social commentary

There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.

Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose
When we were kids it was US against them all. We were alone, really. I did have friends but when the chips were down it was Three Gravils knuckles up, back to back. And many many times that was the only real friends I had. Three Gravils. Shoulder to shoulder.
By William King5 years ago in Poets
The Scars
The scars tell a story of steel and heat, of nights spent feeding hungry ovens — my left arm a poem written in reds. Like all hot, bright things
By Lori Lamothe5 years ago in Poets
The Sound of Static
This static state of which you speak That blinds and binds all of our minds Confounds the bounds of what we seek Confused concepts of different kinds
By Insinq Datum5 years ago in Poets
Campbell Park
Ainsley's breath curls fingers in cold reflex, A rotating door, shouted coffee orders and musical anachronism. Tired smiles in the portcullis of an ancient castle,
By Ben Wilson5 years ago in Poets
Having Fun
Don't be embarrassed Of letting yourself free To laugh and create To stumble down with glee Someone will compare The things that you have built
By Corwynna5 years ago in Poets
Sharp Edged Laughs
It’s a bit hard to smile When your lips are weighed down By the gravity well Following you around As your joke falls to the floor
By Corwynna5 years ago in Poets
Lockdown blues
This is for everyone out there sick of lockdowns, who just wants COVID-19 to go away. Lockdown's are necessary to help keep us safe but that don't mean you don't get the lockdown blues.
By Emma Datson5 years ago in Poets
The People-Pleasing Peace
She hides her pain, so her world can’t see, all she longs for, is just to be free. She groans and aches at the world’s scene, falsely giving the appearance of being mean, but in reality, that is something she wouldn't’ even dream. She wears a mask not for a disease, fully vaccinated, but infected with inferiority. Yet when she is alone, she finds her release. On the page, she can yell, dance, and scream-Poetry gives this beautiful butterfly her wings, and as she flaps away her anonymity, it is revealed she is me.
By Shannon Manning5 years ago in Poets
Poison Tongue
A new trend plagues the nation, and now it's on the rise. Like most things it's really ancient, born of human greed and lies.
By Dee Meinville5 years ago in Poets
Fortress
There is not a thin line between love and hate but a fortress Glistening green walls envelope our hearts hardened, jaded, but oh so delicate
By The Creative Chimera 5 years ago in Poets
The Fart Master
Here I sit all broken-hearted, came to poop, and only farted. When the aroma hit my nose, I passed out for God, who knows.
By Mark Stigers 5 years ago in Poets
Verba Volant, Scripta Manent
Sounds fly with the wind, writings are buried with dreams. The world goes by so fast, but the speed of sound can never beat the speed of light. Once again, light fell upon us, hitting the subdued darkness at five o'clock in the morning.
By Moch Aldy MA5 years ago in Poets