Author: Inkwell Poets Society

bleh blah blug bloo

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

bleh blah blug bloo

How do I tell you love you too?

When the words are too large

and encompass more than imaginable

high on wings of light we soar

Above the clouds

through the land that forgot time

and the communication across dimensions

dwindles each day

like the last glimpse

of a shooting star

Tell me what does it mean to wish?

Old tales spun like the fray of a faded scarf

repeated and reframed until they are eventually forgotten

Left away, to dust and decay

with dried flowers on a mantle and

memories collecting dust,

I have made me whole when

you left just a husk

Green Room by Eliot Alonzo and Ellie Kobus

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

if you stand between me and the shore, i shall never get wet.

i will never feel the sand pulse under my feet.

i will never allow the sea breeze to treat my face like a wounded animal

and hold it tenderly in its hand

i will say goodbye to the tide pools,

and the deep sea societies i’ll never meet,

because in your wake there is a heart shaped island

that is lost in an apartment complex of Green Rooms

and instrumental crescendos that flood and build homes of their own

in the stone they eroded.

the tide pools will dry up, leaving the fish in crosswalks,

the coral in coffee shops, the seaweed wrapped around sushi rice.

it all recycles, whether i touch the sea or not.

the waves crash against packed sand regardless of if you watch them or

leave them behind. water rises and falls, burying shells and unearthing treasures.

the salt lingers on my face like a good kiss,

the Green Paint drying on my clothes as your heart pulses beneath my ear

to the tune of a soft wind

beckoning me to sleep.

doghouse by Eliot Alonzo

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

i’m not a bad dog.

i’m sorry i bit

you gave me a collar,

a name,

a home house.

i wish to be invited into your home

you’re not a bad dog.

you don’t just bite

your collar pokes and pods,

you don’t answer to your name,

you burst from your house

to our home

i’m not a bad dog

i don’t deserve this.

i try to stay away from bugs

and you keep me from you

you’re not a bad dog

you bring us dirt,

and fleas

and love in whatever form you can.

i’m not a bad dog

i don’t know where i am

i’m scared

i’m tired

i want to go home.

you’re not a good dog

i’m sorry it has to be like this

you’re too dangerous

you just have to go to sleep.

this is home now.

how to be a kid again

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

around and around we go!

before the balloon flies away

catch me if you can!

dodging and weaving

eager and ecstatic

friends floating together

grounding one another

helping hands reach

into imagination.

jokes aside,

keep my secrets in

letters unopened

memories to be made,

nowhere but here.

open to adventure,

playing in the woods

questioning nothing

remembering how to be real.

savoring the sunshine

the things that don’t last forever

unique stories to be told

veiled in whimsy and love

wishing for forever

xylophonic echoes

yearning to be heard

zealous sounds of joy.

Fortune by Spencer Keelan

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

Clouds tinged purple with twilight

Hang above two lovers

Perched on a grassy hill

Enjoying the company of birds

And each other

Dusty purple paint coating the walls

Of a bedroom left unused

The return of a child

Thought long gone

A healed family hugs, encased in these walls

The color purple has been used for years

As a sign of royalty and wealth

Maybe not material

But we are fortunate all the same

Sunswept Sand by Spencer Keelan

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

Grains of sand bathed in sunlight,

Hiding treasures beneath it’s harshness

Dig down deep beneath

And maybe you’ll find something,

Truly worthwhile.

In the sand there are many treasures

Just waiting for someone to be willing.

Willing to get burned or scratched,

Caring enough to search.

Sunswept Sand on a beach,

Hiding beautiful things

That are only beautiful to some.

Cat’s Tongue

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

When the cat’s tongue is out when asleep

communication hard, unease, constantly keeping oneself on guard

but I can’t, I’m listening to mommy asmr

but I can’t, I can’t… I can’t keep listening to that…

so I’ll just sit just sit on this

large hat

Oh, to have the whimsy to stand and

wear this impossible accessory

Unfortunately, I am far too small, and

this hat far too big

but I know who can wear this hat

A hat of such magnitude could only be

suited for Kurt Russell as R.J. Mac ready

In John Carpenter’s “The Thing” (1982) Rated

R with director of photography Dean Cundey

and head of special effects Rob Bottin

I like hats

to cover my chilly head

when the sun don’t shine

Down in Bikini Bottom

With Spongebob and Patrick

And Mr. Krabs and Plankton

Engaged in a passionate relationship

that would be memorialized in the stars

and called a friendship in the history books

They wrote something above this

That would be described as homosexual

But I could be wrong

Golden Promise by Oliver Kirchner

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

So bright

So present

a veil protecting us

This shield

which could be oppressive

humidity clinging

to every cell

But this promise is dry

clear-cut

to the point

We know the expectations

which bind us

to one another

Light was brought

to the darkness

Safety overpowered cruelty

Here is a place

we can rest

without threat or pressure

I lay down my head

and dream of the stars

so close to the sun

Faith Not Forgotten

Posted on by Inkwell Poets Society

My faith has not been forgotten

However, Dracula is not real

I know that now

He was never my friend

He only wanted

to suck my blood

just like Dracula or Edward

taking the very thing I need to live

dripping, dripping, gone

like water down the gutter

fading from the street

and the world above

spinning

twirling

through an unknown future

encompassed by aliens from space

and awaiting

I’ll keep waiting

Gazing at the stars

Hoping one will call to me

me the chosen one they chose me

am I the chosen one in style or power.

How am I the chosen one?

please someone tell me!!!

MIKEAL DON’T LEAVE ME HERE!!

MIKEAL!!!

The bite of ’87

The bite of 187 ants when you step on their home

My name is David

I want some ice cream. *cue applause*

I’m inside the walls

In fact, I’m eating the walls. I love drywall