Saturday, July 16, 2011

"The Library"- A Poem

I walk by Thoreau,
And give him a little smile,
While he laughs at the self-help book I’m shelving.
“Ha!” he seems to say.
“Why, you can find your “help” in the woods,
Where the fruit of mystery awaits you.”

I give Shakespeare a welcome glance,
As I hold a children’s picture book.
“Yes,” he explains,
“Let their minds become sharp
With the knowledge they discover.
Let their imaginations soar through the depths of life.”

Walt Whitman is contradicting himself
In a dusty corner as the morning light tickles him.
“Your very flesh is a great poem,”
He tells me,
“Marvel in the silent sun
To figure out your poem’s feelings.”

As I turn to leave the quiet sanctuary.
Ray Bradbury calls to me from a distant place,
His voice echoing through the building.
“There are worse crimes then burning books.”
He says,
“One of them is not reading them.”


  1. I can tell---today is your library day! Your favorite place in the world, except for Paris.

  2. That is absolutely true. :) I might just go to Paris, visit their libraries, and read french books for the rest of my life. :)

  3. Hey, it's LynellePoet, girl on TeenINK with a blogspot. I loved this, i even put the last line on my facebook.

  4. Thanks for checking me out. I visited your blog and it's awesome! That's so cool that you have a book published. I can only hope... :)