There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
I don’t know you And I won’t honor you If by chance, your stance Was in opposition to the olive branch; In connection to a state of mind
By Bob Dudley8 years ago in Poets
I feel a deep sense of sonder thinking about all that you could be As I sit here and I ponder On what is happening to me
By Eternity Mickens8 years ago in Poets
You tell us we don’t need paradesYou tell us we don’t need prideYou tell us we’re all equal nowYou tell us we’ve won the fight
By Liz Shannon8 years ago in Poets
I understand the media is best when at their worst Up from John P. Zenger down to William Randolph Hearst. The ratings climb, the story's good- whatever it may be.
By Paul Forshtay8 years ago in Poets
Down down - gasp The fall is long, falling slow. The darkness creeps like dusk, like shadows lengthening slow, slow - exhale
By Kathryn Brown8 years ago in Poets
IT'S COLD, DARK, AND GLOOMY OUT I NEED TO TAKE A BATH TO DROWN MY DOUBT I FEEL COMFORTABLE, RELAXED IN MY SPACE I FEEL WARM AND SAFE, BUT I'M TRYING TO REPLACE
By Jessica Smart8 years ago in Poets
Have you always felt this way? Have you always felt the sway of the ages, the drifting and drafting of loose-leaf pages, in limbs ever-creaking from far-flung breeze?
By Joel Crow8 years ago in Poets
Go to school get good grades go to college go to more college (and more college) get a job (be a provider) find a mandatory life partner (preferably a spouse)
By Wyld Tha Bard8 years ago in Poets
I wonder how it is to be white? White as white is seen. Pink lipped white, Blonde blue white. A mother of white, Maybe a daughter of white.
By Jesse Hardy8 years ago in Poets
All we wanted was the Kingship Never knew we'd have to deal with the King Shit Smoke a joint and now you're a drug fiend then
By Brian Kelly8 years ago in Poets
Sometimes, I think the fact that we were ever born at all, is the cruelest joke that ever existed. To live only to die, for what?
By Jessica Rasile8 years ago in Poets
You look in your mirror, And you hate what you see. But you look at your phone's screen And you love who you appear to be.
By Grace Harwood8 years ago in Poets
