There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Moon in AriesNEVER WAS Ticking in time, Hands on the clock Saturn rewind Eyes of a Hawk Mars on a mission Kinda his thing
By Jennidoll of (jennidoll.inc)about a year ago in Poets
Quis Curat They say Chase another carrot Ferreting out their sins Where does it end? A society built on lies Incapable of being wrong
By Atomic Historianabout a year ago in Poets
Let them go. They wish to colonize Mars, So let them go. We've seen how well they take To the depth of the ocean below,
By K.L. Graceabout a year ago in Poets
I am the mug on the drying rack clean, dry, still warm from the rinse. Not abandoned just resting. Ready to be needed.
By Lolly Vieiraabout a year ago in Poets
I had hepatitis C as a child, but I worked very hard and got Hepatitis C+. Centaurs and mermaids: should they hook up? If they build a statue of a pigeon in a park, does that mean we are allowed to defecate on it?
By Kendall Defoe about a year ago in Poets
She burned the midnight oil, studied quantum physics. Her village folks have no idea what that is, but they had heard that's not easy, quite hard.
By Seema Patelabout a year ago in Poets
The Circus Clowns Put the Show The circus clowns put the show, painted smiles where none would grow, patched-up boots and baggy knees,
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk about a year ago in Poets
They elected a new president despite the clear danger he would represent he brought with him promises of riches to be had
By Connieabout a year ago in Poets
There was a cozy little library that lived on her street that sprouted up wonders like fruits from a tree from the adventure of a mouse running about his big house
She’s a Tramp She isn’t a lady no silk or silver spoon her laugh cracks like thunder and her footsteps chase the moon She wears no crown
He Is the Devil’s Son He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t blink just stands and lets the silence sink his shadow walks a breath ahead
the hill where I stood and waited for reason to come in its season ~ looking upon the world with a warring sense of unease and hope
By Paul Stewartabout a year ago in Poets
