There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
What have you made of Me? Legs closed, relentless,singular nuturer, muffin baker... yet Dark places Badness Weakness
By Fiona Mclennan4 years ago in Poets
My truth stands naked and alone in the deserted swarms of blatant lies, told by those with visions impaired by the darkness that unfolds in
By Kiran Kumar 4 years ago in Poets
When I die donate my body to nature, let me rest as a seed on dew-dipped blades, let me lie solitary until the pioneer flies
By Erin Smedley4 years ago in Poets
When I die, let my swollen body, in porcelain shadow, forge a beacon for a gravid blowfly. Let me divert my river,
The pterodactyl Can be rather docile; A quiet contemplater is he. Wise pterodactyl; He lives on his rock pile, Shunning bustle and community;
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Poets
And I tested your doctrine That everything can be smoked You just try it Your lungs will burn once You may cough your blood out
By Saman Abrar Khan4 years ago in Poets
The Voices That Echo Their Stories We can’t let The voices be Silenced With the passing Of time The slipping away
By Michelle Renee Kidwell4 years ago in Poets
All throughout my life, I dreamed of Becoming someone incredible. Capable of many things that Defied explanation and
By R.O.A.R.4 years ago in Poets
cower: harried cot the only cover from excrement steeped nail beds that shiver into hookworm claws and up, up, up ‘til
there is a town that weighs the mayor annually, publicly, to check if he spends their taxes on gluttony, they should
A president doesn’t buy coffee from an all night gas station or get a milk card punched for that free 1/2 gallon or return the empties.
By Natalie Wilkinson4 years ago in Poets
Cecily says to Miss Prism, I know perfectly well that I look quite plain after my German lesson. Love split into guttural Anglo-Saxon, lusty, and Latinate
