Carson McCullers
she died of alcoholism
wrapped in a blanket
on a deck chair
on an ocean
steamer.
all her books of
terrified loneliness
all her books about
the cruelty
of loveless love
were all that was left
of her
as the strolling vacationer
discovered her body
notified the captain
and she was quickly dispatched
to somewhere else
on the ship
as everything
continued just
as
she had written it
poem by Charles Bukowski
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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
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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There are some fine books and essays about that. Lewis Hyde has written about alcoholism and poets and the role that society gives its writers - encouraging them to die.
quote by Sharon Olds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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O Captain! My Captain!
O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring;
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills,
For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck,
You’ve fallen cold and dead.
My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will,
The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won;
Exult O shores, and ring O bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.
poem by Walt Whitman
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Stand by the Engines
On the moonlighted decks there are children at play,
While smoothly the steamer is holding her way;
And the old folks are chatting on deck-seats and chairs,
And the lads and the lassies go strolling in pairs.
Some gaze half-entranced on the beautiful sea,
And wonder perhaps if a vision it be:
And surely their journeys no sorrow nor care,
For wealth, love, and beauty are passengers there.
But down underneath, ’mid the coal dust that smears
The face and the hands, work the ship’s engineers.
Whate’er be the duty of others, ’tis theirs
To stand by their engines whatever occurs.
The sailor may gaze on the sea and the sky;
The sailor may tell when the danger is nigh;
But when Death his black head o’er the waters uprears,
Unseen he is met by the ship’s engineers.
They are thrown from their feet by the force of a shock;
They know that their vessel has struck on a rock.
Now stand by your engines when danger appears,
For all may depend on the ship’s engineers!
No thought of their danger! No mad rush on deck!
They stand at their posts in the hull of a wreck,
Firm hands on the valves; and the white steam appears;
And down with their ship go the brave engineers!
poem by Henry Lawson
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Welcome Onboard
Welcome onboard
I don’t care to read of other people dreams it has nothing to do with
me, so I will tell you a real story. The day after my anniversary I walked
along the docks of Faro saw a sign, a cargo ship needed a chief steward.
I walked up the gangway, spoke to the captain and got the job.
On deck when the provision arrived; I was in charge just like before.
The captain came he looked baffled; according to my passport I was 73
and far too old to join a ship. The master thanked me, getting victuals
onboard signing for them and getting the food stuff safely stored.
The ship left without me but her captain saluted me, it was raining no
one saw my tears. Whatever I do these days even driving a car there are
people telling me I’m too old. Yet in Japan their oldest porno star, a man
of 77 and still working, so why will they not let me go back to sea again?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Burn Those Books
I would love to believe
That education was a key
To open the jailed opportunities
I kept on comprehending
That education had by all means
Been a hero to rescue
All the captured visions
But today I turn around
And shout aloud up in the mountains
Today I come to disclose
The hidden truth
And I continue to voice out
'BURN ALL THOSE BOOKS'
I have seen so much cruelty
I have experienced the devil
All in human's body
conserved by the minds
And captivated by all their hearts
But so I never turned back from saying
BURN ALL THOSE BOOKS!
Racism, Poverty and war
But yet have all this stapled papers
Attached together to form a book
Then what could be the significancy of it?
I say put all of those in tha burning flames
Because the world is dieying regardless,
And they are very much useless
I say:
'Burn All Those Books'
poem by Anele ''The African Son'' kaPotelwa
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Never lend books, for no one ever returns them; the only books I have in my library are books that other folks have left me.
quote by Anatole France
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books - a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.
quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Barnes & Noble Days
Working at Barnes and Noble
was interesting indeed,
I had managed to succeed
in doing many book readings.
I had my books short listed by Kim,
she was sweet and let my books in.
In Barnes and Noble for the very first time,
so I could read my books that really do rhyme.
In reading my book “Sarah’s Special Birthday”
children got to sit in the chair by a tray.
singing “Happy Birthday” with their very own name.
Tray had on it a cake that did very much light,
it lit up from UniCandle unicorn right on site.
Blowing out the “fake cake” the kids were amazed,
How could the cake light up
was the question they had raised.
Many older kids knew the trick,
They rubbed the white lever they did click.
Now, kids loved Melodie and UniCandle unicorn too,
I would sign their books with their names and Sue.
Now I will go by Suzae instead,
at the end of my show when I have read,
my books for when you go to bed.
They are dream books about
Adventures to be told,
hopefully I will get them
in major bookstores
before I am really old.
Written on Feb.21,2011 by Christina Sunrise
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Ship Without A Sail
I dont know what day it is
Or if its dark or fair
Somehow, thats just the way it is
And I dont really care
I go to this or that place
I seem alive and well
My head is just a hat place
My breast an empty shell
And Ive a faded dream to sell
All alone, all at sea
Why does nobody care for me?
When theres no love to hold my love
Why is my heart so frail?
Like a ship without a sail.
Out on the ocean,
Sailors can use a chart
Im on the ocean
Guided by just a lonely heart
Still alone, still at sea
Still theres no one to care for me
When theres no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail
(bridge)
Still alone, still at sea
Still theres no one to care for me
When theres no hand to hold my hand
Life is a loveless tale
For a ship without a sail
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Burning of the Steamer City of Montreal
A sad tale of the sea I will relate, which will your hearts appal
Concerning the burning of the steamship "City of Montreal,"
Which had on board two hundred and forty-nine souls in all,
But, alas! a fearful catastrophe did them befall.
