#poetryofgrowth - Hello Poetry

***** LIFE’S JOURNEY Childhood A canvas bright Dreams painted in laughter Innocence dances freely Time shifts Adolescence A bridge of change Questions painted in doubt Finding paths through twisting roads I explore Growth spurts Seasons unfold Roots deepen, branches stretch Lessons learned through joy and tears I become Maturity With each step, truth Carved by trials and trust Wisdom blooms, a guiding light I am whole Journeys Miles and moments Footprints etched in time's sand Memories wrapped like warm blankets I remember Dreams awaken Voices call my name Horizon beckons softly Chasing stars with hopeful visions I will soar Transitions Shadows and suns Life’s compass turns and bends Navigating heartbeats, fears I am here Reflections Mirrors reveal Stories woven in lines Each wrinkle a chapter, each smile I embrace Connections Threads of friendship Stitching hearts into one A journey of shared moments We are strong Legacy Seeds of wisdom Planted in the young souls Growing roots that touch the heavens We will rise

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Mar 21

Mar 21, 2026 at 4:37 AM UTC

LongJohnPaulBaldry

Cinquain Poems themed on Growth

***** LIFE’S JOURNEY Childhood A canvas bright Dreams painted in laughter Innocence dances freely Time shifts Adolescence A bridge of change Questions painted in doubt Finding paths through twisting roads I explore Growth spurts Seasons unfold Roots deepen, branches stretch Lessons learned through joy and tears I become Maturity With each step, truth Carved by trials and trust Wisdom blooms, a guiding light I am whole Journeys Miles and moments Footprints etched in time's sand Memories wrapped like warm blankets I remember Dreams awaken Voices call my name Horizon beckons softly Chasing stars with hopeful visions I will soar Transitions Shadows and suns Life’s compass turns and bends Navigating heartbeats, fears I am here Reflections Mirrors reveal Stories woven in lines Each wrinkle a chapter, each smile I embrace Connections Threads of friendship Stitching hearts into one A journey of shared moments We are strong Legacy Seeds of wisdom Planted in the young souls Growing roots that touch the heavens We will rise

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Soft downy feathers Nestled in branches of oak Tiny heart beating Wings slowly growing Stretching thin and fragile self Mother's song echoes First trembling branch hop Courage flutters in small breast Testing gentle winds Feathers now sleek black Strength building with each new flight Leaving nest behind Soaring high above Boundless sky embraces wings Blackbird freely sings

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Mar 16

Mar 16, 2026 at 4:25 AM UTC

LongJohnPaulBaldry

The Black Bird's Journey

Soft downy feathers Nestled in branches of oak Tiny heart beating Wings slowly growing Stretching thin and fragile self Mother's song echoes First trembling branch hop Courage flutters in small breast Testing gentle winds Feathers now sleek black Strength building with each new flight Leaving nest behind Soaring high above Boundless sky embraces wings Blackbird freely sings

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A boy walks down... a golden path. Each day — a gift, both bright... and vast. A chance to cherish... brave... and hold. In fleeting moments, beauty gleams. A quiet spark... ignites his dreams. With gratitude, he lights the way — through shadowed trails... to brighter days. With every step, his future’s sown. In courage found, his spirit grown. Whispers of truth... sail on the wind. The boy evolves... through wit — and will.

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Mar 10

Mar 10, 2026 at 7:25 AM UTC

LongJohnPaulBaldry

Embrace the Journey

A boy walks down... a golden path. Each day — a gift, both bright... and vast. A chance to cherish... brave... and hold. In fleeting moments, beauty gleams. A quiet spark... ignites his dreams. With gratitude, he lights the way — through shadowed trails... to brighter days. With every step, his future’s sown. In courage found, his spirit grown. Whispers of truth... sail on the wind. The boy evolves... through wit — and will.

