The death of the Ego brings a quietening
When you outgrow the emotional dance
When the drama is no longer enticing
When you pass by old flames with no glance
Do you miss how your heart would start racing?
Even though you believed your world crushed?
Is it only that your time has passed by fleeting?
Or that your inner thoughts have all been hushed?
The death of the Ego is no solemn occasion,
It is vital for the journey of the soul.
If you're stuck dancing; stop, be still, listen,
Your true self is soon to be whole.
The Final Bloom
No fevered fight, no anguished cry,
I simply lift my boughs to sky.
I let the cold come, sharp and deep,
A solemn vow the roots will keep.
I do not cling to fading pink,
I only bloom upon the brink,
And give the glory all away,
To crown the beauty of the day.
My strength is quiet, my roots unseen,
My giving comes when I am green.
I cast my leaves with grace and trust,
Returning color to the dust.
So learn this truth, you anxious heart,
You are a brave and vital part.
Do not resist the change you face;
Find peace within your proper place.
Be still, be whole, be brave to fade,
The promise of the root is made.
Just stand and feel the season turn,
And simply be the life you yearn.
The Ever-Changing Crown
A root that grips the turning world,
A silent anchor, tightly curled,
Supports a truth both somber and clear:
The life and death of every year.
A realm of silvered Winter,
Where boughs are stark, a frozen splinter,
The grey sky hangs, a promise kept,
That life beneath has merely slept.
Then, bursting forth, a blush of Spring,
The cherry bough begins to sing,
With clouds of petals, soft and pink,
A hopeful dream upon the brink.
Next, a heart of sun-drenched Summer,
A canopy of vivid comer.
The leaves are lush, a fortress green,
The shade a cool, majestic screen.
And where the vibrant curtain falls,
The bronze and scarlet Autumn calls,
With gold and russet, fire-kissed hues,
A final glory the tree renews.
Though separate seasons frame the sight,
One single spirit burns so bright.
It wears all gowns, from snow to flame,
And knows the seasons by their name.
A living clock, a steady sign,
Of passing time, and art divine.
From rags to fishes
Fishing for lessons of life
(hint/hit) me with the stick
I'm grown, widely woke
I leveled up
Improved my mental balance
The things that breaks me
Now strengthen me
Where they see chaos
I see opportunities
My mind is my weapon.
I'm grown, strong and bold
My future I must take hold of
No reason will let me fold
Dedicated to my goals
Always feeling at home
Even when
I am away from home
Just to get the goals
I dig deep just like coals.
I'm grown, purpose driven
I don't fit in
Steadily doing things
Beyond the society's imagination
I do things with intentions
Not for attention
Moving in the right direction
Because I'm addicted to succeeding.
Time does not change --
distance and consciousness
does. Things can work for
entirely different reasons than
thought. Man has many grafted
bibles. To some, Science is a
truer messiah. Love, then, par for course,
to the same mindset, is a mere figment.
Man conjuring up what he believes he
needs – thinking what he imagines
he cannot exist without.
My well-searched opinion,
Love is not Love until it is clarified, rendered
a unifying reality. Released from the palm of
Ego Driven Grip. Freedom, a double-edged sword.
Possessing both lengths of good and evil.
Dark, stark is the path,
I control my wrath,
Trod forth,
Staying on course,
Wanting—needing—to reach the end
Just around the bend,
I pray, I hope,
I grope,
For I’ve travelled far and wide
Without a star to guide,
Without a light
In the night,
I sigh,
Cry,
Wipe tears,
Wish away fears,
And then, ahead
I see red
And greens, yellows, blues,
Various hues...
The sun is shining,
I’ve quit whining
For I’ve reached the end:
That place around the bend,
I shade my eyes
From the glow in the skies,
Peek at the land,
Stand
Strong and tall,
For I did not fall.
