Flashpoint You’re like lightning! You’re enlightening, exciting, Even frightening in your way. You’re eclectic, electric, Hectic in behavior, But a savior Of the darkest Moments, in a way. I admire your light. Fast and flashy, Dashing through the dark, Brightening like day. You drift with the shifting Current within, And before you begin, I feel you Like static on my skin, And the cool of the rain. And you thrill me, Fill me With so much I want to say, But you’re like lightning… You don’t stay. (Written by Ophryon)

Write about someone who isn’t here—but whose presence lingers in every corner. Don’t tell us why. Show it through: an empty chair, a candle burning low, a cup left half-full, a note never sent, a melody hanging in the air. End with a line that whispers that the story isn’t over.

I’ve been dreaming. been dreaming a lot. In my dreams they don’t make sense — not a lot. My mouth is muffled. My chest is heavy. I can’t speak the words they make me. I’ve been dreaming. been dreaming a lot. How do I know if you’re here? How do I know If you’re not? Is it your ghost? What if it’s not? What if my brain is just toast? What if it’s not? I’ve been dreaming. been dreaming a lot. Take it away. What’s in my head? If you hate what I do, Do what I did. Because, I been dreaming. Been dreaming a lot. By Nicole Jordan Ink & Alchemy Community

This poem is deeply personal and I am exploring bringing in present tense words into a past tense scenario. 🛑Trigger warning for anyone that may have lost someone close, proceed with caution this poem is dark and meant to heal. But only when you are ready to explore such topics. **** Looking forward to your feedback Here it is; Youngest of Kin There was a window, It overlooked the ocean, trees first, then busy clouds in motion. You were in your nightgown. Tubes and machines. You weren’t breathing. Not without forced air in and out. I stayed strong, through three months of grime Because I knew it would be me who’d walk him through this time. We searched for something on the radio, a song A background sound that could ease this wrong I wanted to vomit — everything all at once, anything but this, moment that I just can’t trust. I breathe out anger and vile disgust, disdain for this heartache that I will never triumph I don’t care about hunger, details, or despair, My concern is for him, your youngest, standing there. Your youngest of kin, And I search for the strength To be what he needs while you shed this place It was hard, but I kept myself talking through it, Filling the moment with sounds that you knew. Songs that felt like home filling the room, Our voices adrift through all of the gloom. You left us then, the air heavy and numb, Your last breath came when the tubes were undone. By Nicole Jordan (Nikki) Ink & Alchemy - Community on Skool

A poem I write this morning for The Art of Poetry Reposting here Osaka We retreated into a concrete hole Descending below the silent traffic whipping by. Happening upon a streets filled with silent life Osaka so quiet yet busy and alive. Street lights dancing, cars buzzing by, yet it is so quiet one could hear a mouse cry life here so polite you must watch your volume height. For you could end up disturbing the night. Nikki, Ink & Alchemy