childrens poetry
Nostalgia-inducing poetry inspired by our earliest favorites; from Dr. Seuss to Mother Goose, children’s poetry is all grown up.
The Light of Forgiveness. AI-Generated.
1. From Darkness to Light: Amir was once a restless and arrogant young man from a quiet village. He had no connection with prayer or the Quran. His days were spent hanging out with friends, listening to loud music, and wasting time. Whenever the mosque’s muezzin called the adhan (call to prayer), Amir would turn up the volume of his radio to drown it out. His mother, Hamidah, was a beautiful woman. Every night, she would rise for Tahajjud prayer and cry to Allah, making one sincere dua: “O Allah, guide my son. Show him the path of truth.”
By Mohammad Shariful Islamabout a year ago in Poets
Why the Wooden Spinning Drum Toy Is a Montessori Favourite in UK Homes
As more UK parents embrace Montessori principles in early childhood development, certain toys have emerged as must-haves—and the Wooden Spinning Drum Toy is one of them. Simple in design but rich in educational value, this colourful, rotating toy captures toddlers' attention while encouraging natural learning and developmental growth.
By Baby Shopperabout a year ago in Poets
We Grew Up Together, But He Grew Up Faster
I first met Aaron when I was seven, and he was eight. He had just moved into the house across the street—a worn-down white building with ivy creeping up the sides and a broken mailbox that never stood straight. I remember the first time I saw him: he was sitting on the curb, barefoot, with a blue backpack beside him and a distant look in his eyes.
By Muhammad Sabeelabout a year ago in Poets
The Moon Garden
The Moon Garden Once upon a time, in a land untouched by war and shadow, there was a hidden valley known only to the stars. This valley, which is situated between the ancient Silverpeak Mountains, was said to only bloom at night. It existed despite the fact that neither a poet nor a cartographer had ever sung its name or mapped it. In a small village on the edge of the world lived a boy named Elian. He was seventeen, quiet like a stream, curious like the wind, and always found with a book or a feather in hand. Elian had never seen the Moon Garden, but he had read tales passed down through generations: about luminous flowers that hummed songs into the night, trees with silver bark that whispered truths, and a lake so still it reflected not the sky, but dreams. He lived with Old Marlo, his grandfather, who once claimed to have entered that secret location when he was young. He would smile and say, "It appears only to those who carry no map but heart," his eyes clouded like glass covered in mist. It bothered Elian to believe it. He had to go beyond that. His once-thriving village was beginning to wither. Crops struggled. The river’s song grew fainter every year. There were rumors of people leaving and giving up. Even though he was only a young man, Elian was of the opinion that there was still magic in the world. He just had to find it.
By Silas Blackwoodabout a year ago in Poets
The Eternal Embrace of Parents
In this vast world, so wide and deep, Where promises fade and loyalties sleep, There shines a bond, steadfast and true, The love of parents, unmatched by few. Through sleepless nights and weary days, They guide your steps in countless ways. With gentle hands and hearts so pure, Their care is a love you can always be sure. When storms of life come crashing near, And shadows whisper of doubt and fear, It’s their arms that shield, their words that mend, Their faith in you, a love without end. They see your worth when the world turns blind, They hold your heart when you’re in a bind. No treasure or wealth can ever compare, To the gift of parents who always care. They celebrate your smallest wins, And forgive your faults, your every sin. Through your stumbles, they stand tall, A pillar of strength through it all. When the world grows cold and friends depart, It’s parents who warm your aching heart. Their sacrifices, silent and unseen, Their love eternal, steady, serene. In their eyes, you’ll always belong, A child, their hope, their lifelong song. Even when paths take you far away, Their love will follow, come what may. So cherish them now, while they’re near, Speak your love, make it clear. For parents are gifts, rare and divine, The truest companions through life’s climb. When all fades away, one truth will remain, Their love endures through joy and pain. Parents, the angels we often forget, A love so pure, we owe a debt. Hold them close, let gratitude flow, For they’re the ones who’ll never let go. In their embrace, life’s meaning is clear— The ones who truly care are always here.
By Aysha Akhter about a year ago in Poets
