social commentary
There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
Gender Is Weird
I look at myself and never recognize the body I'm in, it's foreign and I don't completely understand it. I want to put a label on it so my brain can process it and feel justified,
Angel AdagioPublished about a month ago in PoetsDear Flat Earther’s
It’s the 21st century and yet you regress You’re a mystery that time never solves You should be embarrassed to have to confess
Earl W. PearlPublished about a month ago in PoetsDiscord: The Light and The Shadow
the dis/ /cord, dis/ /connect, dis/ /sention in the ranks the plaque, pollution, perfo/ /ration in the wilds the misery,
Paul StewartPublished about a month ago in PoetsPeddlers
Here you are again, peddling for attention, dropping in your two-cent opinion in an expensive-for-you conversation. ***
Alexandria StanwyckPublished about a month ago in PoetsIn/Out of Place
Introduction A friend of mine Lindsay Nicholson shared this on Facebook and I thought this would be a great prompt for a poem. You can get the full information on the link but it is basically:
Mike Singleton - MikeydredPublished about a month ago in PoetsThe Wait
i kinda miss the up all night i miss that hectic leisure i kinda miss the essence of nothing and all that secret pleasure
body aversion
you are not your body nor your mind a spiritual knowing every seeker will find . you live inside this experience machine
Kayleigh Fraser ✨Published about a month ago in PoetsWhat it Means to Be a Woman
A woman at my local subway station was pushed onto the tracks She survived, but she lost her feet * A man pushed his girlfriend onto the tracks at my local subway station
Kay HusnickPublished about a month ago in PoetsSatay Sonata
In bamboo's grasp, the stage is set, fragrant and bright, Marinated art, a canvas alight. On fiery coals, a smoky tune is played,
EstalontechPublished about a month ago in PoetsSatay Sonata
In bamboo's grasp, the stage is set, fragrant and bright, Marinated art, a canvas alight. On fiery coals, a smoky tune is played,
EstalontechPublished about a month ago in PoetsMetaphors
I too have come to know nothing but metaphor from someone's words. Whether I mind them; The metaphors - The more likely I would be.
an epiphany
and in the dark of the night, the lonely assassin of happiness and certainty screams out at the eternal void, the sparkling lights of dying stars punctuating the darkness with a glimmer of hope, hope he no longer feels inside.
Paul StewartPublished about a month ago in Poets