Poetry about Books
#books
Poetry about books, here you'll find poems about, or inspired by, books. Poems about the power of words and books to influence, move and inspire. Poetry by avid readers of books and those for whom a book, or books, have had a profound influence over their life, and their writing.
All Will Be Revealed
Hot milk and an early night
could not prepare me
for the 3 am visions
on my bedroom ceiling
or for the mysterious and compelling
impromptu voice
from the Google Home speakers
Not wishing to fall behind the times
and invoking his infinite wisdom
it seems Ggod has decided to offer
Apple and Microsoft style updates
to the good book
which is henceforth to be known
as the Wible
With the goal
of enhancing and improving
modern user experience
Hhe has tasked me
with rewriting various sections ...
could not prepare me
for the 3 am visions
on my bedroom ceiling
or for the mysterious and compelling
impromptu voice
from the Google Home speakers
Not wishing to fall behind the times
and invoking his infinite wisdom
it seems Ggod has decided to offer
Apple and Microsoft style updates
to the good book
which is henceforth to be known
as the Wible
With the goal
of enhancing and improving
modern user experience
Hhe has tasked me
with rewriting various sections ...
#atheism
#religion
#books #mythology
#books #mythology
37 reads
2 Comments
Thanks for the Read, Sugar Tits - A story of love, lose, and hot pockets.
is it better if you only knew
this book by it's cover?
maybe there's not much story to tell
would you get bored by the backstory?
unimpressed at how simple it all is
or even worse
think I'm some kind of freak
tired of the filler
can we just start with a simple 'hello'?
enjoy each other's company
without there being expectations
feels like each line, each word
is a trail to the end
are there parts you like and dislike?
tear out the pages you don't want
tear out parts of my existence
what can I say to...
this book by it's cover?
maybe there's not much story to tell
would you get bored by the backstory?
unimpressed at how simple it all is
or even worse
think I'm some kind of freak
tired of the filler
can we just start with a simple 'hello'?
enjoy each other's company
without there being expectations
feels like each line, each word
is a trail to the end
are there parts you like and dislike?
tear out the pages you don't want
tear out parts of my existence
what can I say to...
#books
#myself
#ThrillSeeking
92 reads
8 Comments
Escape
It's been over three years since i last wrote and uploaded poetry on this site. It appears that my days of writing poetry have come to an end, but i have not stopped writing. I have switched my focus on writing novels over poetry and have just published my first novel, a thriller called "Escape." It can be found and purchased at the link below, so if anyone on here has enjoyed my poetry, maybe you will want to check out my novel as well. The option is here if you wish to do so. With that said, it appears this is goodbye to writing and uploading new poetry. It was a blast while it...
#books
26 reads
0 Comments
Boys’ Own Harsh Reality
Peg-legged and bred with gallantry,
or just in-bred with dysentery,
I know that deep within this heart
a pirate’s life is not for me,
the timbers too shivered. So art
and all its lies are what
my land-lubbed loins be-crave,
me ‘earties foul and true.
I couldn’t rape and pillage or
give one old nag for glue.
And yet I yearn for hairy-arsed seamen
when I read Louis-Stevenson.
A flaw of sex and sense of truth, perhaps.
Just set me down by Brighton, chaps.
or just in-bred with dysentery,
I know that deep within this heart
a pirate’s life is not for me,
the timbers too shivered. So art
and all its lies are what
my land-lubbed loins be-crave,
me ‘earties foul and true.
I couldn’t rape and pillage or
give one old nag for glue.
And yet I yearn for hairy-arsed seamen
when I read Louis-Stevenson.
A flaw of sex and sense of truth, perhaps.
Just set me down by Brighton, chaps.
