Sister Growth Poems | Examples
These Sister Growth poems are examples of Growth poems about Sister. These are the best examples of Growth Sister poems written by international poets.
In verse I blend my roles, multiplicity defined..
A poet-mother-daughter, all within my design.
Sister, secretary, cleaner, nurse—my busy days abide..
Dreamer, philosopher, optimist, by my side.
Psychic and intuitive, my spirit held dear..
Engineer, crafting futures, breaking barriers without fear.
Sisters by choice–
Not born together,
Even still – we celebrate.
Thankful–
Now tasks are as an alliance.
One sister faces a trial–
The other offers a hand of help.
Like wax – the hand melts.
Fingers and palms ripped apart–
Sisters are tested.
A girl–
Alone.
The sister’s hand has disappeared.
But not for very long.
Challenges have come –
But never one like this.
She will try again.
The wax– firm and sturdy…
Back to its form.
Love prevails.
Looking into her eyes I find myself thinking of her sister, imagining the pain they will both suffer when they grow older.
To think these girls will not find each other in life is ignorance, and to think they won’t resent those who made it impossible for them to be in each other’s lives is madness.
Fire begat flames
Soot coated remnants of family ties
Burned like a star
Silence encompasses the weary
I give you my strength child, though I do not know you.
I give you my sins, those that I do not owe you.
I feel your presence such as one feels tension in a hostile environment;
Such as one would feel a migraine
Such as one would feel pain from an amputated limb, a confusion of nerves
Such as one would feel love
Such as one would feel afraid
Such as one wouldn’t feel anything.
Religiously Toxic
I'm drowning in the
waste of a
compromised mind,
its been touched by
poisoned ideals and
thoughts
requesting me to
fall in line.
Don't they know
we came from the stars,
Who in the hell
do these ruling rule makers
think they are.
These church politicians
collecting God's Tithes,
folks going to church
paying to be fed lies
while pastors only interest is
in what sweetness that lies
beyond sister
Marie's thighs
Or the priest only
interested in the
youthful eyes.
While all along...
Making decisions
for us
about who we
should believe
we are.
Careers to push true faith
to the rear
what about the truth
do they
fear us to know and hear,
Well my inner self
you know
that intuitive voice
tells me to
bring into existence
this truth here!
These words
come from somewhere
so far deep in my soul,
that I have no choice to
believe it and follow.
Just be the
best you that you can and
leave the hail Marie's,
Collection plates and
confessionals
to the foolish man.
Thank you
for waking up today!
©rebeljones777
Come walk with me son,
To places of hopeful destinations.
Not oft enough visited."
Bearing only childlike faith
And unfettered ideas we travel
upon untrodden paths that fade behind us.
Around a bend and into the "Beautiful Logos Garden", where all who enter are hungry and everything can be eaten. A closer look shows that each bite carries a written promise ,truth,or instruction. In this garden you should know,
There are no baskets to fill and take as you go.
This fruit is for the picker and no other,
Not to be gathered and shared with a sister or brother.
Once one visits this eternal location, the way back is never forgotten so all can access this eternal destination.
Eat to your fill,swallow every bite,come back often,and experience the delight of the "Beautiful Logos Garden ."
I believe we are lost
We were carried away
Rebels without cause
In our own unique ways
We took different roads
But both ended here
Sewing wild oats
Til our paths disappeared
The surroundings are strange
In this current cul-de-sac
Years of switching lanes
Somehow brought us right back
All the way back home
But we cannot get inside
The destination, all along
Was the beginning of our ride
But now it’s upside down
Inside out and jumbled up
Like robots, we walk around
And pretend to feel enough
Enough passion and intensity
Enough misery and joy
And we’re sure to feel them properly
While making, little noise
We know we don’t belong
Well aware that something’s wrong
But home, as we remember
Will, forever, be long gone
Kristina
Passionate, Honest, Positive, and Intuitive
Sister of Chas Sister And a Half of Nelson
Lover of Nature, Peace and Lessons
Who Feels Lonely, Curious and Limited
Who Fears Failure, Trust and Love
Who would like to see Change, Travel and a Life
Resident of Vandenberg Village, CA
Whitmore
I know we've grown apart
And lots of things have changed
But I want you to know
There is one thing that remains
I loved you from the moment
They brought me down the hall
You where just a minute old
So innocent and small
You had no idea
That you already had a friend
In the form of a big sister
That would love you to the end
We did everything together
In our fenced in backyard
Tried to dig to China
but we didn't get that far
Explored the sky around us
And learned about the stars
We've had lots of fights
And many battle scars
Mischief was abundant
And the groundings handed down
But remember little brother
I will always be around
If your ever feeling empty
Like your world,
falling apart
I will do my best
to hold it all together
Just for you
With all my heart
in the dark, there was a cat in a cage
when you were young and filled with rage
you were nine when she escaped to be free
you were wise to have consulted me
better and beautiful and with less fear
you called our mom after fifteen years
'cause the ones who raised us were wisdom teeth
and with your pretty long nails, you pulled them out by the roots
and the blood tasted so sweet
'cause back then you were an experiment
in which traditions were pushed on you
'cause they never saw the girl that lived in that house
they only saw a little boy, empty gums, an open mouth
'cause i know that when i call someone's name
they're supposed to smile and not shake with fear
and i know that when i call someone's name
they shouldn't be uncomfortable
they shouldn't show wisdom teeth
the abusers in their life that bite their cheek
they're so hard to remove with no help at all
it's "what do you call yourself?" not "what are you called?"
