Tag Archives: books

Scribblings

Scribbles,
Lines on a page,
Words,
They do nothing,
Feel nothing,
But say so much.
Communication
Of more than speech,
It is heart;
Soul;
Innermost dreams;
An outpouring of one’s soul,
And worlds in the making.
Scribblings,
And the books they dwell in:
I can’t imagine a life without them.

Advertisements

Tears Under A Tropical Sun



 She lay by the pool
 Glistening, as though showered in liquid diamonds
 Smooth, olive skin burnished to perfection
 Aglow in the heat of the midday sun;
 I was enraptured by her.
 Shallow, you say.
 I would argue not,
 For although she would have blessed any scene,
 And I should not have been surprised
 If she had stood, unfurled deep, dark wings
 And taken flight to the very heavens,
 A real live angel.
 But, it was not her figure,
 Nor her luxurious raven hair,
 Not even her rich, chocolate eyes that wooed me
 No, it was none of those:
 It was the book she held as though her life depended on it;
 The tears that flowed unchecked down her exquisite face,
 Uncaring of who saw,
 Unconcerned by what others thought:
 The book was Charlotte’s Web.
 The angel had chosen a child’s fantasy
 Over any man on the island,
 Or the planet for that matter,
 And it made me want her all the more.
 I will never forget her tears under that tropical sun,
 Nor the book she left by the pool that now sits by my bedside table.
 

 (Image courtesy wallpaphd.com)

Counting

 Counting down the days
 Until I’m gone,
 It could be short,
 But it won’t seem long.
 You see:
 I fear I won’t amount
 To much either way,
 I just hope my words
 Will live to see the day.
 When people remember,
 My preference, a child,
 That something I’ve written
 Made them feel wild;
 Fantasy enthused
 For at least a short while,
 I think that I’d like that;
 I think I would smile.
 So, I’ll strive to pour out
 The words that I hold
 And regardless of critics
 Always be bold,
 So when that clock strikes
 My final hurrah,
 Perhaps, someone will know
 My name in that hour.