social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Void Whispers
Silent rooms where shadows weave their tales, I hear the echoes of a voice unspoken, A whisper flits like dust through sunlit veils, Yet solitude’s embrace remains unbroken. I sit alone, with thoughts both vast and stark, The walls conspire with secrets never shared; An unseen breath ignites the stillness dark— This phantom conversation feels so dared. “Do you not see me?” sighs the air I breathe, A jest upon the lips of time's cruel jesters; Yet here I am—a captive of belief, In company of ghosts who are my testers. For every word that dances in my ear, The silence wraps me tighter in its shroud; The irony: I seek what’s far from near— To find connection in an empty crowd. Oh sweet delusion! How you twist and play! In whispers heard but never to be found; What irony unfolds when night turns day— To long for voices lost in hollow sound.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Veiled Intentions
In shadows cast by silvered night, A tapestry of empty dreams, Where intentions flicker, fade from sight, And truth dances in elusive beams. Beneath the veil of soft-spun lies, A heart concealed in gentle guise, Each word a thread pulled taut with fear, Yet longing breathes within each tear. The porcelain mask smiles wide and bright, While secrets curl like smoke in air; What hides beneath this artful light? Is it hope or anguish we dare share? Hands tremble on the edge of fate, Tracing lines where silence drips— Promises woven in threads of late, With jagged edges that brush our lips. In corners dimmed by time's embrace, Veiled intentions swirl like mist; To trust is but a fragile space— Where every heartbeat feels amiss. So let us peel this shroud away— Reveal what lingers underneath; For love unmasked finds strength to stay; And honesty begets belief.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
The Moment We Danced
In twilight's glow, where shadows softly blend, We twirled beneath a sky of whispered dreams, Your laughter like a song that would not end, A melody that danced on silver beams. The world around us faded into night, Each star above a witness to our grace; With every step, the universe felt right— My heart found home within your warm embrace. Your eyes were lanterns glowing through the dark, Illuminating secrets yet untold; In each soft glance ignited love's bright spark, A flame that flickered gently, brave and bold. Oh how amazing was that fleeting hour! Two souls entwined in rhythm and in rhyme; As time stood still beneath love’s wondrous power, We wove our names through strands of endless time. And though the dawn may steal away the night, That moment lingers softly in my soul; For in your arms I found both peace and light— Together we are perfect, we are whole.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
It Must Have Been
It must have been the way the sunlight fell, A golden thread that wove through morning air, Your laughter danced like chimes in whispered spells, Unraveled time; I lingered unaware. It must have been the scent of jasmine blooms, A heady sweetness laced with summer's sighs, Each moment spent with you dispelled all glooms, In your embrace, the world found its replies. It must have been your eyes—two starlit skies— Reflecting dreams we dared to call our own; With every glance, a thousand soft goodbyes, Yet still in silence, love’s true language shone. It must have been the echoes of our hearts, A symphony of beats that intertwined; Though fate may part us now and drift us far, In every pulse remains what once aligned. So let us hold this moment close and dear— For though it fades like whispers in the mist, I know it must have been forever here: Our love—a tapestry no time can twist.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Confusion's Conundrum
In a town where whispers twist and twirl, Lived a man named Confusion, quite the pearl. With socks mismatched and hair all askew, He’d mix up his morning, like cereal with stew. “Good day!” he would greet, then trip on a cat, A sprightly young fellow, but where was he at? He’d aim for the door but end up in a booth, His compass was broken; he sought out the truth. At breakfast one morn’, with toast piled so high, He pondered if butter could fly to the sky. “A flapping delight!” he'd say with a grin— Then laugh at himself for such nonsense within. The postman came by with letters galore, But Confusion thought they were gifts from the store! He opened them wide, expecting some treats— Found bills that informed him of overdue feats. His friends would all chuckle when he'd take a stand: “Just tell us your plan! Give us something quite grand!” Yet he'd scratch his head and reply in good cheer, “My plan is to plan… oh dear! What’s so clear?” At dances he'd spin like a leaf in the breeze, And step on toes often—oh please! More than these! But laughter erupted as each footwork blundered; Confusion just grinned while everyone thundered. Yet deep down inside this chaotic parade, Was wisdom unwritten—his charm never swayed. For even amidst jumble and muddled pursuits, Confusion found joy in his quirky roots.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Ride Them Fast
There once was a horse, quite brash, Who loved to strut with flair and flash. With a kick and a snort, He’d cause quite the sort, Leaving riders to laugh in a clash. In fields where the daisies would sway, He'd gallop around for the play. But his stubborn old heart, Would often depart, When asked for a trot on the way. With his mane like a wild golden crown, He'd prance with pride all over town. But alas! What’s the cost? To be deemed just an ass? As he strutted around wearing frown.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Empty Space
When she birthed kids and wrapped herself around them, I got empty space I was a forgotten blip in time My being was erased, and she filled the space, my old space , with new neighbors, cookie parties, and church I found there was no room at the inn, just a gap as wide as the states stretch I have holes that memories don’t quite fill, because they aren’t alive, like hugs and smiles, or a freshly baked cookie dunked in creamy coffee, at a kitchen table covered in her hand-sewn tablecloth A photo every few years mailed helter-skelter, perhaps appearing at Christmas – or A quick note to give voice to the fulfillments in her life, a short note to family-brag filled with words, but the empty spaces of what isn’t said, shouted louder. So, it is done. A memory hole deeper than the ocean, of some long-ago times but really a deep and empty gulley of what could have been.
By Andrea Corwin about a month ago in Poets
