deepundergroundpoetry.com
See the light of day
fleeting footsteps
crunching snow and ice
yellowed pages smeared
words left unsaid...flittering
in the darkness, beyond sight
step lively through catacombs
the fetid bloom of deadwood
black cat yowling in the corner
leather clad boots stomping
kindling for the bonfire
without books we are reduced
to imbeciles who drool, fools
without the intellect to come in
from the driving rain...droplets
cutting the shade of night
It saddens me, to think the manuscripts
that burned, they will never see
the light of a candle flicker
in a shoppe window, a dancing flame
never will their covers
see the light of day
Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky
crunching snow and ice
yellowed pages smeared
words left unsaid...flittering
in the darkness, beyond sight
step lively through catacombs
the fetid bloom of deadwood
black cat yowling in the corner
leather clad boots stomping
kindling for the bonfire
without books we are reduced
to imbeciles who drool, fools
without the intellect to come in
from the driving rain...droplets
cutting the shade of night
It saddens me, to think the manuscripts
that burned, they will never see
the light of a candle flicker
in a shoppe window, a dancing flame
never will their covers
see the light of day
Leave us alone without books and we shall be lost and in confusion at once”
― Fyodor Dostoevsky
Published 20th Dec 2021
Author's Note
What does that final quote mean to you?
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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10th Jan 2023 3:42am
Hi Randall. I post on allpoetry occasionally but it is such a sedate site in comparison to DU, glad you decided to come here and give it a go. I love Dostoevsky, the raw humanity of it, is something I always look for in any artistic expression, fiction or any medium can hold a deep resonant human honesty.
I felt like your metaphors are intriguing and the haptics and imbued milieu give the whole a subtle presence, the write is proportional, has flow and emphasis. The theme reminds me of Fahrenheit 451 or 1984 or perhaps The Book Thief, how we discover the vital essence of our ancestral memory and freedom of expression in books.
I felt like your metaphors are intriguing and the haptics and imbued milieu give the whole a subtle presence, the write is proportional, has flow and emphasis. The theme reminds me of Fahrenheit 451 or 1984 or perhaps The Book Thief, how we discover the vital essence of our ancestral memory and freedom of expression in books.
