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Best Poems Written by Ink Empress

Below are the all-time best Ink Empress poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Starlit Symphony

I still remember 
how you were
there in the dark,
holding my 
bleeding heart.
Whilst I wandered,
sleepless under
soundless spheres.

Now I search
for your starlit
symphony
that echoes,
as idyllic octaves,
from the last song
you sang for 
our lost youth;
demons we fought,
when colorless dusks
abandoned me,
between tuneless 
sheets of emptiness,
where citrine gold
streaked wavelets of 
strawberry scented
sunrise and 
amethyst sunset
composed
 hibiscus hymns.

But when ink
within my soul
hides behind 
pomegranate lies,
that I truly despise, 
amidst crimson-clawed
chaos of cluttered 
calligraphy,
crawling in silence
along cursive linings 
carved in 
psychedelic perianths ~
can you hear
my pleas vibrating
through unwritten lyrics, 
scrawled in 
seaweed green? 

Some melodies need
no words nor voice,
to narrate noiseless
refrains of
  endless loss, 
orchestrated
from seraphic
strings—
whistling 
peacock promises,
that linger 
within my 
  violet blue veins,
coated with 
helium love. 

And even in
death, 
   you and I
will forever,
remain as 
immortal kins—
like the 
   evening moon 
and the 
   midnight sun,
chasing
  dewberry daydreams,
fructified from sage
    mint roots,
waltzing to 
your perfumed 
presence in
the elysian castle.

I will never stop
singing our soft
cotton serenades, 
even if the blackest
of stones from the
greyest hail quartz, 
dimmed the
sangria seas
that ripples deep
into the shimmering
gates of your 
home above 
the seven skies.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Winter Sonata

In the landscape 
of melancholy, 
where arctic 
heartbeats linger, 
I long for withered 
willows to blossom 
like speckled 
diamond petals, 
while your crystalline 
silhouette strolls 
through tangled tunnels 
of my weathered mind.

And I question 
the highest choir 
orchestrating 
  ethereal anthems: 
What if there’s no right key 
to harmonize this 
    undying yearning? 
What if love had a voice? 
Would it be an 
  echo of melting snow— 
thawing glacier hearts 
to stream upon 
silver lakes, 
mirroring drifting 
clouds of memories 
that drizzle 
rose-tinted flakes? 
There, the crisp 
air whispers 
magical tales 
chauffeured in 
cashmere cadence.

But, like the golden 
tendrils of 
  winter jasmine,
my fingers 
 stretch beyond 
fogs of frozen rainbows, 
sketching 
 sweet-scented dreams 
across skies 
 in porcelain pigments, 
as your voice 
  glimmers and 
glows amidst 
   poetic pearls 
resting on 
your lyrical lips, 
shifting through 
colors of the 
     seasonal breeze, 
serenading 
    symphonies 
for soulmates. 

So let me 
 undress the 
wintry wisps of vanilla, 
cloaking the 
 citrine threads
of sunrise in your eyes,
listening to 
 the song of the 
wind that shrouds 
our unsung sonatas 
when we were undone.

For you and I, 
    we are like 
jewels in the azure, 
ruminating in rhymes, 
quilted in a 
 secluded igloo, 
as chickadees 
    of the night 
chirp in sync 
    with the moon, 
mimicking hymns 
from the 
hypnotic lyre of Orpheus,
to which Eurydice waltzed, 
even the waning stars 
would unravel 
  a sequined staircase 
   to the gardens 
above the highest spheres.

For I would die 
a million 
deaths to 
rewind and replay 
the dulcet chorus 
of this 
immortal romance.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Dear Anxiety, Collaboration With the Silent One

Dear anxiety
Nemesis to my reality,
mental manipulator of tentative trust,
massacring my once sagacious soul -
you cut me into a slice of loneliness.

The fault is in our thoughts,
so I am haunted by the things you never said.
You remain silent to society's subjective eyes,
but a glimpse of a poet's soul shivers,
to these vivid verses held by ghosts -
echoing a repetitive chorus in a cathedral of screams.

I'm an uninvited guest in an audience with you,
so I drink poison in every line I write about you.
These words burn my vocal chords,
but I swallow them anyway,
as my paper heart pumps onyx drops
crying through my veins to heartache's recital
of an infected celestial mind yearning for a remedy.
But life is a cupid cruelty in dulcet disguise,
when your heart is a sinister seashell,
oblivious to potions of omen brewed in pigments of pixie-dust.

You're an unwelcome melody to my mystic,
composing an internal deadly demeanour.
I am the ink stuck in your cage,
dissolving like acid in your controlled carnage,
confined to trembling bleeding intuitions,
lost in corridors of horrific obscure mirrors,
whilst paranoia palpitates in a whirling haze of
magnetic ice warmth, melting my sanity,
amidst crumbling stars that lure cavernous comets
of silver grief to pirouette above frozen seas draped with 
a fluorescent creme of skies.
As oceanic tides of topaz rise and fall, 
flatlined into pewter streams of emptiness.
The moon coruscates in coral blue lies,
passing through intractable phases of trepidation,
abandoning light in black tourmaline nights -
pivoting into a psychedelic trance.

