Corner of a Library

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.

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allets's picture

"Tombstines of history"

Dusted off, cracked and read, gems located between the smudged lines.


 

 

S74RW4RD's picture

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.


Starward

allets's picture

"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~
 


 

 

Pungus's picture

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