I am that girl you always teased at school saying I’m chubby.
I am that girl you said is a snob and arrogant, one you said you will never associate with.
I am that girl you called names just to make you feel better about yourself.
I am that chick you said you would never date.
Yes, that’s me, but that is not all of me.
You see, while you were focusing on the one moment you experienced with me,
That one minute you spoke to me, that one side you saw.
You missed the entire bigger picture so let me fill you in.
I am me, me as a whole is a lady you will never get to know.
I am a lady who is complex yet simple, hardcore and headstrong yet soft spoken.
I am such a puzzle that is too hard for you to even attempt.
I am a strong, beautiful, intelligent African woman.
I am nurturing and loving but like a rare ornament
You cannot find in any antic store but only within me.
Yes, that is who I am, all of me.
I am a phenomenal woman.
I am a friend, a sister, a colleague, a daughter, a mother, a wife,
None of which you fit into.
Yes, that’s me, all of me.
LOOK AT ME
Look at me standing tall
Look at me when you thought I would fall.
Look at me when you wanted me to beg you please,
Look at me on my knees.
Look at me smiling when you thought I would cry
Look at me forgiving and you can't even comprehend why.
Look at me daughter ,sister, friend, mother of two
Look at me holding it down, doing what I have to do.
Look at me as you slay my name throwing shade
Look at me showing you what a phenomenal woman God has made.
Look at me my life my glow
Look at me becoming the women you never took the time to know.
It is amazing what God can do
No need to be bitter He can do the same for you.
Never under estimate the women you see
So don't get mad when you look at me.
O Grunge Princess, I know today your love
brims over, idle, for the rebel boy
like weed you keep, unsmoked, sitting among
your secrets in a box; the smells they cloy
and force you into longing. Come what may,
Space Mermaid, your boy is just a dream.
He's not your happiness, nor is the way
he makes you feel--this illusion may seem
absolute, but first loves often do.
I know I cannot sway you with my words;
just remember: moments fizzle out, but you
will yet remain, just like your box of herbs.
When you learn to walk alone in power
your enigmatic buds begin to flower
You set out with your hopes and dreams,
but you find that things aren't as they seem.
Who's to blame for things gone wrong?
You start to sing a different song.
Life is an illusion...didn't you know?
It's only a test...your learning will show.
What is expected...is that you give it your best,
for you are the one who planned out your quest.
We are all here to learn...some more than others
but each one of us is the other ones brother.
Why have the ones you love gone astray?
Didn't they tell you? Didn't they say?
Perhaps they also question the meaning of life,
when some things aren't easy and some things not nice.
Just let them know...their here for a reason,
as you are my sister...at least for a season.
It will get better when home we all go...but for now my dear sister,
I want you to know...
what ever happens...be it bad or the good,
take comfort in knowing...you stand where I stood.
It's never easy to sail the unknown...
but God wants you to know that your never alone!
P.R.Deremer
We come into this world
handed perfectly, from heaven
like pristine blocks of flawless marble
We've come then so as to be defined
by the dual artists of time and life;
Pain and his sister, Joy
They chisel and scrape and brush
diligently at us to reveal our true forms;
flawed yet perfect, pure yet changed
Different, yet simply who we are
not who we were meant to be;
but real and true, as true can be
And yet knowing this, we resist;
we clutch tightly at the deceit of pride
or bind on the blindfold of denial
We scrabble about on the dusty canvas
that's laid on the floor of our life's studio,
pecking, scraping for what we thought is lost
We search blindly, often frantically
for the precious chips and blocks that those twins
have peeled away; yet they're gone forever
We sometimes find and then, hopelessly,
try to patch the fissures and hollows
with the detritus our duo have left behind
A fool's errand this; a false hope
for this is merely the dust and debris
of what was; not what is, nor what can be
We must leave that dusty art behind
to learn to love what is and forget what was,
before we may find, what can truly, be
I walk with my sister and we are young
And her knees are less broken; they swallow
petrel calls and soon we are
equivalent. I call these my oceans. I
shriek with my sister, we wished the
evenings would take our wolf-like sounds
and make us un-speeched.
We are straight and know the meaning of
artificiality. It is this:
jingoism, pesticide,
beaches steeped in rich, naked men.
I promise to protect my sister from optimism,
and together we are impatiently
consumed by mosquito thirst. When we grow
pale, I offer her dirty laundry,
grass stains. In her mind, she is already
past alternatives, and has forgotten
those rhythms. Beneath the ocean, I am
subdued and I am drowning in inanity
And there is a chain wrapped around my sisters
foot; really it is a snake. I am
bellowing the chains, willing her to acquiesce,
but she whispers to the snake,
sweetly, and it slackens, and she is walking
into naked beaches.