Creative Corner- ‘Growing Up’ Showcase

A collection of poetry on the theme of 'Growing Up'.

This month we’re looking at growing up, but more importantly, we want to focus on reflection, perspective, and progress. 


Birthday Party


All you are

And all you are yet to be

Bound up in this little girl

Small frail figure

Hunched over

Eyesight fixed

Just above the ground.


I hope you grow up

To not tiptoe ’round people

Who stomp over you.


I hope your mother tells you

That she’s not just proud of what

you’ve done well

But everything you do.


I hope you learn and love

Every single subject

Savour it like fresh ripe fruit


Learn at your own pace

It’s not a race

I wish I had done

And not just skipped

What I did not understand.

Not slept in the night

And in the day not stayed awake

Not wanting the day to end

Proceeding a day I did not want

To face.


All the didn’ts  and the don’ts and

The won’ts

I hope they don’t exist

For you


Emanuela Thackray




“Vitality, warmth, incarnation”

How one would describe you; but you yourself cannot seem to

See. for it is not in your nature to know such qualities:

Such feminine beauty, you are too

Meek, (so mild) and deep beneath

Like a virgin: you are too weak

to see such signs (the predator) as he watches, spies, your

soul beneath that

Thick hair. That bonnie face, blue twinkle eyes;

mouth as red as the red red rose- (unsleeping)

‘Maddening as Eve’s’ who charmed a snake: it came

As you dance to the May day break

a warm spring day.

Untouched: out of sight, out of mind- all before

Her eyes so wide, “deep” with souls of a thousand days– old before

Tears; splashed, still, but could not dry.

Old souls- absent, can’t help beside her; they could not guide her,

So shy of a stranger:

Discovered in a manger, so young

….wrong place; wrong time; wrong man; one crime.

The young and fair, no longer there-

the ghost of her: white with shock; crossed with shame:

the stop of the clocks of

the young and the tame.

There’s no one there who

really cares- or share what she feels, a put out flame;

the face of an angel in the devils


Tricked from the stir- too late to change the

stars from her line in the sky: the lie laid

cruel and bare, a chain. A heavy weight he was on

her. No line at all…


a whirlwind swirl, sharp edges, that have no end..

Wrong was he who had forgotten, abandoned, he turned out


like the apples she picked off the country grass long ago

no need to pretend: still preserved

Looked up to the sky

she was robbed of seeing…..

In death till she should part

Her bruised heart breaking.

what became was a lateness

Too late it was when he found her:

unable to save so many mistakes, mistakes before that

he did make. Ruining and destroying her: a miserable fate.

An unfair game, it’s all too late


… Watch darkness appear-

It all ends here….


Olivia Morel


Hide-and-Seek Reflection


When I was six years old

I stood in front of my parents mirrored cupboard

I stood

And looked at a green-eyed,

Blonde curly haired reflection.

Who was she?

I wondered

It can’t be me…

But sure enough

When I picked myself up

She followed.

And when I looked around

Shuffled my feet on the ground

She did too.

So me and her

And our head full of stars

Dawdled along

Always looking up

To the Cedar trees

And a well-to-do breeze

Helped us through the ages.

But when I was fourteen

She ran away

Leaving me there

My reflection altered

As I blankly stared

Then gradually

I remembered how to be me

And she came back in glimmers

A glance over the shoulder

Like sunlight trickling through trees

It turned out

She was just playing hide and seek.


Esther Kearney


Growing up


It’s time I grow up,

And force myself to change.

How can I feel better,

If my actions stay the same?

Get anxious over small things,

But I don’t even try

To overcome these fears,

So all I do is cry.

And then I feel so low,

Ashamed of myself

For not giving things a go.

It’s hard, but it shouldn’t be.


I need to develop,

Change the way I think.

It will take time,

Won’t happen in the blink

Of an eye, but that’s fine.

Not taking the opportunity

To help myself.

Being positive just isn’t me,

But I wish it was.

Can’t be a passenger,

Can’t be passive, because,

Then I’ll remain as I am now (dissatisfied).


I avoid things, procrastinate,

Push them aside,

Because they make me anxious,

But I don’t want to hide.

I long to grow as a person,

Can’t let these thoughts win.

I’m capable of changing,

They aren’t forever built in.

Accepting your flaws

Is part of growing up.

And striving for more,

Though it’s easier to give up.


Emily Patel


Kitchen Table


The need to hang off your neck,

close to your breast,

in an effortless comfort that doesn’t require words.

Just the heat of your skin as I stare out,

face tacky from tears, as you talk to the room

and laugh at their replies,

stopping only to whisper secret insights into my ear.

The chuckle from your chest soothes me,

I am passive in this closeness,

sat on your lap with my face semi-buried

in a linen button-up shirt.

And you smell like home, that’s where I press my nose, 

into you to fill the hollow childish sadness in my heart.

I sniff to encourage a squeeze from you,

the warmth of a surrounding arm.

And you trace circles with a large thumb into my arm,

grounding me in a moment of gentle security.

The need to hang off your neck often returns,

mostly coupled with an ache in my legs

and a hollow in my chest that no longer feels childish but

all surrounding and cold, iced wind in my lungs.

I am too grown to perch on your knee now,

So I press my nose into pillows and pretend to hear your heart.

I graze my own shoulder with my thumb,

and ignore when the spread of tears patterns the linen pillowcase.

But when I am home, in a room of laughter that smells of you,

I feel the creep of soft security again

and know that if I asked and admitted I am not yet grown,

I could hang from your neck still.


Holly Wilson


To get your work featured, send your submissions to, or message Esther Kearney via Facebook.

Featured image courtesy of Georgia Butcher.

Article image 1 courtesy of mae noelle, image 2 courtesy of ~Pawsitive~Candie_N, image 3 courtesy of Housing Works Thrift Shops and image 4 courtesy of Axel Naud all via Flickr. Picture 5 courtesy of Holly Wilson.  

Image use licence here.

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