One of my favorite poems that I remember always hearing as a kid is Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstien.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
and before the street begins,
and there the grass grows soft and white,
and there the sun burns crimson bright,
and there the moon-bird rests from his flight
to cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
and the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
we shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow
and watch where the chalk-white arrows go
to the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
and we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
for the children, they mark, and the children, they know,
the place where the sidewalk ends.
I love how descriptive is it because I can create perfect imagery for every line! I also like poems that rhyme and for the most of it, this one does. This poem takes people on a “journey” down the sidewalk and where it ends. On the way I can smell, hear, taste, and touch everything because of how well descriptive it is. That’s why I love this poem and why it is one of my favorites.