Posts Tagged ‘Book’

Crown of Twelve Trees

Posted: November 17, 2002 in Poetry
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Returning from the western desert oasis,
I have found the autumn fading
Gone into the palest blue sky of grey vapors.
I smell far off snow on this blustering wind
Spraying the later leaves from the hardwood branches.
Twelve trees are a protective crown around my cabin;
She’s enchanted to see me back again.
Fill the heart with hot soaking embers
And sign at the projects left undone.
Spent the daylight battling the chill air
With damp wood, flannel, and moccasins,
Curled up with a thoughtful book on the couch,
And occasionally wondering
What’s going on out there with you.

A Million Books

Posted: March 22, 1995 in Poetry
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I wish I had a million books,
Not a million bucks
Or bionic looks,
Just books and Bibles
And bundles of paper
And the time to read
And loan them out
To my neighbors.
Recommending and reading
Between covers I’d tarry
And give copies away
Like a hippie’s library.
Pass them around
And get lost for an hour.
But if wishes were water,
I’d never have to shower.

Seeing Green

Posted: April 25, 1993 in Poetry
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I want you to see green
the way that I see green
in all of its fluorescence and grandeur:
a lawn and a suit
and a rain-clean forest in Hawaii fed by moss-strung waterfalls,
frog skin and garden hoses and glow sticks,
the bindings of books with gold letters,
childrens’ animated watercolors;
the hue and cry of the lifelong green
of the ocean where kelp beds hang,
or of a new car,
or of an apple.

Chess

Posted: March 8, 1993 in Poetry
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when the night has come and I
have shuttered my open windows,
it is then that I turn away from other things
to my room of books and hanging plants
hiding in the warmth of my possessions;
a dried flower to remind me of you,
a red blanket that I was born into,
a zillion and one things to do –

the air gets thick in here…
fuzzy little octopi squirm through the air
but they’ve always been there.
I’ll let you in on one condition
and that is that I won’t lie to you;
fibbing tastes bad, like a bottle of glue
and they’re stickier, too –
but you come in of your own volition.

how can I entertain you?

alone, I lay out in the middle of the floor
on my magic Arabian carpet,
and I dream and I’ll do that for you
if you come in and listen.

Poem in Periwinkle Crayon

Posted: February 28, 1993 in Poetry
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you are my crayon
I always must
sharpen with you.
you make me feel
never mind what,
but I like you 4 your
specific shades –
don’t change your colors
for what you think I want.
let my skies B
brown, my
eyes gold and green,
your skin B purple.
my coloring book
doesn’t always agree
with yours – but then
again, does yours always
agree with mine?

Inkslinger

Posted: January 20, 1993 in Poetry
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my ink gleams wetly
before it dries;
my love burns fiercely
before it dies
or so it seems,
disappears to surface in flying dreams.
love long corridors of paisley flowers
love perfect fires and books for hours
space and time,
meter and rhyme,
still my ink flows on and across
a purple crayon for my thoughts
to bring them to life, to tally my fright,
they hold me and make me, blindfolded, a Knight.

Further Thoughts of Nathaniel Bishop

Posted: December 17, 1992 in Poetry
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My dearest Ursula is just the kind
To wilfully abandon all her soul
To satiate my Master’s guessless mind
And pour her fiery blood into my bowl
Of copper wrought from star-flung metal
Which rests upon the altar ‘neath my books.
This pact of ours is something left to settle:
A child? If only it won’t have my looks!
A Bishop heir! You’ll lose the Langsford end
And you’ll be mine, or more correct, you’ll see
That you to great Agatha I might send
And you she’ll give to Him That Should Not Be.
To Bishop, yea, the fateful book was sent,
We need results from an experiment…

ain’t nothin’ like it

Posted: February 18, 1991 in Poetry
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ain’t nothin’ like sleepin’ butt nekid.
ain’t nothin’ like a full body stretchin’ yawn.
ain’t nothin’ like rollin’ in warm laundry.
ain’t nothin’ like a lazy day.
ain’t nothin’ finishin’ a good book.
ain’t nothin’ like likin’ yourself.
ain’t nothin’ like a good kisser.
ain’t nothin’ like funny Sunday comics.

Cellardweller

Posted: November 21, 1990 in Poetry
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I thought in my chrysalis cocoon
that this caterpillar
was going to change to a
betterpillar,
but with the soggy skin I left behind
were a lot of the things I had fought to find,
though now it looks like a cartoon.
certain people trap me behind their eyes
where I have to stand and stare at my own disguise:
fishing line
and plaster
and paper-mache.
who am I anyway?
I fought hard with myself
to earn some confidence in the cellar.
I invented assistance to help me dwell there.
never hurting anyone (rarely)
never believing myself (barely)
contemplating a change of scenery
and not just by macking local greenery.
I strung myself up in a silk hammock,
got stuck, read a book, talked
to myself more than normal for me
and wound up falling out of the tree,
a butterfly that for got how to…

Story Book

Posted: September 27, 1990 in Poetry
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books, covers grinning with coveted secrets,
stacks upon stacks, grey bricks of a castle,
dusty pages of knowledge untold and ancient,
stories of old; phantoms, dragons, angels, devils,
crumbling parchment, yellowed edges
on bookshelves in unused closets,
writing themselves in the dark basement of the library.

Dictionary

Posted: March 13, 1987 in Poetry
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A big fat unabridged dictionary
Sat upon the shelf
Thinking and cogitating
Upon the nature of itself.

It knew what every word meant
Its knowledge was its might
But this ability did the book no good
For it had no power to write.

Purse

Posted: March 10, 1987 in Poetry
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The contents of a girlie’s purse
Are many, sundry, and quite diverse.
Lipstick and makeup and lots of things
Gum and candy and classy rings.
Jewelry, mascara, Vogue and Elle
A little black book of their clientele.
Wallet full of pictures, numbers, and dates
A list of loves and a list of hates.
Bottles, books, boxes, and cans
Liquid paper and rubber bands.
Advil, cookies, extra pens,
Millions of notes from millions of friends.
Mirrors, brushes, hair spray bottles
Earrings and brochures to look like models.
Keys, matches, undated green passes
Used to get friends out of their classes.
Credit cards, bracelets, maybe a comb
Everything they need while away from their home.
Nail polish, eye shadow, liner and blush,
Packed in their purses ‘cause they’re in a rush.
Watches and perfume, a pack of breath mints
Nickels, dimes, quarters – about fifty cents.
Thank God there’s only so much space in a purse
If bags were in style, it would be that much worse.