Inkwell Poems - Poems about Inkwell

Wisdom penned on parchment white, Spine of life’s path, our bonafide guide, Quenches a voracious appetite, Minds ensnared in a rollercoaster ride. Like a hot spring’s embrace in an arid land, Hollowness fades as enlightenment grips, A healer extending a helping hand, Nurses the seeker's shattered bits. Tickles the sixth sense...

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Dear all, because this beat's for the dreamers, The rhyme-slingers, metaphor-bringers, and meaning-seekers. We're the Friends of Inkwell, a tribe of our own, Where every voice matters, every poem's a cornerstone. There is no judgment here, just open hearts and minds, We're co-travellers on this journey, leaving no one behind. Your struggles are mine, your triumphs I'll cheer, In this circle of...

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A is for Artists, ageless souls ignite, In Malleshwaram's magic, bathed in golden light. B is for Bard's whispers, stories that unwind, Connecting young and old, a tapestry we find. C is for Children, curious and bright, Drinking words like nectar, under the starry night. D is for Dreams ignited, by verses brave and bold, Freedom's...

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My hands are tired, so I let my brush rest, unable to paint Autumn's loneliness. How much I miss you can never be stressed. August has left behind blank emptiness. Sitting by the window in the corner, watching the world in its colourful hues. I search for your face among the murmur, but all I'm left with is a muse with blues. In...

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flowery poem overflowing sentiment unburdened and old-fashioned Victorian art Queen Anne’s lace and pink roses she wasn’t that kind of girl...

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It's bad enough that I am dark as night The fact hunters want her is not right. Ink Well is furious that it is October again. She is hiding out underneath her twin. She popped a red hoodie over her head. Halloween is coming, I don’t want you dead! I felt angry now, hot, sweaty and mean. Never a happy cat...

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Sleeping In The Inkwell Been looking around for that strange smell, Don’t know if it’s coming from under the sink. I been sleeping in the inkwell, I can only wonder what you must think. I hear there’s been a lot of loose talk, Some dude talking smack about my babe, But I been sleeping in the inkwell, I wanted no part of that...

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I gather up my words vaulted in my inkwells dictionaries of feeling my muse advises me to plunge my quill today in suffering a dictionary of woe sadly never ending each word a lost soul lost through ignorance my quill quivers in despair then light a yellow rose my muse said refile it she saw my concern it stands for peace you've not yet learnt how to use it yet in...

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Lithesome lines of rapturous rhymes and torrid truths, Written with piteous pleas and tantalized tease; Left to others' wits to be interpretive sleuths Of our loves, lusts, confessional musts and envies. Rhythm ripping or cadence caressing penned words, Weeping a caustic choice or singing a heart's rejoice; Gathered in silken sentiments or stampeding herds Inkwell of traipsing thoughts etched in poetic voice. Susan...

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Pray tell, my dear How full is it? The capacity of which it can hold? If you would allow me to fill it To look within it The contains which are dry and old... Your life's story Must carry on You need new ink to write Let me, my dear Fill your heart And replace the ink from inside.. I'll make you new It won't dry out Not in...

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Sadly, I have only the one shallow inkwell to enter words About my adoring father’s incomparable life. And, Webster’s entire dictionary is not enough to Even describe a day of his existence. How on This extremely small earth can it be accomplished? My Attempts come up short every time I dip in shallow inkwells. Maybe...

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The Golden Inkwell ...

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The poet writes from heart...

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