Saturday, May 22, 2010




Having

To truly own a copy is to hold it in your head
To have it always in your memory – till your dead.

Books can line your shelves and overflow with brilliant words
But leave them all unread and they’re as good as lifeless turds

Having only each other’s company to smell and guess
What’s harboured in the books against whose shoulders they press.

I’m learning one by rote – written on a scrap of paper
I glance at it less and less until its second nature

To speak or think the poem to myself when I’m alone
This is what it really is – in purest form – to own.

Possessions, money, past events, and all other forms of art
Must remain aloof from capture – must remain apart.

Only poems can live inside us – fully formed – alive
In fact I think the more I learn it’s their best way to thrive.

2 comments:

Domi Walker, LDN, 24 (Writer) said...

Great contributions dude. All the pictures are really enticing all the poems are full of nectar. This one was my favourite. It reminds me of the film Fahrenheit 451 which we have to watch soon. Its also a novel you might have read already who knows.

Lil' Danes Picklescott said...

'Having only each other’s company to smell and guess
What’s harboured in the books against whose shoulders they press.'

And they call them inanimate objects! My arse! Now that's a community of books.