Exclusive Ink

Category: Poetry

  • LIFE

    by JONATHAN

    The ashes of the buildings
    of the past. Memories of tortured
    souls wandering a lifeless path.
    No one in sight. No one
    truly alive. Whatever happened
    is not over yet. It’s life to die but no matter
    what we can never really die. Life is life.
    Death is death. You can live but you can
    never truly die. Memories of your path
    flood your mind as you are placed under
    a spell of eternal sleep. The end is only a chapter
    opening to beginning. Your life begins with one
    and will end with many.

  • BIG HEART

    by JAY

    Look at her hair it flows in the air. She’s beautiful.
    Not a one direction song but I can stare all day long.

    A beautiful girl with lovely curls. Perfect eyes in her size.

    Big heart for the world to see but it’s only for me.
    Dark chocolates: she isn’t a fan but I’m her man! #NOEMOJIS

    Look at his handsome and also Mansome.

    Beautiful creature where did you come from. It can’t be
    my world.

    Lover boy who smells like a Dove.

    White chocolates don’t have curls but I’m a hip-
    type of girl.

  • SAD PINE

    by JADON

    I am much like a pine tree.
    Propped and gloomy.
    Fickle and frayed.
    Green, but not jovial.
    A sad pine indeed.

    Prickly at the touch.
    Warded sights inspire retreat.
    Punctured needles weep.

    Battered and alone:
    a sad pine nesting in the deep.

  • UNDERWATER

    by FLOR

    I looked out the window.
    It wasn’t bright.
    There was no
    light.

    A while later there I saw
    a button that said “lights.”
    I pressed it. I wasn’t
    prepared.

    There were so many sea creatures.
    Blue and very bright. Even though
    I was alone in a submarine I didn’t
    complain.

    Just the fact that I’m a 12 year
    old boy in a submarine without
    a mother, no father, nothing,
    but fish.

    A while later this creature appeared.
    It was long and dark and it gave me
    fear. But then I noticed it seemed familiar.

    The last time it came I named it Kane.

  • THIS BOWL

    by KATRINA

    In the back of the cabinet
    all nicotine dripped
    I hold this bowl
    heavy and hollow
    filled with nothing its
    contents dripped out the crack
    in the bottom

    all over the floor which
    is now all wet and slippery

    I stand there and look
    at you with a puzzled look

    seared yet relieved
    let down yet very proud
    the only thing left

    reminding myself of you

    Even though you’re gone
    You are still here

    In the bowl I hold in
    my now burning hands
    you died and your bowl did too

    you are no longer trapped
    inside the dark cabinet

    you are no longer forced
    to be filled
    with stuff you don’t want

    not an extra but now
    treasure
    an antique I will always keep

    worth nothing to anyone

    but me