Jack Growden

Rookie - 278 Points (1997 / Townsville, Australia)

Comments about Jack Growden

  • Rookie - 278 Points Jack Growden (10/17/2013 11:41:00 PM)

    Thank you Angela, I appreciate your feedback on my work!

    3 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Rookie Angela Collins (10/17/2013 8:56:00 PM)

    congratulations on rising up the ranks Jack..

  • Rookie - 278 Points Jack Growden (10/15/2013 3:55:00 PM)

    Thank you sincerely Mr Parker. Such praise is really appreciated! Keep reading!

  • Rookie Chester Parker (10/15/2013 2:01:00 AM)

    Outstanding writing from a man so young! I would certainly be very hard-pressed to find a more interesting and prodigious young talent in my travels. Well done Jack!

  • Rookie - 278 Points Jack Growden (8/2/2013 6:34:00 PM)

    Thanks Jemima! Well I'm not too sure. I am only sixteen and thus have not lived through hard moments in life and been to inspiring places (other than Paris) . My thoughts are that some of my best poems are written spontaneously and with any inspiration. Hence is perhaps way I write on a massive variety of things. Sorry I couldn't answer you haha! Thanks for reading though! !

  • Rookie - 278 Points Jack Growden (8/1/2013 5:26:00 AM)

    If you enjoyed my poems please add me to your favourite poets list to keep up to date with my collection as it grows! ! Thanks, Jack

Best Poem of Jack Growden

The Willow

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.
The autumn calm was quite crisp, but pleasantly mild,
As I drew a deep breath and simply smiled…

Ambling down the path that led to the glen below,
I caught the gentle scent of an English meadow.
Well-worn, the trail continued to meander
Through lush pastures of flowered oleander.
Towering modestly among stood the odd foreign teak,
Which by the tree further...

Read the full of The Willow

The 'Chapel

When the clocks did chime for the eleventh hour
Well after the Sun had completed its fall,
The darkest of Whitechapel's darkest,
Staggered from an alley, in a hunched-over crawl.
With nary a moon to behold, light was scarce,
And t'was a lamppost that brought him into view.
Such a haggard mess he was indeed,
His teeth a bare yellow few.
A matted mane sat upon his face,

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