Best Bookshops Poems
I am the word of God
A unique collection of 66 books
I was inspired by the Holy Spirit
As the fountain of God's knowledge
I am called the Bible in bookshops and libraries
In the hearts of men I dwell as the Holy Bible
I am uncommon type of book
I require uncommon type of reading
As you read me I also read you
I am the mirror you need daily
I am the guide for His worship
Fountain of hope for eternal life
I am authoritative
I am infallible
I am the Roadmap
The standard for all Christians
To read me you need the Holy spirit
Reading me with grudges in your hearts is reading literature
Reading me with unforgiveness is reading history of God's Generals
Read me with hearts free from worries
Read me often
Read me slowly
Read me regularly
Read me repeatedly
Read me earnestly
Read me persistently
Read me attentively
Read me with devotion
Read me I have spiritual power
Read me I have converting power
Read me I have healing power
Read me I keep you from sins and errors
Read me I refresh your minds
Read me I rejoice your hearts
Read me I am the food for your souls
Read me I give you power in prayer
I have never
Actually seen all this,
I just fantasize
In theme parks and pubs,
During an Alumni picnic,
Or while exiting bookshops.
Dreamland concoctions,
Warehoused in letters
After mundane names
Inherited from
A not so erudite father,
I would have the blood pumped in,
What goes out
Must, after all be replaced.
Lines and phrases
Twisted through history
This way or that,
Like autumn leaves
In a tornado of dust,
Isolated
On a sunny day.
Sounds tell me
That life has woken up,
Time for cotton wool
In kidney trays,
Time for squirrels
To gather nuts.
They will open
This sarcophagus
After me, beyond me,
Let the wisp escape the willow,
They will gather dust.
~I Always Love To Read A Good Book~
( Rhyming Couplet)
I always love to read a good book
And sitting down with one beside a brook.
Non-fiction or fiction, who cares! I'll check any book
And when I read a great book I just get hook.
I love them all small or very big
Any way I get them for me, you dig.
I travel with them about just anywhere
And they usually take me to places I do care.
I like them all with just a little gig
And they perform for me nicely a jig.
When I see a book that I really like
I have to have it, before it takes a hike.
I buy my books from special places, but mostly new,
Sometimes, I can't swallow all that I want to chew.
Books! Books! And more, I love them all kind of books
Keep them all coming, together with my checkbook.
I just love to read LOTR and all the books by J.R.R.Tolkien,
Jane Austen, and the Chronicles of Narnia by C.S.Lewis also his friend,
Give me the Holy Bible, Victoria Holt, Stephen King and Anne Rice
Nora Roberts, Jackie Collins, and J.K. Rowling, all, they're all quite nice.
So buying books I shall never, ever stop
I prefer reading any time than floors in my house to mop.
My favorite stops are the art stores and the bookshops,
And in my list books, are always right, at the top.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2004
December.26.2015
The splendor of books touched him early in his life,
absorbed in the stilled animation embossed in them,
the nascent imagination of the three-year old
morphed within him as an exploring book worm.
He grew up with other timely interests in the transit,
many passing passions came and went,
but the childhood worm stayed on growing
as a constant companion creeping in his head.
The lure of books attracted him to the bookshops
like an obsessed honey bee to the posy of flowers,
he enjoyed the flavor of the fascinating nectar,
concealed beneath the petals of the printed words.
On the cascade of the exciting convivial contents
he couldn’t stop sailing before being satiated,
until the inquisitive journey came to an end,
and he rested contented where the authors took him.
The racks filling the shop space he’d browse through,
between the book covers he’d look for trove of treasure,
some he explored, some remained for him to discover,
for time for him was running out fast.
His old myopic eyes degenerated so very much,
the strain over the years made the failing vision blurred,
he still felt the senile worm crawl on the last lines
of the addendum page of the book he wrote.
March 10, 2012
Contest: Bookshop
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
THE BOOK LOVER
Some women pine for silks and pearls
Some shop away their hours
But I’ve a book-hound in my blood
Preferring books to flowers
Each page I touch With loving hand
I trace the print snug there
The whitest page grants me delight
The yellow brings despair
The old bookshops on dusty streets
Are storehouses of dreams
They guard the dancing continents
And trolls that bridge the streams
And for each story hidden there
Mid pages silken glories
An offering of bouncing tales
replace bland bedtime stories
And on this paper
Fine or rough
my fingers gently roam
Safely in these books I find my place--
And build myself a home.
