"ungrown" poems
On the beach at night alone,
As the old mother sways her to and fro, singing her husky song,
As I watch the bright stars shining—I think a thought of the clef of the universes, and of the future.
A vast similitude interlocks all,
All spheres, grown, ungrown, small, large, suns, moons, planets, comets, asteroids,
All the substances of the same, and all that is spiritual upon the same,
All distances of place, however wide,
All distances of time—all inanimate forms,
All Souls—all living bodies, though they be ever so different, or in different worlds,
All gaseous, watery, vegetable, mineral processes—the fishes, the brutes,
All men and women—me also;
All nations, colors, barbarisms, civilizations, languages;
All identities that have existed, or may exist, on this globe, or any globe;
All lives and deaths—all of the past, present, future;
This vast similitude spans them, and always has spann’d, and shall forever span them, and compactly hold them, and enclose them.
4.8k
I Believe
.
I believe a butterfly
Can stop a baseball game
I know, because I've seen it
And it really was a shame,
I believe a simple housefly
Can stop a moving train,
I believe single piece of dust
Can also make it rain
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that Father Christmas
Is quite real and in your heart
I believe that you can finish
Every task, if you just start
I believe, like Charlie Bucket
There's a golden ticket to be found
I believe that a tree that's in the forest
When it falls, will make a sound
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that love's forever
But the one thing about this
I believe forever's infinite
And it may just last a kiss
I believe to stay together
That one's trust, it must be earned
I believe you jump into the fire
Before you know if you'll get burned
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that a strong handshake
Will seal a contract, so I've heard
I believe one's reputation
Should be based on a mans' word
I believe that there is wonder
In everything that we may find
I believe that life is better
When you can have an open mind
I believe we're just a heartbeat
In the timeline life has spanned
I believe that every person
Is an ungrown grain of sand
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe....
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Flaming figure so alone
tattered dreamer left ungrown
quiet minstrel lost in song
tell me firefly
am I wrong?
Broken barriers left to rot
sickened sense of forget-me-not
clutching figments left to die
Is this not you
sweet firefly?
Seeking flames of darker shades
beliefs untorn with prayers you prayed
that safest flame is deep inside
you shine your brightest
yet still you hide?
Man child ~ I must confess
you weaken limbs with your lovliness
the scarlet tears that you expire
are nothing frozen
but made of fire!
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
Like the music that echoes, among the songs unheard,
The face that smiles, among the pictures unseen,
The words that appear, in letters unwritten,
And the rainbows emerging in the sky unobserved,
I know for people I do not exist,
But there’s bugging confession that I cannot resist…
“Who said I am not there around anymore?
Everytime you call, everytime you do, I am there always, standing at your door.”
Like the flowers blooming in the plants, ungrown,
The images flashing in the dreams unseen,
Colors glowing in canvas left blank,
And the rooms resting in the houses unbuilt,
Its true I am gone, and I won’t be seen,
I have left some mess, that can’t be cleaned,
And that’s precisely, why I am not worth your tears,
Neither do I deserve your dreams or souvenirs,
And it’s a well known fact that I do not exist,
But there’s bugging confession that I cannot resist…
“Who said I am not there around anymore?
Everytime you call, everytime you do, I am there always, standing at your door.”
Burn me to ashes that’s what you need to do,
And I know, precisely, that you don’t have a clue.
Why should you cry and pray for me to come back?
Your life is complete, there’s nothing that you lack,
But still I am here, yes, I am right here.
I am here always, I will never disappear,
But I won’t be seen, and I won’t be heard,
You have had enough, I won’t say a word,
But in the chirps of the birds, you will find my voice,
In the light of the sun, I will help you make a choice,
In the darkness of the night, I will be the moon,
And in the sadness of melodramas, I will be your cartoon,
In the greatest of your times, I will be your smile,
And I will be in your hope, when life is fragile,
In the beats of your heart, in the memories of our past,
In every second of your present, I was never outcast,
So wipe your tears, I am not gone,
The night is over, and there’s a new dawn,
“So, the who the hell said I am not there anymore!
Everytime you call, everytime you do, I am there always standing at your door.”
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 3:01 PM UTC
Hey, is anyone there?
Some messiah to make everything fair..
