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Best Books Poems

Below are the all-time best Books poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of books poems written by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Books Poem | |

Simple Words For Simple People

If I had a pretentious brain which acts faster than my heart Maybe then,I would abhore this soul which spreads freely through each verse Maybe then I would impress you with my intellectual grammar and sophisticated words I would scrutunize each and every coma dot and exclamationmark believing I know best But I would never let that happen I'd rather stay at bay Writing firstly with my mind and not my heart leads only to an asylium within the being of myself Poetry is my voice,my shadow The sacred shrine of great escape Each stored emotion processed within a yesterday Poetry is the inner of my existence breathing softly,bleeding deeply exploding in death,love passion and romance In every verse a whisper a thought that I would scribe of a silent cry expressed Maybe in a tomorrow you might pass by me Tread your footstep on my ink and spit saliva in my face But maybe in a today a broken -hearted fool stops by to find comfort in my world Maybe a prisoner,a tramp an insane soul or outcast would pick these scattered scribbles and gather them as whole Maybe through each criss-crossed puzzle finds a narrow passage which leads his faith to home Maybe a little child whose blissful giggles depends on little words would turn the dusty pages of silly rhymes I penned Rhymes which know the moons stars,faries,and the magic land Rhymes which know each fantasy and how to be a friend And maybe He would smile Maybe He would laugh Maybe He would dream Maybe He would grow up to write the most eloquent sonnet there has ever been Or maybe He would grow up to write simple words just like me about daises or dandelions and expressions to be free

Details | Books Poem | |

Giggles and Splashes

I had waited for you seemingly forever
So long did it take before you were to come into my life
But in so many ways you had always been there

Your hair so white more than once people 
Said that you glowed
Your eyes blue gray 
Soft but piercing. 

In the spring we’d plant flowers and you quite the digger
Would never tire of ‘replanting’ oh the control God blessed 
Me with that summer

On the porch we would swing and sing until my throat would be sore
And still Id manage one more
Lavender Blue, You Are My Sunshine, Red River Valley
I can still hear the wee small voice

In the summer under the big maple the front walk
Would flood and we’d run back and forth barefooted and splashing
Your face, pure joy, your eyes animated, your smile so wide
And those cheeks I could tweak them right now
Is there any better sound than giggles and splashes

Autumn we would take long walks and picnics down in the woods
And sit on a fallen tree. We’d find ants and worms and spiders and rescue the most
Precious of treasures. Feathers, milkweed fuzz, acorns, so much
Bounty for the taking. We’d bring them home and glue them
On paper or cardboard or make touch books

Winter oh please let’s have snow for winter. Snowmen
And snow forts, snow balls and mmmm snow cream. 
I remember the look on your face at your first bite as
If you had just made magic. 

We read books by the fire, books and more books
Then you would touch my lips and ask me to 
Read one with my mouth, which meant to make
Up one just for you.

You have been blessed with intelligence
You have an uncanny ability to fix things 
You’ve never seen before
Your sense of humor can put me away
Until I beg you to stop
You have a sense of logic beyond your years
You will sit on the floor for hours and build block towers for babies
Most importantly my son
You have been blessed for an unquenchable thirst for God’s own heart

At eighteen our time together will be changing but sitting here
I remember the words from a book we used to sing to each other

“I’ll love you forever 
I’ll like you for always
As long as I’m living 
My baby you’ll be"

To Noah

Details | Books Poem | |

Tanka 1 about Smudged Roses

From between pages the forgotten petal falls on an empty shelf settled dust is today's mud where the priest smells a smudged rose
Inspired by Chris'tanka contest ~Now, for the contest :)

Details | Books Poem | |

"My, Beautiful *Star Light" ~

Seraphic, turbid waves in turgid waters; turning

Amid my spindrift Soul wherein loves tumult rages....

Crashing through this pulsing heart that knowingly craves her ~

Aneath these turquoise tides, which tear burnt pages?!

Washed upon the shore to feed the pyramids pyre

Torn from destined books carving ancient time....

Spirits chanting dreams while dancing in the fire

Captured by the flames of oranges burning; loves sublime ~

Sunrise, now gathering blue horizons to kiss the wrested nights

Waning heavens waving a million reflections left, glittering deep inside....

Astringent embers touching tranquility while as floating through the rougish sky

Seraphic, turbid waves in turgid waters still, only to subside!?

Torn from destined books carving ancient time; this 

My own Aphrodite.... 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...."My, Beautiful *Star Light" ~

Details | Books Poem | |

Reading Simic

I tried balancing a bowl of hot oatmeal on my lap and reading his poems in my tired and
worn, green chair.  

