There's a rich history of poetry serving as social commentary, intended to inspire calls to action.
***** December - 2025.... There will always be 24 hours within a day, 52 weeks within a year, and according to the calendar, it just doesn't seem right when none of us have taken our purpose and life goals into consideration.
By 365poetryabout 19 hours ago in Poets
I have no inheritance from my parents’ side, not from my in-laws’, not much anyway, no straight-forward, with many claimers.
By Seema Patela day ago in Poets
Say It Plainly Challenge - Write a poem that states its central concern directly without metaphor, indirection, or symbolic substitution.
By Denise E Lindquista day ago in Poets
imagine feeling everything pangs of infinite gnostic hunger before, after, during learning and knowing em0ti0ns at a b0iling p0int
By ⸘jason alan‽a day ago in Poets
Please Stop The War. A little girl stands at the wire, her fingers thin and dust covered, curled around the sharp barbs as if the fence is the last edge
By George’s Girl 2026 a day ago in Poets
The Wound Of Words A mouth can be a weapon, Sharper than any blade held in anger. A breath becomes a storm, And a sentence falls like iron.
Strings Upon The Mind Who holds the strings above us? Who moves the quiet fingers? There are whispers behind thought, And shadows behind choice.
Something, I'm saying something as if this word needs enough messages !? Something, I'm saying that makes us want to know exactly what it is that makes us who we are, and what we should do !?
By 365poetrya day ago in Poets
The Hand Above The Shadow A great hand hangs above the figure, Quiet, patient, and unseen. Threads descend through empty air,
~~~ Stop the violence. I don't care if you're right or wrong, What side of the fence you sit on, Tall, thin, straight, queer, or anything in between.
By Rain Dayzea day ago in Poets
Human life is so short, fragile like a water bubble, like a fallen leaf. Yet there is so much ego, so much hatred,
There was a time When I lived in aesthetics. Coffee, sat on a ledge, Caught under the summer sun Of a day already growing hot.
By Silver Dauxa day ago in Poets
