childrens poetry

Nostalgia-inducing poetry inspired by our earliest favorites; from Dr. Seuss to Mother Goose, children’s poetry is all grown up.

🎃 ꓄ꋪꀤꉓꀘ-ꂦꋪ-꓄ꋪꍟꍏ꓄ 🎃. Top Story - September 2024.
If you ꓄ꋪꀤꉓꀘ-ꂦꋪ-꓄ꋪꍟꍏ꓄ ㅤㅤㅤon ꉓꍏꀎ꒒ꀸꋪꂦꈤ ꌗ꓄ꋪꍟꍟ꓄ you’re sure to get a fright That’s why some kids will stay ㅤㅤㅤfar, far away
By 𝐑𝐌𝐒3 months ago in Poets
My Fingers Tasted of Memory
My fingers tasted of memory— salted with the past I never meant to keep, soft with the echoes of moments I thought I’d outgrown.
By Fazal Hadi3 months ago in Poets
Buried
Feeling no self worth A shadow of myself What have I become A beacon of pain A stained canvas for your projections A dark reflection
By Atomic Historian3 months ago in Poets
The City Where Poets Heal the Dawn
The City Where Poets Heal the Dawn Story-Poem of the Psychological Poets Society In a quiet hidden corner of the world, There lived a city woven not with bricks but with words— A place where the poets of the Psychological Society walked, Each carrying a lantern lit with thoughts, And a heart that tried every day to understand the soul.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets
The Canvas Calls
The colors dried to cracked remains, the brushes stiff with years of dust. I stood before the empty white, with hands that shook
By The 9x Fawdi3 months ago in Poets
STEVEN BARTLETT
Confident like Steven Bartlett Not a Thatcher like a Margaret Hoping one day comes the joy Wrote a Story with the Toy (Toy Story)
By Haychie_Artist3 months ago in Poets
Շђҽɾҽ’ร α ๓σɳรɬҽɾ iɳ ɬђҽ คɬɬiƈ
There’s a monster in the attic and he’s making quite a stink I’m not usually one to panic but I haven’t slept a wink 👹
By 𝐑𝐌𝐒3 months ago in Poets
“Mindscapes of the Silent Poet”
Beneath an ageless banyan’s crown of wide-spun shade, A quiet poet rested, where whispered memories played. His pen was not of silver, nor dipped in rivers deep, But born of silent thinking where hidden feelings sleep.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets
Whispers of the Rising Dawn
When dawn begins to rise, it carries a secret that only the early world hears. It is the sound of hope stretching its wings, the whisper of possibilities brushing against the horizon, the gentle promise that every day is a new chance to begin again. In the valley of Edenbrook, where hills curve like sleeping giants and rivers hum ancient lullabies, the rising dawn is celebrated not as a moment but as a miracle.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets
“The City Where Poems Wake”
“The City Where Poems Wake” In a valley between two mountains, Where dawn walks slowly like a shy traveler, There stood a strange and wondrous city— A city where poems woke before the sun did, Where words had wings And silence knew how to sing.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets
The Tale of the Girl
The night spoke under the light of the moon. The crickets croaked, filling the silence with bursts of sound. The invisible wind blew silently, whisking leaves,
By Hailey M3 months ago in Poets
The Echoes of Gentle Pens
In a peaceful town woven with cobblestone paths and whispering trees, there existed a quiet circle known as the Community of Gentle Pens. They were poets—men of calm thoughts, steady hands, and hearts that beat in the rhythm of unsaid verses.
By Muhammad Saad 3 months ago in Poets