social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
The Keeper of Shattered Moons
The meadow was a bruise when I woke, its clover crushed under a sky of splintered moons, their shards dripping silver into pools that fizzed like soda pop. It was September, or so my bones whispered, though time here felt like molasses spilling from a cracked jar. My hands were coated in golden pollen, my eyes spinning like laser-discs, reflecting a poison apple sun that melted into rivers of scarlet syrup. I didn’t know how I’d arrived, but a weight pressed my chest, heavy with purpose. Seven days, a voice in my blood said. Seven days to unearth something buried.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
The Weaver of Tattered Stars
The sky was a frayed tapestry when I woke, its edges unraveling into threads of molten gold, dripping like candle wax onto a meadow of whispering clover. It was September, or so my heart said, though time felt slippery here, like syrup sliding off a spoon. My hands were stained with star-dust, glittering faintly, and my eyes—oh, they spun like laser-discs, reflecting a poison apple sun that melted into pools of fizzing blue. I wasn’t sure how I’d arrived, but the air hummed with purpose, and I knew I had seven days to weave something whole from this broken dream.
By Shohel Ranaabout a year ago in Poets
