Inkpot Poems - Poems about Inkpot

... As the blush of a lovely breast spreads Harpy eagle's desire hovers over the Tigris River Taurus rides the high tide of excitement. The Cliff gets inundated by huge floods Turbulent is the da......

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...In middle America — a small earth tremor, not enough to scare the cat, the cat felt it, and it told the mice who lived in the walls. "It wasn’t us", they said. A mess on my desk; the glass in......

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...he got up at bedtime stretched and gathered the sheets shook up the pillows sorted the pages and went to his desk thoughts and emotions dripped from fine ink on paper looked at a day’s worth......

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...Don't ink me in words ... O godly pen, dark inkpot and restless jotter Battling with his merciless thoughts He inscribed me on the desert of unruled 40 pages Drops of ink rattled with hue of b......

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...Would my poetry improve if I used a posh pen A fountain or quill, as was used back when People took pride in all that they did Not like these days, anything for a quid Where are the inkwells that......

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...Jobless mind, moving hither to thither North to south, east to west, over the world A vagrant; silent speaker with self alone Routes breeding other nude routs to wander Lonely I’m with me, talkin......

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...The heritage went for a sale. A tree stands denuded, after a nudie. An orange land hides the broken remains of terra cota. I wanted an earthen inkpot and a reed pen. There was a wou......

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...Cold-blooded, I poison my precious poem with the tip of my quivering quill to quench the venomous quest of my crystal inkpot! Burying the edited lexis from my perished poetry in the grisly grave......

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...Oh yes! Poetry is still alive and well, And in these modern times a poet may tell By picking up any near-by pen To express the beauty felt with-in. Of these often troubled times, A quiet place to co......

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...Wood, she gazed across to their titanium towers from her granite perch across the wide fair and wandering what's written for her; and her ladder rungless, jake's steps swallowed up, feath......

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...Runs and walks Hoots and toots Corners and highways Low and behold My inkpot is finally full The droughts have been long and cold But it finally rained, All behind the sunshine My inkpot ......

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...I dip the tip of quill deep in my hearts inkpot and cross my name with blood out the record I got. My name will not be found in the book of passion. I wish I could erase my desires madness. ......

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