Lessons Forgotten

Even the most laid back and egalitarian among us can be insufferable snobs when it comes to coffee, music, cars, beer, or any other pet obsession where things have to be just so. What are you snobbish about?

He was a judge, a councilman,
my grandfather.
He taught me how much
the written word
mattered,
that good books read
helped one’s spirit grow,
excellent books devoured
only strengthened what
the soul already knows.
But when he tore that
Harlequin romance paperback
in two,
he told me that among great books,
there would be trash, too,
that none of them would enhance
a brain that continued
to always grow,
so read only the best, he said,
that’s all you need to know.

But if grandfather
were still alive today
would he like what he’d see?
What would he say
of the Kindles and the iPads
with their trashy books within?
Would he gnash his teeth
knowing I’ve gone past
Harlequin –
when he’d find out that among
the hundreds of books in my e-readers –
even the best,
there’s a trashy tale hidden here
and there, tucked in
with all the rest,
of whips and chains
and sex and gore
He’s probably rolling in his grave
right now –
for there’s even more.

Daily Prompt

Dust

500 years from now, an archaeologist accidentally stumbles on the ruins of your home, long buried underground. What will she learn about early-21st-century humans by going through (what remains of) your stuff?

ogQnpPe

I have way too much stuff,
more than can fit in this little cottage.
Too many books, more than I can ever read –
of stories, there is no shortage

and if someone might one day dig in
should they really be that interested
they’d find nothing but dust where paper had once been
belonging to one so terribly afflicted

for the love of words, and of wondrous tales
if only they’d been passed on and on
for paper, it crumbles into dust and nothing more
just dust, and then it’s gone.

Daily Prompt

Don’t Take My Word For It – Reading Rainbow for the New Generation

artworks-000065443412-mwo9j1-original

I can’t remember when I first heard those words
spoken again and again, at the end of a blurb
about a book I couldn’t wait to read
for just as Mister Burton said,
I shouldn’t take his word for it,
indeed.
And so I read and read and read some more
I read till the lights went out and the candles
wore, till the lace curtains caught fire
from one left lit, I read and read
that’s all there was to it
And then one day the words began to flow –
all my own, my own little world,
like flower after flower,
they unfurled
for the words that I’d read sprang seeds to create more
though this time, I wanted the words inside me
to soar, from the tips of my fingers to the ends of the earth
I read and I wrote, for all I was worth
I would have kept on reading even when there was no one
to tell me so, but for a man on the telly sharing new books
and stories I had yet to know,
he awoke the scribe that lived deep within
and now every child everywhere will have the same chance
I’d been given.

Muse

It’s a love affair that’s never ended
it’s been going on for far too long
something many people will never understand
always believing that something’s wrong
with me falling in love
with people I barely know,
just words on a page come to life,
though they often come
and then they go
though some of them stay for far longer
than even I anticipate
some of them live ever on
long after their sad fate
some of them make me smile
and some of them leave me sad,
some of them make me so angry
so good at being bad
And then there are those, a chosen few
who live on in my dreams
they set free the stories hiding inside my head
creeping, slipping between the seams
they keep me appearing normal
to someone who will never understand
keeps me ever sane –
keeps me from being damned