There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
At least they haven’t noticed my fear A vicious animal with his mouth open Jaws unlocked ready to devour Yet his appetite only hungers for my mind
By Dominique Lewis8 years ago in Poets
It was vain But sin was gleaming Gleaming brightly, in the light I was slain It left me grieving Grieving long into the night
By Lana Wilder8 years ago in Poets
This barista was the best. His brews and creams, above the rest. He swept, he mopped, he cleaned the pots, he was assistant manager Scott.
By Frico Ahrendts8 years ago in Poets
I am stuck. I can't breathe. Everything around me slowly fade away. Illusion of a better life. it's funny, I can't feel my hands anymore,
By Alex-Sandra Nunya8 years ago in Poets
I've been hidden quietly covered in cocoon No movement No sound Waiting for spring to blossom Ready to break free I'm scared
By Gladys W. Muturi8 years ago in Poets
Dying to be perfect I am from an all-american family. From beautiful sons, daughters, aunts and cousins. I am from a perfect family
By Savannah Peterson8 years ago in Poets
In all our lives we most likely all have been a subject of hatred and/or bullying. I hate feeling this way, doubting myself, but as I grew up,
By Crystal Korpan8 years ago in Poets
I find myself envisioning the faded evening where an old man, who most likely speaks no English, sticks his hand into the mill
By Madison García8 years ago in Poets
I grew up with "treat people with RESPECT" or the famous "do unto others, as you want them to do unto you", THE GOLDEN RULE.
Hispanic, Asian, White, Black, or Native American. Post- Office worker, Journalist, Saint, Doctor, or Fast- food worker.
By Victoria Ward8 years ago in Poets
We all fake it, Why not own it? Fake it girls, be the bitch Be the vengeance that burns in you, But don't under any circumstances show them who you really are.
By Mack8 years ago in Poets
What am I even doing with my life? Most people ask themselves the same question. But I won't resort to the thought of a knife.
By S.G. Hill8 years ago in Poets
