childrens poetry
Nostalgia-inducing poetry inspired by our earliest favorites; from Dr. Seuss to Mother Goose, children’s poetry is all grown up.
The Journey of the Brave Little Star
In a galaxy far, far away, Where night meets the break of day, Lived a star, not big or bright, But with a heart that shone with might. The Brave Little Star, so full of dreams, Glimmered softly in starlit streams, He wished to leave his cosmic nest, To venture forth, to seek the best. "Why stay here, where I can't grow? There must be more than the twinkle show." He whispered to the stars around, But they just laughed and made no sound. One silent night, with all his might, The Brave Little Star took flight. He soared through clouds of stardust gold, With courage more than legends told. Through asteroid fields and comets’ trails, He braved fierce storms and cosmic gales. He met a moon, so silver and old, Who shared stories of adventures bold. "Keep going, star," the moonlight said, "Follow your dreams, wherever they’ve led." With newfound strength, he journeyed on, Til he reached the edge of dawn. There he found a world so bright, With colors dancing in the light. He saw that here, amidst the skies, He could shine and grow, to his surprise. The Brave Little Star became a sun, His journey's end had just begun. He lit up worlds, both near and far, No longer just a tiny star. He learned that dreams, when dared to chase, Could lead to unexpected place. For even stars can find their way, And shine in places far away. So remember, friend, when doubts arise, Even the smallest stars can touch the skies, With bravery and a heart so true, There’s nothing in this world you can’t do.
By Obsidian Pages2 years ago in Poets
The Last Storm
The wind howled through the empty streets, carrying with it the scent of rain that would never come. The sky, a dull shade of gray, loomed over the remains of a once-thriving city. Crumbling buildings stood like forgotten tombstones, their windows shattered, their walls cracked by time and neglect. The world had dried up, leaving nothing but dust and despair in its wake.
By Pranshu verma2 years ago in Poets
