The ink, dark with expression, dripped from an old glass bottle onto the creamy white page. His hands shook with the bottle, unsure of where to lead the ink across the page.
It spread across the table slowly. The black liquid seeped into the cracks of the wooden desk. The woman’s pale blue eyes blinked as she stared at her blackened finger tips. It had been an accident, but she had spilled the ink everywhere. She took a deep breath and started to clean up the mess. This represented her life, the act of making a mistake but then having to clean it up.
The ink from my pen used to flow freer than it does now. The words and ideas and inspiration just flowed out of me like cool iced tea from a pitcher on a southern sunny day.
Now
it
is
stiffled
It’s hard for the ink to flow. It’s hard to express yourself when you don’t know how to feel.
the flowers dont know ink. they only know colors. ink is black and therefore dark. but im not racist i swear. there is nothing inside the black darkness, but you can make something of it if you write words or draw. i really wish i could ink or make art with ink. it always looks really cool.
you use it to fuel your pen, in which you write with. like poetry, a diary, or even draw with. it stains your clothes but is very useful to people. umm ya ink is great.. ink ink ink. i use ink every day in school. i think. i draw a lot. but usually with pencil. sometimes pen.
it is the black stufff that runs through my weins runnning running runinnnng throgh my effervescent veins that connect my heart to my head at all times I never thought my heart would end up to be a black hole in the society of black holes. I love my black hole of a heart. ink that runs through my veins are the blookd of my ancestors that I never knew. I can only imagine that they too, had black holes in thier hearts as well
there is ink on my desk. it stains my clothes and it is hard to clean. But you can get it out of fabric with hairspray. I learned this from writing too much on my jeans.
The ink splashed across the page, bathing the white sheet in a tidal wave of black. The kitten dipped a paw into the sticky mess, and then brushed a small line across an unsoiled corner a triumph for feline technology.
fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
I looked down at my inky fingers and sighed. I had done horribly on the test, I just knew it. I tried to rub the black and blue off; they were like bruises from a brutal test of knowledge.
Ink is what makes my pen go BOOM! I know it’s weird my pens explode but it’s cool, I’m an international art thief. I need these exploding ink pens to cause distractions while I steal priceless paintings.
ink rhymes with blink and as words are written on paper they are often made into rhymes and set to rhythms and a fun little tune. and we represent and express with them. ink it out.
something that my printer just never has. ink in pens can be blue or black mainly, but there are otther colours too. ink sometimes stains clothes and may explode in your mouth if you are chewing your pen
Is something you write with. It comes in a pen or sometimes a bottle. There is such thing as ‘invisible ink;’ that disappears shortly after supposedly staining something.
The ink was running down the page.
The rain washed it from the page leaving nothing but traces of black ink. The ink left the page like a river of oil rushing down the mountain. The letters of how she felt were destroyed and gone.
The pen is mightier than the sword! Or so they say, yet it is obvious to the even obscure of viewers that the pen, baring only ink, is in no way equal to the force of which can be dealt by a sword, or any other weapon of choice. It is here that one must then look to the abstract and think of stories which can then pursue one to show what they think of might and its honor!
The pen dips into the ink and the story begins. The story of a young boy and girl in love. Their affair was one for the history books. They never got to fulfill their relationship because of that night.
The ink, dark with expression, dripped from an old glass bottle onto the creamy white page. His hands shook with the bottle, unsure of where to lead the ink across the page.
By Christina on 05.16.2009
ink, pen, print, newspapers, phonebook,
By James on 05.16.2009
It spread across the table slowly. The black liquid seeped into the cracks of the wooden desk. The woman’s pale blue eyes blinked as she stared at her blackened finger tips. It had been an accident, but she had spilled the ink everywhere. She took a deep breath and started to clean up the mess. This represented her life, the act of making a mistake but then having to clean it up.
By R. D. Wolf on 05.16.2009
The ink from my pen used to flow freer than it does now. The words and ideas and inspiration just flowed out of me like cool iced tea from a pitcher on a southern sunny day.
