Home > Creative Writing > Poetry
Created on: March 22, 2008
I shook my pen until I found,
black ink on my face and all around.
Ink dripping down my nose and cheek,
I didn't know my pen had a leak.
My t's not crossed, no dotted i's
my paper in distress it lies,
missing the lines and dots,
covered in black inky spots.
I match my paper and like an ink well,
I'm splotched with ink and I smell,
that bland inky stench,
because the pen decided to drench.
Me from head to toe,
wreaking of ink wherever I go.
Learn more about this author, April Self.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
Poetry: Ink
by etrnhrzn
Traces
A quill, a brush
Dipped in black liquid
The scratching sounds against paper
Up, down, curves, loops
Precise or random
by Skylar Blue
This river of ink that is my words’ blood.
It dances and twirls when moods are calm.
It jerks and cuts when tempers
I've been playing on the computer too long I think
As I look down
At my granddaughter and her pen
With its beautiful dark blue
The needle scratches
And etches my skin
As the blackness flows
To fill each line
The outlines completed
Next come the cobalt
by April Self
I shook my pen until I found,
black ink on my face and all around.
Ink dripping down my nose and cheek,
I didn't know my pen
View All Articles on: Poetry: Ink
Featured Partner
Arts for All Ages is a non-profit organization that travels to schools, extended-day programs, daycare's, homeless shelters, and foster homes with the intent of giving children the opportunity to experience and experiment with the perfor...more