Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Cemetery Of Books

The book was thick and black covered with dust and cob webs
as were the others in this cemetery of once remembered now lost books.
He was allowed to take but one of the thousands surrounding him.
As he touch the big black book, it was as if it knew him,
as if it called out his name marking his soul.
Yes, this was the one, the one possession he must have.
Later he would remember the thrill of finding this book.
All his life he would think of this place, this cemetery of forgotten books and wonder.


carry on tuesday said...

A really intriguing piece. Your blog looks just great! Thanks for joining in

Missy said...

I've posted on one blog, how I love those places that house forgotten books. The journey through the aisles to find that one special one is a long day event for me.

Beautiful piece.

Beth P. said...

What had been a red book?

Thanks for this cool piece!

magiceye said...


lissa said...

I like it, there's nothing like the thrill of books

Beloved Haiku Dreams said...

Thank you all for reading my poem.
Beth P
lissa. It has been hard starting all over again. The lose of Deloved Dreamer almost made me want to quit writing poems. When I found some of my work on google reader, I created this web page.

love, Melanie-bd

Beatrice V said...

Melanie, this new blog is coming along nicely, hope you got your poems from the seasonal blogs now too, re-post them ehre, and SAVE everything! Print it or save to a disc.

gautami tripathy said...

A great post! Good to see you back!

stuck in time