There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Gravitated arrangement - peons part ways . A partition to pull past passive presentation of passion. Patience blankets preservation, penance as poison -
By Matthew Eastman4 years ago in Poets
Three to four times every year, the planet Mercury appears to move backwards for a few weeks along its celestial path, at least from our Earthly point of view. Astrologers refer to such periods as 'retrograde transits'.
By Obsidian Eagle4 years ago in Poets
Pitch black cover Lamps alight break The wind asleep At summers end Hills, hiding deep Behind the mothers and fathers
By SB. 4 years ago in Poets
It's raining and gloomy outside Great day to complain I hate being a Type 2 Diabetic I hate being over weight I hate having high blood pressure
By Hadayai Majeed aka Dora Spencer4 years ago in Poets
DEATH TO ALL TYRANTS! . And Death to Kings and Queens Death to Dukes and Duchesses’ Death to Counts and Countesses
By Ross E Fortune Lombardi4 years ago in Poets
I know you think I am jaded And I think I know why You are perpetually confounded by my post lockdown attitudes My love of solitude, silence, brevity, and abhorrence for drama
By Imabong Faminu4 years ago in Poets
Hi I’m social media I was born in the 1990’s the golden age I got the touch of Midas the eyes of Medusa I am very inclusive I got everything you need personality is addictive mess with me and you’ll become a fiend
By Sharieff Clark4 years ago in Poets
A letter to Wordsworth, a letter so dear, for his original quote: If the child has fathered the man; If that statement’s factual,
By Hoaram4 years ago in Poets
Try and change my mind. Tell me what you see that I don’t. Convince me with evidence, hard facts and logic. Morality, religion, and
By Allyssa Izetta 4 years ago in Poets
I wonder what it’s like for money to never be a worry To not budget every penny until your eyes are blurry, For your accounts to rise instead of crash down
By Britt Blomster 4 years ago in Poets
My hands are cracked and they are torn It's been near a summer since last I wore any shoe My home built of scraps all that I could find
By Kevin Klabon4 years ago in Poets
it can be a curse to be complex to have to try and decipher ones own mind the answer is never simple and the question, maybe it was not phrased right
By Helen Smith4 years ago in Poets
