There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
The wind was sharp that evening. Leaves danced across the empty streets as if running from an unseen fear. Zara walked alone, her hands deep in her pockets, eyes fixed on the ground. She had left the café quickly, leaving her coffee half-finished. Did she want to escape the awkward conversation, or was it the memory that clung to her mind?
By Omid khan16 days ago in Poets
Dirty Old Town The streets are thick with soot and rain a child stands waiting, thin with pain her dress is torn, her shoes are weak
By Marie381Uk 16 days ago in Poets
Grass clippings swirling on spring breezes, hypnotic as man's pomposity ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By Matthew J. Fromm16 days ago in Poets
The gown didn’t belong to me. It never does. *** It ties you into someone else’s rules, someone else’s timing, someone else’s decisions.
By Aarsh Malik17 days ago in Poets
I. She can’t figure what side she’s on. But she still stirs the pot. II. Radical, she shows love. Conformed? Scorn she shows.
By Dean Traylor17 days ago in Poets
Someday, I will be better! Someday, I will beat people, tell them what I want in life - just because it's better! Someday, the things that I've been told made perfect sense!
By 365poetry17 days ago in Poets
In 1998, he said, my head hurts, after driving for at least 1 hour! In 1998 he said, you didn't even ask how I am doing, after driving for 1 hour!
Valentine's is coming up - who shall I commit my words to!? Valentine's is coming up - I hate this day, I truly hate the way....
I pledge allegiance to the flag… Of the united states of… Iraq! Take it back! One last chance to grab the stash, Jack.
By Gabriel Shames17 days ago in Poets
He went one step D O W N Shed away his ego ~~~⏬~~~ Second step D O W N Anger loosened its grip
By Dharrsheena Raja Segarran17 days ago in Poets
A Man Called Norman He lived alone in the house near the bend kept to himself, not keen to pretend garden half-wild, boots by the door
By Marie381Uk 17 days ago in Poets
Revolution is not the obliteration of hardship. Revolution is the alchemy of suffering, of devouring the fertile bodies of the dead and rotting things with the faithful knowing that every smoky, sour mouthful brings us closer to the truth.
By Eden Row17 days ago in Poets
