Chapter 9:War (part 1)
370 Words
Chapter 9:War (part 1)
After the defeat with troops one on the borders of land of Asia, Jonathan Martin was waiting for the world government council meeting where kings of every land will be present.
Meanwhile,the Europeans were tensed because if the king declared war officially the situation of the land will get more worse.
The day had came World government had their own land named ‘THE RULING LAND’ which was known as ‘THE LAND OF ANTRANTICA’ but as no-one lived there it became the official land of world government.
All kings were there ‘Joseph chen’ from land of Asia, ‘Avdol abibola’ from land of Africa, ‘Jotaro brown’ from land of Australia, ‘kakayoin anderson’ from land of North America, ‘polanerf Alvarez’ from land of south America and ‘Holly smith’ the head of world government and the 1st women leader of the world government.
to be continued...
IQ the methaphoric era
IQ the methaphoric era
IQ the methaphoric era
poem time
In the golden fields, where the sun meets the sky,
A lone flower blooms, reaching for high.
Its petals dance with the breeze's soft touch,
Whispering secrets that mean so much.
Through forests deep, where shadows play,
A stream murmurs softly, finding its way.
Its waters shimmer with the moon's gentle light,
Reflecting the stars that sparkle so bright.
On rugged cliffs, where the eagles soar,
Echoes of ancient tales still roar.
Their voices carry through the misty air,
Telling stories of courage, love, and despair.
In bustling cities, where dreams take flight,
Neon lights flicker, painting the night.
People rush by with their hopes and fears,
Lost in the rhythm of life's shifting gears.
In quiet homes, where candles glow,
Families gather, their love on show.
Laughter rings out, filling the space,
Creating memories that time cannot erase.
From the smallest whisper to the loudest roar,
Life's symphony plays, forevermore.
In every moment, beauty can be found,
In the silence, in the chaos, all around.
Though this poem may not reach four thousand words,
Its essence still sings like the song of birds.
For in every line, a story is told,
Of a world that is precious, a world to behold.
- Writer
