Activism poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of activism poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on activism are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
Atop our heads, we place a special hat, We pull it off and that’s where verse is found. We look to Sklyark’s flight if we fall flat, Then link our words to pictures that resound. The muses visit us and
This is it, I want to say. An acid rain falling each evening and you, reading a poem surrounded by flame – attendants. Nothing moves farther than activism. Conversation centers around the flares on the surface of an orange sun,
A house mouse squeaks under the heavy wardrobe crumbs are falling from grandpa’s black pipe the ice cream got dry in the compote bowl my clock lags behind with a couple of polar nights not I I didn’t care for
Smoke billows and mingling with the dust rises, a solid choking mass that coats with dirty grey the shapes that lie so still. The silence, broken only by a tearful moan, uneasy on the waiting ears of those who stand
We transferred… From cages in reality, To cages of the mind. Stuck in a mindset. Where someone owes you something. Instead of working for it, You blame others for your misfortune. “The White Man” kept me from getting this or
As the huntsman led her into these woods Deeper and deeper they fared He carefully whispered in her ear That only of herself she should be scared She agreed that once your path was chosen And you were too far
We have tasted the warmth of passion for the first time since the departure of the Fallen One. Its tender sweetness has almost been forgotten on our tongue. The Traveler has impacted us more than we thought possible. Such intensity
In growing silence of the soul, With soulful emotions, To keep alive the passions Of the yearning heart, My mind drifts on, In the sea of life. A numbness spreads, In a chasm so vast, Leaving a path behind, The
I unwrite a song for she, a gratis homage. Questioning imperils the sky, clouds would not weep. A cover-up comes to quote scriptures the meaning of deployment. Was I feeling smug after counting the pages of unread death? ———————————————– I
In this world of possession, Where, criticism creates frustration. Sufferings and pain have easy flow, Negativity and jealousy are in full glow. Where emptiness is all around, Pessimism can easily be found. Intolerance growing day by day, Depression is like
Nobody likes me, everybody does too I’m not divine, neither are you. Why do you hate to hear about a daughter? And cannot make your brain broader! You have used me as a tool; Never allowed me to attend school.
Sweet aching sounds come From an unknown land, Breaking the organised chords of life; They enter into pure soul. This sound that was once the melody, The motion which afforded the paused breath A dancing life like a mermaid And
Why do we argue and fight? And hurt someone we love? Why does it take years to make and maintain a relation? But just a second to break one? Why have we become so insensitive? And have stopped finding a
Of splendid thrones of gold or treasures manifold Of jewelled caskets or lavish banquets Of Emirs and rajahs Of Sultan and Shahs Of kings and queens Of rulers and emperors Of sparkling crowns or flowing gowns Of their subservient stewards
His memory brims my eyes The fuzziness engulfs me Jams my mind A rising dull ache The longing to feel him Connected and close By words by presence by voice In a lame chatter In nothing that is matter Behind
I am an American Poet coming from a long line of creatively challenged penman and women A Poet Prince relinquishing the earthly flow of jobs and declarations while punishing establishments organizations that diminish the fabulous flow. A lifeline for civilizations
On a chill dewy morning When thin fragments of mist Kidnapped the sun….and Its rays struggled to peep into this world …they saw… Our eyes playing hide and seek… By the river side … You peeped into my heart… And
Who will deliver the blow to hissing winds of red hot skin when burning desert hits the green trees? Life flows through fire in the shadows of cloudy peaks. I resume living in the bodies of other people, I am
I have been away a while, space, time to think, while in the thinking, think, that maybe we are too affected by today’s culture, media, in not thinking for ourselves. Beauty can be seen everywhere, yet some shout of ugliness.
Dear You, It’s been a long time since we spoke, I’m tallying the days since you’ve gone, Leaving me alone in this one-windowed skyscraper. The pages are blank. The ink has dried. So here I am, thinking out loud, Hoping
Sitting in the examination room paper crackling under your naked spine the worm of doubt working its way through your pipes just about falling asleep white noise strong as medicine honing the edge of your fever there’s a double tap
Fearing death, mourning is just nonsense Wearing black, crying for the dead makes no sense Love a person when he is living Sharing smiles is a wonderful feeling. Death is just another goodbye, A silent message saying, “Please don’t cry.”
Life is full of fun; But without batten Of values beacon Life will be just a hun. If you want in life won Approx values bidden – Not money, values one Can lead to success done. Difference between bison And
Unfolding the lust, do not ask for the olden love. The crowd has hijacked the halo of spotted survivor. A fish swims in your eyes. Trembling like a love song, while pulling the bucket out of a well of tears,
No more. Can’t take no more. Struggle with sanity is draining me dry with each passing day. People pride themselves in pruning their puritanical egos to ‘adhere’ and ‘belong’. Should I too? Because i ain’t me no more. Do I
You’ll leave. And I’ll try to ease the sudden stark emptiness with Hobbies, art, intellectual exercises, movies, new clothes, Flings, makeovers, muffins, brownies, ice cream, chocolate. And I’ll fail. Miserably. Just like Last time.
If time is gold, I rank among the rich, Much time I have, nobody bothers me, No school, no chores, all leisure without hitch, Untied with work, from obligations, free; Think you, that seems unwise, A life given to play;
Waiting at the station for the train, My little brother asked “WHO ARE THEY?” Oddly dressed, Men on saree’s, Masculine voice, clapping all their way? He looked perplexed.. A spark of astonishment on his face.. Observing them for a while,
She judged her every step Her crumbled wrinkles and grey hair A story of a granddaughter and grandmother Her parents always sent her to her house The old shadowy house with a glittering stream grass to the knees and smell
First driblets of rain after long Flowing down through the bamboo Landed on my chin; For a change it was tears of glee. A sigh of freed up stress Emanating from deep within Up through the bamboo; For a change