Inside those pages
Are places I’ll get to
And others I won’t. #
Maybe,
In that book,
An old love letter
Lost
To be read one day by a stranger.
In that one?
A wad of gum,
A trap purposely set. #
Fingerprints in that one
Chocolate or lipstick
Boarding pass over there. #
I left you a note once,
On the first page of a book,
I was almost brave enough to give it to you. #
Let’s make a deal
You and me:
I’ll start on the left side
You on the right side
And what we find
We split. #
- Written in response to this prompt. (Good poems in the comments there.) #
I love the image of leaving notes on books, but then undelivered.
Kevin
The piles
Of books
Have somehow started
to take over my house
Books in every room
The ones I’ve already read
That I can’t part with
Those that I hope
One of my daughters
Loves as I do
Sometime in the future
The ones I haven’t yet read
But that are possibilities
For the future
When I have a quiet
Day for reading
Frankis last blog post..Poetry Month: LOOSE LEASHES by Amy Schmidt
Love the variety of the poems that the prompt and your writing inspired.
A great idea-
thanks for the invitation for all of us to participate
in this celebration:-)
Frankis last blog post..Poetry Month: LOOSE LEASHES by Amy Schmidt
Cross-posted at http://ricktanski.wordpress.com/2009/04/02/national-poetry-month-2009-42-a-book/
“A Book”
A book
Full of words
Line by line
The story revealed
A book
Pages numbered
Turn by turn
The story told
A book
Authored
Letter by letter
The story crafted
The page
Contains its lines
The lines
Contain their words
The words
Meaningless
Without their links
Before and aft
Each word hangs on the next
As each breath mists into another
Each grows
As the days grow to weeks
And the weeks to months
And the months to years
And the years
A lifetime
The letter second
The word minute
The sentence day
The page month
The chapter year
The book lifetime
Authored artfully
Made meticulously
Crafted carefully
Composed consciously
As randomness contradicts purpose
So does meaninglessness life
The chapter complete
In its number
Fails the book
In its sole telling
The sentence powerful
In its wholeness
Fails the story
In its only completeness
The word essential
In its purpose
Fails the sentence
In its isolation
The letter necessary
In its formation
Fails the word
In its scrutiny
The letter makes the word
The word makes the sentence
The sentence the page
The page the chapter
The chapter the story
To disentangle a sentence from a book
May reveal a morsel
The sentence hangs in the air
But a brief moment
Revealing itself
Hinting at its purpose
In the grand design
But it falls
Lifeless as a petal plucked
Untethered
Laughable
Its purpose lost in the extrication and isolation
Pointless parsing
The whole lost
On one
Why?
Rick Tanskis last blog post..National Poetry Month 2009 4.2 A Book
And there still standing on the shelf, that old
And now more treasured roll of hallowed rhyme,
A second-hand edition bought and sold
And bought again perhaps a final time,
For in that aged encasement I’ve been lost
And found a tranquil solitude in verse,
And many times more recompensed the cost
When poetry would all my being immerse;
The sunburst-sepia cedar-fragrant sheaves
Have kept their freshness, and that poignancy
I first found joy in reading never leaves,
But stirs in me the same expectancy
When first I glanced into the book and yearned
To sense that prized awareness I’ve since learned.
Ken Allans last blog post..In Praise Of Plaudit