There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Tickled pink, not by feathers that tempt toes into submission, Tickled pink, by unfettered souls that speak of my vision.
By Lexington5 years ago in Poets
I carry Mexican blood yet I live in America. When is it okay to say “Viva La Mexico”, am I not to be proud of who I am ?
By Kaitlyn Osorio5 years ago in Poets
I Choose Color! By Valerie Adair Slater I create rainbows every day In a search for color, I find it When everything's gray, it bleeds in,
By Valerie Adair5 years ago in Poets
We are an Infinite spectrum. Morphing, mutating, never static. Waxing and waning, a tide of colors, as mercurial as the wind. Gliding among the populace as though an illusion of gender, darkness, light, flesh, blood, and bone. Existing by wit, love, struggle, and calculation.
By J Dehaan5 years ago in Poets
I wish there were a way, sometimes, to take away the color from the world. The bristles of a painter’s brush could gently sweep, surround, embrace,
By Chap Melford 5 years ago in Poets
I never understood why they called us that It couldn’t be the Budweiser bursting the capillaries underneath my Uncle Curtis’s skin
By Abbey Jones5 years ago in Poets
Color n. a visual property eliciting an emotional experience Call it color redefined. . Red energizes—fuels the fiery and the fierce.
By Mollie Teitelbaum5 years ago in Poets
My words stand there aimlessly Waiting for the time to pass by They hover in the background Useless to me Useless to everyone
By Campbell Ferguson5 years ago in Poets
IT… is almost everywhere In us, underground… in the air Seventy percent of US… is IT From our blood, to our very own spit
By Annetta Yuwono5 years ago in Poets
I always thought it was good to not see colour Thought it was good, I thought I was like no other But colour is beautiful, colour is great
By Nic5 years ago in Poets
Two days ago I died my hair blue; maybe to match the colour of the sky; maybe to match my football team; maybe to match
By Marisa5 years ago in Poets
Pride is a funny word It comes in many colours Those that know better Treat it like their own I was born a mix of many many shades
By Stella Mann5 years ago in Poets
