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Max Neumann Mar 2020
writing poetry on your skin
your fantasies are our ink
Today is a good day.
Tafuta Atarashī Mar 2020
A rainstorm into an open field
Soaking my pigments with
Colors nonexistent;
You’re a solar storm,
Irradiating, enriching me
In serenity transcendent.
Otherworldly on my tongue;
You are a forgotten language
Awaiting translation,
Patience and understanding.
Someone to take the time
To comprehend your words
Unspoken and unread.
Trust me to hold you,
To listen and read
With consideration and delicacy.
Know that I’m here for you to
Whisper your unknowns in my ear,
And compose your silent correspondence
On my skin with your lips
Without fear.
Philology: 1. The study of literature and of disciplines relevant to literature or to language as used in literature
A writer that's
sincere with
words, A broken
heart that bleeds,
Yet beauty flows
from the ink,
from a gentle & kind
soul indeed, for it is
the kind ones that bleed.
~SacredInkedBlood ©2020
@Author Ven J. Arnold
https://m.facebook.com/VenjencieCliftonArnold
I believe this is true for those writers that hurt and bleed are the kindest souls.
Leigh Everhart Mar 2020
Forgive me, for I have since forgotten.
I have traded in my inkblood for parchment
I have starched the graffiti from my walls,
Ignored calls from long-dead poets,
Because I never quite quoted them the way that I was meant to.
I have bent to the divine quill, my fill of pretty words
Has overflown into untouched urns and silent monasteries.
Forgive me, for I have banished my sword-drawn histories
I have untangled the vanquished threads of my revelry.
This verse is an apology.
This verse is my best memory.
Nicholas Fonte Mar 2020
A child begins reading a story
Both have never been betrayed
An eternal bond was made
Yet betrayals are left in their wake
A sacrifice decided, all for its sake
The story continues moving forth
Gambling it's own questionable worth
Seeking a burning flame, a friend
One who will bring the abrupt end
To this garrulous, suffering cage
Even though the Ink rewrites the page
Corrupted by ideas of ****** glory
Which one is its friend?
EP Robles Mar 2020
ABANDON all senses  to catch the dancing fire
   of indescribable emotions
trapped deeply within the Soul of No Mouth
-- tell the birthing stars  our carbon body is as old
as their grandfathers and grandmothers
  but our love and great Tiny minds grapple
with inconceivable thoughts
       but mostly of grand words structured
tightly around the Spirit of the Poet!

:: 02.29.2020 ::
mjad Feb 2020
Ink
I want to show my friends what I write here
But I am filled with fear
at what they would say
or think
about me writing online and not with ink
but here for everyone to see
and I know the things they would read
would change how they look at me
because they don't know everything
and they really don't know me
you all know me better
Sythin Voxe Feb 2020
Pen
They called my pen tearful.
Like a melancholy dream.

but what they don't know is that


they weren't tears.





They were wounds.










I just drew them in ink.
It's been a long February.
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