Victoria Anderson-Throop
Juja, Kenya
Of bookshops I recall at least a few.
They dwell inside my mind, for with my past
they may have got torn down – those spots I knew
back in my state. I doubt that they could last
with competition from the internet.
If they’ve survived, they’re relics now like me -
those remnants clinging to the good old days!
There was one shop that specifically
I can remember, one I’d like to praise.
Its books lined countless shelves – both new and old.
Those books were so alluring. Plenty of
my books I purchased there. Some are like gold
and with me still – the treasured ones I love.
That shop, like many things from years ago
is gone! What treaures kids today don’t know!
March 10, 2021
For Brian Strand's 'ALL YOURS (Apr 26)' Poetry Contest
Dirty martinis and Cuban cigars
Fishnet stockings on hookers Playing my guitar.
Long days at the beach
Women without wedding rings
Making a list of my favorite things
Sex before Breakfast
Out running the cops
A judge that grants bail
Then getting bailed out.
Books by Sandra Cisneros
And Renaissance Art,
All of these things have a special place in my heart
But when the bars close
And I'm still sober
My dealer doesn't answer the phone
I think on these things
To keep from getting pissed off
And I express how I feel
in a poem.
Rock n' Roll music and classic cars
Rockford Files reruns
Deep cuts that leave scars
My probation officer not making me drop
Dive bars bad girls and musty bookshops
A day at Wrigley
Watching the Cubs
Cool Tucson mornings
And falling in love
The sound of my children's laughter
and the first day of spring
What an exceptional life I've had to be part of all these things.
But when I'm hungover
And I've got warrants
Or when my car breaks down
I think about all of my favorite things
And haul my butt out of town
JSB
Wow well that's clever. I mean really really intelligent. Must have done all the research well. And drawn exact plans as to not make any errors. Roaring fires sit down in an ice bucket whilst wild seas are placed in shot glasses. Wow. How rather remarkable. What a notion. Ideal isn't it? And squashing the elephant into a child's bathing suit and that mammoth into a negligée meant for a petite lady frame. And as for the wild rampaging rivers well they are meant to be channelled into one centimetre alleyways built with cardboard cut-outs. Dugouts are neither pull outs nor are they pop up books. And bookshops selling their hardbacks with cushions for pages and covers of corrosive substances. Hardly hardy and built to last are they? Which causes the pavements and other concrete areas to crack resembling an old man's face then weep like a memory of childhood dreams. Landscapes link lines and lines frown. And frowning is not a frolicking fauna nor fawn and a dawn would always say hello to the tops of the trees first. Backwards belonging being beforetime bringing basting battling bullfrogs being birthday babies. And a naivety is a navel in a crested guild sitting on the top of a carved antique cane then tip tap down the little streets of old intertwining with the modernity of fashionable shops, markets and bistro bars. Late night stink. Burping. Rather a percentage than a percent sign then. And numbers drawn on a scarf is a scar on a material that was a one off item never to be sold in replicas on shelves. So stick a pin to hold the water of sinks and baths for this is often better than using plugs. Put all plugs away. They are no longer to be used and are now banned in most countries. Pickup puck picked puck pucks picking prickling prickle pickles. Running. In formations on a shelf. And a dive bomber went zoom down the stairs in a five centimetre breeze block house with several rooms saying oh. Z multinationalism multicoloured disco pants and ballet shoes. Turning. Z Socialization Z at thirty-three garden gnomes catching six fish in a snowstorm. And a savoury dip in a kilt dancing with a cracker in a hexagonal hat. Hahaha xx xx xx Z
Double I'll grow, he says, if quit the books,
Throw the books and head towards brooks,
I will quit the books, leave this forlorn queue,
Rush to a wood, and lie beneath a yew.
I'll quit this queue that runs to a bookshop,
Retreat to a wood and dwell on a hilltop.
I'll quit this bookshop, the dusty graveyard,
The rusty bookstore, the tempting junkyard.
I'll quit the books and retreat to a wood,
Sit beneath trees, teachers in my childhood,
Lie beside brooks and listen to their hymns,
The blissful tunes that finetuned my whims.
In green wood, the "Green Ever" bookstore,
I'll be merrier than in this junkyard, for
Double heart will grow, brighter mind will glow,
Softly the wind will blow; to a wood I’ll go.
