There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
You Abused My Child Now You Must Die There are lines in this world that should never be crossed, lines that exist without question,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 7 months ago in Poets
Slippery Slopes It begins small, just a slight shift, a step that does not feel as firm as the one before it. You tell yourself it is nothing,
My name is Carol, I laugh, smile, and cry, I can sing, Dance, And my best qualities are my caring nature, and my good heart;
By Carol Ann Townend7 months ago in Poets
When was the moment I was no longer a child? There’s what the law says, there’s what family says… and then there’s what I say.
By Gabriel B. Shames7 months ago in Poets
It did not vanish with a single stroke, no final curtain fell upon the stage. Instead, the light just thinned, the promise broke
By Meko James 7 months ago in Poets
~ i chew bullets in my dreams wake to nightmares, gums are bleeding, 'pull the fucking trigger' whines my metaled teeth,
By Heather Hubler7 months ago in Poets
Blow Wind Blow Blow wind blow, not across the trees, not across the roofs, come for me instead, I am standing here like something left behind,
One of the nicest colleagues, I have ever got, was a Muslim girl, a Palestinian refugee. The two month I worked with her,
By Seema Patel7 months ago in Poets
In the quiet of a house that once felt like a wind‑choked forest, the walls breathe in a rhythm only the floorboards remember.
By Forest Green7 months ago in Poets
To wake, with sweat and thick shame pressed to your back, is a diabolical beginning to each passing month. We slip from bed, clenching abdomen and bedding, and tiptoe to the bathroom, wary not to wake the man beside us.
By Kera Hollow7 months ago in Poets
I, the partner of this joyous realm, walk barefoot on galaxies, collecting stardust from the hem of your skirts, turning it into verses that tumble like fireworks in the night.
Lazy Zara Tumbletown Zara wakes when the morning is tired, sunlight slipping through half closed eyes, her hair a wild and laughing mess,
