Short Bookstore Poems
Short Bookstore Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Bookstore by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Bookstore by length and keyword.
you read the times
or books on your mind
or do you just look
at the signs
do you seek much more
you no where to go
not the picture show
go tot the
BOOKSTORE.
Form:
they stopped for a few seconds at her favorite place
A used bookstore like no other
the proprietor watched the gorgeous couple.
Thrilled that Madeline had found a handsome beau
Sorry..Removed....
Go to Amazon or Kindle bookstore and purchase
"Beyond My Imagination"
By Mulaudzi Ndifelani Eric
The above poem featured there.
Sorry for inconvenience. Thanks.
Walk on by
The park
Walk on by
The house of God
Walk on by
The bookstore
Walk on by
The road to success
Walk on by
The road to freedom
Because it is available
To anyone that wants it
I found a book of ancient spells
It’s hard to read and it smells
I found it at a German bookstore
“My current meal is such a bore,
so this spell I scream and shout
give me a heaping wad of sauerkraut”
Heather, at the bookstore, told her this would be hard
The ladies in Lamaze, all delivered safely before her, said it was a snap
Sweat didn't even form on her face
Contractions fast, pushing hard and
Now she has her baby
Form:
My passion is to find obscure places,
shops down alleys with old traces;
artisan, bookstore or second hand,
I can spend hours exploring . . .
For me this is calming and never boring,
and lovely when I find a "thing" grand.
Love found itself at
The bookstore on the corner of main
Where two older people
Crashed into each other
While heading to the door
Sending books flying everywhere
They introduce themselves while
He helps her pick up her books and
The relationship between the two
Blossoms
They trade you one for two,
Within the same price range,
Their formula won’t change,
And later when you’re through
You’ll swap them for some new.
But when my life is done,
Will books I’ve written be
Recycled, mindlessly,
Will there be even one
Collectors hunt, for fun?
They trade you one for two,
Within the same price range,
Their formula won’t change,
And later when you’re through
You’ll swap them for some new.
But when my life is done,
Will books I’ve written be
Recycled, mindlessly,
Will there be even one
Collectors hunt, for fun?
owls do not have a lot of control of their bowels
they manage inventory in a bookstore named McPowell’s
If you are looking for books on fouls, fans or vowels
or picture books of thick rod dowels or fluffy pink towels
Watch your head because McPowell’s owls cannot control their bowels
Bookstores were my life’s mooring
Where my spirit felt both shy and effusive
Shy, bashful, a girl wearing her heart on her sleeve,
Effusive, flowing about the pages – impulsive,
Resisting the urge to plow through the words
Without indulging in the crisp scent of this new novel.
I went to the BIG
bookstore and read
poetry by every author
that has been published.
Now, I can imitate them.
I can write you poetry.
I can give you a page of
thrift shop words—words
that belonged to someone else.
Please take them.
Hold on to them.
Hold on to me.
Soon, I will suffocate
you with my own words.
Listen to poem:
Clay saucer
clay pot
potting soil
striped triangular stone
tiny green bud
tall bamboo stalk
fleshy green leaves
held in place by
patio umbrella crank
sits on latticed
black round wrought iron
table at Bart’s Books
Ojai, California,
quiet, peaceful,
so serene
till a bookstore-hating baby
screams.
the clay walls
of the bookstore
drunk with know
-ledge feel the creeping
sin of life
perched down the tree
opens its eyes
in the dark room
(almost four)
A.M. the urge
to close its eyes
to the tail
shaking lost phantoms
seas faces melt
vision fuses flakes
of shadow calmly coaxing
the sun to rise….
I live in a garret on 59th street
above a bookstore and an Irish bar.
I listen to Classical music on a cheap
radio and smoke Parliament cigarettes.
I compose poetry. I feed my creativity
with whiskey through my afternoons and
write until my thoughts become mundane.
There are brief moments of brilliance.
There was a woman
Today at the bookstore
On Bardstown Road
Her hair was purple
With a little green
Mixed in for class
I guess
She had glasses with
Black frames
Wearing a blue dress
Her breasts were pointy
Firm and round
I smiled at her
She smiled a fake smile
And we went
Our separate ways
Too bad I said
She was a nerd
Just a geek
Just my type
Books
What is a book,
What is under that cover,
You will never know unless you open to discover.
The treasures inside are great indeed,
Just sit yourself down and read, read, read.
There are books of poems and books of jokes,
There are even books of plain old folks.
Books of animals, trees, snakes and more,
So hurry over to your local bookstore.
Paper thin
Frail to the touch
Time passes
It cracks
And rips
Stripped of beauty
Left with age
Dry and worn
Sorrow upon the fingertips
Musty smelling
Spine broken
Missing pages
Wisdom remains
Deep within ink
With each new reader
A new lover
Caressed and full of hope
A new adventure
As the pages turn
Listen for the its breath
And its growing heartbeat
I thought to write a Short Story…
then thought, what if my story
required more? Then thought to
write a long story...and thought,
what if my long story dragged-on
to just bore? So, I gave more thought
to writing...and concluded, with a hefty
purchase at the local bookstore.
I don’t know good poetry…
but have written enough bad
poetry -- to have learned great
poetry!
dear gentle reader's, go out and have fun
the summer is here, visit a bookstore
feel the zaphyr as it touches your face
when sun is up high and
swan's playful game in the lake
sit by the lake with poetry in one hand
watch ladybug climb up your hand
lay down your head on the green grass
watch the paintings that tree shadow paint
forget your tiring efforts, make new memories
Sorry..Removed....
Go to Amazon or Kindle bookstore and purchase
"Beyond My Imagination"
By Mulaudzi Ndifelani Eric
The above poem featured there.
Sorry for inconvenience. Thanks.
http://www.kalahari.com/Books/Tempting-Deception_p_50074008
http://www.amazon.de/dp/1503283550/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_awdo_AAKPub0ZD5Y0F
http://www.bigmaybe.com/study-preparation?s=Mulaudzi+Ndifelani+Eric
hello,i have a book coming out on december 1st or just before barring any
unforseen catastrophe called"SIN,A MEMIOR",and will beavailable at
www.wordclay.com/bookstore.its an original write about the hellhole bosque
bello cemetary in my town fernandina beach,and three ghosts that reside
there.its a true story and its well written.please consider my book for
christmas.thank you.
From childhood adore with love
Penny save to run to bookstore
Reading and knitting all day
Eyes and hands in drop of hill
In hugging the sea breeze
Inviting underneath no need to breath
Deep dive to sea as host
When came beneath in dream
In wet hands hosting pearl of shells
Breeze of the sea escaped white curtains
A new day to wash with sea and sun
Run to bookstore than get a new canvas
A brown man with a full beard passes
I continue to read.
A young white man--handsome--
stops and sips at the fountain directly my left
An old women, wearing a winter coat with leopard print--wealthy looking--
hobbles by
A middle aged women--indeterminate--
walks slowly by
I catch a whiff of cigarette smoke
I say a quick prayer for her
I continue to read.