childrens poetry
Nostalgia-inducing poetry inspired by our earliest favorites; from Dr. Seuss to Mother Goose, children’s poetry is all grown up.
The Sound of Silence
In corners dim where voices fade, A child sits lost in thoughts unsaid. No tears are shed, no angry cries, Just silence speaking through his eyes. The world walks by, too fast, too loud, To see the boy beneath the shroud— Of loneliness wrapped ‘round his frame, A soul untouched, without a name. His suitcase old, his clothes worn thin, Yet deeper wounds lie deep within. He speaks in stillness, breathes in pain, His silence falls like autumn rain. But silence isn’t empty sound, It echoes where true hearts are found. A whisper felt, not always heard, A plea that's louder than a word. So listen close when none have spoken, Their quiet hearts may just be broken. For silence too can bleed and burn— It seeks a soul who'll truly learn. Not every cry comes with a scream, Some pain just lives inside a dream. ---
By The Pen of Farooq about a year ago in Poets
Logbook Of A Reluctant Dog-Sitter
Goldie the pup, so fast, so spry, Chasing the red car zooming by! Zooming in circles, paws in a blur, But that shiny ride’s just a teasing spur! So, I got the bad news—my nephew is going on a camping trip organized by his school, and my brother is too busy to pick up the puppy. That means I’m stuck taking care of the hyperactive fluffball. Just between you and me, I think my brother just wanted one less pet at home, hoping to lessen the chaos. Oh, he’s so getting pranked for this. Now, I need to brainstorm some prank ideas. The main priority now is enlisting help. Let’s see who’s going to be the unlucky victim—ahem!—I mean, co-dog-sitter. Why is the house so silent? Where are the chaos siblings? It’s like the universe is conspiring against me. But I’m not letting this go so easily. Time to consult the GPS… I opened the door, tiptoed inside, and whispered, “Do you know where the troublesome two are?” Got a glare in return, but I ignored it. Then, in an equally hushed tone, I got a reply: “Shopping.” “Basement.” Didn’t take me a minute to figure out who was where. Thanking her, I slipped out, closing the door behind me. If you haven’t realized who the GPS is, let me clarify—it’s Mom. I guess it’s pretty normal; moms always know where their babies are. Heading to the basement, I opened the door and was bombarded with… rock? Punk? Metal? I don’t know, but it was grating. No offense to anyone who loves it—everyone has their own preferences. Now, I’ve successfully enlisted help. (It did take some bribing on my end. Hey, don’t judge me! That’s pretty normal between siblings.) Leaving the puppy in my brother’s hands, I went to the kitchen. A triple chocolate cake sat —classic chocolate cake with chocolate frosting between the layers, topped with chocolate glaze and chocolate chips. I don’t know how he can eat that—isn’t it too much chocolate? If it were me, I’d have added coffee and made it a mocha cake. After putting it in the freezer for the glaze to set, I took out my trusty little notepad and started brainstorming. I came up with two pretty good ideas—my brother won’t have a clue what hit him. Time to check on little brother and the puppy. I could totally imagine my younger brother chasing the puppy around the living room, but when I walked in, I saw him lounging on the sofa. Glancing around, I spotted the puppy chasing a red race car. Okay, I’ll give him credit—that’s a pretty good idea. The smirk and gloating face, though? I wanted to smack him with a book. Sighing in defeat, I pointed toward the kitchen where the triple chocolate cake was. Now, he’s sitting with the cake, enjoying a TV show, while I’m stuck playing race car with the dog. Does your puppy chase cars?
By Staringaleabout a year ago in Poets
Logbook Of A Reluctant Dog-Sitter
Four o'clock, the pup's awake, Piano dreams I yearn to take. Fingers poised with hope so bright - First note played? Oh dear, not right! No music school? No teacher near? "When in doubt, YouTube’s it out!" Keys I fumbled, lamp aglow, Power out? Ha! Still let’s go! Sore fingers tapped, the tune took shape, Puppy swayed—no escape! Dinner called, my pride intact, Turns out beginners can play.
By Staringaleabout a year ago in Poets
Nobody Has Your Back Like Your Mama
When the world turns cold and friends walk away, When night feels longer than the day— There’s one soft voice that still believes, One pair of arms that never leaves. She’s the quiet strength behind your fight, The steady hand that holds you tight. When dreams collapse and plans fall through, She whispers, “Child, I still see you.” She gave you life, but more than that, She stood you up when you fell flat. Through every scar and every fear, Her love remained—unchanged, sincere. Others may come, then drift apart, But she’s the rhythm in your heart. She knows your silence, hears your tone— Even when you feel alone. So lift your head when life gets rough, Her faith in you is strong enough. No matter how far off you roam, Her love will always call you home. Because when all else fades to black, Nobody has your precious back— Like your mama. ---
By The Pen of Farooq about a year ago in Poets
This Poem is an Apology to Myself
I don’t know exactly when I stopped being kind to myself. Maybe it was the first time I looked in the mirror and believed someone else’s definition of beauty instead of my own. Or maybe it was the quiet moment I didn’t speak up in my defense—thinking silence was strength, or that pleasing others was more important than preserving myself.
By Jawad Khanabout a year ago in Poets
