The Great Room
books collecting dust
as old winos sleep
and students try
to fill their heads
with knowledge
and inspiration comes
out from the dead
while want to be poets
read rejections
typed on form letters
inside a public place
proclaimed to be
the largest library
in the city of Chicago
and I sit at
the smallest table
and read the want-ads
that might lead me
to my next job
because currently
I’m fucked and
absorbing idle time
like everybody else...
poem by Charles Lara
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Related quotes
Open Book's Monologue Part 5: Welcome To The Library!
Welcome to the library! come one come all
Welcome to the library! come with your brethren on this wall
Welcome to the library! come all you books tattered or new
Welcome to the library! come tired and overdue
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're most mundane
Yes welcome to the library the place where you're to endure most pain
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit unwanted
Yes welcome to the library where you'll sit haunted
Yes welcome to the library where everyone's just like you
Yes welcome to the library where we're all books too!
Yes welcome to the library where you can take comfort
Yes welcome to the library where In the fact you're no longer unique
Yes welcome to the library You're just pen marks ink
Departing the library? I think not, even if you get out we'll bring you back
Departing the library? Here you rot, but we'll dust you to ease your passing
Departing the library? Don't make me laugh, here you're black and white
Departing the library? Nobody argues on your behalf, look more amassing
Welcome to the library! A place of keeping and safety
Welcome to the library! Take your place you'll like it, just wait and see
Welcome to the library! New books don't mind the old they're disillusioned
Welcome to the library! You've sold your soul... but it's too late for you
so WELCOME
poem by David Knox
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I remember being in the public library and my jaw just aching as I looked around at all those books I wanted to read. There just wasn't time enough to read everything I wanted to read.
quote by Charles Kuralt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hoarder Or Collector (Fun Poem 101)
Some of us are hoarders
and we don’t know where to stop.
We say we are collectors,
of rubbish maybe.
For a long time I have loved books
and collected every waif and stray.
People gave them to me by the dozen
and I never turned them away.
My collecting went so mad
I have now ten thousand or more
within my library.
Enough is enough I would say,
but still more arrived.
Now I don’t live in a house anymore,
as it has become a library.
There are books in every room
and not just one or two,
but dozens and dozens of them.
Everywhere you go;
there are books here and there.
Now I must down size
and my problem is
which ones do I let go,
and then I think
I might want to read a couple of them.
I am confused at what to do.
I know if I don’t do it soon
we won’t be able to
even get into the loo!
19 April 2009
Author’s note:
Loo is a word we use instead of saying Toilet. And, yes, I have that many books and I do have to get rid of some.
DVH
poem by David Harris
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However, I survived and started to read all chemistry books that I could get a hand on, first some 19th century books from our home library that did not provide much reliable information, and then I emptied the rather extensive city library.
quote by Richard Ernst
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Library
Like prim Professor of a College
I primed my shelves with books of knowledge;
And now I stand before them dumb,
Just like a child that sucks its thumb,
And stares forlorn and turns away,
With dolls or painted bricks to play.
They glour at me, my tomes of learning.
"You dolt!" they jibe; "you undiscerning
Moronic oaf, you make a fuss,
With highbrow swank selecting us;
Saying: "I'll read you all some day' -
And now you yawn and turn away.
"Unwanted wait we with our store
Of facts and philosophic lore;
The scholarship of all the ages
Snug packed within our uncut pages;
The mystery of all mankind
In part revealed - but you are blind.
"You have no time to read, you tell us;
Oh, do not think that we are jealous
Of all the trash that wins your favour,
The flimsy fiction that you savour:
We only beg that sometimes you
Will spare us just an hour or two.
"For all the minds that went to make us
Are dust if folk like you forsake us,
And they can only live again
By virtue of your kindling brain;
In magice print they packed their best:
Come - try their wisdom to digest. . . ."
Said I: "Alas! I am not able;
I lay my cards upon the table,
And with deep shame and blame avow
I am too old to read you now;
So I will lock you in glass cases
And shun your sad, reproachful faces."
* * * * * * * * *
My library is noble planned,
Yet in it desolate I stand;
And though my thousand books I prize,
Feeling a witling in their eyes,
I turn from them in weariness
To wallow in the Daily Press.
For, oh, I never, never will
The noble field of knowledge till:
I pattern words with artful tricks,
As children play with painted bricks,
And realize with futile woe,
Nothing I know - nor want to know.
My library has windowed nooks;
And so I turn from arid books
To vastitude of sea and sky,
And like a child content am I
With peak and plain and brook and tree,
Crying: "Behold! the books for me:
Nature, be thou my Library!"
poem by Robert William Service
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He Had Planned To Read
He had planned to read. Two or three books lie open,
books by historians, by poets.
But he read for barely ten minutes,
then gave it up, falling half-asleep on the sofa.
He's completely devoted to books
but he's twenty-three, and very good-looking;
and this afternoon Eros penetrated
his ideal flesh, his lips,
an erotic warmth penetrated
his lovely flesh
with no ridiculous shame about the form the pleasure took....
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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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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The Inspiration
A child is born in the city slums
Son of working class parents
Nothing ever comes easy and life is hard
The poor little boy laments
But deep in his heart
Right from the start
There was always a reason
He held an inspiration
The boy worked hard, yet, still he found
The time to learn or read
He read to find some spiritual base
To fill his growing need
Still, deep in his heart
Right from the start
There was always a reason
He held an inspiration
poem by Wakefield Mahon
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I do not mean to suggest that our handsome, newly enlarged library is to be a headquarters of busy bookworms, old and young, routinely absorbing knowledge by the hour while birds sing outside and the Mets fight it out for last place in the National League. On the contrary, a good library is a joyful place where the imagination roams free, and life is actively enriched.
quote by John K. Hutchens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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He Came to Read
He came to read. Two or three books
are open; historians and poets.