On the back cover of a collection, a reviewer wrote “Simic may end a poem with a kiss 
or a bludgeon. “ 
The reader will never know. 

Blackjack Fresno Johnny sent me a big box of books of Simic’s poems. The books were  sent
in a cardboard box inside of another cardboard box, thoughtfully packed. The address label
read:  
To Tom Pitre, Poet. 
It is my first affirmation as a poet.

I am always surprised when I read his work.  Sometimes I think I have my finger on his
secrets, and then it slips away when I read another one.  They are simple. He can write
about an earthworm in the mud, and you will be enchanted.

Details | Books Poem | |

Roy and the Land of Books

In the land where children play. A boy named Roy would sleep all day. No matter what his friends all said. The boy would not get out of bed. For he was very bored with toys. The ones for little girls and boys. He said that they were all the same. The cars and trucks and every game. But then one day Roy got a book. He figured he would take a look. And when he opened up the cover. Of books he soon became a lover. He read the book from front to back. He read about a boy named Jack. And all about a silver train. And then about a place called Spain. He read about each moon and star. And just how far away they are He learned of ancient histories. And many science mysteries. Soon he had a big collection. Of which the boy had great affection. His favorite thing to do was read. He learned to do it with great speed. One afternoon a friend came by. And asked if he could also try. To read a book instead of play. Immediately, Roy said, ‘You may.’ Soon his books were being read. By Sue and John and little Ted. That’s how the land of toys became. The land of books instead of games.
For Francine Roberts' Children in Rhyme contest, by Samia Arroyo

Details | Books Poem | |

Opened Book

You lifted me from the shelf
Looked at my cover
Made a judgment on what was inside
Decided to spend some time

You explored my thoughts
Flipped through my pages
Bent my corners
Underlined my words
Dampened my paper with your tears
Pondered me
Laughed along my lines

I felt loved
Understood
Appreciated
I heard you sigh
Oh how I enjoyed our time together
The smell of your coffee
The rhythmic sound of your breathing
The feel of your hand caressing my pages

You closed my protective cover
Smiled
Placed me on your coffee table
Close at hand
I gladly wait 
To spend more time
With you my friend.

I have always thought the books I have read have felt like friends.
I have a hard time discarding books, I am even more loyal with friends.
Being here at the soup has blessed me with many new friends, I thank
you all for removing me from the shelf and taking time to read my pages.


Details | Books Poem | |

Strange Bathfellows

A spider traipsed onto my knee
While I was reading in the bath
Though most might jump and scream and flee,
I just gave a little laugh

A baby Daddy Long-Legs!
(Though really, 'twas just a son)
I shooed him back onto his web,
And continued reading on...

*title is a spin on "Strange Bedfellows" ;)

*Lessons in life are funny contest entry
~JustThatArchaicPoet

Details | Books Poem | |

Wisdom can't be taught

Wisdom can’t be taught

I used to read the whole day long
I read so many book
My house was filled with literature
And everywhere you’d look
These books were there in mountains
That’s all I yearned to do
Fill my head with useless words
And all non-fiction too.

Psychology, Philosophy, 
Mythology, I would read
I’d read the stuff by holy men
It seemed to fill a need
I filled my mind with so much stuff
And then one day I thought
What be the use of all of this
The truth it can’t be taught.

And so I gave my books away
And I learned to meditate
I learned to look within my self
I loved it, it was great
I learned the things I need to know
Without those ancient books
Cause in the end the truth will come
By taking just one look.

So now I have no need to read
I feel the peace in me
As I walk with nature each new day
And feel the harmony
And all the answers come to me
All questions be for naught
One only has to stop the mind
For wisdom can’t be taught.

Details | Books Poem | |

Another Page in the History Books'

Thirty one days, now December is done,
But that also closes out two-thousand-and-one.
As we consign this year into history,
We should be sure to give God all the Glory'

This year began like almost every other,
But it didn't end the same.
A day in September changed lives all over;
God was still faithful- Praise his dear name'

We mourn and we pray, and share our grief,
Yet these events didn't take God by surprise.
He has met us and blessed us and given relief;
Love and compassion shown to the world's eyes.

But His mercies are new every morning;
Through Him we have no fear.
In a few short hours there will be dawning,
A fresh clean new year'

Praise more and worship more.
He knows what is best.
And we can trust Him to keep us,
Healthy, happy, and blessed'

As we turn another calendar page,
My prayer is for you.
To anticipate His returning,
Perhaps in two-thousand-and-two'

                                                                               Arthur Ball (H.S.L.P.)
                                                                               December 30, 2001



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