Help! I need my colourful life back
Just give it even through a prism
Cause i still remember that black cataclysm
So young not even aware
Like a seed plucked without any care
My petite knowledge left him free
Kept doing it on an ungrown tree..
"For christ's sake stop it"
Oh god! make him detain
Cause i want to live my colourful life again
Please before it's too late
Crawling up, my suicidal fate...
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 2:30 AM UTC
An unholy night,
these two know those nights well,
it’s raining God’s blood
‘to the cracked gates of hell.
The demons are out,
the lechers and fiends,
a good chance to rob, ****
and listen for screams.
The Vicars head’s been cut off
on Joralemon street.
And such Neck-rophilia
seems just shy of obscene.
But that’s not why these two
are out on this night;
They want little kids
to make Angel’s delight.
You’ve never heard of it, have you?
It’s quite delicious in fact.
First they start off with the skin
from their ungrown, weak backs.
They’re peeling away
where their wings would soon grow,
but made too sore to fly
they fall down below!
And so catch them the wings,
shave them into a cheddar,
oh, but if it’s a girl,
make sure you be-head her.
Then break the legs like wishbones
and twist off the feet.
Make sure to save all that,
sssllurrrpp, succulent meat.
Last off’s the marrow
de la moelle épinière.
Get every last drop,
And let sit in stale air.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC
The place of a red, roadside wild flower
Nestled indistinctly between the blades of grass;
Winter in the rear view, and Spring within the hour
The flower attempts to grow just as fast,
But to no avail -- the winds are too cold still.
The flower eagerly awaits it's blossoming chance
When the winds are no longer chilled.
The time has not yet come for a flower dance.
Neglected, beaten down, and ungrown,
The flower lost its will to live.
No nurturing spirit that could have sown
The damaged seed in that flower's ribs...
Consider the garden that you may have.
One day, one flower, might be in the past.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC
Respect yourself enough to see that
Unlike where your heart may lead,
No woman should date a child.
Remember, new love will taste sweet
Until his comfort outlives his care, and
No woman should make him try.
Realize the vast potential he has
Understand the man he soon may be, but
No woman should make him grow
Raising men is for mothers, not lovers, and
Ungrown things need space and time
Now a woman should let him go.
|b.g.|
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
During this sort of fallow period
my inventiveness has been
hibernating within for the months
that are beginning to feel endless
where are the fresh shoots ?
Do I need a salvo to stir
the soil so that like poppies
long lying in wait under
too undisturbed soil pop their
red clarion call being vivified ?
Here I chop down pen not *****
and loosen the words waiting the
flowering of fresh inspiration.
There - just a flick of the wrist.
(c) C J Heyworth September 2014
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:02 AM UTC
I had a dream last night
it was as vivid as you.
I was as I am
and my senses as they are.
I remember the dream
from top to toe
With every sensation
in limpid detail.
In the planet outside,
I rested my sole
on the ice-tiped blades.
I felt splendor through my spine as Its bones bent and curled alone.
Abaft the noting of
a harshly kind earth,
I danced
to the sharp song of its night.
Spreading my arms
and lifting my chin,
I closed my eyes
to soak it all in.
The chills surrounding me,
raw and rimy, were
lustrous and simply plain. Through the journey of
sensual assault,
I heard shivering leaves
in the stinging gloom,
And creaking trees
with their torrid barks.
I saw the moon's humble grin,
as she invited me into obscurity.
She'd intrigued another empty soul.
At the sight of her gentle beam, I knew the moon would allow my admiration;
I knew she would embrace
the orchid in my eye.
And so the moon did.
I felt her breeze as it kissed my skin.
I felt the beat of my speeding heart, I was humbled by
thrill revealing itself in goose bumps.
Amidst the winter scent,
Were flowers waiting to blossom,
as if the ungrown buds
were longing for spring.
The glow of the stars,
hidden behind barren night sky,
was mesmerizing;
like consented hypnosis
by natural illusion.
I was drawn in to the eventide, I was lured into the outside.
Silvery captivation by the whispers of shadowy darkness.
A place I had never seen,
a world I had never known,
A place kept secret by the moon's sweetly glittered glow.
It felt like the road, like a journey of revelation,
And it reminded me of the consciousness you so chivalrously showed.
It restored your innocent touch, it made me feel alive.
