Short Bookmarks Poems

A Bookmark,

To look back!...

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backlit dawn lovers
gray shades the cut cameo...
bookmarks of passion...

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Feathers

Granting feathers (any) to be
full-time bookmarks would make
them happy except 
when they’d have to
share their duty with 
long claws of
the Therizinosaurs.
...

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It's all right there, from you don't hide
The love for you I hold inside
You'll see it unobtrusively
A wink, a smile, quietly
It's not with fanfare that I show
But little sayings like, you know?
Or small things claimed to represent 
Bookmarks for accomplishment...

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JUNTEENTH ANTHEM 

Justice without prejudice we pray,
Unsung heroes paved the way.
No cross, no crown, cries sing from the ground,
We can still hear them singing now today.

Every trail of blood that made our history,
Today bookmarks the end of their misery, 
No pain, no pride, our scars can’t hide,
Our song a forever symphony....

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Bookmarks mark the spot where you stop
And take a break for some time
before you come back to the book
Some bookmarks have yarn on them
While others are made out of yarn
If you do not have a bookmark I suppose
you might dog ear the page
Or maybe you do not read at all
I have a dark purple bookmark made out of yarn
I got it from the library
And I read all the time...

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Feed me your stories
I will believe
For I am a good girl

Tell me how to behave
I will be compliant
A Stepford wife

Show me your ways
So that I may copy them
Throwing out all ideas of my own

Give me the missive I am to follow
Listen to me parrot words I do not understand
Reward me with stickers and bookmarks

Thank you very kindly!
I am so glad to be a part 
of your well-accepted cults...

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Calendars and note cards,
Labels by the score,
Memo pads and bookmarks,
Wrapping paper, sometimes more.

Every single charity
Reaches out to see
If any of their offers
Unlocks generosity.

For some I get the checkbook
(Yes, old-fashioned, but it works)
And send in a donation
To offset those little perks.

But after I am dead and gone,
My family, bereft,
Will be shocked at just how many
Address labels I have left.
...

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Did you know?

Secrets are like the baby grass on the patch of
Grass next door; they flutter like the wings in the 
Small breeze of late Autumn.

They glitter like the sand on the beach under the
Aurora last night; and they sleep like fairies under
Small mushrooms in the hidden forest.

If only you knew…

How many secret bookmarks were filed in my book,
And how many degraded, teared apart and
Fluttered away in the wind....

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Stepladder up to the ceilings

Held with high reasons and feelings

The bookcase


Volumes of joy and pure leisure

State their case as printed pleasure

A bookworm


Shape a life into linked chapters

Mind and soul as truth extractors

His bookmarks


Many things he can’t quite discern

Unfinished business much to learn

To bookends


Legends fiction subconscious streams

Myths fantasy and vivid dreams

Of booklore 



01st May 2020...

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Charities in search of cash 
Send envelopes with pleas
And sometimes little gifts in hopes
My giving gene they’ll squeeze.

Most often it’s a sheet or two 
Of labels with my name 
And street address, but in addition,
Bookmarks sometimes came.

I use the labels less and less
As bills are paid online
And bookmarks to the pile
Of things passé I must consign.

Enticements might encourage 
A donation, that is true,
But what once worked no longer is
Appealing to accrue....

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My hands are leafing through ancient lore
The dust on each cover is carefully removed
I sit on my bed and surround myself with poetry
reading dictionaries for the thrill of learning a new word
I study foreign languages to keep my mind sharp
feasting on fiction that keeps me awake to the Witching Hour
memorize villanelles and couplets a-plenty
grabbing at bookmarks to keep my place in realms
Singing odes and practicing accents in the shower
This is what Literature and Poetry do.....

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everybody is over their heads
looking at the paint on the wall
falling for the imitation replacement
thinking that the scenery is the actual factual
then they vent to a quiet individual such as myself

everybody has their own coping mechanisms
looking at the finished product in their minds
collecting bookmarks already claimed by dust bunnies
thinking that all expressions in each chapter is the real deal
then they pour out whatever emotions are freshly present to a detached cat like me...

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