My instincts coincide
with what I believe my attributes to be
People,
no more directly
you indirectly
Influence
what I mean to me
How I tend to move
What I tend to see
Not all the time
does our light shine together
But our average of sunny
Shines through
And weeds out
What I know
stagnation to be
Premeditation at the beginning
We always dreamt
What our lives could be
What together our lives could mean
Marching by our own sound
But when in silence
Meditation is key
Marching band on our side
I know the director
The director….
that’s me
A seed swirls
in a hurricane’s midst ...
The seed settles
in the ground
hangs around ...
The hurricane leaves town
You stand before a wall.
It waits, blank as withheld breath.
What hovers over you?
Drafts unpinned,
stories unspoken,
videos sealed,
pages chasing horizons
that never arrive.
Perfection whispers—
a mask for delay.
What if you placed
one imperfect mark?
What if you let motion
carve its shape?
The wall gathers:
crooked sketches,
half-born concepts,
awkward stretches,
jokes collapsing mid-laugh.
Chaotic. Messy.
Unfit for display.
Yet weeks later—
fragments draw together,
a shape begins to inhale.
Not triumph,
but a quiet forming,
a world exhaling
what ‘til now was withheld.
.
Thousands
of blue-green needles
swaying in the winds cool taunt
Deep hues softly wave to passers bye
Spiny shells of rejuvenation release each seed
Freed from its ties, Mother earth's smile accepts the birth
While the sun blessed the seedling pine then quickly sends
the rain to baptize prosperity, contentment through seasons
and strength from
Father Time
Running towards
self driven passion,
I rock the boat filled
with past anchors,
and I tied them down
with beckoning ropes,
inviting dear life
to resist the restraints
placed by overbearing
mothers and fathers.
Contusions earned
by pondering along
rapid waves but
the breeze is mutual
as I welcome all
that comes my way.
No longer caught
in the nets of
imprisonment,
I set sail letting go,
without holding back,
as life is a tidal wave
carrying you across
back and forth
to destinations
unknown,
forthcoming
endlessly.
I keep a notebook open
to the quiet hours of the day—
a place where dust motes drift
like unhurried thoughts,
where the clatter of the city
softens into something almost kind.
Here, even the smallest things
learn to speak:
a chipped mug,
a cold window,
the faint hum of a neighbour’s radio.
I write them down
to see what I’ve been missing—
to remind myself
that the world is still whispering,
even when I forget to listen.
In all that you do,
be it lie or truth,
do not mind to boo,
what despise your youth!
Do mind your liver,
as well as kidney,
if each does shiver,
while in cool Sydney.
Do not dump dirt there,
either to heat it,
or to shield, beware...
of stains so unfit!
Both are the cleanup,
that sieve not smoke,
but watery syrup,
that does rarely choke.
Meanwhile, enjoy folds
of gleaming desires,
which rough pleasure moulds...
by time, lust acquires.
What gladdened heart wants,
burning mindful wish,
to swim through their fonts...
and baptize your fish.
Long waited to tell,
how it feels been hot,
yet at ease in hell...
how good shooting shot!
Huh! hush! hah! hash! hmmm!
space silent prattles,
of skillful styles known.
what broad bed battles!
Also be aware,
that fun is peace theft,
claiming to be fair,
cum gains so bereft-
Of weird caregiving,
to heal broken heart,
yet unforgiving-
gains aimed as an art.
African treatments,
well cultured package,
of basic ailments,
with tested garbage.
High your sanity,
and low your ego.
all been vanity-
death's best amigo!
I once asked a stream:
Won’t you love river to be?
No, never my dream.
Growth is not to greet
If it turns me salty sea,
I love to stay sweet.
And it moved forward
Flowing with fast gait in glee,
Singing sweet like bird.
___________________
Haiku |18.11.2025 | river, sea, stream
Note: Alas, the world is so much after growth, all the countries, all their people. Few are interested in the quality of growth.
Specific Types of Growth Poems
Definition | What is Growth in Poetry?
Poems Related to Growth
prosperity, success, advance, hike, rise, advancement, expansion, improvement, increase, production, gain, surge, unfolding, crop, buildup, flowering, aggrandizement, cultivation, boost, vegetation, proliferation, swell, enlargement, produce, augmentation