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.

7 comments:

carry on tuesday said...

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

Beth P. said...

What if...it had been a red book?


Thanks for this cool piece!

magiceye said...

soulful

lissa said...

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

Cassiopeia Rises said...

Thank you all for reading my poem.
COT
Missy
Beth P
magiceye
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.
http://belovedhaikudreams.blogspot.com

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