Librarian Poems - Poems about Librarian

When Leonard says “Sh!” the entire library is silent as a church. The first time I saw this Lion-brarian, my heart gave a wild lurch. Who is checking out books? I whispered to another 4th grade friend. The Lion-brarian was next to me, and I thought my life would end. I said “Sh!” Leonard said, and this time it...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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a canvas filled in tomes & books-                                    this Bibliothec with abstract looks...

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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....

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Liberator from confinement and control Inspiration to grow wings and fly to worlds unknown Bright star which we aspire to be Rich source of knowledge Astonishing others causing immitation Refreshing part of the day Important part of every life Amazing traveler of dimensions Never leaving my memory or my heart no matter to which world I travel...

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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!...

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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...

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An auburn glow of freckled comeliness not young not old a little thick set like a mature cat When we pass a book between us our fingertips withdraw scalded by small print The room is crowded but it is far away like a story in a closed volume We are alone beyond the codex of morality We both...

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Bookworm watches book-thief steal soul meat....

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LOUD LIBRARIAN And the deaf librarian is too loud. She slings a piercing shrill into the crowd. The books fly off shelves. Do they blame themselves? The Library of Congress, she’d have wowed! 2/19/2018...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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