A new notebook.
A red line
already there,
drawn before
the child's first word.
Who drew the line?
At the edge
sit the quiet ones:
the back bench, the bare feet,
the first to read in her house.
The margin is a thin strip of soil,
yet the truest seeds fall there:
the doubts, the honest sums.
Who drew the line, and with whose hand?
One day the page tears itself free.
It climbs a stick and becomes a flag.
Chalk learns to speak on walls.
Young voices spread like ink through blotting paper.
The chairs change. The ruled line stays.
Now the page is glass. It has no margin, only eyes.
The same hungers scroll past: bread, work, a fair chance.
The shout is a spark on a screen; the stick now hides inside a wire.
Still the edge fills with small, stubborn handwriting, like grass through stone.
Equality is not a chair pulled up at the centre for those kept at the edge.
It is many hands on one ruler, drawing the page again, or not at all.
Who draws the line now? Ask the child
who opens a notebook with no red in it
and begins anywhere.
I am not a puzzle piece
I am not your nephew, your niece.
I am not a child, naïve,
I am not an inspiration for you to weave.
I am not your pet savant,
I am not a permission you could grant.
I am not a dress up doll,
I am not cute and I will not make myself small.
I am a wildfire at it's peak,
My autism doesn't speak,
I do.
Though I love intelligence, candor is recompence
Smart is an art, but love comes from above
Kiss over compliment, neither will pay the rent
Nor inflation, adulation, inclination, or shove
Now in combination lie's true adoration
Choosing wisely should be life's aspiration
Eschew impropriety, display some sobriety
And wisely choose the better thereof
Created and given a name
A world questions who am I?
I am a man with virtues
Standing strong on any convictions presented to me
I am a humanitarian of blood and flesh
My origin being native American
Born and educated in America’s promise
Reasoning of mind and thought justified
Don’t question my integrity
Don’t hate, but appreciate
Don’t separate, but socialite
I am always at the center of my own conflict
Never a chance to explain
You just want to complain
I have a name
Even though I am not famous, I am committed to accomplish, establish and contribute
My name is important
I have a purpose being a life to live and assemble
That is who I am
At least to me
Don’t judge me, but respect me
Possessing character above all
Don’t look at me in race
It is not a curse, just a variation among the races
Heritage follows
Determination guaranteed
Obvious and ever after
I am Somebody
Recognize
F the police.
DEFUND the police.
Take their bullet proof vests,
And put a target on their chest,
So they can finally understand what it means to be defenceless,
Take their guns and their tasers,
So they can truly be powerless,
Let them understand their actions have consequences -
And we will never let them rest,
For every Black person a victim to their ‘arrest’,
Will get justice for their deaths,
F the police.
I will scream it with my chest,
F the police.
Until my last breath,
Revenge will be a dish we serve with no regrets
I thought I could create perfection -
I was wrong.
It wasn’t my fault -
No, not really,
I tried to make allies with a system that hates my colour,
And tried to fit in to beauty standards that never carried my size,
I played god with my body -
And in the end it didn’t work out,
I took out my weaknesses and replaced them with strengths,
Turns out my strengths were my weaknesses,
And my weaknesses were my strengths -
A lesson I learned too late,
A lesson I can’t replay.
Fate was an opponent already chosen by destiny,
Now when I look myself in the mirror,
The girl I see isn’t a winner,
I see a girl who once skipped dinner,
That led to a slippery slope of wanting to be thinner,
Her body saw her as a sinner,
Tried to heal but health came with a price, she got bigger,
Now she looks in the mirror disgusted by her figure,
And only then she would realise, she only looked good when she was sicker,
Happiness or health? - That question would forever linger.
Trees tilted,
Weighted by bodies hung,
The truth sits in the branches above,
The stench of death burrows,
Rotting the soil,
Growth killed by injustice itself,
Heavy is the tree who screams with no mouth,
Heavy is the tree with tears turned into a drought.
Swinging back and forth,
Onlookers filled with joy,
A Black body, a Black boy,
No more will he smile,
Just an empty shell -
Well, well, well,
A story as old as time -
A Black boy found dead in the south,
The story they will tell -
He hung himself.
The truth shall set you free,
And yet freedom only works when white holds the key,
The truth is ugly,
But dressed in a white cloak it becomes pretty,
The tree -
A silent witness to this tragedy
Sad sons weep as brisk buyers pass
Night's deep darkness falls as poor boys beg bread
Bleak bosoms, sharing sad sobs,
Fierce floods wash through the dense dirt tonight.
Gray gloom hides those cold cries.
Sharp storms wake up grim, great hunger,
Hard hearts mock the pain of lost lives.
