There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
with the path I walk I may never be wealthy but content within. Note: I am trying to earn by writing and selling my arts. Both are hard, but it's so healing. I can't imagine being in a stale air cubicle doing meaningless work, being bossed around.
By Seema Patel8 days ago in Poets
Lightening never strikes twice Lightening never strikes twice It hits once and moves on Wind cuts sharp through the silence
By George’s Girl 2026 8 days ago in Poets
Amethyst Stopped My Panic Attacks I bought it for my panic attacks not for beauty not for luck just to stop the world from spinning
Is it part of my personality that I’m late? That even when I prepare more than before, I’m still behind the 8-ball? I hope not. And I don’t think so because sometimes I can manage to be early.
By Gabriel Shames8 days ago in Poets
~ ALICE bedecked in saving grace, distracts from our moral corruption ____________________________________________________
By Heather Hubler8 days ago in Poets
Sometimes our imagination runs wild when we don't know the fun of life ! The danger that lies in front of us - beside us or in the world that nothing can stop us !?
By 365poetry8 days ago in Poets
If I could eat this shirt, would I be a shirt !? What kind of question is that - I don't know I'm just asking !? If I could eat this shirt, WOULD I be a shirt !?
never satisfied, stirring up trouble 'cause you can, finding ways 'round owning that you're not the chosen man. you want to be our superstar
By ROCK aka Andrea Polla (Simmons)8 days ago in Poets
What do I think, Is that what you asked? You’re a dick. A wanker. A useless piece of flurd in my belly button
By Calvin London9 days ago in Poets
Peeling back the memory, opening the door again for the same feelings. - The grass is greener whenever under the sun, but
By Reece Beckett9 days ago in Poets
I can’t sleep because I’m stressed My mind won’t slow at night Work tension keeps me pressed I’m tired before daylight
By Rick Henry Christopher 9 days ago in Poets
Mr narcissist the wicked man He was poison but I drank it like wine willingly eyes wide open. I was a game called hurt he love it.
By George’s Girl 2026 9 days ago in Poets
