Exclusive Ink

Category: Poetry

  • EVERYTHING IN EVERYTHING

    by KATRINA

    I’m a whiteboard that wants to be a hand.
    I’m a wine glass that wants to be measuring tape.
    I’m a bird that wants to be a blade of grass.
    I’m a moth that wants to be a window screen.
    I’m a prison cell that wants to be a jacket.
    I’m an ocean that wants to be a single sock.
    I’m a shotgun shell that wants to be a kiss.
    I’m a bone that wants to be a guitar.
    I’m a tube of lip gloss that wants to be a rock.
    I’m a hate that wants to be a bear.
    I’m a number that wants to be a folder.

    I’m a sea turtle that dreams of crossing the street.

    I’m a box that wants to be a light bulb.
    I’m a tire that wants to be a phone.
    I’m a purple marker that wants to be a notebook.
    I’m a piece of bacon that wants to be Steve.
    I’m a raincloud that wants to be a piece of bread.
    I’m a magnifying glass that wants to be an electric spark.

    I’m everything in everything that wants to be nothing.

  • LIGHT HIDER

    by JAMMONICA

    His claw was sharp, like a split harp. Then I realized he was aiming for my heart. Dragged it to my heart, my blood bled out like scars on my sleeves. For weeks and months everyone tried saving themselves from him. No one could ever dodge his sharp claws, he would come in the middle of the night to haunt his prey. People called out for help, wishing I had returned and come back to save them. So, after months passed, I came back to life, because I’m saving the world. I’m saving the world. To protect from harm and to make them feel safe. Not a lost cause if you have claws that stab in the dark and hide in the light.

  • TWO MINDS

    by ISAIAH

    Two sides of one life, with two minds.
    With 3 eyes, it’s still hard to see light,
    poems with remedy, joking in soliloquies.
    Still hard to hold on to loose vines—
    the more you lose grip, you lose life.
    They continue to drop weight on you.
    A ship’s more beautiful when it sinks.
    It proves the imperfect, important. Depression reeks,
    the stench it stinks. Fighting for respiration,
    dark skies don’t mean precipitation, no hesitation.
    In my dark sometimes nothing equals something.
    Don’t jump, you let them cut you to short stumps.
    You’ll grow back, nevermind that, triumph.
    Still no conclusions found in those two minds,
    find something with that 3rd eye.
    I guarantee with my life,
    the answer isn’t suicide.

  • GLOVES

    by CHRISTOPHER

    Any kinds of gloves without a feeling,
    being there when you always
    need them, working, sleeping in a
    cold night, making a sandwich,
    or working in the hard
    stale snow or ice, you hands warm,
    safe from the dirt, mud, GERMS
    and even more.

    Firemen, football players, chefs,
    all use them. Firemen use them
    to lift very hot things, football players
    so the ball doesn’t fall out of
    their hands, chefs so the people won’t
    get sick of their GERM-infested hands.

    I am okay if they cut off the
    part that they touched.

  • EXPLOSIONS

    by CHRISTOPHER

    Explosions, loud, might have a smell like a bottle of nail polish thrown on the ground and getting everywhere.

    Wall, person, they have similarities, they have differences, one similarity is that they are strong. A wall can withstand a punch, so can a person. A wall can stand still, and a person can stand still. Maybe a person is so strong he can be punched but his arm won’t break. Maybe a wall will stand after a missile strike. The difference is a wall can feel no pain. The wall is as strong as an elephant, goes on forever like star in the sky.

    Electricity can shock your foot, legs, and arms, faster than the speed of light, strong as a punch, like a jackhammer on the ground.