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

Autumn Leaves

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.

Far too many dawns have passed, it must be confessed,
Which have been welcomed without an inkling of zest.
All that remains is a grim incessant strain
As you see all your vigour trickle down life's drain.

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