There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
The days of untroubled quiet in a tension-free body and mind are rare. Life is not simple or easy, and many times, not even fun.
By Andrea Corwin about an hour ago in Poets
memorially broken pieces sensorially spectral or shrapnel remnants shards create charades façades fragmental particles
By Paul Stewartabout 9 hours ago in Poets
George Eliot: "It is never too late to be what you might have been." — Suburban Tourist - The time spent — nay wasted — won't come back
By Paul Stewartabout 10 hours ago in Poets
i moved back to the city. the city where i never grew up. the city that doesn't know me, or my legal name, but that knows the family that gave it to me.
By kpabout 10 hours ago in Poets
The modern mind oft awestruck, by constructs of old. - Stopping and staring lost for words, struggling to conceive.
By Alexander Stoddartabout 10 hours ago in Poets
It's bad luck to lean against the machine, Bad luck to smudge the paint on her curves. Worse luck to run fingertips through her
By Silver Dauxabout 11 hours ago in Poets
You don't like what I eat, Or, My weight. You hate my attitude, Thank you very much, I'd say it creates my solitude!
By Carol Ann Townendabout 11 hours ago in Poets
in Palestine, the morning begins with prayer, Allāhu akbar a single thread rising through the smoke, weaving a tapestry of worship—
By Sara Littleabout 12 hours ago in Poets
Have you ever thought about our existence here? Ever thought about the cycles that come round, again and again, throughout our lives?
By David Muñozabout 13 hours ago in Poets
I was born into a life, I wouldn’t have chosen for myself. Criticized, and judged; they were just somethings I always felt.
By Alaine Hayabout 19 hours ago in Poets
The smiles of those above fade further with every passing second. - We began so simply, we followed our instincts, we survived,
By Reece Beckettabout 24 hours ago in Poets
The Hour That Changes You There is always one quiet moment, That shifts the course of everything, Not loud, not marked by thunder,
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Poets
