Best Book Poems
He read her like a book
as her wistful words poured forth
from deep within the pages
of her tender seeking soul.
He lay mesmerized
as her paragraphs spoke
softly to him, luring him
so deep into her soothing spell.
He gently held the precious volume
in his searching hands
while memorizing each and every line
that danced across her parchment pages.
He perused her thoughts
so deep into the summer night,
word by word, as he sought
to understand the secrets of her soul.
He caressed the palish pearly pages
as her wistful whispered words
tenderly touched the fantasies within his mind,
fulfilling all his dreams,
until the light of dawn began to break.
On this summer night
he read her like a book…
again and again.
August 1, 2022
Poem of the Day - August 3, 2022
I lift you up, delicately
like a bouquet of flames in pink patient fever,
romantically, I rove your surface with fingertips that tingle,
the texture of your treated cover tempts an impatient lover,
I read your Title, Her World, Her War
subtitle, Surviving Sorrow & Love,
your emblem, embossed in opal
a quill spun across a heart spelling your soul,
I spread you open with both hands
my grip holding the breadth of your body
a scent of sensuous ink unfurles into my inquisitive senses
raising you into my fascinated face
smelling the cleavage of your binding
sailing my lips down the center of your special secret
having your silky ribbons root around my fingers,
breathing, in warm curiosity on your exotic fibers,
Loving me as I hold you in wonder,
as I finger your pages with fawning pursuit of pleasure,
speedily you whisper my name with no refrain
as my moist voice recites
your poetry of paradise and pressure points,
I venture deeper into your voluptuous volume
feeling sensations of starlight I do consume,
in your tome of thick passion I find a home,
I like to read you in the suspense of night
searching your love lines, tasting your grape vines,
touching your emotions, embracing your sweet seductions,
you get into my nerves like electric sugar
illuminated by your poems of ardor and prose of candor,
intrigued by the penmanship of a Princess, curvaceous and calculating,
I turn to the Introduction, to see a photo of the great Authoress
a face pretty in courage, a smile of beautiful strategy
your body of work legendary,
I kiss you because I must -
J.A.B.
Behind a chair
Below a desk
with my bare feet on a wall, in my flannel pajama or a wet swimming suit,
With my hands on my peanut butter and jelly toast,
marmalade, not cherry or anything else
Next to an ocean, ignoring the smell,
Lying in a hammock or in the grass, even on a sandy gritty beach towel.
Listening to children’s giggles, being dripped on
by wet swimming suits running past
I can devour a pile of books.
History, science, animal facts, jokes, limericks, Dr. Seuss, Shel Silverstein, Coleridge, Poe.
When one grabs me and throttles me to pay attention I am lost….
I am no longer a mere mortal.
I am in a microscope, under a kitchen floorboard, in a tulip’s leaf,
I am a faery, a T-rex, a Stormtrooper, a police detective.
In a treehouse,
High above my neighbors, not hearing them at all,
Yet subconsciously hearing everything,
I learned to be a book worm, reading Agatha Christie first….
Written 3-08-19
Contest: The Bookworm Poetry Contest Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
(PoetrySoup Format)
. . . To be precisely placed ‘pon your shelf:
between, “Great Expectations and “Gone with the Wind,”
a best seller, “The Notebook, against the latest version of “Vogue”
Take a look
and touch me
Trace verbs *like braille*
observing
each chapter,
I long to be,
a book . . .
----------------
* scribbling *
- - and aching for your touch
A tree is like a blank book
that nature writes her seasons on
In Winter black branches woebegone
With snow and ice and brazen rook
A tree is like a blank book
Which spring soon paints in pink chiffon
As if at a signal — to act upon
Not one blossom will overlook
A tree is like a blank book
And summer the season of sweet bygone
And tongue in cheek, writes, green as a lawn
Cool tangle of leaves and meadowbrook.
A tree is like a blank book
Where autumn leaves warm tones adorn
In her golden shroud the year withdrawn
Until nature gives back all she took.
I have read that book
cover to cover
many a time
It's held me when I was down
gave me smiles all night long
It has given me a sense of self worth
and a feeling I belong
Many a night I have sat in front of a roaring fire
with a glass of wine or two
and have fallen deeply in love
I have floated on air
soared through the sky
slid down moonbeams
got caught in candy floss clouds
and wished upon fallen stars
Oh that book
I have read that book
it has brought me
many nights to tears
the death, the despair, the pain
Oh how I would like to reach out
and save her, comfort her, just to be there
We have had our sorrows but also our laughs
the cute stories of kids flying kites
the wise men chasing their wives
the nonsense alley gang
giving us a smile when we were going insane
Oh how I have loved your stories
Soda Pop, Zach Waverly and Sam Dumpty
just to mention a few
Your epics and your Poe's
and your paranormal too
That book that fantastic book
the one that I love
with all your well wishes
your tributes,
and romantic kisses
You I so adore
But tonight I am saddened
for when I turn to my book
some pages are empty
some have become torn
some no longer are singing
where they once had been born
I sit here at my desk and I read til I'm blue
all my dear departed poets I'm so missing you
Sighed Adam to Eve:
“Because you were deceived,
Like a fool, I believed.
