social commentary

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

It's Time to Pull the Plugs. Top Story - May 2026.
Rip the hands clenched tightly round wrists Jump into the unknown Release from the tight ropes of numbers painted so rigidly
By Oneg In The Arctic6 months ago in Poets
The Queue Beneath The Tree To Pee
The Queue Beneath The Tree To Pee They line up without a word being said, A quiet agreement, a path gently led, One by one in a patient line,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
The Night It Happened
The Night It Happened I remember the moment like it never ended, The sharpness of fear before I could react, His hand too quick, his eyes already gone,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
Looking Outside
The sun is a giant purple grape in the mouth of the morning— I feel the pulp of tomorrow bursting, sweet and electric, The sun is a grape in the sky,
By Forest Green6 months ago in Poets
Looking Outside
The sunrise is spilling in ink, Past stars where the heavy clouds blink. New gardens will bloom In a velvet-spun room, As tomorrow turns sweet as a wink.
By Forest Green6 months ago in Poets
The Years We Didn’t Use. Winner in After It’s Gone Challenge.
We wander aimlessly from the bosom of our mother into a world we are never fully prepared for. - We find our footing— or something like stable—
By Paul Stewart6 months ago in Poets
~ Pulling at The Fringes~
~ Pulling at The Fringes~ The Prison Delimma, A Lifer of the DTES Pulling at the fringes Of my hair, How do I get out of here?
By Jennifer Cooley6 months ago in Poets
An Elegy for Our Time
I mourn today. Today I grieve. I mourn the darkening of a dream, the fading of a grand human endeavor. * I mourn the possibility of what could have been.
By David Muñoz6 months ago in Poets
Empire Of Grotesque
For many people, the world is a terrible place. Too many people expect somebody else to sort it out, but we all have to pull together or we will wake up one day and there will be nothing left that is good.
By Mike Singleton 💜 Mikeydred 6 months ago in Poets
The Garden Laughs
The Garden Laughs The garden laughs in quiet colour, Nothing loud, nothing forced, Just petals opening where they are, As if they always knew how.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 6 months ago in Poets
True Colors
My pen has begun to move, in place of my mouth that has simply refused as it has nothing nice to speak... I have been fed plenty of food for thought from minds that hear only their own speech‐
By JM6 months ago in Poets
Triolet for You
Note: This seems to be the perfect form for this Challenge. A triolet is described as ''a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout.'' I might be stretching the rules a bit (see the link here), but show me what you can do with it.
By Kendall Defoe 6 months ago in Poets