By midnight’s shade and lantern’s flame,
A thousand worlds emerged.
Roman heroes clashed with medieval knights,
And fair wild-Western belles waltzed with gods.
Polished wooden cases held them,
In alphabetic grace.
Their quiet keeper watched them
From sun down through sunrise.
Grievance, yes I, the librarian:
A polished stone lost among rubble.
Dedicated to those leather-bound worlds
From where my true friends had stemmed.
But, alas, I had no real companions;
Save myself and my tabby cat Twigs.
I found other persons to be tiresome
And not as interesting
As those I’d found within the pages of my books.
Perhaps that is why few spoke to me;
I looked down upon them all.
But Twigs, ah, he was a lovable sort.
His playful eyes seemed to ask,
‘What adventures will we have today?’
Twigs was a lovable sort;
Little did I know that he would be my undoing.
Or, perhaps, it was my schooling that did me in?
I was rather full of myself, I must confess.
You see, my knowledge knew no compare in that town,
But for all my education
And my mental might,
When the fateful gracelessness of my tabby cat’s paws
Led to the thunderous collapse of a thousand worlds,
I was helpless to move them from my shoulders.
Twigs, ah, he did betray me!
Burying me beneath the weight of Rome and Spain
And jolly old England and lest I forget, America too.
I find, too late, the error in befriending only books,
For no hero nor knight could lift my polished wooden tomb.
As the lantern sputtered out and the night’s wheel spun ever on,
I remember thinking:
‘To society I leave…what is it that I leave?’
I suppose only the irony of my name,
And a tabby cat, Twigs, with yellow-green eyes
Whom has a murderous case of
Gracelessness.
















Comments
^^
I love it. Keeps you guessing. Once again with the interesting phrasing.
God, I hate you. XD
LUFF!
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ERROR.[-].And they are breaking through...they are breaking through...now we're falling...
We.ArE.lOsInG.cOnTrOl.[-].ERROR
XP j/k Thanks for the comment
Oo! I may read this one at a poetry slam tomorrow! >w<
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[+] BANGERANG [+]
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IT IS NOT A NECKBEARD IT'S A HEAT SINK
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[+] BANGERANG [+]
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I can't get lost, I don't know why..
This has always been a favorite of mine...
So, elaborate away?
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[+] BANGERANG [+]
You well know that the first wto lines drive the mind into the rhythm, coercing it to read futher simply by beat. The next logical step is to personify the people that litter the pages that have you (O, narrator) so fascinated. Now there's the alliteration of your wild-west belle waltzing, zimply enjoyable to hear, you know in your head. Now here's where i gets sort of interesting, where the reader realizes that he's reading an homage to reading, that sort of loopy repetition that we love to see in literature. That simple but all inclusive mirroring of art and life. So already you've nabbed the attention of the readers in the group, simply by being redundant. Of anyone who appreciates redundancy it's us. Each piece, despite how early in the whole it may land, needs a good ending. The introduction was concluded well with the phrase "In alphabetic grace". Now, to be clear, I found the literature while searching for librarian on the dA search engine. Writer looking for the quintessential setting of their love, the books they write. That warm home they hope to one day inhabit, in annonymity, in silent fame, appreciated by the unappreciated few; the ones who go uncounted.
And there, in that unseparated pargraph she lies, the lonesome one who lives between bindings, who loves the stories as they soar over reality. The wormy one, with the tiny glasses and kempt demoeanor that we'd like to say doesn't intimidate us, but for the life of us does. Then you give the personification of a single companion, and it coud swith to kitchy right here, right now, and leave in a unhuman love story. This would be disappointing, when then we are compared to a simple feline, something all of us have been raised to think we can exceed. This elaborative is for another time, I think. Needless to say, coincidentally the cat is a preference of mine, as I;m sure for the majority of writers based on their demeanors. The thing that lies underneath this that creates a pining among the reader is to be prefered, to be the exception. This wouldn't shine through as fully if the surrounding and encapsulating literature wasn't so seamlessly constructed.
Then the twist. No foreshadowing is normally a mentioned expression, meant to stir the interest and thought around a central idea, but instead in today's sarcastic society, rife with cynicism as it is, the mentioning of Twigs being a "lovable sort" twice over emphasizes something might be amis here. When read like it was in my head it sits quite deliciously, like, "Hmm woner how this will be shattered." Down come the books, never actually identifying the crushing sensation, the death, the suffocation or anything. Room left for dissolving beautifully into the pages that saved you once, metaphorically; potentially containing enough magic to save your body as they once saved your mind. That of course is a deep and far off thought, no where written between the lines. There's a feeling of Dostoevsky's famous underground man, lamenting about his superior grief sprouting from his superior consciousness.
Gracelessness repeated as the cause and then rhymed so masterfully with murderous case of graceslessness. Are you kidding me. You know exactly why this is good. It was nice to stroke your ego anyway.
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I can't get lost, I don't know why..
But this certainly takes the cake.
I really do not know what to say...
Thank you.
(and after your comment, this response seems so lame!)
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[+] BANGERANG [+]
I most certainly am far from disappointed. I know this post more than pales in comparison to Shuffling's beautiful analysis, but while some must be critics, others must simply be fans, and I am definitely a new fan.
Thank you for showing me that there is such beautiful written talent DA.
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