I grew up in burn.

The house I grew up in once stood firm on

every plant in her garden grew wild

every plant in her garden grew curiously irregularly wild
developing vines and blossoms unseen on other plants
some of her plants looked like hybrids, for no good reason
We asked about her green thumb and she laughed
I love my garden, she said, my plants know it
I give them leeway, and space to do what they want
They love it

I grew gray hair

Mom, I am stressed.
(On weekends I wake up at 12'o'clock)
Mom, I am stressed.
(Warm food is always awaiting)
Mom, I am stressed.
(You and dad haven't locked my phone)
Mom, I am stressed.
(The TV is always on)
Mom, I am stressed.
(You let me experience with my friends)
Mom, I am stressed.
(At christmas our whole family awaits behind the christmas tree)
Mom, I

Where I grew up

 Your heart remains in the same place where its memories belong to.-
quote by author


Small, close and warm neighborhood. Only a few children inventing toys to play with or games to play at.
Old stone houses on muddy roads, surrounded by bustling farms and a beautiful, wild nature.

Days of happiness that enriched my past and enlarged

In the tumult of rays and shadows, I was born and grew

In the tumult of rays and shadows, I was born and grew,
Upon the altar of existence, self-sacrifices I laid to burn, to sanctify the past,
"But how do you soothe this fragrance of pain?" with wide-open eyes they asked,
And the answer flowed, a river of healing beneath stars curiously scrutinized.
"Not all that hurts must be stirred,

I Grew a Hat

I grew a hat
it's a part of me
a little piece of inside
when I'm out, 
in a head tilt, 
a shutter peak, 
hiding like mountains
under snow, 
tree canopies
in desperate corners
of a ceramic world
I wonder if clouds sigh
when another
enters the blue; 
it's why I prefer nights
the daddy of all hats

Flowers Never Laughed Before Beanstalks Never Grew

....BLACK HELICOPTERS NEVER FLEW. 
                   (except in 
          crazy theories)


                  

It Grew On Me

I was a fashionable horticulturist, for elegant flowers keep eternally in style,
Like the saffron sun, coming and going, always causing dark skies to smile.

Plants were a jade preoccupation, long before glad days of my rosy career,
Filled with such mystery and magic, bringing rare surprises year after year.

My fascinated friends adored my garden, at the corner

If Ideas Grew Wild

If ideas grew wild like weeds
    We'd curse each one that impedes

  So, I vow to refrain as if 'tis decreed
    No more wild ideas shall I seed

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