Best Bookshelf Poems
Custodian of nostalgic memories,
I cannot help but glance at it everyday,
for it holds in its fold nearly forgotten stories,
that in the distant past used to make my heart sway,
now awaiting the urge within my soul to recreate
and so relive the charm of mystical echoes,
that here and now I may again celebrate
highs of yesteryears as also the lows.
What at first grips my fickle attention,
are not books or photo albums stored therein
but rather thick layers of dust that cause tension
and so the trusty bookshelf welcomes my break-in,
hoping that I may learn from error of my neglect,
reforming lethargic habits and pick up a book
and by doing so, at least offer some respect,
even if it ends up as but a cursory look.
Oh worthy storehouse of knowledge,
I applaud your ability to serve with verve,
judging me not irrespective if I acknowledge
the comfort you provide, which I doubt I deserve
for although many a friend has come and gone
your stoic presence in my life is reassuring,
to elevate my mood if I become forlorn
and so your presence is my mooring.
23-February-2023
Write an Ode Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
Categories:
bookshelf, appreciation,
Form:
Ode
a home for stories
blankets of dust on some
the likes of Carroll, Poe, and Hemingway
all within reach of twelve year old me
whose feet were planted squarely
whose mind was planted elsewhere
in my room just down the hall
from the loving demons of our past
these travels along literary highways
by fingers that struggled with the logic
behind cleaning your room every day
came to bare in places like
Aesop's Fables and The Raven
Categories:
bookshelf, anxiety, books, poetry, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Words leap from the crowded bookshelf
Each vying to be heard
‘Look the mighty have fallen and
Time is in despair-
‘Hark’ the buzzing drones
Battle cries pierce the darkened skies
The rider on horseback flees the night
Chased by the ominous breath of
The winds of change
Destruction and misery our behest’
‘Where is that sweet, still small voice
That calms the troubled heart and
Hand, that soothes the furrowed brow’?
Tears has long been our meat
And gnawing tongues our pain
We writhe in our dilemma
For peace has left
For the pale horse of death now rides
Clippity-clop along our shores
Baying at the darkened walls
And curtained windows
No light to dim in this
Our forsaken hour’
‘Come,’ I hear the voice cries
‘Come over here to my broken side
Shelter a while till the hour is past
My love, my dove, my undefiled
For the menace plague will surely burn
At the light of Dawn
Darkness shall flee
And will never, ever, return.’
© Brenda V Northeast 8th of July 2011
Categories:
bookshelf, allegory, light, light,
Form:
Ballad
It all started with Rowling and Gandhi but you wanted more. Remember when Paulo Coelho joined in and brought Milton along with him. Wasn't that a party. You started craving attention and soon this family added Orwell, Kafka, Dostoyevsky and Plato.
It all started with a water chestnut wooden emptiness. But there were no bounds of your happiness when you smelled your first book. The crisp sound of its pages and the warmth in its content. I remember your eyes lit up and every time that I took that book, there was a morose silence in you.
It all started with that fresh paint you got a year back that turned things around. There was a fear at first, of losing your sanity and then there was nothing. You added Victor Hugo to your collection that year and loved it thoroughly. I remember the first rain, and the pain it put you through. Those irreparable damage it caused and the silence caught you again.
It all started a month after that horrid rain, when you got your favorite chestnut wood again and added 16 books to your family. Like an old grandpa, you still reign proudly over your victories. I remember you crying when you had to let go of Farkle that night.
Its still not over, shelf, there are plenty of people waiting to join you in your journey. All your infants, now grown so much, still helps in changing the life of so many others. So many stories yet to come and so many lessons yet to learn. It's always a start for you. But for now here's another book waiting to be a part of your kingdom.
Categories:
bookshelf, books, color, fantasy, farewell,
Form:
Free verse
I was told I should start reading to improve my abilities
this is how they go about maintaining ones stabilities
As I scavenge the selection, I'm left with several options,
however I'm just looking to fulfill my visual perception
I know there's more knowledge to obtain but I don't care
maybe I'm ignorant or quite possibly a pessimist. Quite possibly
a researcher with the right intent to find the cure just without a single
tool to do so
Pure I'm quite unsure.
Intentions are positive, actions are all but sentimental
With eyes scanning they get caught upon something
rather enticing, looking for the answers
to pass this test where cheating is allowed and I know all the answers
Peers come in and interfere stating your drowning
in the mist of your own demise.
I know I'm right
I know I'm right
I know I'm not right
Can I simply comply to my own needs or to the needs of others
Socio-Psychology states you fit in to maintain homeostasis
At this point I feel more like a uneducated racist
discriminating against all that I've known, Is there a legitimate purpose?
Maybe I'm a coward
Maybe I'm a coward
Or Its possible I'm obsessed with the mirror facing the other side of me
All in all its just a book, simple as that, the writing legible just needed to be read
I've just woken up, its a new day: The foundation to any opportunity
A new realization has occurred. I wonder what it's like in those stories without pretty
illustrations, crammed small words, all in shabby shape.
Do I want to swim in these murky deep waters?
Thoughts to myself converge, ideas of searching make my heart race
It beats with a dramatic crescendo that only precedes a constant murmur of doubt and hope
Today I grew the courage to check out one of these books
Today's the start of a long unpredictable journey
Today's the day I found the book- The one that will know all the answers to this test.. At least for now...
Categories:
bookshelf, hope, inspirational, life,
Form:
Free verse
When my parents
returned from England
They brought me
a leather bound copy of the Hobbit
Now it sits proudly
on my bookshelf
What a fantastic story!
