Growing Up Little

A woman exploring the world of BDSM and sharing what she discovers…

Acrostic Book Poem Challenge!

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This challenge is part of Bout of Books 8.0 and the challenge has been hosted by I Read, Ergo I Write.

The instructions of the challenge are: 

– Pick a book! Any book!
– Write the title vertically on a sheet of paper.
– Next to each letter, write an adjective or a line or verse that describes the book.

So… without further ado…  here is what I came up with for my current read The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde, which has become one of my favourite reads of all time.

 

Picture of Dorian Gray Book Cover  T – Thoughts and philosophies

  H – Heavily influenced by friends,

  E –  Erode away his vulnerable soul.

  P – Posing for the

  I –  Image painted by an adoring friend,

  C –  Captured his fleeting moment of youthful innocence.

  T –  Truth is hidden

  U –  Under lock and key

  R –  Revealed by drawing back the curtain –

  E –  Evil, misdeeds, guilt, and sin.

  O –  Obsessively

  F –  Fearing others will discover the

  D –  Destruction within his Adonis exterior.

  O –  Obvious to viewers of the portrait,

  R –  Reality of who he truly has become can not be

  I –  Ignored.

  A –  Art once created by an adoring friend,

  N –  Nourished his

  G –  Guilt

  R –  Ripping

  A –  Apart more than just his treasured

  Y –  Youth but his stained soul.

 

 

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At The Traffic Light – Candid Photography and Commentary

At The Traffic Light

Candid Photography and Commentary

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Photo by Growing Up Little

 

Caught at the traffic light… warm in my car… drinking my coffee… every moment seeming to count.

I see him on his knees…  literally on his knees…

scrunching his hands in the yellow sleeves of his coat.

Gray hoodie doing little to block the cold and wind from his face.

The bus passes… he doesn’t have the fare.

Doesn’t matter anyway… nowhere he needs to be.  Nobody expecting him.

Nowhere for him to go.

The government building propping his body up.  It’s their way of helping.

I snap his photo… I think he sees me do it…  I feel ashamed…

Does he realize… the people that DO notice him and do nothing?

And… does that feel worse, than those people who don’t see him at all?

The light turns green.

For me.

 

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We All Love The Chase… But Once We’re Caught We Feel Encased

Lyrics to Needle In The Dark by Passenger

With progress comes problems

With wisdom comes age

With lessons come learning

And pleasure comes with pain

 

You can only have the sunshine after the rain

I took a walk

It got me thinking

Left foot, right foot

Smiling, blinking

Breathe out, breathe in

Somehow linking

 

My soul to my mind and my heart to my mouth

Lost and the found and the north to the south

And the corners to the circle in my mind

 

We may find that the gate has been locked

When we come back down to what we really are

Retrace the footprints off the path that is lost

It’s like trying to find a needle in the dark

 

My hands they are empty

But they are clean

I’m poor but I’m healthy

I’m halfway between

The gutter and the skyline

 

So I took a walk to the land’s end

Thinking ‘bout an ex-girlfriend that I had

And the pages that I’ve turned

And it seems to me

That we all love the chase

But once we’re caught we feel encased

Behind bars of love and trust

Uprooted by drunken lust

By people, people just like us

People, people just like us

 

You may find that the gate has been locked

When we come back down to what we really are

Retrace the footprints off the path that’s been lost

It’s like trying to find a needle in the dark

 

So I took a walk to the station

Lost in my imagination

Having private conversations with myself

And I’m just stumbling ‘round

And I wait for the sound

Of this crumbling town to come tumbling down

People say I’m just bummin’ around

But I’ve had both my ears to the ground

 

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Ode to Fat Bodies

Ode to Fat Bodies

Images/writing below from:  The Nearsighted Owl  (check her blog out… she’s fatastic!)

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To the riot grrrls, divas, fierce fatties, chubby bunnies and fatshionistas

Performers, activists, artists, writers, radical babes and fat bitches
With rolls in different places and all over
Generous thighs, double-chins
And bellies that don’t make apologizes
We have dimples for miles
Cellulite is our badge of fat girl power
Member card for the pudding club
 
We fight, scream, pose, paint, write and sing
Strut, fuck, dance and create
 
 
To the riot grrrls, divas, fierce fatties, chubby bunnies and fatshionistas
Performers, activists, artists, writers, radical babes and fat bitches
We are the fat movement
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Book Spine Poem Challenge

Bout of Books 6.0 Challenge – Book Spine Poem

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Click here to learn details and rules of this challenge:  Escape Through the Pages.

Book Spine Contest

Book Spine Contest

Meet me for murder

By nightfall

Who’s the American psycho?

Far from the madding crowd

Your skinny legs and all

There will be betrayal by blood

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Mountain Climber Afraid To Come Back Down

Mountain Climber – Afraid To Come Back Down

Quote from:  Casanova (Lost Wanderings)

I keep on climbing higher and higher up this cold icy mountain and I never seem to see the top of it, it seems to go on upwards forever, and I doomed to keep on climbing upwards forever. Leaving people further and further behind me.  Further and further from warmth and affection. The air gets thinner and thinner and harder to breathe. My hallucinations get worse. Every so often I find the shoes or clothes or picks of those who have gone this way before me and fallen. Not made it back down again and found their icy grave on this mountain. Sometimes I pass by their frozen bodies. And still I keep climbing? Why? Because it is there. What else is there to do? I tell myself you are only young once. You cannot climb when you are old so you must climb as high as you can while you are still young. No point spending a year or two going back down the mountain to the flat ground, only then to feel free to start climbing again. While I am as high as I am I might as well keep going: till I reach the what? The summit? The nirvana? I’ve come too far to turn back now. And the turning back is probably more difficult and dangerous and fraught with peril than the climbing upwards. No, so safer to keep going up. Keep going up, and keep diving deeper into darkness.

mountain climber

death

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Poem – Lady Injury

Lady Injury
by Idranktheseawater

The rain was stronger than me and there was no place to hide
My strength washed away and I became sorrow’s bride
Too defeated to feel what life was supposed to be
Too clouded by the wind and the cold to even care to see
I stood shivering in the water that rose and filled my shoes
Watching the ground that could own me with one final bruise
Thinking of nothing but an escape from the pain
Some way to forget how my mind was left slain
I closed my eyes for comfort and became the thing I feared
Fell helpless to the ground and that’s when she appeared
She offered serrated medicine for happiness restored
The Lady Injury knelt before me and that’s when I implored
With no place left to turn, and no words left to pray
She placed her hand upon my head and said she was the way
I cried that she had found me in the secret hell I lived
Crept through mud to reach her with so much blood to give
So desperate for distraction I curled up in her lap
Let her take what she needed to keep me in her trap
The life that spilled from me paid the rain to go away
I laid my hurt to rest and found my place to stay
Her fingers traced my face and I became her child
Dependent for her to hide me while the storm raged so wild
I wanted better things for me but she was what I found
More secrets screamed through me while I bled without a sound
I’d rest my head upon her for a chance to get dry
Though still soaked and broken with no tears left to cry
So I rose to my feet and said that we were through
Afraid to need her warmth and what she made me do
I try not to think about the way we used to be
But time wont take away my hearts long wounded plea
I watch her in the distance and it’s like we never met
But the scars she left behind still fill me with regret
Still cold and shivering in this broken house of skin
I say that I don’t want her but she still invites me in
I long to relive when her hand took rest upon my head
But I have to make a choice, so I’ll face the rain instead

 

For more poetry by Idranktheseawater, visit her YouTube channel.

 

 

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This really speaks to me… especially now.

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