The steamer left New York on the 6th August with a general cargo,
Bound for Queenstown and Liverpool also;
And all went well until Wednesday evening the 10th,
When in an instant an alarming fire was discovered at length.
And most of the passengers had gone to their berths for the night,
But when the big bell rang out, oh! what a pitiful sight;
To see mothers and their children crying, was most heartrending to behold,
As the blinding smoke began to ascend from the main hold.
And the smoke before long drifted down below,
Which almost choked the passengers, and filled their hearts with woe;
Then fathers and mothers rushed madly upon the deck,
While the crew were struggling manfully the fire to check.
Oh, it was a soul-harrowing and horrible sight,
To see the brave sailors trying hard with all their might;
Battling furiously with the merciless flames --
With a dozen of hose, but still the fire on them gains.
At length it became apparent the steamer couldn't be saved,
And the passengers were huddled together, and some of them madly raved;
And the family groups were most touching to see,
Especially husbands and wives embracing each other tenderly.
The mothers drew their little ones close to them,
Just like little lambs huddled together in a pen;
While the white foaming billows was towering mountains high,
And one and all on God for protection did cry.
And when the Captain saw the steamer he couldn't save,
He cried, come men, prepare the boats to be launched on the briny wave;
Be quick, and obey my orders, let each one bear a hand-
And steer the vessel direct for Newfoundland.
Then the men made ready the boats, which were eight on board,
Hurriedly and fearlessly with one accord;
And by eight o'clock on Thursday morning, everything was ready
For the passengers to leave the burning steamer that was rolling unsteady.
Then Captain Land on his officers loudly did call,
And the cheery manliness of him inspired confidence in all;
Then he ordered the men to lower the boats without delay,
So the boats were launched on the stormy sea without dismay.
Then women and children were first put into them,
Also a quantity of provisions, then followed the men;
And as soon as the boats were loaded they left the steamer's side,
To be tossed to and fro on the ocean wide.
And just as they left the burning ship, a barque hove in sight,
Which filled the poor creatures' hearts with delight;
And the barque was called the "Trebant," of Germany,
So they were all rescued and conveyed to their homes in safety.
But before they left the barque, they thanked God that did them save
From a cold and merciless watery grave;
Also the Captain received their thanks o'er and o'er,
Whilst the big waves around the barque did sullenly roar.
So good people I warn ye ail to be advised by me,
To remember and be prepared to meet God where'er ye may be;
For death claims his victims, both on sea and shore,
Therefore be prepared for that happy land where all troubles are o'er.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Barnes And Noble Days
Working at Barnes and Noble
was interesting indeed,
I had managed to succeed
in doing many book readings.
I had my books short listed by Kim,
she was sweet and let my books in.
In Barnes and Noble for the first time,
so I could read my books that really do rhyme.
In reading my book "Sarah's Special Birthday"
children got to sit in the chair by a tray.
singing "Happy Birthday" with their very own name.
Tray had on it a cake that did very much light,
it lit up from UniCandle unicorn right on site.
Blowing out the "fake cake" the kids were amazed,
How could the cake light up
was the question they had raised.
Many older kids knew the trick,
They rubbed the white lever they did click.
Now, kids loved Melodie and UniCandle unicorn too,
I would sign their books with their names and Sue.
Now I will go by Suzae instead,
at the end of my show when I have read,
my books for when you go to bed.
They are dream books about
Adventures to be told,
hopefully I will get them
in major bookstores
before I am really old.
Written by Suzae Chevalier
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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A Salty Dog
'all hands on deck, we've run afloat!' i heard the captain cry
'explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most books today seemed to have been written overnight from books read the day before.
quote by Nicolas de Chamfort
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most of today's books have an air of having been written in one day from books read the night before.
quote by Chamfort
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ballade Of The Bookworm
Far in the Past I peer, and see
A Child upon the Nursery floor,
A Child with books upon his knee,
Who asks, like Oliver, for more!
The number of his years is IV,
And yet in Letters hath he skill,
How deep he dives in Fairy-lore!
The Books I loved, I love them still!
One gift the Fairies gave me: (Three
They commonly bestowed of yore)
The Love of Books, the Golden Key
That opens the Enchanted Door;
Behind it BLUEBEARD lurks, and o'er
And o'er doth JACK his Giants kill,
And there is all ALADDIN'S store, -
The Books I loved, I love them still!
Take all, but leave my Books to me!
These heavy creels of old we bore
We fill not now, nor wander free,
Nor wear the heart that once we wore;
Not now each River seems to pour
His waters from the Muses' hill;
Though something's gone from stream and shore,
The Books I loved, I love them still!
ENVOY.
Fate, that art Queen by shore and sea,
We bow submissive to thy will,
Ah grant, by some benign decree,
The Books I loved--to love them still.
poem by Andrew Lang
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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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For books are more than books, they are the life, the very heart and core of ages past, the reason why men worked and died, the essence and quintessence of their lives.
quote by Amy Lowell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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