Libraries Poems - Poems about Libraries

I am a book Given to myself by my mother, given to herself by hers, and so on I am a name Given to me by my own pages turning past the last Wording on my skin, lifted with water and vinegar I am a book; cover bent and misshapen Used up and abused, books stole past me One another telling lies,...

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Today I’m thankful for love, and gardens and libraries for many philosophers and experts have agreed… If you have love, a garden and a library… you have everything you need....

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It is all here the quietude I needed the silence I require The solitude I covet So I can delve into a book Becoming the heroine, or the hero, living the life we all want to lead I sit for hours, soaking up new personas Loving myself more every minute...

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Classics, mysteries, autobiographies, adventure stories and everything else Filling this terrific library from side to side, floor to window, ceiling to top shelf. It is a book reader’s dream, until the entire concept gets bumped out by technology. Now all of our favorite books can be uploaded on our tablets, a fine use of lexicology....

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Repositories of The British-Donated: Of texts like bombs detonated; Books from their libraries discharged; The-Given-Out, not a dime charged … A Harvest of The Happily Released Because of The New that must be increased; Books that have lost The Right to Remain There, Better reasonably dumped elsewhere Between The Hard paper Back Like strong keys to hack And The Partly Fragile of Skin Whose sight...

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Anyone can write a poem I mean, they’ve never passed a law and with the quick access to paper and all. Of course, the serial poet’s the danger that keeps us up at night - someone lacking the gene for rhyme control. Normal people can’t imagine such wonton, naked promiscuity with words. It’s best that we ignore them - to nip it...

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Library, temple of knowledge... Promoter of knowledge... Ascesis of the meat with reading... ...

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BURNING LIBRARIES The affliction on spreads Akin to a wildfire it rages It raves the old the weak Did 1 John say the meek.. Covid covert conveyed`.. Corona wildfire burning An old person is a library Yet the affliction targets.. Billions Giga Sir-viva'l data On blink of extinction... Was covert now it's overt Said Donido T.. The shark Corona is not a virus from Machino It is a Chino...

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(English Sonnet Rhyme in Iambic Tetrameter) What tomes in lonely corners dwell where undisturbed and rimmed with dust, forgotten tales that once were held and stained with tears and love and lust - now sit untouched like aging queens; more interest in apparent heirs like Kindle tablets - pageless screens, dull bootless script where no one shares. So empty when a page is turned, no...

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They are high state of art, renovated or brand new. In the hallway greets you fountain, sculpture, statue or the painting. Escalators, elevators or the stairs will lead you up. Decorated walls in wood and uncounted standing books. They will quench your every anguish. They have books in every language – second or the one...

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Libraries are said to be Treasure house of books, Books here, books there On racks high and low. Culture and heritage Thoughts of writers and poets, All in a room for those In thirst of knowledge. Newspapers and magazines For the current news, Books on history and Present affairs. No noise or overcrowding Just the noise of flipping pages, A peaceful work in libraries, Result in increasing knowledge....

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For a bum like myself, the libraries are warm. I walk down cold and lonesome avenues and deserted streets and I am cold and lonely. I clench at my heart to stop the flame, that keeps me warm, Keep it from going out. I go and walk, my hands are numb, my face and ears are blacken and frostbitten, and I go into the library. The building filled with...

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Cosmos can not hold ...

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