Best Librarian Poems
There she is
The librarian
Not old not young
But secretarian
Made the way she looks
Looks everyday
Not to be stared at
But I find her that way
Very astute behind the desk
Patiently waiting
For any request
Very attractive
In her own way
Her walk her smile
Her everyday
I walk in and see her
And my heart does sway
The direction of dreams
Fantasies way
Her hair her curves
Her full display
A lady of honor
Above dismay
The look of her
I write of today
I give to all women
And to them I say
Thanks for the feeling
you gave me today
The walking art piece
For the world displayed
The pleasure of eyes
Like music to the ears
The smell of a sweet fragrance
The taste of sweetness gives
The feelings I live
I take from what you give
The satisfaction of seeing her
again and again
(Writen this day while feeling this way)
Every Wednesday lunchtime
Lexie temporarily leaves
the deafening silence of the multi-storey library
to swim at the local pool.
The echo and splish-splash
of the mothers and the toddlers, lane swimmers
washes through her busy mind
whirring with words and stories,
whispers of change;
shhhhhhh.
Librarian Lexie undresses,
emerges poolside, transformation unveiled
drawing looks as a painted lady
she remains Incognito.
Incredible pictures of mermaids and flowers and elves,
illustrations of her many selves;
for by day Lexie tends to the library shelves -
books to be catalogued and listed.
For Lexi loves orders and systems
yet by night, stories take flight,
she's an author of fantasy fictions -
prophecies and predictions.
As Lexie swims
her pictures through the prism of the water shape shift
and her mind drifts to the publisher,
the man who entangled her heart with his way with words.
Avoiding alliteration amplified his love language,
promised her a future in literature,
in cursive script he bewitched her,
he was wanting to brand her.
But Lexie read between his lines,
she found him grasping and greedy,
a dance with a demon,
and she told him, “we're not on the same page”.
And enraged she drew him
between the devil and the deep blue sea
just above her right knee
illustrated as an apostrophe -
a reminder that he was just too possessive.
I knew a librarian named Dowd
Whom I recall was well endowed
Though when I flirted
She called me perverted
And said that I winked too loud
Matt the librarian loved to own thousands of rare books
and displayed them on shelves keeping an eye on crooks;
one could find the music sheets of young Beethoven;
Jenna loved his classical music and played it on the violin.
He dusted every book, not leaving a speck anywhere;
even rays of sunshine filtering gave them a golden shine;
for fourteen years or more Matt read books on line,
then opened up a bookstore and spent his time there.
G
Over twenty years he ran his business with zeal,
he stood six foot four and was a fine navy seal;
folks dropped by to spent an hour reading,
or engage in a cool topic that was interesting.
One afternoon I walked in and I saw him dusting books,
he could reach the top shelf with easiness and glancing
back he greeted me kindly dropping what he was doing
he invited me in, his welcoming was as warm as his looks.
Everyone reading at the long cherry table lifted their eyelids once,
as if I was intruding in their reading and apologizing
I started scanning all those books for an interesting
title and finding it, I joined the other avid readers who smiled twice.
I visited that bookstore often, I bought an old book with a buck
and read it on the spot instead of going to the library;
winter came and kept me away, I spent time on Facebook...
April came and I was shocked to hear that Matt had passed away.
Written on 3/27/2017
There is a fine lady I know
A librarian by profession
She loves her work so
And in it she pours her all
Any book you want
She knows exactly where it is to be found
Every subject you wish to know
She knows where the library shelves it all
A fine lady she really is
And I adore her so
In fact I envy her a lot
For if I were her, the library would be my home
Of its knowledge that interested me
I would pour deep into my soul
Every evening I’m the last to leave
And she always comes to me with a warm smile
Telling me, ‘Prins its time to leave’
Sometimes it’s she and I side by side
As we walk beneath the yellow street lights
How I wish we walked hand in hand
For there’s a fancy dance she brings to my heart
However, of all my adoration for her
There’s still one thing she lacks
She isn’t interested in the treasure her library keeps
Always busy doing something and nothing
To her it’s just another ordinary job
One whose pay she needs
If only she knew how much more it would pay
If also she sought to tap into the wealth of its keep
Makes me see just how most of us live
Like her in the library of life
Many lessons around us
Of how we would improve our life in any way we wanted
But naah... always too busy doing something and nothing
Tomorrow sunset beautifully graces our lives
Then all over a sudden haste and regret piles
We want to do it all and save the most for the golden days
Our energy is drained by regret for having overlooked it all yesterday
When life was still a smooth flow and a jolly haze
Having been fortunate to see that it is so
I will commit my efforts to learn
And of it all the greatest lesson I have thus far learnt
Is that for my sunset days to be worth its gold
A day at a time... a dime at a time
I must today save... and that goes for all today’s
when at most the others looked away
you were the only one left wrapped in
tweed fingers you read books and shook
hands with the corners of very
tall still rooms.
when at least the others stopped to stare
you were a vinyl voice who drifted around
the room creating your own naratives
and desires.
hardbound covered soft themed skin
so delicately complex.
before i was younger seeking to lift up your
skirt maybe even take in a little of the
warm accent of your thigh, that soft slow
curve of your inner leg.
i remember sitting quietly staring at your crossed
legs wondering when your glasses would drop
ever so slightly.
but of course your were fictionalized,marginalized,
transposed across the room between the shelves.
flip to the back page as you walk by and
the summary goes something like this.
my librarian lady sits across the way
in between hushed lips day by day.
self literate angel with a finger in her cardex,
holy in her house with a text full of sex.
The Librarian
She polished her soft curved buttocks on my suede overcoat
And the smell of her ginseng breath made me stop
And raise my head
Losing my place in the card catalogue.
