Poems of Growth for Each Enneagram Type

These poems describe each type's growth journey from habitual behavior to stretching beyond into a higher state of self-mastery.

Type One Poem of Growth

I close my ledger

Of rights and wrongs.

Relaxing the grip of here and there.

Quieting the clock’s calls of next and now.

Finding a space of silence,

I wrap myself in quietly knowing

You are good,

I am good,

All is good.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Three Poem of Growth

My self-portrait hangs in the gallery.

Notice the skillful brush strokes,

The fine use of color,

A classic example of the highest level of art.

But today I take out a new canvas,

And apply paint with abandon.

Great stripes

Of burnt orange and mossy green.

Splatters

Of magenta and canary yellow

Across the surface and onto the floor.

All colors welcome and no shape defined.

This. This is my greatest likeness.

This is me.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Four Poem of Growth

I go to a field,

Rumored to hide buried treasure.

Closely scanning the ground for hints,

reading what’s below,

I’m drawn to a dark mound of disturbed earth,

Unsettled soil

With exposed roots and broken stone.

I dig with my hands, pulling up dirt and rock,

Deeper and deeper until my hands bleed.

Suddenly, looking up,

I see hundreds of daisies among the grasses,

Winking at me with their centers of gold.

All the same, but all treasure.

Calling me back to the light.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Five Poem of Growth

I built this house myself.

Designed the plans,

Poured the foundation,

Raised the walls.

Please note how the doors

(each constructed by me)

feature two locks and a chain.

But today I choose to leave them unlocked,

Unchained, wide open,

As I step out, walk my small path,

And join the unknown.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Six Poem of Growth

This is my pocketknife.

Six blades, each with a different function

I carry three of these

Eighteen blades in all,

Always at the ready,

Cut, slice, sharpen, file, twist.

Yesterday my heart broke open

And none of these could mend it.

Unprepared for this event, I failed.

To my surprise

Awe and wonder slipped out

through the cracks of this broken heart,

and trust snuck in behind them.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Seven Poem of Growth

My glasses are made of prisms

Breaking the light into shards of color,

Rainbows scattering throughout my view.

But to see, really see

I must put them aside

And use my raw vision

To view the unfiltered world,

Sometimes ugly, sometimes painful,

But always mine.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Eight Poem of Growth

Step up, in front, out loud.

I can make my voice heard.

I can fill up the space.

I do because I can.

Be still, on the side, taking things in.

I can touch things with gentleness.

I can lead by listening.

I choose to do because I can.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Type Nine Poem of Growth

I used to travel by untroubled water,

Avoiding a current or wind tossed waves.

My boat navigated smoothly

The flat, calm lake I called home.

But the river beyond called my name,

And I listened.

Fearfully bumping and rocking

Avoiding rocks, fallen trees, and sandbars.

Even shooting through unexpected rapids,

Barely staying upright.

Arriving to join the sea.

by Gwen Baker-Yuill

Growth Poems: Gwen Baker-Yuill ©2023