social commentary

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

Seas Change
Emergency Sea-Change 575,000 square kilometres, the flood, From the shelf continental, Viking’s men rose. Long pauses before transport, tarmac, his pollution. Osmotic new tides seep, like memories prize, in attempts to persuade the dry, wetter. No ears for his rumours, persistent physical domination no more.
By Paul Beckett5 years ago in Poets
Saint Sigismont
She kneels hero-ing a pastel pink pacifier like armour . crouched at the base of his stone bed, knee’s cobble etched
By Oceanne molony5 years ago in Poets
Darkness
The colors we see are just light divided, to favor one over another keeps us in the dark and hiding. * Red is the color of the heart's blood fire,
By Meko James 5 years ago in Poets
House
It's hot tonight Tonight will not sleep on the pavement. All get up, wake me up, you also wake up A window will open in this wall. This land was still intent on swallowing When we came down from broken branches These houses know the news, but not the houses Those days that we lived in caves
By Md Feroz5 years ago in Poets
Blonde, brunette, redhead
Today I am a blonde bombshell My wig brushes my broad shoulder, It's getting hard to make my outer shell Feel "femme" as I get older.
By Steph Cole5 years ago in Poets
Infinity
Rainbow spirals Infinity Indigo child What do you see? I’m called unique, like lavender, settling Different A “Prodigy” (if you can capitalise on me)
By Cereal Oatmeal 5 years ago in Poets
The Color of Me by Diana Tenes
The color of my skin is the color of the whole world It's the face people recognize from every land mass, continent, that is and is not theirs
By Diana Tenes5 years ago in Poets
gold
Gold courage in glasses from last night Glow and gently remind me I'm not the golden child Not with my gold knees, sitting on the bathroom floor
By Asha Anand5 years ago in Poets
My Closet
The garnet tie I own just like my alma mater is falling and forgotten at the seams. A point of departure, new avenues – but still I wear tight and leave it hanging in
By Clay Conley5 years ago in Poets
I am Brown
I am the color of my grandmother’s eyes, peaceful in death. The comforting smell of freshly brewed coffee Gulped down as we remember her.
By Elizabeth Grant5 years ago in Poets
American History
U.s.urp We are the natives unborn, the flag that is torn from green plains and yellow sun, as the red gold of tribes undone.
By Angelita Hampton5 years ago in Poets
Skin
I am not without tension that is inescapably melted in melanin given by a too a familiar story of fathers not present for inventory;
By Tatiana Yukawa5 years ago in Poets