Hide my Scars

vintage women

I hide behind a mask, of liquid and paint, I’ll smear it on my clear skin, hide the scars within, liquid gold to my self esteem. I’ll hide behind my mask, where the real me won’t be seen. Jennifer Calvert

Porcelain Doll

Mermaid Dreaming


She lurked beneath the sea In languid dreams Among encrusted shells and aqua marine Swimming in tales of bootleg bandits and treasures foreseen. Her eyes mirrored by the swell Sinking in coral A wet porcelain doll – Stitched with serrated … Continue reading

Little Lamb


  She spoke in tongues of old of stories long told Red raw and brimming with gold Her breathe darted against the cold Trees fallen by the wayside lonely in the night silenced by the wind, her voice – hushed … Continue reading

The Angel at the Dance

If you looking for a romantic read, LOOK NO FURTHER!
Dave at Journey to the Heart of Love, captures the emotions of love intricately!

Journey to the Heart of Love

photo: pinterest; artist Ron Hefferan photo: pinterest; artist Ron Hefferan

PART 35 – Is it possible to fall in love in one dance? You hold her close, breathe in her spirit, move together in sync, gaze into her eyes, and just know that a spark has lit, a chord has been struck beneath the surface of your poise and refinement. There her heart stammers a bit faster and yours a bit slower, or races to keep up, whichever comes first. But there is little doubt in either one of you – you are in love. Such was the case, Dale reasoned, that fateful night in March when Destiny brought an angel into his life and whisked her away as quickly as she had come.

As he danced with her that night, his hand confidently around her slim waist, holding her to himself, he thought about how much he had changed that day. He had woken…

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Submissions on Ink and Quill

ink submission.png

Ink and Quill is accepting submissions.

Would you like to feature on Ink & Quill?

I’m looking for poetry, and fiction, art, music and photography that is original, quirky, dark, romantic, thought provoking, empowering…new or previously published on your site.

In particular, I would like to feature poetry, fiction, art music, or photography in honour of powerful and empowered woman.

The submissions will feature on Ink and Quill weekly and on the side bar!

Please include all work in an attachment file, including images and copyright links to photographs.

*Poems: include 1-3 poems. Include a brief bio and location.

*Fiction: 1 fiction piece per submission, 500 word limit. Include a brief bio and location.

*Photography and art: please include up to 5 pieces or photographs, and a brief bio and location and inspiration behind the art or photograph.

Please submit all submissions to inkandquill at outlook dot com dot au

Please allow one month response time.

Thanks Jen


Winter’s Final Note


  In sleet and snow the land stretched below and the cold earth moaned a mournful cry The skies overhead bled in white – drops fell beneath a sinking sky, harrowing unspoken sighs Running rivers rest in silver lies The … Continue reading

Thames Twilight-by Kim 

The very talented Kim from Writing in North Norfolk, with the beautiful poem Thames Twilight. 


The Mad Hatter

Photo courtesy of http://favim.ru/image/38390/

Photo courtesy of Miss Apiheiress

China of finery,

Little saucers and sugary treats,

Lacey doilies and teapots hanging from trees,

Hares and grinning Cheshire Cats,

Hats of black, big hats, small hats,

The Hatter has,

A hat parade,

Riddle me this,

Recite with me,

Nonsensical poetry,

Little white rabbits hop through the woods,

Down the rabbit hole,

One two three,

Come to wonderland,

Don’t be shy,

The Mad Hatter will open your eyes,

The world is upside down,

Suspended by a wire,

The Queen of Hearts,

She likes to spill blood,

She’s looking for thrill,

She’s looking for laughs,

Her croquet mallet swinging,

The foul mouthed Monarch,

Wants your head swung across the garden path,

We don’t all bite,

Well only a little,

So come to wonderland,

Where time is twisted,

Bent and still,

Of tea parties and Alice’s pills.


Rocking Horse

The devil flipped a coin
His left hand weighed down –
The penny dropped
in echoing sound
Seduced by the edge of the town
the house of ill-repute
and bourbon bars found.

Secrets riffle against the wind
Blowing smoke
to ashes
His black trench
filthy in the slum
shrouded in blood
bones crack under his boots –
the crashing sound
made worse by the still.

a nightmare for some
A god broken by the shantytown
Lain with the devil
In a tangled bed
Sheets suffocate –
the fibres bare
Flesh red raw
A hot swelling bed.

The devil flipped a coin
The penny dropped
Right in front of his nose
He breathed the toxic air
Deep within his lungs

The rocking horse in the house
Swayed his mind
The ceiling caving
Spilt and mouldy
The heart once had
Leaking on the mantle
Crimson wrung
Before he knew
The devil stole his deepest thoughts
Empty is his cup,
Heavy is his pocket.
Inside his crooked mind.                                                                                                                                                                                          In smeared grotesque

Where some venture – irreproachable