My Library by Varda One

 

It’s only a room with shelves and books,
but it’s far more magical than it looksIt’s a jet on which I soar
to lands that exist no more.

Or a key with which I find
answers to questions crowding my mind.

Building my habit of learning and growing,
asking and researching till I reach knowing.

Here, I’ve been a mermaid and an elf
I’ve even learned to be more myself.

I think that I shall never see
a place that’s been more useful to me.

With encouraging kind friends with wit
Who tell me to dream big and never quit.

It’s only a room with shelves and books,
but it’s far more magical than it looks.

 

via

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Call for submissions!

Hello library and poetry lovers!

I would love to create a community space with this blog, including pieces from other writers out there who have been inspired by some aspect of libraries and allowed that inspiration to come through in their writing.  Please let me know if you have something you’d like to post here – either by commenting, or emailing me at poetryinthestacks@gmail.com

Thank you!

enigma

Child, I was there
he said with quiet-
seeming
abandon
as he waited for me
to find for him a
memory
proof
of what he knows as truth,
of what history has forgotten
written
spoken
in code, broken by Our Boys, now
old men, waiting for us to remember

Bahá’í

I tell you this, now,
he says
because you are my daughter
what makes the flower
white like your skin
while mine is dark?
what makes leaves
green?
and that man over there
he won’t talk to me
because, I think,
it is because
I am not
like him
we pray
to different gods
when we really just need
to love