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Poetry

Nothing compares
To the frozen beauty
Of a book soaked wet with rain
And bowed by the autumn winds
That is now stiff and slightly crusted.

One edge is broken off
Some words are censored by the snow.
And while you read remaining lines
Of love and lovers lost and found
You lose the winter in your heart.

The moment when your warmth
Makes the words unfreeze
Frees the lines and melts and dries
The raggèd hidden song
Compares to nothing
Not even to the frozen beauty
It was created by.

Tom, one of my neighbours collects old books and you and he share the same glow which is derived from them. Soul mates in parchment. Thank you for your feelings which flow from my screen.
Byron 'sends his regards'.

I love the storm
it fills my heart
with simile force
my soul and wind
my life and rain
all melting fury
attack and moan
we are only one
I cannot separate from
the storm I love

oh..I was going to put this poem outside but I was here....sorry
I was thinking about that after I read your beautiful poem...

Byron -

thank you for your kind regards and understanding. The poem started when i saw a torn book lying in the streets and felt it suffering from neglect. Two years later, in 2000, I wrote the first draft, and only slightly changed it before posting the above lines. If you felt the glow, it can't be all that bad...


Sandra -

thank you for the beautiful way of reacting to one humble attempt to write a poem. Your poem, however, deserves to get a thread of it's own. I love it, so if you re-post it, please don't remove it from here...

Tom

Sandra ~

I love storms ~ watching and feeling them. I sometimes experience the fears if they are hurricane/tornado-possibility related, yet they still carry me away to new heights. The Keys had magnificent ones. Your poem makes some of my feelings tangible. Thanks.

Tom ~ Your poem imbues the discarded or lost book with love, and brings it back into its dignity. It is also a lovely metaphor for similar treatment of people, after life has had its way with them.

~ Lizzytysh

ok I stay here with you then...

ok

Elizabeth -

Helping people back to their dignity, after life has had its way with them - what a beautiful thought... Yes, tenderness towards books is a metaphor for tenderness towards people...

Tom