Books Poems

Popular Books Poems
Hey Quarantine
by Rahul Ranaganath

What seems to be so special
about these days?
The mornings are so long,
and the nights are so weak.
A matter of few days,we talk about
and deep down there’s no end.
There are different kinds of people
Some grabbed the books for pleasure,
where a few learnt how to cook,
Most of them are fuckin busy with

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Time no longer.
by Benjamin Coote

She says that now she has time to do anything she wishes, with whoever.
Time is no longer an object to be crowed after, but when one has time to much they become boved but for a person who has been educated, who finds his refuge in a place far away, under a mango tree, distant from the pane of sight, which he attempts to numb each day, in books, in words, on hallowed parchment with that sword between his thumbs, in the cave of a fragile newspaper or magazine while on the morning train, all the pages entwined together tightly while life falls apart.
He finds his oasis in books.

TIME NO LONGER.






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The Old Dictionary
by Annie Jo

Denim blue cover

Shabby and faded

Papery stitches nearly lost

Fragrant with the spice of time

Generations of use


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Afterward
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

See Dick run, in the golden latterly years,
When past is gone, the future premieres.
Jane is a librarian, in the floral ruby days,
Sally is a teacher, in the tangerine phase.

Puff pursues orange butterflies in heaven,
And he and Spot frolic, in sunshine lemon.
Mother and Father reside in assisted living,
Where the blue jay to the moon is singing.

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A Novel Idea
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was an avid, lifelong book lover, and I could read forever and a day,
Like the pleasing, scented lilacs, always and forever blooming in May.

Though my house was very disorganized, I would read where I could,
Because I was not the tidiest person, however life was still very good!

All those who really knew me, understood how much I loved reading,
As loving eyes turn westward each evening, to sun's motley receding.

I dwelt in a house, on 20 acres of land, that had several outbuildings.

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Recent Books Poems
The Green Armchair
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was a pleasant, conscientious librarian, whose world consisted of books,
As a world of fragrant beauty, can be found in the glossy, honeyed nooks.

Although it was pleasant work and appealing, I was not so very well read,
Like the imperial red sun which stains the skies, soon before we go to bed.

Yet, I was bored and full of longing, for some daring adventure in my life,
Like new adventures in mysterious magic, on nights creamy stars are rife.

Baleful boredom followed after me, like raven shadows on emerald grass,

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Fragrance Allure
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind
with tales of lore and mystery.
Sweet flowers in the library,
and dreams abloom are quite pretty
in sunset colors, where light shined!
Sweet flowers in the library,
there to enrich an eager mind.

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A Novel Idea
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was an avid, lifelong book lover, and I could read forever and a day,
Like the pleasing, scented lilacs, always and forever blooming in May.

Though my house was very disorganized, I would read where I could,
Because I was not the tidiest person, however life was still very good!

All those who really knew me, understood how much I loved reading,
As loving eyes turn westward each evening, to sun's motley receding.

I dwelt in a house, on 20 acres of land, that had several outbuildings.

......

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History Repeats Itself
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

I was an accomplished librarian, who took pleasure from written words,
As opera singers find their pleasure, in the halls where music is heard.

I was well matched to such absorbing work, knowing it was worthwhile,
Like stars traveling a long, long way, lending endless sparkles per mile.

I lived in the San Francisco Bay area, a location of beauty and charms,
Like the fragrant springtime blooms, strewing as wildly as bee swarms!

The library was near my home, and I would walk there in fair weather,

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Afterward
by Evelyn Judy Buehler

See Dick run, in the golden latterly years,
When past is gone, the future premieres.
Jane is a librarian, in the floral ruby days,
Sally is a teacher, in the tangerine phase.

Puff pursues orange butterflies in heaven,
And he and Spot frolic, in sunshine lemon.
Mother and Father reside in assisted living,
Where the blue jay to the moon is singing.

Continue reading
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