There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
She sits and stares As the dark creeps in It chills the air, And brushes her skin The house is empty Brought down to bare bones
By Carolyn Linder8 years ago in Poets
"I am a mess” I say, more sure of it than before I was 22 And less sure of why. “I am a mess” I say, unapologetically, not seeking councel
By B Day8 years ago in Poets
Enlightenment seemed to illuminate her being She gasped at the fact that The world really is as dark as it seems She dashed back to the darkness
By Destiny Revealed8 years ago in Poets
In this democracy It seems to be Full of bull shit and hypocrisy Keep running your mouth Just spit it out What's your point to be?
By Maccy Tovey8 years ago in Poets
My name is Alice....Alice Powers, There was colorful dresses and streets filled with beautiful flowers, I am a white woman with blond hair, envied by all,
By Nicki8 years ago in Poets
Walking home seemed like an eternity Waiting for something that is not real Staring into a black screen, waiting…. Wondering as to what is it that I am waiting for?
By Oscar Duarte8 years ago in Poets
How do other brains work? Do they circle around situations like vultures around a particularly messy carrion feast? Do they question their purpose?
By Katt Clark8 years ago in Poets
In the fight for peace, And the fight for freedom, He stood tall And as strong as a wall, The fearless leader of Britain.
By Katelyn Paige8 years ago in Poets
People walked for me, People marched for me , they were enslaved for me, this is my black history, I was told to move to the back of the bus, I was telling the world "I have a dream" I was told that I came from monkeys this is my black history,
By Briana Guerrier8 years ago in Poets
To dance To dance A dance of ecstatic joy, In the land where death has died, And New roses unfurl each morning In the soil of the soul.
the sweet cigarette smoke that fills your lungs, and the smell that flushes your nostrils, a divine concoction of guilt and love, such as the sight of a dying dove.
By Jake Yates8 years ago in Poets
Who I am is a question they ask…I do always question is their brain up to the task…the task of understanding which side is true?then again is my brain ever even sure what to do?
By Just-Jay.8 years ago in Poets