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Altar regrets; please don’t alter my texts – or delete my last request; as lust requests you do what feels good, but it all becomes tomorrow’s bad mistake, dressed out in yesterday’s breath. At the front of my books – my body language in bold font is what I’ll flaunt; though at times, I’m not so bold at being myself... Physical or digital – _spiritual or literal_ – loaning some faith on empty days, loading some company when I feel I’m moving through life at my lonesome, feeling loathsome. But take your time; write your own books if you want to – just don’t forget the lessons you’ve read. Despite being blue-ticked in person, my presence and influence still get left on read... I can’t claim ownership of everything; crying for it all, till my eyes are painted red. As each good word you’ve received is a divine gift – to defy the rifts; to train and define your divine gifts, learn to prune the sickness from your vine so new creation can live... value the chance to forgive — make every reason solid, for choosing to live.

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Aug 8, 2025

Aug 8, 2025 at 1:38 AM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Altar(ed) Words

Altar regrets; please don’t alter my texts – or delete my last request; as lust requests you do what feels good, but it all becomes tomorrow’s bad mistake, dressed out in yesterday’s breath. At the front of my books – my body language in bold font is what I’ll flaunt; though at times, I’m not so bold at being myself... Physical or digital – _spiritual or literal_ – loaning some faith on empty days, loading some company when I feel I’m moving through life at my lonesome, feeling loathsome. But take your time; write your own books if you want to – just don’t forget the lessons you’ve read. Despite being blue-ticked in person, my presence and influence still get left on read... I can’t claim ownership of everything; crying for it all, till my eyes are painted red. As each good word you’ve received is a divine gift – to defy the rifts; to train and define your divine gifts, learn to prune the sickness from your vine so new creation can live... value the chance to forgive — make every reason solid, for choosing to live.

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_A creative reflex_ — Writing as a way to reflect While breaking in between myself — This is me, _finding a recess_. And if kidding around is for kids, Maybe some parts of me haven’t really grown up yet. Still, if I’m set — Placing a quiet bet On all these dreams I haven’t cashed in yet — I hold the right To keep searching for my best. Because being better than the me from yesterday Might be all I’ve got left… And maybe, __that’s enough!__

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Jul 6, 2025

Jul 6, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

In the Margin of Myself

_A creative reflex_ — Writing as a way to reflect While breaking in between myself — This is me, _finding a recess_. And if kidding around is for kids, Maybe some parts of me haven’t really grown up yet. Still, if I’m set — Placing a quiet bet On all these dreams I haven’t cashed in yet — I hold the right To keep searching for my best. Because being better than the me from yesterday Might be all I’ve got left… And maybe, __that’s enough!__

15

Bite into an idea— rows of teeth, tension tight. Crowded smiles feel so exposing— _but this one,_ it gnaws deeper. The tension between teething regrets and tethered faith feels so frayed, as if the cord was always a little too short to begin with. I’m not riding the wave— just swimming a little longer in my dreams; watching surfers sail off while I sink into thought. But I surf the internet, researching the cultivation of infinitude— _whatever that means._ Diving into unfathomable depths, only a few steps in and I’m already losing my breath. __Have I sprouted yet__? Most days, my sadness drowns in my anger. Then a spark of joy appears— _brief_, __fleeting__— but its glow only makes me so sad again. And that sadness simmers back into rage, and the loop begins once more. _A cycle. A seesaw._ A silent crusade to love myself again. But the journey never really ends. Even while searching for one. we push forward—again, and again— until we find a better end.

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Jun 28, 2025

Jun 28, 2025 at 3:16 PM UTC

OddOdysseyPoet

Half-Surfaced, Half-Sinking

Bite into an idea— rows of teeth, tension tight. Crowded smiles feel so exposing— _but this one,_ it gnaws deeper. The tension between teething regrets and tethered faith feels so frayed, as if the cord was always a little too short to begin with. I’m not riding the wave— just swimming a little longer in my dreams; watching surfers sail off while I sink into thought. But I surf the internet, researching the cultivation of infinitude— _whatever that means._ Diving into unfathomable depths, only a few steps in and I’m already losing my breath. __Have I sprouted yet__? Most days, my sadness drowns in my anger. Then a spark of joy appears— _brief_, __fleeting__— but its glow only makes me so sad again. And that sadness simmers back into rage, and the loop begins once more. _A cycle. A seesaw._ A silent crusade to love myself again. But the journey never really ends. Even while searching for one. we push forward—again, and again— until we find a better end.

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