I was sent this fantastic poem by a new "virtual" friend - just had to share it as any book lover will know exactly what this poem is about!
Books
My home is crammed with many books
Books are here and books are there
Books are lying everywhere.
My family have a secret wish
How can they spirit them away?
The bad news is for all of them
These books are simply here to stay.
Falling from the mantle-piece
Piles propped up around the floor,
They can cover all the table-top
Bagfuls sit bashfully behind the door.
Thick books and thin books
Of every colour shape and size,
So many different kinds of stories
They dance about before my eyes.
Historical and fantasy, more than just a few
Adventures and poetry, children’s stories too.
Mysteries and magic, testimonies true.
Legends, journeys, far off distant shores
Novels, non-fiction, the choice is yours.
One room has only books in its entirety
For reasons very clear it’s called “The
Library”.
Here books of every kind, are always to be
found
The problem is, there’s little space for me to
browse around.
Books overflow to more shelves, sitting in the
hall
Soon there’ll be no room left for anything at
all.
Did I mention the books at my bedside?
Heaped
there for the nights when I can’t sleep.
For all the books I decide to give away
I naughtily buy more of them to keep.
Who could dream without their books?
Could you? Or you? Or you?
They’re impossible to live without
So what am I going to do?
L.M. Wilson
July 21st 2008
My problem used to be the same
ReplyDeleteAnd so, to keep my family sane,
The ereader, to my delight
I bought, to read by day, or night,
Will all my tidiness restore
And keep my books up off the floor.
I filled it with books by the score
And it will hold a thousand more!
Iain - thank you so much for adding your own little poem to my blog post - Sorry about the delay in replying, Blogger decided to hide all the comments from me! :-(
DeleteLol, Helen. I just saw this reply. That wasn't Iain, it was me! I used my husband's goodle account, which we since both managed to get locked out of, i dropped back by to rummage through your blog today and spotted it.
DeleteCripes, that's a real noice poem, Helen. An' any'ow, Oi know exac'ly wot Oi'm goin' ter do; nobody ain't a-goin' ter touch moi books, 'specially not the ones by Helen Hollick, unless they're goin' ter read 'em, natch...
ReplyDeleteCripes Jenno - Sorry about the delay in replying, Blogger decided to hide all the comments from me! :-(
Delete