Short Closed Book Poems

Closed book opened up...
Empty minds filled with wisdom:
In the beginning......

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"A bird's-eye view is nothing but a tantalizing word found in a closed book which is mistaken to be a dictionary!", shrugged the central shadow on the wall....

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L-eaves
A-lways
I-ntrigue
L-onging
E-yes,
N-aturally
E-mploying

M-ysterious
E-arth's
J-oyfulness
I-n
C-harming
A-bode

©bfa060325
Monocrostic (Birthday of Lailene O. Mejica)...

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Book - A Tanka Poem

I so love this book
It’s is so open and closed
With every page I’ve read
And two personalities
When its soars I am happy

8/8/19
written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©...

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a distant place
a different time
no intersecting
of parallel lines

too much in common
drifting hearts
analogous souls
unclear starts

love that is lost
without a look
an unread chapter
in a closed book...

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Oh, closed book! The impossibility
That you would open to me
Why can't I reach out
To find out
About.

Oh, the dust on you! Nobody's read
The thoughts inside your papery bed
Look at the words 
Can't be heard
Absurd.

Remember the tree you came
Knocked down by a yellow crane
Now here you are
Changed by far
Paper....

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Salmonella wanted 
   to broker a truce-   
   between life and death.
   We were very scared.
The questions were never answered.

   A fault on the earth’s face.
   Who will ask the-
   hangman ? The tree was
   standing without roots.
The questions were never answered.

   Who was the spider 
   and who was the fly ?  
   A rose was unfazed;
   it was a naked thorn.  
The questions were never answered.


Satish Verma...

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Inside my head is suffering and shame
Laughing with the connections
The pleasure and the pain
Stories well known played silently
In the cycle of my memories
Unique to me

A closed book some might say
Never to be shared at least not today
In its purest form it may be art
But that would need honesty
And a trip back to the start 

I don't have the strength
Can't administer the pain
The book remains unwritten
While life is in their veins...

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Inside my head is suffering and shame
Laughing with the connections
The pleasure and the pain
Stories well known played silently
In the cycle of my memories
Unique to me

A closed book some might say
Never to be shared at least not today
In its purest form it may be art
But that would need honesty
And a trip back to the start 

I don't have the strength
Can't administer the pain
The book remains unwritten
While life is in their veins...

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I don't know why I love you,
only that the question sits with me
like a bear at the edge of its den,
stubbornly still,
yet so ready to claw the answer
into tiny bite sized clues
if it dare meanders near

Maybe love prefers me blind
and ignorant and bound to its side
in the cold hibernation
of all it shan't dream

I wouldn't know,
I've grown comfortable 
in this grey, dank cavern
pondering the absurdity of love
in all its awful ambiguity...

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I know someone who buys books.
I also know where else he looks.
The books he buys remain closed.
The stuff he gets is hardly used.
A book is there for us to read.
We buy the stuff we badly need.
A closed book does him no good.
Unneeded things just follow suit.
Never buy a book to keep it shut.
You learn no tales and lose a lot.
Many buy things they never need.
They boast about the life they lead.
They think they are so very cool!
It is themselves they really fool!

30/4/2016...

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