But he only read for ten minutes,
and gave them up. He is dozing
on the sofa. He is fully devoted to books
but he is twenty-three years old, and he's very handsome;
and this afternoon love passed
through his ideal flesh, his lips.
Through his flesh which is full of beauty
the heat of love passed;
without any silly shame for the form of the enjoyment.....
poem by Constantine P. Cavafy
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On Books
Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.
Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.
Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.
Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.
Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.
Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!
poem by John Celes
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Love In The Library
Love in the library
By: jimmy buffett, mac mcanally
1994
On the corner of government and bay avenue
The old doomsday fanatic wore a crown of kudzu
Sirens were wailing in the gulf coastal heat
And it seemed like the whole world was in forced retreat
Paid no attention, revolved through the door
Past the newspaper racks on the worn marble floor
Near civil war history my heart skipped a beat
She was standing in fiction stretched high on bare feet
Chorus:
Love in the library
Quiet and cool
Love in the library
There are no rules
Surrounded by stories
Surreal and sublime
I fell in love in the library
Once upon a time
I was the pirate, she was the queen
Sir francis and elizabeth, the best theres ever been
Then she strolled past my table and stopped at the stairs
Then sent me a smile as she reached for flaubert
Chorus:
Love in the library
Quiet and cool
Love in the library
There are no rules
Surrounded by stories
Surreal and sublime
I fell in love in the library
Once upon a time
She gathered her books, walked while she read
Words never spoken, but so much was said
You can read all you want into this rendezvous
But its safer than most things that lovers can do
Well stories have endings, fantasies fade
And the guard by the door starts drawing the shade
So write your own ending and hope it comes true
For the lovers and strangers on bay avenue
Chorus:
Love in the library
Quiet and cool
Love in the library
There are no rules
Surrounded by stories
Surreal and sublime
I fell in love in the library
Once upon a time
Surrounded by stories
Surreal and sublime
I fell in love in the library
Once upon a time
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dead Library
There they go, bearing him in tears;
another gift for termites and earthworms,
another place in history foregone.
Just humus to the soil for all his toil.
Had I known, the poor fellow cried,
a break from pursuit of wealth and health
I would have taken to make felt
my Name in the pages of history.
Jets, cars and chariots all shall fade.
Castles, plantations all shall be obscured
with time's demise but history salutes
those who march on it in inky lines.
They that add no lines to the living
library get dead alongside their texts.
Selfishly, they read and saw nothing to write.
Read by none, their texts are in the Dead Library.
Mazi Ikechukwu Bismarck Oji
18th June,2010
poem by Ike Bismarck Oji
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Mzuzu academy prep hall
it's a wide and vast
although it is not full of dust
its 7 o'clock on the watch
no one is allowed to wash
everyone is so quite that never before
since they came two minutes before
the only sound is books
even with girls who have looks
the inspector looks at troublemakers
since there is no one to punish noisemakers
while students hold firmly their future
since it doesn't came nature
a bulb in the ceiling smile brightly
as they light the hall nicely
students scratch their heads
as if they will have a chance to decide tails or heads
one and a half hour is the time
as students prep has no rhyme
as their future is in their hands
as they hold it in their expands
they got no time to waste
not even time to rest
as the time to exams is near
they prep and pass clear
poem by Tanaka Chirombo
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The Silence of the Library
the silence of a library
it is the weight of knowledge
on the axis of the mind
waiting to swing into action
the silence of the library
each brain negotiates a path
through the written words where
the tjhoughts of great men flow
the silence of the library
a section of the books
that has gathered dust waits
for a life to be put into them
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Mama's Legacy
MAMA'S LEGACY
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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Books in a large university library system: 2,000,000. Books in an average large city library: 10,000. Average number of books in a chain bookstore: 30,000. Books in an average neighborhood branch library: 20,000.
quote by Anthony Burgess
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mama's Legacy
-- * MAMA'S LEGACY * --
When I was just a little girl
I lay in Mama's bed
To listen to the fairy tales
From the little books she read.
Of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Cinderella and her Prince
Of Rumplestiltskin-Puss 'N Boots
And Aladdin and his tents.
I couldn't get enough of them
I'd ask her every night
But sleep would always conquer me
No matter how I'd fight.
I'd recite the words along with her
I knew them all by heart
She'd read to me from anything
Some knowledge to impart.
She taught me about the world around
From books she read aloud
She made my life worth living
And made me live it proud.
When I had children of my own
I read from those same books
To teach my children that in this life
You need brains, not just good looks.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
Ms. Caroline
10-27-05
dedicated to my mother
Wilma Ford
4-16-1912-4-19-2009
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
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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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I Confessed To You
As I read the old love letters,
you sent back to me.
The ones in which I confessed to you
how I wanted our love to be.
I told you in them
how I was sensitive to your touch,
and how I loved you so much.
It was obvious that you
did not feel for me the same way.
You never answered the letters,
but sent them unopened back to me.
Years have now passed
and I kept each and every one.
I dig them out occasionally
and have a good read through,
and then I sit down
and read them to you.
When I wrote them,
there was one thing I did not know.
You could not have read
the letters even if you wanted to.
You were blind and I did not know,
but that never stopped our love.
Now as we grow older together
with each passing day.
Our love grows a little stronger
in lots of different ways.
Those faded old love letters
we keep, as our reminder
love has no bounds.
4 June 2008
poem by David Harris
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