Sadly, all our conceived
Will be sorely bereaved.”
Well, that should be it, right?
No, boys and girls, not quite!
So you can hear what they were all up to,
We now bring this long lost tape to you:
Adam:
“You really are a stupid cow!”
“Just look at us! Where are we now?”
Eve:
“Shut up! You filthy, pawing pig!
Before I kick you in the fig!”
Angel of the Lord:
“You’ll have to leave, take this outside.”
“Your presence here, we can’t abide.”
And of course, the slinky one:
“Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah, Blah!”
“She’s such a fool and so is he.
If I had hands, I’d clap with glee.
If the rest of them are all like that,
I’ll soon have my routine down pat!
But I’d better scoot before they crush
My poor wee head to compost mush.
I’ll set up shop, lead them all astray
And collect them all for Judgment Day!”
“Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah, Hah!”
For now, that’s all that we can send.
Thank you for your time, my friends.
So, remember, girls, no fruit to lend,
And boys, say “NO!” or it is THE END.
See it there
in virgin perfection.
Open its pages.
They are so white
that they radiate light.
See the magic pen
sitting by the book
meant just for two.
Each of you - together -
Reflect the pages’ light!
Then with the pen,
you may write
your beautiful life,
for this is
the Book of Love.
March 31, 2017 for the Book of Love Contest of Rick Parise
It seems that time...is calling out my name
As raindrops beat ..upon the windowpanes
While scanning through the pages...of my life
In a book...where empty pages...still remain
What, I ask?...will be the final ending
So many pages...so in need...of mending
Now...with so little time to write the wrongs
And find a title...for a cover pending
Tattered pages...the story of my life
A beaten trail...of harmony and strife
A tale...more strange then fiction...in reflection
With paper pages...cutting deeper...than a knife
So many pages...yellowed by the years
Words lost in faded ink...and salty tears
As I read...and re-read...each page again
With voices...from the past...ringing in my ears
For years...I put these pages...on a shelf
This endless quest for truth...to know myself
Went on to write...so many poems of love
And a book for children...all about an elf
The past...I thought...I'd finally put to rest
Thought I'd finally sent those demons...to their death
But a restless wind...keeps calling out my name
To write the ending...before my dying breath
A book comprised of sixty-six,
with content of a unique mix.
Though found in almost every home,
It’s very much an unread tome.
The authors were a motley crew,
Into whose minds the Spirit blew.
Its storyline is God’s great love,
revealed through Christ sent from above.
Most other books, mere knowledge give,
But The Book changes how we live.
It has a storied history,
Yet most find it a mystery.
As best-seller, it has no peers,
It outsells all books year by year.
Most governments its impact fear,
They ban it from the public sphere.
The more obscure The Book is made,
the more society’s morals fade.
Crime rates increase, there is no peace,
As men are controlled by caprice.
You want to save the human race?
then give The Book its rightful place.
We sure can use God’s saving grace,
So, let’s stop flying in His face.
The Writer's Book Bag
When I looked done,
The bags were all around.
Scattered on the floor,
Obviously bought at a secondhand store.
Writers came in and sat down,
Claiming most of the bags that were around.
Except for one.
Leaning against the chair leg,
Slumping with exhaustion.
Faded from the wash,
Ground stains on the bottom.
Sweating metal flask,
Hidden in the side.
Leaving a moist imprint,
That almost comes alive.
Stuffed to the gills,
Tiny wisps of paper sticking out.
Torn slightly from being tossed about.
Straps all askew.
It has been everywhere,
Continuously added to,
Strata to be mined,
When you have the time.
Cupped softly,
Hopes,
Dreams,
Fears,
Treasures left of
All that is left of you.
between pages
of biology book
prankster presses worm
AP: 3rd place 2020
Submitted on March 9, 2019 for contest THE BOOK WORM sponsored by KAI MICHAEL NEUMANN - RANKED 1ST
when the book of bedtime stories
kissed goodnight and turned the page
and was left to stand upon the shelf
to fox and spot with age
the bright sun lost the hat it wore
and its face that always smiled
with those outstretched lines of beams that shone
inside of every child.
Before this virus came around
On Saturday's I'd go to the mall
One of the places I like to go first
Would be the bookstore to enter
I would look for poet's poetry books
There are lots of books to choose from
As I walk through the aisles-
I noticed someone sitting at a table
She had piles of books stacked high
So i chose a chose a book and read
It was titled Love-I bought it
The author and I chatted
Then she signed her book
Her name is Beleza Angel
The title was Pieces of Me
Will be a book i will always keep
This will be a special book
I met a poetess she wrote poems
She published her poems
Beleza Angel a book keepsake
She is on instagram & Facebook
I scanned the shelves to pick a book
That seemed to be appealing,
From those adjacent to my shoes
To those up near the ceiling.
Selecting some that might work out,
I skimmed the first few pages,
For mostly I can tell by then
A story that engages.
A half an hour passed before
I found a prime contender,
The author someone in whose words
I’d happily surrender.
I checked it out and brought it home,
Some reading time in store
But soon enough it came to me –
I’d read this book before!