#dreams
#books
#funny #travel
#funny #travel
62 reads
3 Comments
Ripley Under Water by Patricia Highsmith (1991)
The last in the series about gentleman-of-leisure and occasional killer Tom Ripley, and the second to last novel that Highsmith wrote (arguably the last that she finished, given the first-draft quality of Small g: A Summer Idyll), Ripley Under Water begins as our globetrotting American-in-France is enjoying some time at a cafe when he runs into another ex-pat, David Pritchard. Pritchard and his wife Janice have recently moved into a house near Ripley’s stately home. Unfortunately, David especially seems interested in more than borrowing a cup of sugar from his new neighbour, revealing himself...
#books
27 reads
0 Comments
“I have my books and my poetry to protect me” •
yes my life looks dull
from the outside, but that’s why
I like to stay in ..
from the outside, but that’s why
I like to stay in ..
#books
51 reads
2 Comments
The Boy Who Followed Ripley by Patricia Highsmith (1980)
The fourth in the series about bon vivant criminal and murderer Tom Ripley, living his best life in the French countryside with his heiress wife Heloise and housekeeper Mme Annette, only occasionally drawn back into nefarious schemes. This time his path crosses that of Frank Pierson, the sixteen-year-old heir of a superfoods millionaire in the US. Frank has fled to France under an assumed name following the death of his father, who was watching the sunset when he appears to have lost control of his wheelchair and fallen over a cliff on the family estate. But Frank has an obsession with Ripley...
#books
36 reads
0 Comments
Toys
A visual poem
#books
71 reads
19 Comments
a ship of dreams
The ship of dreams
I have never been to Sylhet, Bangladesh it doesn’t matter
it was in May, the rain was relentless, and the last Bengal tigers
had drowned in a flood plain and a famous man had been
buried in a led coffin in the Bay of Bengal.
I had been stuck for a week on an elderly bulk ship while
waiting for scrap iron to fill the hulls, the sad rests of once
proud ship the oceans to be cut to pieces with disregard
of the inanimate that had histories untold.
The grisly irony for the elderly ship, it was her last voyage
she had to return...
I have never been to Sylhet, Bangladesh it doesn’t matter
it was in May, the rain was relentless, and the last Bengal tigers
had drowned in a flood plain and a famous man had been
buried in a led coffin in the Bay of Bengal.
I had been stuck for a week on an elderly bulk ship while
waiting for scrap iron to fill the hulls, the sad rests of once
proud ship the oceans to be cut to pieces with disregard
of the inanimate that had histories untold.
The grisly irony for the elderly ship, it was her last voyage
she had to return...
#books
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry #passion
#WritingPoetry #passion
62 reads
0 Comments
remember
dorothy’s five red herrings was the book that I read on the rug
in front of the paraffin heater many years ago, almost certainly in november or december ..
in front of the paraffin heater many years ago, almost certainly in november or december ..
#books
42 reads
5 Comments
"TO ALL THE HUSTLERS "
I remember, when 🤔 all I ever wanted to be in my life, was just a hustler!
Some don't get it, and some its all about the dollars!!
No matter how you put it, anywhere in America, most of us street scholars!!
Never even bothered to attempt to follow the rules!
No excuses for let downs, take backs, back-biters, double minded, consumers, keep consuming!!
To all the hustlers, here's a prayer, hoping 🙏 it touches, to all those so called players!!
To happen to fall back, and repeat this hustlers prayer! ...
Some don't get it, and some its all about the dollars!!
No matter how you put it, anywhere in America, most of us street scholars!!
Never even bothered to attempt to follow the rules!
No excuses for let downs, take backs, back-biters, double minded, consumers, keep consuming!!
To all the hustlers, here's a prayer, hoping 🙏 it touches, to all those so called players!!
To happen to fall back, and repeat this hustlers prayer! ...
#money
#cars
#mirror
#books
#consumerism
122 reads
8 Comments
book clearance
she held my hand as I pointed
out the books that I could probably, possibly, just maybe let go.
not until you’ve picked a few more ..
out the books that I could probably, possibly, just maybe let go.
not until you’ve picked a few more ..
#books
76 reads
3 Comments
DU Poetry : Poetry about Books