Books

Books short poem

Flipping pages inhaling words

Like open arms and fluttering birds.

A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by.

Just touch each word, it comes to life

With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife

I travel with people living in books

Resting under trees, hidden in nooks

Dusty jacket and a frail spine

An old bulky volume groans a whine

A lean booklet peeps from the shelf

Casually asks ‘Do you need help?’

Histories, spaces, fantasies and facts

Stubborn pages, refuse to react

With greed I read, I plead I bleed

Snooze a chapter, catch back the speed

A patch of self they paint with colors

Worth more than a million dollars

I love faces hidden with books

Crafting a bond with familiar looks.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Chandrama Deshmukh

Signup / Login to follow the poet.
When poetry touches the soul, everything starts making sense. The inner world seems real and the outer one becomes bearable. When thoughts mixed with words travel through the empty spaces of mind, poetry happens to me. It always has been a mysterious force guiding me through. With two published books and one amaturish blog, I consider myself blessed to have started this journey. An old diary with think brown cover and an over used, end bitten pen. That’s where real magic begins! May you find your undiscovered meanings in my poems. May existence make sense. Even if just for a little while.
Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

2 Comments on "Books"

Notify of
avatar
Sort by:   newest | oldest
Jayshree Murali
Member

aaaah… what a treat to read !

wpDiscuz

I Dwell On Books

I Dwell On Books short poem

My first book was a store of love words were made of sound and touch characters smiled and sung lullabies I learnt to talk and run for the sun. There was a flood of colors, letters, sentence rules and social

Books – A Resource Part –v

Books – A Resource Part –v short poem

Those who have books shine With lively bright colour twine. Books – a Daniel – be in shrine To take us all up with whine. Saraswati, indeed, did opine My talents with saccharine And help me for Her to reassign

Books Of Novel

Books Of Novel prose poem

Books of novel are tetra-packs. Fruits of society are manually picked up crushed, mixed in neat proportions and sealed to make fresh fruit juice. Goodwill achieved by the presenters put wings to the packages. It’s a different world in the

Books And Friends

Books And Friends short poem

Friends and good books, Worth keeping always, No matter how one looks. Books offer an insight, To one’s life. Friends pick you up, Give wings to your flight. Books light the intellect, Friends too make your life perfect. With books you are