There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
i need something good and i need it now was it Eric Cartmang that said "don't have a cow?" but i don't wanna be just your average bogan
By Bren3 years ago in Poets
Lately, I've been thinking and normally I would welcome any cranial activity, but, lately, I've been wondering... Why did Icarus fall? Why is he blamed instead the of the sun. Why did Lot's wife look back at wickedness. God turned her to salt.
By Sofya Maxnide3 years ago in Poets
Doors open A breath taken, Absorbing a time Long gone, Removed from modernity On back road, Where cars speed Little caring of what
By Katrina Thornley3 years ago in Poets
What is the meaning of marriage and family? to start with marriage; M is for mates, A is for allegiance to others, R is for rites of passage,
By Mark Graham3 years ago in Poets
Migraines are not headaches. I can't just "pop an Advil and be on with my day". I can barely open my eyes without feeling like I'm going to throw up.
By Caitlin Fladager3 years ago in Poets
“Your kids only wear clothes from Walmart, while you get dressed up a lot. Not a good look for you as a mom..” That statement is something I get a lot.
When we talk about family we usually mean blood, People who look after your needs like families should. A shoulder to lean on if you could,
By Sid Aaron Hirji3 years ago in Poets
The sun embraces the moon The fun encounters the spoon One dun squires for one last loon And the run stopped afternoon ; "She has gone, she is gone. Her smiling face no longer shines." Thus think the crowd, "Her tone Will be missing. For many lines."
By Francis L3 years ago in Poets
The up-close frontal view of my visage in the mirror, the one I see every morning, is who I see on the inside. She is confident and clever.
By Jordan McCoy 3 years ago in Poets
I hope I die young Unscarred by age I hope I die young Oblivious to pain *** The moment of forgetting The feeling of frustration
By Martyna Dearing3 years ago in Poets
Snakes in the grass, you can’t decipher which ones. There live no scavengers if it’s only a witch hunt. All types will do, but I like the rich blood.
By Desmond Razzano3 years ago in Poets
The first night home I close the door And drop my pack The furnace Nudged by outside air Awakens Its blessed breath
By Denise Shelton3 years ago in Poets
