excerpts
Poets Media isolates the most poignant, powerful, and exquisitely composed verses and quotes in the universal poetry canon.
An Excerpt From My Book, 'Love, Life, and Darkness'
“Blood, Tears, Words” The gentle scratching of a quill on paper echoes through the dimly lit halls. Never ceasing, I find innovative the page. The words become stronger, a true extension of myself. The hope, the loss, the love felt through the years made manifest in the stories I tell. I don’t realize it, but I’m gripping the quill quite hard. So much so, I can feel my fingertips start to bleed. It runs down the point just as I reach for the inkwell, a drop of blood falls in. I fail to realize this and continue writing. The red and black in the inkwell form a spiral, running infinitely deeper. The blood ink makes contact with the page. The words become stronger, a true extension of myself. The hope, the loss, the love felt through the years made manifest in the stories I tell. I don’t realize it, but I’m gripping the quill quite hard. So much so, I can feel my fingertips start to bleed. It runs down the point just as I reach for the inkwell, a drop of blood falls in. I fail to realize this and continue writing. The red and black in the inkwell form a spiral, running infinitely deeper. The blood ink makes contact with the paper, and my words begin to shape the world around me. Every beautiful moment made real, every dark one made horrible. All extremes, all emotions, all the words of a man gone mad. I write faster and faster, harder and harder. The quill becomes weak, brittle. It’s almost frantic now as more and more of my blood is etched upon the page. Finally, the quill snaps at the tip. Everything stops, everything is calm. The wind dies, the candle becomes still, and I look up for the first time in…. forever. I look at my hand, still bleeding at the tips. I stare at my fingertips, still bleeding. A few more drops fall into the ink, and form a heart. I stand up and walk away from my desk. The small house fades to a broken-down image of itself, the candle dies out completely, and I fade away into the night. Only to return, and write.
By Tristan Polly8 years ago in Poets
What Sets Your Heart on Fire?
A heart can be set ablaze by many things: love, hatred, and sorrow only being a few to name. Though my own isn't quite fond of the second listed, there are times where I find that love, sorrow and hate can almost be the same. Countless nights I've spent pouring out kerosene in the form of words, attempting to lessen the pain, because paper seems to be the only thing that'll listen; then again, how could it protest? When a soul is aflame, is anyone safe from the havoc it could wreak?
By Olivia Hall8 years ago in Poets
High Thoughts
Now that I am taking a hiatus from smoking, I have decided to dive into the odd depths of my notes on my phone that I have been consistently adding to. When I’m high and have a particularly interesting thought, I jot it down in my notes, to be reassessed with a sober mind. I am a writer as well as a poet, but I fear my high self does not do a good job at portraying that. Still, I present to you, straight from my notes, typos and all, my odd and abstract high thoughts.
By Scarlett Elizabeth8 years ago in Poets
