Biography of Jack Growden
A young aspiring writer and graduate of Townsville Grammar School. I write on a variety of different topics. Please enjoy, and be sure to rate and comment. My most popular poems to date (4/July/14) are 'The Willow', 'Autumn Leaves', and 'Simpler Minds'. Again, I encourage you to read and rate them, and comment as you see fit.
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Jack Growden's Works:
Seasons of Sentiments (2013)
Jack Growden Poems
From a rolling hill in one green Essex field, A splendid, sweeping vista was suddenly revealed. Rays of sunlight appeared marking the advent of dawn, Invigorating the gully below on this placid morn.
Alas, it has been a season of yawns and weary sighs, Each and every morning met with dreary eyes; The sluggish shuffles; the weight of the world upon; Several moons have waned since hope has shone.
Eulogy For Youth
I once ventured upon a hillside At dawn when the weather was best. I skipped and I hopped right to the top, Possessed by jubilant youthful zest;
My nephew Fletcher, from this line, Heed these words, wise words of mine. I am your uncle, so trust me hence Even if you think I make no sense.
Spirit of the ANZAC: Kokoda
Scaling across a mountain range, That seems unfathomably steep. Scurrying through the sodden trees, Through mud that is knee-deep.
Life and Chess
Life can be likened to a good game of chess As white has always moved first, And whilst kings have ruled without a cut on their hands, Every pawn’s life is cursed.
Beneath One Sky
Beneath One Sky The boys on the beach Feel the sand between their toes,
Down By Mavers Hill
So down by Mavers Hill There’s a backward kind of place. A tiny forgotten blemish Upon Melbourne’s glamorous face.
Ensnared in a plume, denied a pure breath, Are vermin born into this vile caper, Moaning in spite of the sweat and the smoke, And pleading to part ways with the vapour.
Journey Throughout The Empire - Part 1
Jack Growden (C) 2013 PRELUDE
There is a city where all man’s dreams take shape, And this city is known as Brelles. A wonderful mirage set on Arabian sands, Quite the opposite of fiery hell.
Driftwood at Sunset
Far abreast of distant moored-up boats The quiescent air engulfs each lung. You taste briny salt upon your tongue; As without haste, nonplussed driftwood floats,
Escaping Port Arthur
I had lived a pleasant life, With my future perfectly planned… But after a swig of whiskey And one theft too risky,
I could describe your beauty in a thousand words, Though that has been done by many before. I could squeal my admiration of your blue eyes, Though it goes without saying, so I will say no more.
He's awake at first light
After a salacious night
Of desperate disloyal lust…
With a lay-down misère
He takes his share
And stalks off in bitter disgust…
The neon lights of downtown