More recently, books, especially paperbacks, have been printed in massive and inexpensive editions. For the price of a modest meal you can ponder the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, the origin of species, the interpretation of dreams, the nature of things. Books are like seeds. They can lie dormant for centuries and then flower in the most unpromising soil.
Carl Sagan in Cosmos
Submitted by Catalin Popescu
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At present, however, I don't think the Net is a very good medium for books, books should really be inexpensive lightweight paperbacks you can bang around.
quote by Rudy Rucker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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With Kafka.
Kafka would have liked
the way you said that.
You kept his books on
the shelf next to those
of Burroughs and Joyce.
You like the painting on
the book’s paper cover.
Paperbacks are cheap
and soon worn out,
Thornton used to say.
He liked hard covered
books, first editions if
he could afford. He said
Kafka was too morbid
for you. You need a lighter
read, he said, something
that doesn’t mess with
your female head. You
take down the Kafka and
read again where you read
before, the whole drama
unfolding, the printed words
bringing a different world,
and ghostly by the window
with steady stare, Franz Kafka
in silence just sitting there.
poem by Terry Collett
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Books Are Burning
Books are burning
In the main square, and I saw there
The first eating the text
Books are burning
In the still air
And you know where they burn books
People are next
I believe the printed word should be forgiven
Doesnt matter what it said
Wisdom hotline from the dead back to the living
Key to the larder for your heart and head
Books are burning
In our own town, watch us turn round
And cast our glances elsewhere
Books are burning
In the playground
Smell of burnt book is not unlike human hair
I believe the printed word is more than sacred
Beyond the gauge of good or bad
The human right to let your soul fly free and naked
Above the violence of the fearful and sad
The church of matches
Anoints in ignorance with gasoline
The church of matches
Grows fat by breathing in the smoke of dreams
Its quite obscene
Books are burning
More each day now, and I pray now
You boys will tire of these games
Books are burning
I hope somehow, this will allow
A phoenix up from the flames
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books
The universe (which others call the library). . .
-Jorge Luis Borges
Books which are stitched up the center with coarse white thread
Books on the beach with sunglass-colored pages
Books about food with pictures of weeping grapefruits
Books about baking bread with browned corners
Books about long-haired Frenchmen with uncut pages
Books of erotic engravings with pages that stick
Books about inns whose stars have sputtered out
Books of illuminations surrounded by darkness
Books with blank pages & printed margins
Books with fanatical footnotes in no-point type
Books with book lice
Books with rice-paper pastings
Books with book fungus blooming over their pages
Books with pages of skin with flesh-colored bindings
Books by men in love with the letter O
Books which smell of earth whose pages turn
poem by Erica Jong
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We probably put about four or five comic books out a year and probably about two or three art books and various trade paperbacks - maybe four or five of those a year - and that's what we do now.
quote by Glenn Danzig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There are certain books in the world which every searcher for truth must know: the Bible, the Critique of Pure Reason, the Origin of Species, and Karl Marx's Capital.
Dad and Me
Inside our house you'll find crannies and nooks.
Crevices and cracks and fissures and books!
Books under the bed and on the floor,
Books around the table and beside the door,
Books on the bookshelf and surrounding it,
Books all over the house, every single bit!
Not a one of these books are non-fiction,
Different worlds are their depiction.
Fictional, sci-fi, dark and fantasy,
Horror and happy, more books for me!
Books belonging to my father,
Or belonging to me as I rather.
My father and I in bookworm heaven,
Until mum cleans up around half past seven.
She throws the books in a huff,
Says it's a mess and to clean it up!