The taste of mid-eve,
so severe and true.
I had a dream last night,
and it was about you.
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 9:50 PM UTC
*Whenever I go to the roof to spend some time my own
find the chunk of the past I left memories rusty grown
see there shadows of father hear his walking feet
if I strain my senses hard even hear his heart beat!
I hear there the lost footsteps in the wind faintly sighs
in the dark nooks imprints of years that quickly passed by
find there the ghost of dreams she and I had spun
their ashes now scattered from our memories long gone!
I see there the old me in the corner standing aloof
unaged ungrown my fossil on the roof
by the light of the fireflies he still searches me
rewrites in the moonglow long discarded poetry!
On the roof times are not dead they merely abscond
hide under the hyacinth of the night's silent pond
I find them lurking there sounds and sights of yore
for times once lived never go from us anymore!*
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
Alas, the static in my ears
never fails to crumble
returning me again to tears
and another attempt to fumble
with my web of tangled thoughts
trying again to learn to untie knots.
Silences and 'there's and 'here's
become a quantity in years
of words unsaid and yet unknown
to older people yet ungrown
because we chose to never face
a past that we cannot erase.
Dec 4, 2010
Dec 4, 2010 at 9:37 AM UTC
this house is as real as ungrown nails on the tips of my bony fingers
something is scratching from in between my lungs,
searching for the solace it deserves
I feel it wilting too.
the inexplainable feeling of touching the harsh corners and the yellow walls and the emptiness we will be filling with
lavender in the place of sweat
I do not like this setting
but like the ladies on the street who boast about the bruises between their thighs and call them battle scars,
my choices have always been grave
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
*Soft is the wind ere the trees
And rough is my voice running through each
As are flowers in the month of June, so beautiful
And yet cursed by the coming fall
As after which, above the earth, all else will fall
Until the clouds and morning dew have meld in, above the heath
Ungrown as I am in the mind of you
But it would not be so, if you would see me through*
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 9:24 AM UTC
reaping of pure white flesh.
innocent, ungrown.
lying through crooked teeth, grey hair.
bile rising.
utter disgust flowing through tense veins.
livid blood drips at a memory.
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 5:17 AM UTC
They lay in the shade together
Side by side
Small bodies nestled where the bamboo grows wide
"Do you ever wonder," the leader inquires.
"What it would be like to grow?"
The three share glances,
each one wondering.
"I've had this body for three hundred years."
The oldest replies, "It's a blessing and a curse."
The youngest tilts her feathered head,
glowing like a jewel.
"My ancestors sunk ships - I'm named after them.
Sometimes I wonder what they'd think of me."
The leader rubs her freckled face and sighs.
"All that I am is because of this body. I wonder..."
The oldest was an assassin, the youngest a ship-sinker,
They all followed the leader.
A vampire, a seamonster and a mob boss all sat in the shadows,
under a tree
And they wonder
What growing might be like.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 11:42 PM UTC
I'm running wild! and it feels so good.
Freedom at las, from my once controlling past.
My religion is growing, my smiles are too,
I've forgotten about one and moved on to two...
I know he thinks of me often,
but there is another more frontal on his mind.
Its okay, I'll be here running wild.
My whole body feels lighter
my hair bounces naturally with each step
Step by step i'm walking out on you,
Part of me feels sorry, but part of me feels...
Ungrown.
My legs have been like strong roots
holding me down through the weather by you.
My arms have been accepting
no matter the weather there was a place for you.
My body a masterpiece
continuously speculated, grabbed, and used by you.
What a wonderful relationship you must have had!
My perspective was so different.
The fun times usually caused stress because I had said something wrong,
or wore something to short.
Not this time. Not next time. Not ever again!
This jewel will not be chained down any longer.
I am happier and less stressed with you gone.
That may be harsh, but darling its true.
So with out further ado,
Good bye.
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
i dont understand why i let you confess
all the things i’d inevitably contest
i cannot explain why i can feel so stressed
my emotions are so still, ungrown, repressed
you only let me hurt myself
these wounds secure your place in hell
you can only show the things you loathe, detest
shrink me down to what you understand, success
my explosive temper is a second guess
under my control, suggestion, hate, contest
Sep 12, 2020
Sep 12, 2020 at 4:11 AM UTC