I shifted my eyes to her reaching arm concealed in an ox-hair sweater
She lifted an encyclopedia from an abandoned desk
And pressed it in folded arms to her whip-cream breast
I followed her to her reference table
And studied her as she sat unaware of melting eyes
I met her in a bar one night two weeks later
The yellow down now curled around her face and neck
She sat next to me
I talked about books I’d never read
Whispering Sex, The Dictionary of Love, and Lucia’s Feast
I thought of strapless bras and cool wet lips and smooth knees
I leaned on her, almost
As if I were some dusty bookshelf
I touched her tightened backbone
A smile snuck past her ox-hair sweater
She made my beer blended head feel like it was surrounded
White skin that was soft
And if I touched it with my tongue
Stroh’s would turn to sweetened warm milk
I handed her my library card
Watching as she folded it close to her waist
My purple eyes now undressing her
She turned and pressed her thigh to mine
A quite whisper
“Have you ever read Lucia’s Feast?”
I finished my beer and she returned the card
Her thin, bare shoulders nudge mine fluidly
We left the table,
the leftover books unchecked.
OUR LIBRARIAN
I once remember the
Librarian in my college
Meticulous ,and savvy
His love for knowledge
Knows no bound.
I once remember the
Librarian in my University
A man with a large heart for others
His glasses perking on his nose
His Professorial “penkelemesi” like
Grey hair connotes love for research.
But
I cannot but ask which librarian is this?
I cannot but query the insidious sudden
Love of this Huckster for knowledge
I cannot but be surprised at his hubbub
Declaration for his Library launch.
Oh ye people of our land!
Lets all give ovation du applaud to
Our land’s new Librarian.
The very one who rakes in seven
Of a billion cowries in a hurry
In the all looters Library launch.
The very one whose hatred for education
Towers so high and hit all towers of ivory.
The very atrocious leader of the ruling bandit
Whose avidity for money stares us in the face.
The very leading African Chimera whose
Chicanery we cannot measure
Has now suddenly fall in love with knowledge.
The very blood brother of “Haruna”on our campus
Who votes irritating meager resources for education
He is now our own celebrated Librarian.
The very illiterate Mechanic whose
Baleful gaze alone destroys our land’s Library
He is now our dreadful Librarian.
Sorry ,we know our Librarians
Our Libraries , we are acquainted with
Our Libraries are of obsolete materials
Ours is of more archaic facilities
With books and non books available
Two moons ago still branded new editions
This is our own Libraries.
Let the new Librarian disburse the seven
Of a billion cowries to our Libraries
Let him pump cowries into our education
Let their be more modern Libraries in our land
For is it of a nation that values knowledge
That gets the best of knowledge today and morrow .
Alayande Stephen .T
16th April, 2006
05.25pm
For Mr President 's special Library launch.
The librarian walked a dusty road.
Heading for the rodeo.
Her glasses on
The tip of her nose
And her hair curled in a bun.
She finally took a seat,
Barely taking the heat.
But in the mix
Of all these things
She was called out to the ring.
She climbed up on
The electronic bull
Hoping she could bare
Gravities great pull.
The bull tossed her,
And slung her to the dirt.
And forced the librarian
Back to her books.
Bookworm
watches book-thief
steal soul meat.
Luscious librarian in lingerie lifting lemons on her laceration
Curiously classified texts are deemed completely conniving with affirmation.
Euphoric ergonomics easing established efficiency expert’s excitement.
Reluctant research rabbit is reminiscing about respectable replacement.
Culpable coalition is curiously creative yet cautious.
Tinkering tattle tales trust readily researched missives as responsible
Dramatic assessment of library’s assets leads to rebate of raspberry series.
Librarian’s granite faced boss demands retraction from newspaper
After news story of luscious lingerie-loving librarian living in library breaks.
The Woman is A Danish
And married to A Scottish
But often heard in English:
Language she speaks with relish…
But the Rather Stand-Offish:
At times slippery like Fish
Or like things one wouldn’t wish,
For example Leaf-Filled Dish
To be served Vegetarian
Or Flesh to a Barbarian…
A Thief-Catching Librarian
And Confirmed True Lutheran!
You have my eyes but not my heart
This part of my life you play this part
The vision of loveliness that I call art
The part of my happiness beginning to start
With you my emotions are held high
My attitude of excitement can reach the sky
A smile inside me and open sigh
All because of the beauty close near by
Your smile is a sunrise a perfect day
I long to see this precious maid
My swing does reach it’s perfect sway
Back and forth without delay
This pleasure in which I find myself
Comes with a joy kept on my shelf
I like the cards I dealt myself
looking at you and nothing else
For a few stolen moments I play pretend
And love you with a love without end
Longing to hold you without it being sin
Hiding what might be a smile or a grin
Oh how I wish that I were a god
And with powers I’d favor my winning odds
Win you, your arms, your laying down
And wear you like you were my crown
You have my eyes but not my heart
The part of life I wish would start
But the end of day bids us depart
And certain satisfaction fills my cart
Super sleuth detective ghost cat kept her ideas to herself.
Her sidekick, ghostly ghost’s eyes wandered down every shelf.
The library’s moss tree was snoring as loudly as any buzz saw.
Ghost walkers rolled their eyes, whispering lah dee dah.
The librarian was on vacation, so the fey were bound to play.
Enjoying mysterious moments before she returned on Tuesday.
behind the plastic barrier,
behind the black mask,
behind the goggles,
behind the paper bag,
behind closed eyes,
behind snorkel,
behind chaste lips,
muffled but cheery,
“hello!”
two eyes peer out
from cut out holes,
like the unknown comic -
a peerless booking.
perhaps, chaps,
the pandemic lasts
and lasts,
with a song and a dance -
a gong-tastic self-checkout.