Blood and Anxiety- Touch Me Not

Touch me not lest we forget.

This painting that we walk upon.

Brushstrokes of blood and bone.

Betrayal of a secret kind erasing what was.

Touch me not lest I forget the cold iron of your eyes.

Or the harshness of each hand bathed in frosted cobalt.

I gave up who I was while throwing myself into your arms.

And burned white-hot in your scorn.

Let me not forget.

-M.E. InkOwl


This September The InkOwl is teaming up with a guest poet The Wasp to bring you a mix of Blood and Anxiety. These poems were inspired by life events, personal experiences, and a desire to share differing perspectives on relationships. If you’re interested in participating in future corroborations with The InkOwl please feel free to message this blog from the contact page.

Blood and Anxiety-Backbiters

Don’t believe the lies they’ve told,

Their bitterness is unending.

I’ve tried my best to turn a cheek,

And stepped my self away.

It does no go to wallow in their slops and pens of woe.

For they hem themselves round about,

With misery and sorrow.

-M.E. InkOwl


This September The InkOwl is teaming up with a guest poet The Wasp to bring you a mix of Blood and Anxiety. These poems were inspired by life events, personal experiences, and a desire to share differing perspectives on relationships. If you’re interested in participating in future corroborations with The InkOwl please feel free to message this blog from the contact page.

Blood and Anxiety- Banshee

Screaming, you are screaming.

Mouth open dark energy roaring from your lips.

I lay in my bed, pulling blankets up over my head.

One hand trying to stop my sobs.

But you scream on, you big scream on.

I wonder how I can make myself disappear.

Like banshees you both scream on.

-M. E. InkOwl

September on The InkOwl

It’s a new month for writing on the InkOwl! As the seasons changed I thought it would be fitting to share a series of poems by a guest writer, The Wasp. The series is titled, “Blood and Anxiety” and features a wide range of pieces focusing on life, relationships, family, and love. I’m excited about, and I hope you readers will be too.

-M.E. InkOwl

Deepest Roots

Beauty to the deepest root,

Flourishing beneath the fullest rose.

On the surface we see what is wanted to be seen,

But rarely do we know beyond each petal.

Patience must stretch wide open arms,

With hands holding gently to the soil.

See the whole plant roots and all,

Breathe in their wandering soul.

-M.E. InkOwl

Change

Even as I stand upon this empty lane,

I feel a shifting within the veins beneath my feet.

Something born upon the wind,

I taste in the coolness of the night.

Buzz of bee and shift of branch,

A shiver runs the world round.

“Prepare yourself,” whispers the wood,

Wisdom lining its face.

“Be malleable,” burbles the stream,

Knowledge rippling deep.

“Open yourself,” sings the sky,

Laying experience bare.

“Change,” beats my heart,

Knowing the fear inside.

-M.E. InkOwl

Opened Eyes

Ring out far and wide this song of which we breathe,

Serenity lies with our grasp.

Between the lies of modern thought,

Lies the peace all men seek.

Push through each barrier,

Hear metal shriek and concrete tremble.

Dig down beyond the walled prison we build round us,

Serenity lies between our fingers rich, dark, and fragrant.

Throw off our oppression of paved and uniform corrals,

Give up the opiate of wireless connection.

Embrace our mother sublime,

Covered in thriving tree and bird song.

-M.E. InkOwl

On-The-Go- Thistle Born

Thistle upon a wandering down,

Have you been searching for what has been found?

Guard your beauty with hook and thorn,

Hide behind stalks tall and forlorn.

Thistle bloom so secrets bore,

Wish me well as forgotten lore.

-M.E. InkOwl

Mother Earth

shed your tears upon these stones,

forget where you’ve suffered the most

lean upon our Mother Earth,

tethering heart and soul to ground

drink upon a crystal well,

remember a wild open world

heal and be free,

ageless wonder that you are

-M.E. InkOwl

On-The-Go- Road Home

The world was so wild and unfamiliar,

Untamed, unrelenting despite the attempts of man.

All I had were my hands, feet, and eyes,

To continue upon an already crumbling path.

I lost myself along the way,

And stopped for too long to wallow.

The pathways of night closed round,

And I could not find the road.

Tall grasses replaced the guiding trees and hills,

That stretched toward my home long missed.

Then one day beneath the rain,

I found a path long unused and over grown.

I struggled through bramble and snagging thorns,

Almost again losing hope and the path.

How surprised I was to step through a long hedge,

Only to find the road home before in tact.

I fell to the ground and kissed its dust,

Crying joy for the mountains and sky.

Now I walk with purposed intent,

A different self entirely.

Pointed toward home,

I will not be deterred.

-M.E. InkOwl