Growing Poems - Poems about Growing

Creating ...

Continue reading...

I never think my thoughts deep thoughts : though I'm no Peter Sellers, they are but common trite reactions. l do not live an examined philosophic life; nor have I focused fathomed understanding. But -- there is, everywhere, widened blank confusion -- crowds who do not listen, do not hear, cannot ken, even who do not choose NOT to grasp what is...

Continue reading...

You were not born of ivory halls, nor cradled in the velvet silence of empire. You were fireborn— from the coal-scented dusk of a railway station, where teacups bore the dreams of the underfed. We remember, because you were once one of us. Your hands held steam, not scepters— yet rose to cradle Gujarat like a child. And lo, from its weary bones you...

Continue reading...

pleading to the clouds stretching towards the bright sun thankful for the rain ...

Continue reading...

She didn't shatter the glass ceilings, she shattered the sky and stars fell in her lap. They barred her from science clubs but she built her own constellations. She arrived in Paris hungry for knowledge fed herself with formulas and ambition was satiated. They gave her frostbitten ceilings but she warmed them with equations. She wasn't stuck by a Cupid's arrow she steadied the bow and hit...

Continue reading...

When the sun bloomed And the bougainvillea blossomed And her cheeks unfurled Into a long smile At sunset, I had her in my arms; I knew her. When the whales sprayed silhouettes, And the fishermen made their bets; Porpoise stitched the sea Into a sunset dress For her to wear at the dance That night after we argued About strangers. (And please don’t talk to them And don’t drink...

Continue reading...

Snapshots of teenage melodrama: not having the sense to stay out of the rain, the latest hits broadcast over the cafeteria speakers, a night out, with boisterous boys and giggling girls in cars, first heartbreak. It seems like the end of the world - silly, isn't it? Visions of Hell: standing alone, under the driving rain, unable...

Continue reading...

The doors to yesterday are shut tight and locked. Only windows allow quick glimpses... you, face red and angry, eyes shut tight, refusing to accept reality away from your warm, slushy world of heart beats and distant voices. Alas, we are all thrust out into bright lights,...

Continue reading...

We are all broken people You see the cooler kids, You really don't fit in... Try not to let your frustration show You don't know what to do, When other people look at you... Don't worry there's still time to grow Chorus We are all broken people... trying our best to fit in... We are all broken people... The time will come when we will win, Yes...

Continue reading...

My early childhood was great, I was the first born. My mother had five children after me so I mostly remember spending lots of time with my doting grandmother who kept me busy learning to sew & knit before I could read & write. I had such enthusiasm and benefited from tons of attention. Creativity was a game to me...

Continue reading...

You are my bubble You have been keeping me afloat You are my lightbulb You have been lighting the path You are my biggest fear You have been beside me so long And I know I am your cinderblock So I'm afraid of when you'll see I'm just weighing you down I'm afraid of when the bubble...

Continue reading...

a growing indifference roses and thorns will not release me I try to get along, ‘doesn’t come easy it isn't the money or the phony power play y' just don't want me in the most familiar way I've seen your eyes with a new distance that won't be denied, a growing indiff'rence oh yes, oh my poor me, and mine no burning rubber, 'hardly...

Continue reading...

Sometimes as we age…as we hit the downside of our prime we have a tendency to forget things…occasionally to lose track of the time. And even though our memory becomes something we can’t always seem to manage there are those days…those moments…when we can use this to our advantage. The other day I woke up convinced that is was...

Continue reading...

When I was 17 I believed grief wore the face of death. I thought it would come with wailing, With wet cheeks and broken things. But when it came, It made no sound. No storm, No crash, No fire. It came like dust, Settling in my chest, In the hollow between my breaths, In the quiet ache beneath my skin. It took me to the...

Continue reading...

You’re only as old as you feel some say. How will it feel on your eightieth birthday? Everything’s quieter and harder to see. Not everyone, just seems like it to me. Portions are smaller as we sit and dine. When we do drink it’s but one glass of wine. No longer can we just turn on a dime. And it gets harder...

Continue reading...