There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
The little boy and I were out for a walk. He saw a neighbor’s front-yard tree and said, Palo verde. My heart soared with happiness.
By Seema Patel11 months ago in Poets
Two parents, their parenting ways are, very different, poles apart. There is the father who drives in his electric car swipe his debit card
It does not matter how high you rise... How great you become... How skilled you are... How far you've come... How phenomenal things have been...
By H.E. Dr. Cody Dakota Wooten, COIE, DFM, DHM11 months ago in Poets
In the oldest part of the city, where broken streetlights flickered like tired stars and silence felt heavier than noise, there lived a young poet named Ayaan. His world was small—one narrow room with peeling paint, a wooden table, and a window that looked down at a restless street. But inside that small room existed entire universes, created by ink, pain, and unspoken emotions.
By Anas Khan11 months ago in Poets
she said i won't kiss i don't kiss anyone but you you know me enough to know what I say is true but this thing this thing, i gotta do
By Bren11 months ago in Poets
You started small. A kindling. Just enough warmth to keep us alive, enough to rub, our hands together. Cold comfort. used to
By River and Celia in Underland11 months ago in Poets
We are leading human life, means deficits will be there, frustrations will be fixtures. But let’s not get carried away, that we forget our blessings.
"careful now, she's mad. she has ice in her veins." no, i was burning. and i blinded myself with it. "fine, be a fire. but not too bright."
By Alivia Varvel11 months ago in Poets
The Taj Mahal So Beautiful At dawn the marble learns the colour of prayer, White turning rose beneath a waking sky. A river holds its breath along the walls,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 11 months ago in Poets
I've always felt the presence of a “genius loci” - that subtle atmosphere around places. It followed me wherever I went though I don't think I always consciously noticed it.
By Sun Bee11 months ago in Poets
As I lumber Padded, hidden Heavy with glorious light Endless pockets Bulging, overflowing Yet sown up tight Glittering memorial dust
By K.B. Silver 11 months ago in Poets
A brief note: this poem is part of a year-long 72 poem cycle I wrote from October 2023-October 2024 and published on Medium in Scribe.
By Natalie Wilkinson11 months ago in Poets
