There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
In Your Eyes I Am Your Slave In your eyes, I am a woman, A slave to a man. In mine, no man owns me, I do what I need to, when I can.
By ♿ V+ Marie381Uk 2 years ago in Poets
Up and down smile to frown inside out confidence to doubt right side in grace to sin this brain I'm in won't let me in
By Slgtlyscatt3red2 years ago in Poets
Blistered faces - skin lacerated And reddened, Raw from The lick of the sun. For days- You've Rotisseried yourself like
By River and Celia in Underland2 years ago in Poets
The Old Bookstore's Breath Sun-dusted window, a silent invite, To realms bound in paper, escaping the light. Aisles that meander, a comforting maze,
By Sanamdeep Singh2 years ago in Poets
I am an avid observer of the human psyche. I am in midlife, have seen enough. I found patterns: people will betray, but will not say sorry.
By Seema Patel2 years ago in Poets
London Bridges History London Bridge, where heads once swayed, On spikes they hung, in tar arrayed. From traitors’ necks, the blood had drained,
the words I write the words I can’t say out — but can share with the world are the truth or they — at the very least —
By Paul Stewart2 years ago in Poets
But always, I mean always, I had felt that emptiness, and nothing could fill it. Nothing can fill it now, except for my words.
A wild personality A colorful aura A colorful life she led The kind of person that wears her heart on her sleeve; a forgiving, compassionate person;
Note: you may not be aware of this, but many in the American conspiracy community believe that the seventeenth letter of the alphabet is connected to Q, which is:
By Kendall Defoe 2 years ago in Poets
Right before my eyes, people are ruining their health, and my medical knowledge, and awareness sharing, is going in vain.
It arrives unsolicited — creased into thirds, no return address, just the cold autumnal weight of a name you almost forgot.
By Ellie Hoovs2 years ago in Poets
