There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
I am invisible, faster than a glimpse No 0,5 sec attention span has caught me since. I am a Q? loop evading bliss,
By Lola Bunny4 years ago in Poets
I am what I am. I am what I create. A tiny piece of my soul in a tiny piece of my life's portfolio of work. Flickering. Glowing. Growing.
By Rambler's Society4 years ago in Poets
As small children you were there a cousin or two as grandchildren you are here I love you Boo **** In my job I was told by Bob
By Denise E Lindquist4 years ago in Poets
I asked my reflection, who am I? Lost behind a shield, or is it a mask? Is this my protection, or is it simply a lie?
By KLMillward4 years ago in Poets
It's a Wednesday after epiphany and all I want to do is write a weekday sort of poem. Maybe make a stab at beauty - - scribble leaves flaming as they fall
By Lori Lamothe4 years ago in Poets
Might be book of all ages Giving hope of all ranges But misery it rages Cause no light shines from pages Life happens in dark stages
By Sam Dinatolo4 years ago in Poets
When June ends and bleeds into July, I don't suddenly stop being queer. I don't suddenly pull my sexuality back into myself,
By Josey Pickering4 years ago in Poets
What happens after the parade? I watched in the distance as the last float passed me by while strands of music sound in the air playing the latest anthem.
By Kia T Cooper-Erbst4 years ago in Poets
Your body is not your own But your mind isn’t either Pink pussy hats and cosplay warriors But you go home and nothing is changed
By Erin Hensley4 years ago in Poets
We're told we're free but I don't buy it Raise your voice, it's time to riot! Like those before us, we must use our voices
By KAT Hunt4 years ago in Poets
The seasons shift as they go on, one rain, one snow and not much sun. The horses in the field are living with their numbered days to entertain.
By isa4 years ago in Poets
Standing at the mirror, A nothingness, Twirling between her fingers. She wonders what is worse; To be empty... Or consumed.
By Sara Larca4 years ago in Poets
