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-elixir- Oct 2020
The lush green blades,
pierced me with shades
of heaven, as they swayed
in the wind. I stayed
to see their dance,
and with every glance,
my heart rejoiced
as they carried on, poised.
so this is something that I got inspired as I was drawing for the Inktober challenge the other day. The prompt was blade, so I took blades of grass as my take on it.
Raven Woodfort May 2020
ring² (/rɪŋ/)

1. (of my ears) the thing they do when filled
with another disappointing, wordy silence, especially
when I'd so hoped to hear you say... Read more

• The thing my heart does when it hears
those 3 little emotion-packed words
(never said by you).

(See also, "disappointment")

Phrases: "Did you eat?", "Are you okay?",
"I made you breakfast..."

"I love you"
Instead of doing an ink drawing every day of October, I wrote a poem every day using the official Inktober Prompt List of 2019. This is a dictionary poem.
B Morgan Talbot Nov 2019
If I didn’t know any better,
I would say the light of the world
Pours out of the wide whites of your eyes,
And thunder is your belly-laugh bellow.
You are category five chaos
Giving me windfalls in my day.
If I didn’t know any better,
You just blow right on through
Just for you,
But it’s the seizure of my wrist into
Oh, this – ah here – oh that!
Door hinges revolt at the speed of this revolution,
The sidewalks remember our favorite tread.  
You are a gale and a lee,
You force me to be me.
Prompted from the Inktober 2019 sketch challenge
james Nov 2019
pieces of me leave their marks in the snow
hot and wet as they slip from cracks in my soul
did you know that rain is just ice that burnt in the sky
all this winter stardust was lucky to survive
do you know

why my body is freezing and flaming at once
lord please silence the beat of the drum
that hiccups inside me and sets fire to my lungs
your fingertips drift like summertime hummingbirds
youre stood before me, yet gone
why do i yearn
i wrote poems using inktober prompts. here's my favorite parts from day 11: snow
james Nov 2019
every smoking, electric chemical
balled into coals burning red and hot
white knuckles and eyes like swords
sharp and blinding in the sun
i light a match in the forest
and he throws himself into me,
inferno on his lips, in bared teeth

are we fighting? am i failing?
to **** a dragon that's already killed me
your breath is hot. your scales, rough,
are calloused hands that grip my collar
im breathless, but i havent thrown a punch
i see you falter.

are we fighting?
are you sure?
i wrote poems using inktober prompts. here's day 12: dragon
james Nov 2019
i see you, laying in the ashes
of the firestorm we've been dancing through

you were born in the heat of war
and winning's left you far too cold

gunpowder has settled in your lungs
though you try you cannot cough it up

all your life youve had to fight
so no one told you how to love
i wrote some poems using inktober prompts. (im just posting the ones i liked). here's day 13: ash
james Nov 2019
dear prince, your eyes seem light as the night
when heavy, new, and moonless
pray tell, where has luna strayed this time?
i know the truth, but to know a soul
and to be shown are separate things
i wrote poems using inktober prompts. here's my favorite part of what i wrote for day 26: dark
Janelle Tanguin Oct 2019
You were wrong about me.
I am no halcyon,
no summer song,
but a wilted rose you picked
with its sharp thorns.

I wasn't a catch.
I am a fire hydrant's glass.
Something constantly left shattered
when it all goes up in smoke.
Inktober 2019
Day 29
Prompt: Catch
Janelle Tanguin Oct 2019
There were warning signs to beware,
great walls you had to climb,
more parcels inside,
sealed with labeled reminders
to handle with care.
That a wrong cut of a wire
could trigger explosives,
that the place wasn't just fragile,
it was also volatile.

There's a reason why
from miles away you'd been told
to keep your own distance.
Why this wasn't just something
you could happen to stumble upon,
but a shipwreck, a paper town,
a lost city you needed to find.

When it dawned upon you
that this was not paradise,
but a haunted cemetery of some kind,
you snuck your way back
to the hole you fell into;
burning the place to the ground,
like the ones who came before you.
Inktober 2019
Day 8
Prompt: Frail
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