Well dad and I try to clean,
But on the work we quickly wean
And in one of the larger nooks
You'll find dad and me reading our books.
poem by Lenore Lee
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Books
books after being read
become nothing
but things
books unread
are treasures of gold
undiscovered
beneath your feet
books unshared
are thoughts unspoken.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Books up on books
Color in Black, color in white
And also in different colors
Colors were brushed in minds
Respectively be hard
Printed embossed letters
In books of epigraphy
Color in black
On Space of white
Told that is black
Black white and colors
Books up on books
Being closed near by
Dialogues having intercourse
Get soaked colors of minds
Smudged
Scabrous words
Boorish colors
In a content of
In a book
Wearing a strange cover
Not get closed
And be separated
Having filed up afar
At the library of old
On a table
Books up on books
Turn pages
Marking and conflicting
And also comparing
An empty paper
A pen
A hand with five fingers
An artist
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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The Last Piece of the Twentieth Century
Incorporate it in the new books too,
That the whole previous journey,
Was travelled on the burning sand,
And in the scorching sweating sun.
Mortality dwelled in the shade,
And the poisonous flavours in the fruit.
The airs granted us thirst,
And the soil imparted us appetite.
We powdered the countenances with ashes,
Of our ruined houses,
So that they might become the evidence,
Of justified argument of our entities.
Incorporate in the books new times,
That each page of the previous tale,
Emitted nothing but the scent of blood.
The sentences were devoid of loyalties,
And the truth dispatched to the unknown zones.
Incorporate it in the books of new times,
That our mothers bore the children,
Camphored with horror,
And the boiling stones in the pots,
Remained uncooked since centuries.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Living wild species are like a library of books still unread. Our heedless destruction of them is akin to burning the library without ever having read its books.
quote by John Dingell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Books Of Color
autumn leaves falling
in slow spirals to the ground...
books of color and richness,
turning brown, waiting on sleep.
the sea of hungry human faces,
reaching out through the darkness...
books of color and richness,
turning brown, waiting on sleep.
the souls of the weary
fall like tiny flakes of snow
covering the stillness with hope....
for a new spring,
new books of color and richness....
from the seeds of memory
of those that have gone before!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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I Know I Have A Copy Somewhere
Wherever you may choose to look
You're guaranteed to find a book.
Perhaps a murder mystery.
Anthologies of poetry
Reference books and picture books.
Books on witchcraft and black magic
Tomes on almost any topic.
Some by authors long since dead.
Books which try to look ahead.
Books of every shape and size.
As I have come to realise.
Enough to start a library
Though jumbled up haphazardly.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Going Out To Enjoy The Faces Of Nature
summer. do not sell me books
i have enough of books.
i am going for a swim
bringing my girl.
i will go naked then
up and down. we are going
diving, seeing not just corals
we go for black urchins and
electric eels.
we go bubbling and
taking deep breaths
upstream. you ask me why?
well, this is summer and i am
not reading books.
i will be kissing the beautiful
faces of nature.
and since this is summer
motherfucker, i must do it well.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Picture-Books in Winter
Summer fading, winter comes--
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
And the picture story-books.
Water now is turned to stone
Nurse and I can walk upon;
Still we find the flowing brooks
In the picture story-books.
All the pretty things put by,
Wait upon the children's eye,
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks,
In the picture story-books.
We may see how all things are
Seas and cities, near and far,
And the flying fairies' looks,
In the picture story-books.
How am I to sing your praise,
Happy chimney-corner days,
Sitting safe in nursery nooks,
Reading picture story-books?
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Second Hand Books
Books! Books! Books! There are so many different designs.
There are some which, by the author, are personally signed.
Some books have pages with gilt edges, which look all posh.
Some have nice pictures on their covers, which are embossed.
Some books have hard covers, while some have soft.
Some are all dusty, where they’ve been kept in the loft.
Some books have fancy covers; some just have plain.
Some have suffered mishaps, and are now all stained.
Some books are all dog-eared at the corners of their pages.
Some have gone yellow, where they’ve been around ages.
Inside some books, there can be seen a pencilled name;
Someone, who once, on this particular book, had a claim.
Some are obviously well read; their spines are all creased.