Inspired by William Wordsworth's "The Tables Turned"
March 19, 2021
ALL YOURS (Mar 20) Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Brian Strand
Hey all you poets its Christmas time again
Thoughts of writes oozing from your pens
Do you know what form you'll write
Leading up to Christmas night
I look forward to reading them, time and time again
Chorus:
So here it is Merry Christmas
All us poets having fun
Writing forms of poetry
As our thoughts flow and run
As we wait for Christmas eve to arrive
Kids at this time of year are so alive
As they look forward to Christmas morning
In their stocking, presents are adorning
Oh to see their faces on Christmas day
Chorus:
So here it is Merry Christmas
All us poets having fun
Writing forms of poetry
As our thoughts flow and run
What will your family do
When they see your poetry books on the shelves
Delivered to the bookshops, by Santa's little elves
Ah ah
Will you be writing any poems for Christmas day
Words in rhyme as you watch your children play
Looking forward to Christmas dinner
Not many of us will be any thinner
Merry Christmas to you is all i say
Chorus:
So here it is Merry Christmas
All us poets having fun
Writing forms of poetry
As our thoughts flow and run
My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Holiday Songs in Poem Form " contest
Please sing to " Merry Christmas Everybody " by Slade
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6OAUs0rcsA4
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-3.php
The Great Man
Harry Lesly Smith was born poor in a slum
he had no education but rose above because
he was of a sunny nature.
I read excerpts from his book (he wrote several)
and he expresses himself in a pure working class
vernacular way and since he was not a famous
literate one thinks his book sells modestly.
I too was born in the slum and Homes, finally
ending my boyhood at a farm for the rebellious.
By nature, I’m five minutes before midnight
and tend to see the darker colour of the time
we live in, these the last hours before the world
explode and hurtle through space.
I too have published several books of what I call
“alternative poetry” I can`t even give my books
and have never sold a book through Amazon
or bookshops.
I liked Harry he represented the excellent human
and I will remember him well
When I read a book it tells me a tale
It can be exciting very rarely stale
Books are full of words which tell
Stories in which the bookshops sell
Newspapers with stories that can say
All about what is in the news today
Tabloids tell the news that is new
You have to decipher just what is true
If education is what you need
Text books are used to plant the seed
Learning to do something you need to do
There is a book somewhere for you
Whether it’s a novel or biography
There is always something new to see
A glossy magazine or a TV guide
To see what’s on the other side
To get lost in a book is easily done
Especially if the book is good fun
Reading words as they express within
The story as told by the author therein
Words can express the way we feel
Fantasy stories or a life for real
On any subject about anything
Words when strung together bring
A comic is funny for the kids and you
An alphabet book to learn the kids too
From an early age it is important to learn
To read all the wonderful books in turn
As I look into my Promise Box
The colored papers look so sweet
Rolled into tiny little scrolls
With Bible Promises to greet
I take one as I start the day
Or just before my sleep
God’s promises are so special
They sometimes cause me to weep
Because He is always promising
To carry me through each day
With His loving kindness
In His own special way
I love those daily promises
From my special Promise Box
Given to me by a friend
From ‘the school of hard knocks’
So if you want to claim God’s Promises
You can get a Promise Box too
Usually sold in Christian bookshops—
Ask if they’re not in view
They’ll have a few just standing
Upon a shelf somewhere
Just waiting for your purchase
They’re plentiful, not rare
It’s such an old tradition
To take a promise every day
But such a special one
You’ll get a Promise Box, I pray.
© Copyright 2007-2012 Maureen LeFanue
Christmas Rush
I was in a busy street and walked into a bookshop to buy a book for my sister as a gift
Back then when a TV set was expensive and only a few
had a set, books as present was popular
There were many bookshops, but now there is only one
I saw a girl I thought I knew, the one who had broken up with me for a reason that had made me unhappy
I touched her shoulder, but when she turned it was not her but another lovey girl and she smiled
I had nearly bought the book: “Women Must Love” When the sales lady asked for whom the book was intended told her, but she, didn't think it was a good choice instead, I bought a Barbara Cartland one.
I apologized to the smiling girl, but I was still in love with the girl who had given me deep sorrow
the girl looked mythical with her, one I could not fly to the stars on wings of love.
Going home with my Christmas gift, I stopped and thought what a fool I had been and walked back to the busy street, up and down, and looked, but I could not find the smiling girl
God had offered me a Christmas present, and I was too dense to understand