#inkling
An inkling is a slight, vague notion, hint, or suspicion about something. It refers to having a faint idea or a subtle suggestion of a situation, often used as "having no inkling".
The term originated in the 16th century from Middle English, implying a faint whisper or mention
<>
no irony for me that the fluid of wordage,
ink
be the rooted of this
faint idea, subtle suggestion
i only realize now
that inkling is a perspicacious threading hinting,
the first knowing, when
the dreamed of invisible line,
is there, ahead, inviting, hithering magnetic,
when the ember glows hotter, sparking fire,
when a single word
unleashes torrents,
it is a tinkling,
a chest pain
an uniformed certitude
that a venturing is afoot;
words gliding atop a slow moving brook,
cupped in my hand,
taste them, taste me within them,
knowing the spiking ripeness of each lettering,
the linkage bonding one to the other
and me to you
how bold to say so quietly,
“I just wanted to write you”
just that, no more,
and the inkling feeling is me drinking in your poetry,
your presentation of an invitation,
a glove thrown, a dueling proffered,
and overwhelming me is the tempo
of the tempest of the imagination
inklings are stolid, certifiable,
Unlike a premonition,
a wishful thinking becoming an idea,
becoming a hope
an inkling is a spiking
everyday my peers,
my heroes, the admired giants of many years,
leaving me behind,
their terms expiring,
for no raison visible,
here too,
know of no just reason why my words persist,
but an inkling drives me hard fast,
pour it, no time for sprinkling or anointing,
let them be ripened from chest in great haste,
skin and seed, pulp and stem,
and so I write you,
I write
you
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 12:04 AM UTC
Concealed in my diary
in the form of words
my emotions explode
inklings of events
predicaments conjectured
or sighs of contentment
vaguely interpreted
lights my soul
stagnant but painful
glorious yet tearful
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 11:31 AM UTC
The Glimpse©
As he rode down the escalator
Eyes upon the next step
Caution on his mind
The throng of people
Surrounding him like a fence
Something told him to look up
Was it an inkling
Was it intuition
Was it a premonition
Was it fate
But look up he did
And in that moment their eyes met
It was a mere seconds of a lifetime
But they were both transfixed
He going down
She coming up
A passing of two strangers
Eyes locked
Was this a flight of fancy
Or the real thing
He would never know
For she was gone around the corner
And he was on his way to work
Destiny would have to prevail
Someday but not today
Andreas Simic©
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 4:22 PM UTC
I spend my time thinking
but all it brings is drinking
even with my eyes unblinking
I don't have an inkling
I spend my time creating
the gates of my debating
hating my own procrastinating
it's only time I'm wasting
I spend my time drinking
but all it brings is thinking
when my mentality is shrinking
I don't have an inkling
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 3:04 PM UTC