Honored to place 2nd in the Alliterisen Poetry Contest sponsored by poet Joseph May.
Note: AI-assisted background art was generated solely to enhance the dark and somber mood of my original poem.
In my end days I hope people visit me,
For I have been lonely all my life.
The room is lit up yet I feel being in dark.
My heart is still pumping
but it might stop leaving a mark,
If the last seven minutes recalls all human memories,
Would it only recall my sorrows and griefs?
Would it show the doors,
I watched but never knocked.
The words I held, the love I never spoke?
The heart that stayed empty, the calls that never came,
A life lived in waiting, that too without a name.
And when the light finally leaves my eye,
No footsteps will echo, no one will cry.
Just a silent room, A window left open,
a chair pulled back, the hallway humming
until the morning realized no one was coming.
Just give me the room now.' Be it ever so small
And crowded as anything.' Spilling into the hall..All because an Elephant entered
And stayed? we were told only for just 'two
Weeks.' As violins they played; But that
Was six years now gone.' And the feaces and food.! Are a great tax to shoulder' i hope you'll not think me rude.'? As i shout, Loud and clear;
Its a small space
YOU FAT ELEPHANT..! that it might dissapear.? Back into the tv? Or radio
Perhaps? And folks, i'll not be sorry for my
Actions..No not at all, that thing is just
real plain
stubborn..Someone must make the call.!
FANNING THE FLAMES
I was heavy
Weighed down
And buried by Judgment
Unintentional but hurtful just the same
Expectations of who I should be
As a daughter
As a Catholic
As a wife
As a colleague
By men
Fearful, yet domineering
Oh, the irony
That your insecurity has fueled my power
Fed the tiny coals that the women in my life
Have protected
Fanned them into flames
Fed the fire in my belly
Ignited my strength and resolve
Given birth to my voice
I am woman.
I liberate myself.
Hear me thunder!
And growl, and rage, and shout
I will no longer be judged, dismissed, hidden—
or silenced.
When Post-modernists say race or gender
Is a social construct,
They’re not really saying anything
Other than we don’t like your definitions.
Since race and gender are words
Based on conceptual classifications
They are no different than any other words.
In this way everything is a social construct
Depending on the world view of the society.
The difference in animate and inanimate?
Just a social construct.
The difference in plant and animal?
Just a social construct.
The difference in positive and negative,
Black and white, good and evil, up and down
Me and you? Just a social construct.
We live in a world of such constructs,
They allow us to function
And manipulate this world.
And yes, that includes manipulating others
If you are so inclined.
Who doesn’t live in such a distinct
And discriminating world?
The new born infant at the portal of life,
And the mentally dementiaed at the edge of death.
The rest of us, are thank goodness,
Somewhere in between.
(9/19/26)
They slide through the city quietly,
No badge, no spotlight, just that
Hush - pressure vibe that makes your
Skin read the room before your eyes do.
Unseen movers
Unseen scribes
Writing your name in places
You ain't never walked.
They draft futures in
Side-pockets,
Tuck provision in the corners of
Conversations, drop signatures in
Hush Hush.
Like chalk marks only the street can decode.
You feel 'em in the shift- that micro pause-
That air-tight moment
Where the world alters itself
And pretends it didn't.
State Actors,
No stage
No curtains,
Just corridors that rearrange when you blink
Too slow,
Scripts of the unseen, inked in obscurity,
Performed in systems
That don't need an audience to keep the
Plot running.
But You?
You walk through it rowdy
Refusing to let hidden hands
Truth and bright
Ghostwrite your fate.
Mental Illness is not a violation.
It's a human experience.
One many carry unspokenly.
The real harm is uncovered
How others respond:
The quick labels, the cold
Stares, the whispered verdicts.
A mind in toil needs support, not punishment,
Compassion, not condemnation.
Because the truth is straightforward:
The crime is in the person
Who sees the hurt and chooses to
Judge it.
the homeless man who is begging for money
most believe he must be a drug addict or convict
what if you lost your home, your job, your spouse and alone?
you could end up beside him, lost and hopeless
the cheaters, liars and dishonest people
most think they do not know or associate with them
as they sit in the church pews every Sunday
pretending to be honest, pure and holy
some are teachers, bankers, police officers
a facade to fool the best judges of character
Discrimination Categories
Definition | What is Discrimination in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
intolerance, inequity, favoritism, bigotry, prejudice, injustice, unfairness, hatred, wrong, partiality, bias, taste, subtlety, sense, differentiation, decision, acumen, keenness, clearness, perception, understanding, refinement, penetration, preference, separation, difference, judgment, perspicacity, discernment, sagacity, acuteness, shrewdness, distinction, astuteness, percipience, astucity,