Now
it
is
stiffled
It’s hard for the ink to flow. It’s hard to express yourself when you don’t know how to feel.
By Dyl on 05.16.2009
Handy little set, “i-n-k”. Hook it behind your favorite consonants, create sound effects… Ah, where does our 60 seconds go? Blink…
By @ on 05.16.2009
the flowers dont know ink. they only know colors. ink is black and therefore dark. but im not racist i swear. there is nothing inside the black darkness, but you can make something of it if you write words or draw. i really wish i could ink or make art with ink. it always looks really cool.
By joann on 05.16.2009
Ink is the blottiest of ways to do things
Whether it be drawing or writing, things are never easy to erase.
So permanent, yet so refined.
Ink is beautiful, set in stone.
By Alex Tumminaro on 05.16.2009
you use it to fuel your pen, in which you write with. like poetry, a diary, or even draw with. it stains your clothes but is very useful to people. umm ya ink is great.. ink ink ink. i use ink every day in school. i think. i draw a lot. but usually with pencil. sometimes pen.
By vanicia on 05.16.2009
it is the black stufff that runs through my weins runnning running runinnnng throgh my effervescent veins that connect my heart to my head at all times I never thought my heart would end up to be a black hole in the society of black holes. I love my black hole of a heart. ink that runs through my veins are the blookd of my ancestors that I never knew. I can only imagine that they too, had black holes in thier hearts as well
By michelle conerly on 05.16.2009
there is ink on my desk. it stains my clothes and it is hard to clean. But you can get it out of fabric with hairspray. I learned this from writing too much on my jeans.
By cncj on 05.16.2009
The ink splashed across the page, bathing the white sheet in a tidal wave of black. The kitten dipped a paw into the sticky mess, and then brushed a small line across an unsoiled corner a triumph for feline technology.
By Chris on 05.16.2009
fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you fuck you
By poopy on 05.16.2009
I looked down at my inky fingers and sighed. I had done horribly on the test, I just knew it. I tried to rub the black and blue off; they were like bruises from a brutal test of knowledge.
By johanna on 05.16.2009
Ink is what makes my pen go BOOM! I know it’s weird my pens explode but it’s cool, I’m an international art thief. I need these exploding ink pens to cause distractions while I steal priceless paintings.
By Skittlez Rawr on 05.16.2009
ink rhymes with blink and as words are written on paper they are often made into rhymes and set to rhythms and a fun little tune. and we represent and express with them. ink it out.
By Amber on 05.16.2009
I hate ink. I don’t know what it is. It reminds me of oil, and squid, and all the natural history of ink.
In a way, I start to think about those noir-films. know what I’m alking about?
By catircomb on 05.16.2009
something that my printer just never has. ink in pens can be blue or black mainly, but there are otther colours too. ink sometimes stains clothes and may explode in your mouth if you are chewing your pen
By abbers on 05.16.2009
Is something you write with. It comes in a pen or sometimes a bottle. There is such thing as ‘invisible ink;’ that disappears shortly after supposedly staining something.
By Jennifer Smith on 05.16.2009
The ink was running down the page.
The rain washed it from the page leaving nothing but traces of black ink. The ink left the page like a river of oil rushing down the mountain. The letters of how she felt were destroyed and gone.
By Elisabeth on 05.16.2009
The pen is mightier than the sword! Or so they say, yet it is obvious to the even obscure of viewers that the pen, baring only ink, is in no way equal to the force of which can be dealt by a sword, or any other weapon of choice. It is here that one must then look to the abstract and think of stories which can then pursue one to show what they think of might and its honor!
By Annonymous on 05.16.2009
writer’s blood, sucked from their veins and poured onto the page
By Kelly on 05.16.2009
The pen dips into the ink and the story begins. The story of a young boy and girl in love. Their affair was one for the history books. They never got to fulfill their relationship because of that night.
By Oona on 05.16.2009