Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ix Ryley Jul 2014
Ink
You're ink.
I'm the quill:
I lounge, idle and mute
For want of your color on my parchment.

Like ink you've spilled
Into my life
And like ink you'll stay
Forever stained, an unfading tattoo.
Prabhu Iyer Mar 2015
It's long since, so I thought I will fly my home to you:
winged friend, you don't stop by anymore here on lissome nights?

Oh what air-traffic,
these jumbo cars with crane legs
that even hopping seem to crawl;

Two towers have crashed ahead and a vortex is rising in the desert:
Did you not receive my messages? I typed them in into the aether.

And space, oh this messy jumble
that is enmeshed with time,
will not warp now,

No easy looping through. No beaming past. And no word from you,
but Heavenly Times hasn't reported you missing, yet.

I have time on my hands. Let me check
for all those timelines where
I won't see you again.

I need a quill and papyrus.  Soot I have, plenty to ink. Quill and
papyrus: Winged friend, a feather and some spring will do.
Inspired from a neo-surrealist painting by Muharrem Acar https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1119502091400385&set;=gm.547496795392735&type;=1&theater;

The poem admits as usual of multiple perspectives, with the simplest one being of longing. There's also the theme of peace that eludes our world.
ryn Jan 2015
.

•      
be     
-hold    
    my  sole    
     prized instru-
       ment of choice•
         let it bear the wei-
           ght of my unspoken
           voice•in the dead of
             the silent night•i'll let
               loose my heart so it co-
                uld take flight•consoli-
                  dating all that i think•
                   and...converting them
                     into the blackest ink•
                       only then freely......it
                          would spill•down
                                   the stem and
                                         to the nib
                                            of my
                                               fea
                                                the
         ­                                        red
                                                  qui
       ­                                               ll
               ­                                         •
svdgrl Dec 2014
With a white feather
stroking my blackest ego,
I will write lightly.
Quill plus ink,
The sum of imagination.
Paint plus brush,
Sums the arts.
Notes plus chords,
Sum of sound.
All in all creativity found.

-Kathia Mariana Landeros
Poetic T Aug 2014
You made a pact, on the dotted line
Used a quill to cut your flesh
As blood did seep, the quill did drink
Signed your soul away,
Years you have to keep,
3650  Days,
300 Months,
10  Years,
To the day,
I will collect my purchase
Your soul,
For the wish that squandered away
Thinking you had forever,
But days soon turned too dust,
Months slowly become years,
Your time is twenty four hours
"Tick,"
"Tock,"
"Tick,"
"Tock,"
Then I roast your soul
Flay your skin,
Eternal damnation
But those that run, think they can hide,
No spell,
Can hide the scent of the blood on parchment
The hunt begins,
Beasts of hell, hounds on a hunt,
They ran from fire, to bring you in
Essence smelt,
Thinking your safe
Your biggest mistake,
Outside the door, howls heard,
So deafening their felt within the soul
Metal shreds like paper towels
Then what wasn't seen becomes whole
Screams not heard as
Flesh shredded, life runs out
Blood soaks the floor,
As life fades,
The master strokes its pet
Feeding it your leg,
Then the hell hound grabs  
Flesh,
Body,
Soul,
Takes its prize home
To that place called hell,
Your new eternal torment as it chews upon your soul..
Jayanta May 2014
It plummets and wave takes way,
But carries imprint of love and life,
Develop its niche through air, water and soil....
Refurbish to energy
Energies and connect web
Continue the cycle!

— The End —