Full of hobbits, dwarves, goblins
wizards, orcs . giant spiders,
elves and Beornings
Imagination is ones'
key to a joyous life
The book has inspired a
multitude of poets, writers,
and yes - dreamers
As for myself I feel it
is an example of wonder
which is something we
are all in need of
in these dark and troubled times
So, friends - re - read the Hobbit
rejoin Bilbo and company
and take joy
from the existence
of Middle Earth
Categories:
bookshelf, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Like spider silk woven into human form.
gliding in the air as it moves and beckons.
grasping the metal of an old light pole.
Head turning and seeming to look at me.
I ask, if you ever came back to us again,
how annoyed would you be at the traffic?
Would you enjoy our precious cellphones,
or perhaps you'd find them an abomination?
Smiles will shine like noon if you returned;
excitement would make the heart flutter;
but you're a crispy voice of soft whispers
indifferent to feeling, or even breathing.
Whether lost kindred fallen in a great war
ghost of the battlement, forever on guard
kept alive by the memories and pictures
in the album on my Grammy's bookshelf.
3/13/2021
I Remember Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Categories:
bookshelf, family, grandparents, imagery, longing,
Form:
Imagism
The poets are the quills of God. The quills
write down the masterpieces that cause chills
along the spine, goosebumps, tears of the pleasure
in godly rhymes that feed into the treasure
of poetry. The quills write down as well
the platitudes, the clichés that, to tell
the truth, are different on spelling only.
The countless graphomaniacs and the lonely
true poets who, I hope, include myself -
you’ll find your places on the God’s bookshelf.
Categories:
bookshelf, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
So many friends live side by side
Here on my bookshelf
Sweet stature and pride
To help me conquer self.
Over the years a growing pile
Loitering patiently
Anxious to prime fine style
Swiftly and most surely.
My mental diet of food for thought
Is a daily intake
Authored by minds that plot
Feelings and thinking breaks.
So many clever minds live here
In pages that reveal
Finesse and fond good cheer
That fund such grand appeal.
Grace and blessings live with sure poise
To hoist my fragrant days
With consistent sure voice
To fling fine writes my way.
I simply sit right here and pun
The wit and rhymes that spark
With conspicuous bright fun
That lights the unknown dark.
Day after day, deep company
Helps steer my sanity
Warmly, briskly, surely
With wordplay intensely.
Night after night, I seek new light
To help me write new lines
That align precious sight
Beyond that old grapevine.
Who can be lonely here my dear
When candid minds befriend
With lovely thoughts sincere
That touch and thrill and tend.
Leon Enriquez
01 August 2014
Singapore
Categories:
bookshelf, analogy, blessing,
Form:
Ode
upon opening the door,
i saw my bookshelf had broken,
beat down by the weight of
the barbell which i had
foolishly set atop &
so, relishing in the chaotic
spill of beautiful
books,
now laying all over the floor
in a mess,
i wondered why i had ever invested
in a bookshelf to begin with?
thought to myself that back in the
days of school, i had them stacked
up in a chorus of uneven towers,
like that of Hitch, whom anytime he
did an interview from the room
where he wrote, one could
adore the stacks upon stacks that
this brilliant man did pick &
devour from, to weave his
works---
in rounding up the mess, i took the
bottom shelf
to lay on the floor as the new base for
a chorus of uneven towers
of my own,
as a tribute out of necessity
to the man, now gone,
but still with us---
one of those whom i wish i had
gotten to meet,
one of those whose voice still
thunders &
thunders,
against the wrongs of this horror that
we alive,
still call home.
Categories:
bookshelf, life,
Form:
Free verse
Bookshelf was bragging a little bit
Plants love my shelves!
End table had a hissy fit.
observed by three elves.
Why do you brag like this? She angrily said.
Irritated because her orchid plant was terribly dead.
Bookshelf had a bit of a secret too.
Plants that loved him were the ones that do….
Like living in the shadows, no sunlight hue.
He did not help End Table, for she was not that nice.
She stuck out her drawer tongue, not once, but twice.
Categories:
bookshelf, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Personification
Deep inside you will never find.
The darkest moments inside your mind.
Like a thousand books of emotions.
A mind full of love pain happy sad potions.
As we Try to talk before you walk.
But as we grow it is all erased just like chalk.
The tears the hurt the pain.
All attached to you like a mental chain.
all your glowing spirit that grows inside
But with only yourself to help guide.
How do we change are deepest thoughts?
all we feel are our emotions caught.
Plant the seed in the minds garden of happiness.
But all we grow is so much sadness.
We search are hearts and mind Digging an endless hole.
To never find your one and only true soul.
Your mind and feelings are Forever punished by yourself.
My thoughts lost on the never-ending bookshelf.
Categories:
bookshelf, dark, emotions,
Form:
Rhyme
ode to my book shelfs filled with unread books
My house is filled with books
thousands of books
old books mostly
lots of musty classic books
lots of poetry books
lots of how to do it books
lots of history books
lots of thrillers, SF books
so many books
and they are my friends, these books
calling me to read my books
as if I had the time to read these books
to sit and read all my books
sadly many will remain unread books
poetry super highway prompt to write a poem about something in plain sight
Categories:
bookshelf, books, friend, passion,
Form:
Ode
woah! look at that bookshelf,
it's split into three sections,
how convenient,
there's a politics section, a sports section, and a fiction section,
some of the books look quite interesting,
I'd steer clear of the Hillary Clinton book though,
she can go die in a hole,
(maybe that's a bit harsh. I don't personally know her after all.)
Categories:
bookshelf, books,
Form:
Free verse
The ancient cracking bookcase stuttered
Books trembled upon the shelves,
Then scattering across the rug bound floor
Where they took up new residence.
Those left in the bookshelf
started to rock back and forth
hoping to join the colonials on the floor.
Categories:
bookshelf, books,
Form:
Free verse