Blossoming Ink

Hi everyone! I'm Franchesca Alamo, and I live in Houston, Texas. In May of 2010, I visited my old elementary school and gave a presentation on the beauty and power of poetry to a group of second and third grade students. And I was forever changed.

Blossoming Ink is a program begun by me in which I attend local schools to present my own work, to invite students to write their own poems and explore their own creative talents, and to present educators with more information about the Poetry Society of Texas Student Awards, which honors hundreds of Texas students every year. I gave this program its title because I believe that poetic talent is a seed that will not grow unless it is nurtured and loved, and I want the seeds of students all over Texas to blossom into beautiful flowers and mighty oaks.

To read more about my goals for Blossoming Ink, please read this entry:

Ask me anything

Albert Goldbarth, “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby”


Albert Goldbarth, “The Sciences Sing a Lullaby”

Source: aseaofquotes



"This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length. And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals—sounds that say listen to this, it is important.” - Gary Provost

Reading this was so satisfying woah

Source: maxkirin

later that night
i held an atlas in my lap
ran my fingers across the whole world
and whispered
where does it hurt?

it answered
— Warsan Shire (via koiosurya)

Source: tiddly-pom

Dark thing,
make a myth of yourself:

all women turn into lilacs,

all men grow sick of their errant scent.
You could learn

to build a window, to change flesh
into isinglass, nothing

but a brittle river, a love of bone.
— Jennifer Chang, from “This Corner of the Western World,” The History of Anonymity (University of Georgia Press, 2008)

Source: a-pair-of-ragged-claws


literature exam tomorrowwww 🙏📄📓

Source: study-errday

Nobody will ever love you as much as an artist can. On your worst days, they will find poetry in the knots of your hair.
— That Could Have Been Me (k.p.k)

Source: towritepoems

Source: uni-ty


Richard Leach
7 Words, Distressed page from old poetry book on playing card.


Richard Leach

7 Words, Distressed page from old poetry book on playing card.

Source: nearlya



A batch of wonderful book dedications.

'just skip the sex scenes, please'

Source: mysharona1987

Hearts are wild creatures, that’s why our ribs are cages.
— Unknown (via bl-ossomed)

Source: elalusz