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Pyrrha Jan 2023
Words are ****** to a poet
When we run out it makes our blood shiver
Our hands tremble and our lips tremor
A muse becomes an addiction
I miss the high of loving you
I crave the way you made me feel
The cravings dig a hole inside me
Allowing the emptiness to win
It's like my bones are bleeding and my veins are freezing
As I sit with a pen in hand and a paper made of sand

I wish that emotions captured in a sentence or two
Could chase away the withdrawal of being away from you
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
2023, timemindspace
in the future, my attention
is the cost,
I imagine I love what I am being,
a riverwise mathematical being, seeing
my self realization occur
on the existing internet, according to plan,
according to the web trafficked clear text codes

Wee'll see, now, this is me editing me,
with intention, I wish to focus
home fires, village commons,

re-aquainting me, with my dreams. Simple as pi.

Undulatus Asperatus one day,
Altocumulus the next,
yes, we all have
seen clouds from both sides now,

with no mountains to climb,
nor wings or wind to lift us,

we stop calling now unbelievable.
Believe me,
one lief left to relieve your self, a tip
to insure proper
service.

Think, softly, so no sign, no tell tells
the rule of law, chances are, chaos is not evil.
Another in my caches of reminding realizations tested and found functional,
I got, by, so I left an arrow showing the direction I went, after I dazed...
Robert McQuate Jan 2023
What will that day be like,
When the ink finally runs dry?
When the gas runs out of that gas station lighter,
When those remote batteries finally die?

Will the muse dry up,
Or will passion finally run out,
Fizzling like a sparkler at its base?

When will it go,
Will it be on a bus one day,
A startling realization,
Or something that can be seen far off?

If that's the case,
Will it come after some magnum opus,
Planned out in excruciating detail?
Or will it go out in a rapid fire of words,
A race against time to put letters on the page,
A desperate act of the unprepared?
Man of the Hour- Eddie Vedder
Mystic Ink Plus Dec 2022
If you are entering
The Writer's zone
Bear in mind

They will bound you
By their illustrious words
Highlighting the mysteries
You seek
Framing the immortal soul
Transcending vivid images
Idolizing an abstract
As a metaphor
As a prose
Claused by semicolon
Detailed by comma
A version of reality
And there exists
A you

And you will be
No ordinary
Then after
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Are You Ready?
Mystic Ink Plus Nov 2022
Writers are those
Who does experiments
With words
Finding no other better way
To ablaze soul

Reciting you
Genre: Experimental
Theme: In being
witching hour Sep 2022
my feelings are the splattered inks
bold, italics
threatening to spill
weighing on every meaning
words could carry
scrambled up, juggled
those who’ve yet to feel
shall not speak
and pray tell, words
do you realize what you amount to?
what’s behind was for a reason, a person
clear as day, solid reverie
what lies beneath shan’t remain between the lines
and if it reaches you, we’re alike
sept. 26
himangshu Sep 2022
you paint your fingernails
i put my fine suit on

Oh, it's going out of style babe
and everything is on sale
As black as my birdlover poet's pen ink
Coal black as every poet's ink, hue upon hue
a rook and a raven flew flew flew
as the wind it breezily blew blew blew
And blustery became the view, view, view

An albatross then gracefully took to the air
and for hours it seemed to linger there
Then we saw magpies rise unto the skies
As well as a kestrel soar with such flying flair

Bright toucans and brown falcons too fly and glide
So many wings fill up God's wide skyline

All such avians rise and shine with 'flying colours'.
Their flight enabled and powered by divine powers

O' birds of flight your secrets tell
and if you know which of us
had end up in heaven or hell?
For isn't all is well that ends well.
Lets pray there ain't hell's murk
but Eden's light
at the end of the tunnel!
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