Growing Up Poems | Examples of Growing Up Poetry

Each passing day puts on display a puzzle piece of jigsaw soul. Providing parts to add to hearts, from halfway done to fully whole. The bygone years are souvenirs, the trinkets of a time gone by; though caked with rust, dried blood, and dust, they stain, then fade, but never die. The decades roll and ring...

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To the strongest Woman I’ve ever known, The brightest light in every Room, Church, Hall and building That she Ever entered. To the strongest Woman I’ve ever known, You never knew How you lit up A room, people’s lives And their souls. To the strongest Woman I’ve ever known, You were strong till Your final days, Inspiring everyone whose Paths crossed with your own. To the strongest Woman I’ve ever known, I’m...

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I am poor but still want more. I get a job but still want more. I go to parties but still want more. I buy everything but still want more. I try a hobby but still want more. I raise a family and don’t need more anymore....

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When I was four, I hadn't thought life a bore, As I was free to play, until one very day, I learned someday we all go out that door, One by one, "It was fun," I know I'll say. When I was 6, I was reminded of this crucifix: As I was trying to sleep, I began to seize, It was...

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If life was a book, Then I would have never picked it up. I would have never kept reading. I would’ve burnt the book the second I had the chance. It’s like a book you know gets bad, but you can’t help but read on. It’s a book, it’s meant to be read. It’s life, it has to be lived. If life...

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Where the grass is turning brown in patches, I buried my memories. I protect my heart from negativity because I deeply yearn for a kind of happiness, I’ve never truly experienced. I long to fall in love again, so I’ve chosen to bury my painful memories deep beneath the bare umbrella trees, making space for new...

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The magician wore my mother’s perfume and conjured family from thin air— a brother renamed uncle, a wife recast as mother, a daughter vanishing behind a tale of bees. Each sleight of hand was tender— a hush, a smile, a bowl of soup cooling on the Formica while the truth was sawed in half and tucked beneath the linoleum. No one told me why my “uncle”...

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I’m on your lap in a photo I no longer have— a toddler with a borrowed brush, my hand caught mid-daub on your canvas. It was staged, of course— your painting for a calendar on the easel in front of us like the month you gave me a tool of your craft and I mistook it for permission— but my brush didn’t paint like yours. Sometimes I wonder if you...

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Father – thy name is Strength And Courage And Wisdom Forever art thou the castle And the Fortress Of my Faith Thy name shall be eternal Within the Mansions Of my many Dreams They are your Dreams And my life Is your life Even unto infinity As the seed gently planted in the soil Lives and Dies And lives yet more… So, too, do the Hopes and Aspirations Of Fathers live in Their...

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You may know — she screamed a lot, But you may not know that he was still holding her along. They say, and they repeat, Calling him the villain in stories incomplete. Yes, he may seem inhuman and vile, But not every man walks the same trial. Remember — he is a...

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Hi, Mom. I hope you’re somewhere beautiful— the way Dad always says you are. I’m older now. Not a baby anymore. I wish I could remember your voice, but I hear it in his. He still talks about you— every night, when he thinks I’m asleep. He steps outside, looks up at the sky, and whispers. Sometimes I hear him cry, soft like the wind. Sometimes I smile, 'cause I know you're...

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Every morning I paint a pair of eyes to see the world for me— Mines scream at the sky fracturing into neon glass. The dazzling eyes I painted— I use them to fit in the crowd dancing in chemical haze —reasons left out at the gate. I use them to study the rites of smoke —to ghost myself in every exhale. I use them to ignore the...

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I can’t remember who I was, before voices other than mine stepped in. I think I wanted to be a movie director, a script I read in kindergarten— a line or two still hums when I dream. I think I wanted to be a fashion designer, my first sketches— heels like daggers, dresses stitched with thunder. I think I wanted to be a writer,...

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It stands where the map dissolves, at the edge where certainty falters— a hollow bell against the wind, a watchman staring through the salt-thick dark. The mariner knows its miasmic vow: a pulse amid the blank expanse, a promise bound in lantern flame that fractures the silence of the tide. History sleeps in its iron bones, the breath of lost voyages pressed into its...

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I’ve never wanted to grow up. I’ve always been the girl who sighed At birthday candles instead of making wishes. The girl who whispered, “Wow… another year,” Like time was something cruel, Not a gift. The girl who stared out car windows And thought, “I wish time would slow down.” “I want to be 12 again.” I missed being small. I missed the color of childhood— Not just...

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