social commentary

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

my grandmother's hands
as a boy, black was the last color i wanted to be because i wanted to be wanted (by people, but mostly by my country).
By A.T. McWilliams5 years ago in Poets
Red Howl
In a perfect rythmn As grey smoke rises And blackened ashes fall In the wake of waves of fire And gunshots gone wild the rooster crows
By Nadia M Dabul5 years ago in Poets
R.O.Y-G-B.I.V
Crimson flash on winter pearled sky Or the deep kiss planted on a blackbird's wing Red teachings of stepping lightly into cold winds
By Cynthia Chape5 years ago in Poets
I See Brown
I come from a world where all around me I see brown, From the ground where the sound of working boots’ trudge would lull me to sleep, to the color of my skin, to the color of my eye. In my small pueblo we lived on a small house made of sticks and dirt where we ate and slept on soil, so I hope you understand when I tell you that I Can’t help it if all I see is brown.
By Magdaleno Jaimes5 years ago in Poets
Blueblack
The world appears as whole As a color wheel feels complete Until you close your eyes And, for the first time, Look at what exists beneath them.
By Kathryn Lake5 years ago in Poets
Why does the colour of my skin matter in the grand scheme of things?
What am I in the grand scheme of things? A Nguyen, like of my kin, Or Asian because of my skin? Should I need be ashamed of any of that
By Vi Nguyen5 years ago in Poets
Doom and Bloom
Mantis shrimp don’t actually see more colors than us They simply can’t blend the different shades More eyes to make sure fuchsia isn’t azure
By Andrew Lapp5 years ago in Poets
Glimpses of Alive
We catch glimpses of alive Kaleidoscopes through color leaves in the dusty, dusky hospital skylight (is it light or is it dirt?)
By Sobes5 years ago in Poets
Synesthete Honesty, No Cap.
Sometimes I want to Travel to the past but then I look at my skin. What am I? Dark leather gorilla fabric, Shiny and buffed,
By Abubakarr Kamara5 years ago in Poets
INFUSED
I am what happens when every color discovers the beauty in reflecting each other . when connection uncovers the tones review
By Black Atticus5 years ago in Poets
The meaning of Color
If the world was black and white, we'd still have grey areas. But, lets talk about this splash of color to really depict my variance. As I navigate my radius, I see pigmented men, green with greed trying to capitalize off of the blues of others. And a mixed bunch, yellow bellies afraid to confront a problem. Especially when the red, white, and blue doesn't cover all of us. It makes my people seem displaced, but on our backs we built the obelisks. Instead of being downtrodden, We became I, and created a place where a You, can be gold minded. Especially when your skin soil brown hewn from the mountaintops. And when the light hits, it illuminates you and surrounding spots. Everything aint peachy now, flaws shown supremely and its more than color;
By Marcus5 years ago in Poets
Red, White and Blue
I am but a spectrum of possibilities. Molded and shaped by others perceptions of me. A palette of myriad colors as vast as the sea.
By Rhonda Lee 5 years ago in Poets