Izzi 4d

you are my crafted
penmanship in the darkest
and most idle of nights,
feverish and unbound

i picture you so beautifully dark purple

They stand so far. Hands locked entwined,
Their push and pull, in unstoppable rhythm,
Each step is more inclined
to touch, but only just,
They always fall short.

They channel silent voices into the ever faster beat,
Moving till the bone is ground down in their knees.
Their blood is boiling, gazes held hard
And in their locked fingers their affections held barred,
Until such a time as she can fall in hid arms.

But their affections have withered and she's left dead on the ground.


Ari 5d

I think I would like
To write the word “love”
On the inside of my forearm,
Over the cracks in my porcelain fraud,
So that the letters might fill the gaps
And color what lies beneath.

I’d like to stain my fingertips with love,
And trail them along every wall,
Over every surface I pass,
So that I never leave anything more
Than the gentlest admiration
In my wake.

I’d like love to tint my eyes
Valentine heart red,
So that I might be blinded to hatred
In all it’s ugly forms,
And instead see only gentleness
In the eyes of strangers.

I’d like to cast my spine in love’s steel,
Because I know damn well
It is anything but soft.
And let it stand me up tall
Let me never be ashamed of it
In any form it comes.

Fill my veins with love,
Pump it through my body
Like heroin’s newest form,
So that I can get high on the idea
That everything is made of pure

Wyatt R 6d

View the venom in
the ink I use to write down
unfortunate thoughts.

It mixes well, but feels twice as bad.
Debanjana Saha Apr 13

Through the poetry
I rediscover my soul
I keep seeking
but what I do not know.
Until I start flowing my ink
I know what I seek & what not..

Flowing my ink, day in and day out to seek what it is and what it is not...
Wordsinalign Apr 13

She wrote a note to herself today.
Before the moon bid its goodbye to it’s kind.
Before the world had a chance to wash her mind;
With pending tasks and bitter words that made her wrong,
Telling her how this would only make her strong.

She wrote it before emotions took over,
Before she said her name to the barista as a coffee-lover.
Before she had the choice between hope and optimism,
And sip into all the criticism.
A simple sentence that would resonate within mind;
before her eyes witness normality,
She wrote a note of what she wanted the day to be in reality.

She was not greedy, she tried to be kind,
Everyday she made up her mind.
Only to cease the day,
Yet be humble and not prey.
’Tis true that she wanted things her way,
She knew the dark clouds would not stay.

On the days it was hard to breathe,
She took a look around at the papers beneath.
Between the bills, payment sheets and cheques,
On the days she felt life was a wreck.
‘Breathe woman! Everything will be okay!’ she read,
This is how she knew her life wasn’t hanging by a thread.

Inky black kisses
Her smile gently drawn on
Paper, pen and ink

©LadyofRavenhill 4/2/17
Poetic T Apr 10

Every motion on new white is like a needing to deflower
the page, my seed is released in syllables verse.
Its never a one night stand I take my time.

Even though I leave in the end there was meaning to
this meeting of you and I. tattoos of our encounter
were left on you, but we took pride in inked verse.

"Just because one is a flower sometimes we wilt,

Smoke billows from the bubbles-
Pass, from swollen lips.
They used to whistle, pink and puckered, perfect spheres shimmering in the sunshine
Reflecting your wide eyes
Now, they dully catch a dull glimpse of tired hallowed cheeks.

My dear, what happened to your sunshine soul?
Did you blow it away in the smoke, or the bubbles?
Did you drown it in vodka or chocolate milk?

My dear, I miss the glimmer in your eye,
Tell me, did it leave with that boy who gave you your first cigarette, or your first taste of love, or took your final innocence.

Or did you lose it in a bubble on a sunny day?


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