From out of a book, amazing adventures can be unleashed.
Some books have pages which are spoiled or a bit torn.
Some have covers which are grubby and look well worn.
Some just have text, while others also include illustrations.
Some are former prize winners; once the toast of the nation.
There are books by famous authors, as well as the lesser known.
Some are former library books which, to the public, were loaned.
There are romances, poetry, classics, sci-fi, humour, and histories;
Gardening, cookery, travel, thrillers, manga, and murder mysteries.
In wooden bookcases, the books are categorised, and are neatly lined.
In a second hand bookshop, you just never know what you may find.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Romance Of A Book
Reading a book, you're hit by romance,
No matter the subject matter,
You can read and read,
And every book is different,
Some stories are more pleasant than others,
While some are funny, but most are serious,
For the romance of a book,
Is in everyone's heart,
No matter their age or height,
Whether male or female:
It is all relative and I devour,
Each and every book,
I can read the classics,
Or even a heart-warming romance,
I just get through so many books,
I love every storyline,
Not so much the gory parts,
But the cleverness of the fictional detectives,
And those rock stars that roam the stage,
For a book is something that will never age,
No matter how many years on the shelf,
And stories can be shared with everyone else,
Yet everyone has their own views,
And books can be lifting when they're feeling blue,
For people have been reading fiction for centuries,
But, of course, not all books are fictional:
There're the historical books, interesting,
Even if a reader is just passing through,
And we can all learn something from the history books,
And let's not forget the autobiographies:
Many a man and woman fascinating,
Having lead unique lives and having had special loves,
And there is a romance to these people,
For they walked the same earth as everyone else,
Yet brought something strange and special to the world,
Like a scientist making a new discovery,
Or a rock star penning a hit song,
And all these things are which make books belong,
I haven't met anyone yet who finds books boring,
Because books are not boring: they are fascinating,
Unique, special, strange, romantic and enjoyable,
And every reader's dream: like hitting 'play' on a record,
For this is the romance of a book.
poem by Paula Glynn
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De Libris
True — there are books and books. There’s Gray,
For instance, and there’s Bacon;
There’s Longfellow, and Monstrelet,
And also Colton’s “ Lacon,”
With “Laws of Whist” and those • of Libel,
And Euclid, and the Mormon Bible.
And some are dear as friends, and some
We keep because we need’them;
And some we ward from worm and thumb,
And love too well to read them.
My own are poor, and mostly new,
But I’ve an Elzevir or two.
That as a gift is prized, the next
For trouble in the finding;
This Aldine for its early text,
That Plantin for the binding;
This sorry Herrick hides a flower,
The record of one perfect hour.
But whether it be worth or looks
We gently love or strongly,
Such virtue doth reside in books
We scarce can love them wrongly;
To sages an eternal school,
A hobby (harmless) to the fool.
Nor altogether fool is he
Who orders, free from doubt,
Those books which “no good library
Should ever be without,”
And blandly locks the well-glazed door
On tomes that issue never more.
Less may we scorn his cases grand,
Where safely, surely linger
Fair virgin fields of type, unscanned
And innocent of finger.
There rest, preserved from dust accurst,
The first editions — and the worst.
And least of all should we that write
With easy jest deride them
Who hope to leave when “lost to sight”
The best of us inside them,
Dear shrines! where many a scribbler’s name
Has lasted — longer than his fame.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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Leading You Astray
Bad people,
Power cuts!
Aspire,
Inspire,
Milk and honey,
Sugar and tea,
Survival of the fittest! !
Strength,
Change, challenge!
And, it took place in her room twice.
The 4th Empire was the Roman Empire!
The 4th Beast was the Roman Empire! !
Drones, thrones, stone;
Like the great sword with eyes all over it,
but, your uncontrolled lust is leading you astray.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Children will not pretend to be enjoying books, and they will not read books because they have been told that these books are good. They are looking for delight.
quote by Helen Dunmore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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