My Intimate Poetry: Ink.

Hello lovely readers, National Poetry Day is upon us once more. A sagacious woman once said that poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful. I have fallen in and out of love throughout the years but never have I ever fallen out of love with language. If it weren't for a certain Ms. Barrett-Browning, I would not be here with two poetry anthologies.

Please enjoy this exclusive look at a poem that has been sat in my notebook for months.

Some are scorned by sin and marked by rejection. ― Tammy-Louise Wilkins.



A lucid trail of black,
Traced by the venom from his tongue.
A searing mark of scrawled wrack,
Each puncture of flesh stung.

Calligraphy’s stain;
The words rumble in his throat.
Upon this skin he scripts his pain;
A piece of parchment to twine his quote.

Ink leaks its tears.
A tepid droplet rolls down his cheek.
On this scorched surface the despondency smears,
Colliding with darkness into one pristine streak.

One word uttered blackens his mind;
Coloured by emotion’s detached dye.
A parting message splattered then refined.
Upon this skin it whispers one word; “Goodbye”

© Tammy-Louise Wilkins



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Comments

  1. I don't possess the words to tell u just how much i love this n ur writing just inspires me to read more. Xx

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