Ink poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of ink poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on ink are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
She was born in Spain, and he arrived from Egypt, for Centuries those two were inseparable, a perfect couple they dance in tune although, with time their apparel changed, but the duo still attune. They could not live one without
Did you hear the one about the girls who went to get the Chinese ideogram for ‘friendship’ tattooed on their arms and instead came away with the ideogram ‘unclean?’ There is an inherent danger in having your body indelibly embossed
Squatting on the grayness of the rock I let the breeze chill the marrows of my bone on the wet sand I wrote your name a receding wave squiggled it away leaving behind a brown sediment of moist sand. my
Why should the black be discriminated ? whether your blood be high land or low, whether your skin be black or white as the snow, Of reason there’s none, and why should there be As long as there’s fire in
A school shirt is a memoir; a relic. I left mine several years back tainted underneath the gray box, painted. Written on it were friends’ farewell notes some from lovers some rubbish anecdotes. Tattered was its pocket Ripped were the
It’s one of those mornings that welcomes whiskey and soda with open arms. The Sun and I, more or less, feel the same way about getting out and conquering the world. ‘Well, it’s not our turn today’, we tell ourselves.
Sunlight streaming through the window The curtains fluttering in gentle breeze Scented sheets scattered around the desk Me, seated with my feet aloft my chair Pen in mouth, mind lost in thought A faraway look in my eye. A letter
Two lovers by the ragged strand once trod the sooty sand; slender maid with raven hair, fisher boy of bronze; the dazzling sun a gold doubloon, the moon a silver coin. From rocks, ink-black as witches’ cats, they saw the
Too much said, too much heard. Numbness remains, unperturbed. Freckles of past, growing on words Poems look like a discolored herd Stifling sunrises deep within Echoing thoughts under the skin I crave for myself, more each time Reciting a wordless,
May the ink that flows From the nib of my pen Forever entertain you With words of love And life and wonder Lick beams of light Through clouds of thunder May the blood that flows Through the hand that writes
Like every morning, he has just returned from his office and is right in-front of one of his roommate and so called friend’s lappy’; Going through all previous messages sent by her on Facebook. No doubt, his life has been
Now let poetry flap its wings and sing to the sky in a language that not just carries a rich literary history but is also close to the heart in an unexplainable way. HighOnPoems launches the most awaited Hindi Poetry
A single word or phrase; a gesture Can trigger a feeling of wondrous rapture To be told that you’re worth more than the drifting sands That daily slip through your trembling hands To be surrounded by so many appreciative people
Oh the truth and nothing but the truth !!!????? What way of justice? does it say? should always bring the truth out why do they say then, that, he be given the benefit of doubt? who cannot prove his guilt???
Where the tide line of reality and dreams appear We stand. Uncertainty and reassurance walking hand in hand. Enjoying the kisses of the salty breeze, at the same time feeding the wind it’s flavour. Unable to indulge in our creation.
Words are little paper hearts, Sometimes shot from a cupid’s bow, That evoke many emotions, Echoing in the mind, Twisting all chords, Leaving one puzzled, At the feelings mere words can yield. They can make love, Bind you together in
A fear stalks me on the road. Sun was very aloof and cold. Cannot stop the decline, give me prayers of your lips. You talk of dark children dying when I was losing consciousness. Will not question the ink of
Black and white Like the colour of the colobus in Colorado Make me of Black Magic think. Witches that bring about white things. Black and white How can black ever rule the white? When even the darkness vamoose From the
I skipped in the school building so tall With a smile like a bubbly China doll ”I shan’t fail the test today, I know” I murmur’d, merrily dancing to and fro. ”Prepared for the test, my dear friend? I ponder
His obsession radiates deep into realms of eternity of the most dark, sinister and raw nature and he listens as the darkness of her whispers in the deep midnight hour “Do you dare to love such shadows as me?” He
Lying under the blanket of stars, I see so much more. I see myself riding the horse past the full moon On a clear starlit night. I see the possibilities of tomorrow, Shining bright. I see myself running alive among
He refused to yield, and the stars were burning hot. Night was foggy, and the moon was hiding. His white, shriveled hands held the center of gravity. Obsessively he anchored himself in the muddled egos and bleeding knives. Somebody was
Through shades of dark red embered fires, so many unfulfilled desires When orange suns and sallow skies created more than pain filled eyes That once watched tired yellow moons reach out to cast star silver runes, As they spread out
All that is dreamt, all that is lived, is Poetry. Rhythmic breaths, The beat of a heart, The fluttering of eyes. Each rendered piece of a life’s experience, Verses revealed, read, and reveled in. At times, our tears, the ink
Measure life with eyes all subtleties And find to what length world has changed Since our early childhood; our celestial bonhomie. Happy days dwelt with us in continuity We raced to all pleasure field under careful watch of parents And
The echoes of those ancient poetries Red ink dripping from blank dreams Drooping pens and tightened grips Gloomy blue tunes, fatuous time slips These are few of my forgotten things Futuristic pragmatic event flows Far sighted chapter with new goals
Dear You, It’s been a long time since we spoke, I’m tallying the days since you’ve gone, Leaving me alone in this one-windowed skyscraper. The pages are blank. The ink has dried. So here I am, thinking out loud, Hoping
(1) At ‘Bab Al-nairab gate’,(1)on a pile of wet smoke, I meet a sackcloth, a muddy bear fur and two women; one holds by her amputated palm the tail of ‘Sayf Aldawla’s(2) robe, the other sings a rocky song. The
Scribbling down the essence of my heart, Writing down the unsaid words so easily, Hiding it with those blank pages, Which will be filled with the same sweet agony, How I know the pre-written destiny, And still giving my all
(1) A flower is a colorful scrabbling over a garden’s cheeks and a flying kiss into air. (2) A flower is a state of confusion, whenever a stigma erects up into a silky bed. (3) A flower is martyrdom on
Hold as it slips away from your fragile hand, Catch as it flies away to a wonderland, Pause as it helps you move on, The only way of life to surrender beautifully, Yet be remembered, Let Go, Let Go off