social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Inquisition of Curiosity
In a land where questions sprout like weeds, And every thought becomes a quest for leads, “Why is the sky blue?” “What makes it rain?” A chorus of queries—delight or bane? With furrowed brows and lips pursed tight, We ponder life's mysteries late into the night. “How deep's the ocean?” “What’s love’s true guise?” Each answer we seek just fuels more whys. Oh! The ceaseless cycle spins on its wheel, Like children in circles with endless appeal; “Where do we go when we say goodbye?” The answers are countless—so why even try? In meetings and gatherings, they spring forth anew, Questions like popcorn—pop! Pop! Pop!—it’s true! “Did you hear about Tim? Is he still in that jam?” As if life were a puzzle and each clue is a sham. Yet wisdom they say lies not in the ask, But in learning to breathe under burdensome masks. So while I applaud all inquisitive minds, I yearn for a moment when silence unwinds. So hush now dear friends, let’s savor the pause; Not every conundrum deserves such applause. For sometimes in quietude wisdom will rise— Less asking may lead to more brilliant replies.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Beauty of Imperfection
In gardens wild where tangled shadows play, The blooms, though flawed, are vibrant in their hue; Each petal whispers secrets of the day, And shows us all that life can be askew. A crooked path leads to a sunlit glade, Where laughter mingles with the rustling leaves; Yet even there, beneath the bright cascade, The mark of time is etched on boughs and eaves. What’s perfect shines but fleetingly at best; It’s in the cracks we find the stories told. A heart laid bare reveals its truest quest— To learn that love is gentle with the bold. Embrace each flaw, for in them lies our grace; In every fault, we find a warm embrace.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Shadows' Whisper
In corners deep, where silence breathes and sighs, The shadows stretch their fingers, soft and sly. They linger close, as secrets weave their lies, And beckon forth the dreams that dare to fly. The moonlight spills like silver on the floor, Its glow a timid dance with shades of night. Yet in the dark, there's more than we explore— A world unseen, where phantoms find their light. With every creak of wood beneath our feet, A shiver winds its way through spine and heart; For lurking here are fears we can’t defeat— Old memories that pierce us like a dart. Yet still we breathe within this twilight's calm, Embracing both the dread and sweet allure; For in the dark resides a hidden balm— A place where all our fractured souls endure. So when you feel those whispers wrap around, Know they are but reflections of your mind; In darkness deep is clarity profound— The truth emerges only when we're blind.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Mischievous Rabbits
There once was a rabbit named Lou, Who danced in the fields where he grew. With a hop and a skip, He'd take every trip, To nibble on greens fresh with dew. His fur was as soft as the mist, In the dawn's gentle light, he’d persist. With eyes big and bright, He'd frolic in flight, A treasure of joy none could resist. But one day while chasing a bug, He tumbled and landed with a thud! Though bruised on his side, He laughed and replied, "Just part of my life’s little flood!"
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Fires Within
In the quiet dawn where dreams take flight, A whisper stirs, igniting the night. Ambition dances on the edge of sight, With every heartbeat, it burns so bright. Through valleys deep and mountains high, I’ve felt the weight of time slip by. Yet in my soul, a fervent cry— “Rise up! Reach for the endless sky!” Each step I take upon this path, Is forged through fire and tempered wrath. With every challenge that I unmask, I find my strength within each task. The shadows loom; they dare to bind, But I refuse to leave hope behind. For in the struggle, wisdom’s mined— In each misstep, new paths designed. So let them doubt; let silence reign; For I have danced with joy and pain. My heart beats loud—a wild refrain— “I got that ambition,” a fierce hurricane! With vision clear and spirit bold, I chase the dreams that won’t grow old. For life’s not measured in silver or gold— It’s passion's spark that can’t be controlled.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
A Rabid Heart
In shadows where the moonlight weeps, A raven's cry from silence creeps, The rabid heart begins to race, As darkness folds in grim embrace. With teeth like daggers, gnashing wild, It knows no mercy; it’s defiled. Fury seethes beneath the skin, A tempest howls where hope has been. The fevered dreams of restless nights, Are painted red with primal bites. Each heartbeat echoes in the void, Where innocence is long destroyed. Beneath the skin a beast awakes, With hollow eyes that hunger makes. It prowls through memories’ decay, And gnaws at bonds that once held sway. In every whisper lies despair, In every glance—a haunting stare. Chained to the madness it infests, A soul forsaken never rests. Yet in this chaos forged anew, Resilience blooms—a flower grew— From ashes cold and bitter pain; A twisted heart can love again. But still the rabid claw remains— It grips my mind with iron chains; And so I dance on edges thin— Between the dark and light within.
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
Sign of Betrayal
In the garden where shadows creep, Among thorns that cut and weep, I planted trust in fertile ground, But malice grew where love was found. You wore a mask of tender grace, With every smile, a sly embrace; Your laughter danced like silver light, Yet hid the dagger poised to bite. Each whispered promise turned to dust, In echoes of betrayed trust. The roots entwined in darkness' grasp, What once was sweet now chokes and gasps. A wraith-like fog wraps 'round my heart, The taste of venom tears apart; You painted skies with hues so bright— Now tempest storms consume the night. I scorn the memories we shared, For every moment left me bared; A ghostly figure haunts my mind— The friend I loved now cruel and blind. So here I stand amidst the gloom, Beneath this weighty cloak of doom; With fury fierce as winter's frost, I mourn for what I thought was lost. And in this darkened garden's core, Where wrath has settled evermore— I'll weave my pain into a crown, A twisted throne of thorns renown
By Forest Greenabout a month ago in Poets