Rainbows fade before we can embrace
their colorful showers drizzling jade jewels
that rhyme with kaleidoscopic kismet,
as life through rose coloured lenses turns
into a provisional poetic manifestation.

If only I could escape this self-inflicted dungeon,
but you pursue like a perpetual predator.
I'll forever expose your oppression through my poems,
confessing how I never asked for this enforced affair.
I know I'm my own storm, I'm my own calm -
I just hope this is the last time I write about you.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Leaves of Love

My heart bleeds sultry stars from beams up high,
as planted promises sprout leaves of love,
blooming through the rose haze of moonlit sigh,
like balmy feathers of a diamond dove.

You are the muse, quenching this muted ink,
like the warm essence of a bonsai dream,
kissed by the rain, as sparks from the sun sink,
tracing verses of my poetic stream.

Yet the world knows not what you mean to me~
you are the sonnet I weave with soft swirls
and pastel petals aching to breathe free,
bathed in the shimmer of Juliet’s pearls.

Tonight, meet me where the stars never die~
we’ll be more than mere rhymes lost in the sky.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Moonstones in Artless Skies

It feels like the world
has been struck by a 
plague of pathological lies,
where fictional truth 
seems to sell better,
the allure of
imitation glistens 
even brighter, 
while superficial tongues 
recite infected mantras,
praising slaves of Satan~
singing corpse lullabies. 

And I can feel 
my drained soul 
descending 
  into darkness,
as this cathartic 
sanctuary 
    slowly decays,
into odds and ends 
of incessant numbness.

Spikes drive through 
this splintered ribcage,
shackling my life force,
to silently bleed 
       in salvation.

I feel the scorching 
iron ore entering 
my splitting heart,
as they watch
the crimson flow,
mocking my
doomed empathy. 
For kindness 
is disregarded, 
in a cynical world 
that has no mercy,
falling into an 
abyss of tears, 
awaiting eternal sleep,
never to rise to 
another devil’s trance,
whilst bleeding in 
reckless reckoning. 

I am the mistreated 
mistress in misery,
stranded in the
midst of an 
abandoned island~
cruising through 
  roaring waves,
in desperate hope 
     for butterfly bliss.

I trace
deadly deeds 
in bloodstained 
 sea-castles,
pleading the lord, 
to tether 
the cold walls,
that hide all these 
layers of brokenness.

Carvings of 
chaos on my skin,
choreograph a 
prodigious dance 
of death,
commemorating 
creased calm, 
with prophetic 
songs that
have no life.
For the coldest 
breeze still
lingers in circles,
from the pits of 
an out-burnt mountain,
reluctant to rearrange 
dried up poison,
with their cape 
  of sentiments,
       in cold refrains 
             and resentment.

Yet I question the 
        cosmic Peridots
scattered between 
     moonstones in 
artless skies.
     How can a poet
make the dead
seem beautiful again,
when musty maggots
     are the only 
fillings they would get?

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Cruel Compassion, Collaboration With the Silent One

My mind is a puzzle of cryptic metaphors.
whilst searching for my sanity,
I've become my own worst enemy.
In this cauldron of despair,
time is like sand in my hand -
an oxymoron poetic 
paradox of cruel compassion. 

Sadistic green eyes bring my demise,
as my sighs are captured by the wind,
slowly morphed into madness and travesty.
I sit alone on the throne of midnight illusions,
cursed by dark imaginations 
lingering like mouldy air,
as vivid flashing images 
engrave inkstained imprints.
Dripping lament from a 
palette of black and white,
colouring in the emptiness of my sensitive soul.
In echoing whispers of weeping violins,
whimsical vibratos from wooden wind-chimes,
steadily orchestrate instrumental sonatas, 
ringing through my strained metallic heart,
whilst I try to strum strangled strings,
harmonizing an inconsistent symphony of a tragedy.

Fate has me stranded within a monotonous loop of uncertainties,
for when twilight’s last breath piercingly eclipsed over 
lyrical edges of my insomniac shadow,

it awoke restless beasts of nocturnal nights -
in nightmares I wondered does no one hear my screams?
i can see dazzling dusts of black diamonds,
drizzle manuscripts of maniac irony 
translating dialects hidden behind unshed tears 
that gleam like shooting stars,
as i sing mystical moonbeams,
sewn with silver sequins of euphonious memories on refrain,
chorused from nameless tunes of timeless tomorrows,
as the magic of the maestro,
residing in the highest bridge of sanguine skies,
guides these electric fears, trapped between 
synchronized layers of my unsettled skin.

I'm tired from intangible tears in the mirror,
slowly sinking me in swirls of sorrow,
like a bruised creature 
seeking shelter in a silk cocoon,
so this aurora's smile is no longer a masquerade.
I hunger for rays of sunlight to paint my skin
in a plethora of pastels,
 so this golden bronze queen,
can once again glitter 
in a crown of illuminating heartbeats.

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If stars were Gold

In
your 
absence
I float in
psychedelic ink
to design a labyrinth with 
rainbow roses drenched in turquoise tears and metaphors.
But, if stars were gold, and I am love, you'll be the poetic garden that feeds my soul.
Maybe, someday, I'll be more than just a faltering feather~will you then, remind me, how to sing again, steal the light behind the jade moon?

