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Corner of a Library
Folder:
A Traveler's Experience dusty,
unstudied
corners of a library
are shelved
with tombstones of history's truths.
not hidden,
but rarely remembered.
occassionally,
the dust is disturbed.
more commonly,
a flower left.
not in mourning,
but rather
dropped
during a stolen kiss
between two lovers
looking for a quiet place
where nobody goes
and they found it
in an unstudied
corner of a library,
wherein
tombstones of history's truths
aren't hidden
yet rarely remembered.
the truth
ultimately
runs into a dead end
when it runs into men.
"Tombstines of history"
Dusted off, cracked and read, gems located between the smudged lines.
Coincidentally, just prior to
Coincidentally, just prior to reading this, I finished and posted a poem about a first visit to my college's library, almost forty-five years ago. I found, there, dust; and lovers; and an aspect of beauty that has bestirred me since I was seven years old; and the texts of both Poetry and Astronomy shelved in adjacent areas on the basement floor. I think your poem speaks very poetically about a universal experience.
J-Called
"Where no one goes"
I love libraries. Dust shelf as history - written by dull and mostly wrong editors. The corrected histories, all of them, may make those isles the most visited! We can hope.
.
~S~
I really liked this poem
What a pretty little scene... Nice job!
It's a very interesting contrast between
the slow death of knowledge and then
romance of a present-day viságe---
almost as if "the truth//ultimately" does not
reach a "dead end" because people
are still ever participating in a functionality
of search, perhaps longing, and passion,
a subversive essence of true experiences...
Anyways, I tip my hat to this poem.
bananas are the perfect food
for prostitutes