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Vanilla Visions

When the 
  moon muses 
to the 
  melody of memories, 
roaming wisps 
   of vanilla gently 
flow through 
   space and time.
Your voice 
  echoes through 
 scintillating 
   sheets of 
   unwavering waves,
like lullabies laced 
   into silver nightfalls. 

Within my 
   mourning sight,
invisible feathers 
    form into
clouds appearing 
      as wings,
swiftly swerving 
   and reflecting
perfumed “ forget-me-nots.”
A reminder 
   that you’ll always
be gracing our horizons 
from 
  dusk till dawn.

I’ll savor your
    memoirs within
pastel colored pages of 
  my purple journal.
I’ll recite 
   your favorite poem, 
like 
  starlight over groves 
of 
  silk and ebony.

Tomorrow before
the sky 
  tumbles down,
let the 
  sunflower stillness speak.
When these
   tears are unlocked,
  rain serenades symphonies
of 
  sentimental seconds,
lost to the 
  ticking truth 
  of fleeting
grains from 
   sinister silence. 
You’ll feel my words 
  rising and 
    reaching 
     the seventh sky,
beyond unwritten 
   woes and throes, 
as you 
   sway upon a 
golden swing 
  engraved with
diamond dusts 
  and 
daphne dreamcatchers.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

My Last Poem

Become my air,
pursuing my scent 
  in sweet fragrant  fields,
where devouring tastes 
   of bohemian spirit,
delicately descend 
    in subsistent sighs.
Distracting the 
     tones of silence,
from subtle susurrus echoes, 
like a tender 
    sakura breeze
kissing fresh 
   lavender blossoms.

Set adrift in 
   shades of yesterday, 
dandelions bloom 
   in flourishing orchards,
prostrating to the 
   mercy of your grace.
But tread carefully 
  through 
the hall of 
   dream crashers,
where strange streams 
from nightmarish tears, 
                   drizzle down, 
composing 
    somber serenades,
choreographed 
    from an 
      enchanted symphony.
For l've seen the 
     invisible reality, 
      twinkling across streetlights 
        of sumptuous stars.

Distance is 
   an unspoken truth, 
just a rainbow 
   away from roaming freely,
within an 
   evergreen paradise 
above bougainvillea skies.

If this was the last poem,
before my last sigh,
today will be the day, 
red of rose will 
    kill my bleeding ink,
so let lyrical acrolect
    of poetry fill your thoughts,
look for 'you' and 'I 
    in the island of love,
where there's no 
   thunder without lightning,
nor “sea" without 'waves of us'
These distractions 
    of desolated dunes
are mere signs 
   of the wounded warrior 
    within me.
I'm waltzing through 
     vibrant valleys of white lilies,
in the hope of finding 
               lost gravity, 
which overcomes trials and trepidation.

l'll always be your 
   lighthouse on lonely nights,
at the edge of 
    bioluminescent sand lines.
A haven where your 
      clusters of couplets,
will transcribe an 
   alchemist's poetic remedy.
Each verse will portray the 
personal poem of my soul,
infused in a 
  profusion of soothing 
               cosmic hues.
As raindrops kiss 
       your face, they'll heal 
those lamenting 
           leather lips-
for you are 
         the wind carrying clouds,
I am the ripples 
          crying to touch your sky.

Details | Ink Empress Poem

Honey-dipped Fingers

Last winter, I refilled my blackened quill with
a dose of your sensual sonnets,
allowing your soothing voice to be the maestro
of moaning moonlight,
reawakening a cathartic infatuation.
Drunk on symphonies that you’ve orchestrated,
a throbbing thirst instills
tantalizing tercets into my trembling veins.

I submissively let every ounce of my skin
be stroked by your titillating tongue,
tracing the milky quartz trails of
goosebumps you’ve ignited,
leaving me intoxicated in your
mellifluous world of poetic pulses,
where your honey-dipped fingers strum
the script of my love-struck soul.
Awakening fervent fireflies to flutter,
flickering luscious sparks,
while cocooned in electric feathers,
caressing the internal warmth
of wildfire whispers.

Yet, there is something about
the way the skies burst euphoric writings
on your untold rivers~
never revealed, forever lost
in the silence of sultry suppression~
luring me to follow the magnetic rhythm
of your restless roseate runes.

I will someday kiss you into written poetry,
when I take a breath 
to climax as couplets intertwined,
screaming caffeinated stars in hypnotic cadence.
The seeds of your love 
will illuminate pining petals,
pressed between velvety sheets
of lunar-glazed pillows,
and the cinnamon sun of a sage dawn,
awaiting drizzling diamonds
with sinful secrets etched from sweat and tears,
teasing the melted twilight 
that flows behind periwinkle prose.

So place me on your empty canvas 
of nocturnal stanzas.
Paint me with tender rhymes,
flowing like fluorescent ink,
bleeding from your aesthetic baton,
so effortlessly,
forever aligned as soulmates,
tied to the gossamer tunes of timeless harmony.