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Raja Abdul Basit Apr 2020
Can't you feel it
It is in the aura
The panic and dubiety
Everything is shutting down
Our schools , malls and what not !
For it is corona
A blazing flame
Engulfing everything
And everyone in its way
The world calling for SPACING
That spacing which is vain
For the people of our motherland
When it comes to show up
The funeral of a warrior
With ultra attendants
Jolting with eachother
And approaching the dais
To have the glimpse
Of the warrior
For whom , the fear is unknown
He is not scared of death !
Crested helmet , drawn sword
" For the motherland "
MARS Apr 2020
I strolled through
A library. T’was as abandoned
In the hands of time
As the proverbial Ozymandias.

It guarded a wealth of knowledge
Under each leather wrapped parchment
Like a pearl inside an oyster, just
Not under Adam’s ale.

One of them, as abandoned as the former
Stared at me, sitting in a
Coze on the floor.
‘Mommy!’ it cried

In such a desperate and helpless manner.
Instantaneously bonded I with it.
It was one akin to a mother and her child
Fragile, yet quite unbreakable.

All this in a book.
Words I have not to say
About that fervid day
And how etched it is.
This poem shares an intimate bond between MARS and a book. MARS adopts the abandoned, lonely and weeping book as if it were the MARS's own child.  A mix of archaic English and complex words let the reader bond with the poem as the MARS did with the book.
Bhill Mar 2020
misunderstanding direction is a global misconception
why is this such a mortal peculiarity
who put it in the catalog of life
did we all have the same library card

Brian Hill - 2020 # 73
Don't be mislead by your misunderstanding...
Dream Fisher Feb 2020
It started in the fiction section
Beginning with a trickle causing lights to flicker
From the floors below hitting the dictionaries,
The thesauruses became wet or rather dank
Those are synonyms I think
Unfortunately, no books to now know
As a storm in the library began to grow.

Children abandoned in their places,
Started tying books with their shoe laces
Setting sail, trying to hold their head up for a bit.
As a white whale's tail caused waves in a flick.
One parent yelled "everyone for themself!"
As his son coughed water asking for help
Books floating, amongst dirt and crude,
The third floor was beginning to flood.

The nonfiction was now non-existent,
Drifting past CDs that no one had listened.
Computers with a floppy drive were fried,
Electrically hissing through historical fiction.
The water came to hit the roof, the sky
Just then the walls crumbled
And I opened my eyes
To see I'd fallen asleep among the graphic novels
Where I had been known to hide.
Liz Feb 2020
I am a library book
Borrowed and temporary
But loved and kept safely
Only to be returned the next day
When another book replaces me

I am your pair of shoes
I follow you and support you no matter what
But once you see a hole you deem me worthless
You think I don't feel bruises
But you throw me away
To love another pair more

I am your best friend
I'll be with you till the end
But that's come and gone
When you met the love of your life and moved on
Don't get me wrong, I'll always be your friend
I'm happy for you and I should be
But I can't help but think
"What about me?"
1/29/2020
Kewayne Wadley Jan 2020
Late at night
When there's no place to go.
Sometimes I visit the library of your smile.
But not for one particular reason or another.
Sometimes I go because it's so well lit.
Engaging in the silence of a smile.
Sometimes when it's late
I am most comfortable there.
The urge of going somewhere yet everywhere
Between the bookcase of your lips.
Following the ridges & creases that most people
walk by without second glance.
Sometimes there just isn't enough time in the day,
Following the adventures and misadventures
of earth tone browns
Reference guides & resources.
To volunteer to such precious things
Late at night when I have no where to go
I visit the library of your smile.
But not because I have no where to go
There is no place like you around.
All in proper regard to the staff
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2019
Our love was like a library
Everything inside us was used
And outdated
We were constantly shutting
Each other up
And when we finally did talk
We discovered ourselves
Long checked out
Jeff Lewis Sep 2019
Nine muses attend the burning
of creation. Sing they.
Songs of sadness. Flames
fill the night.
Smoke carries the knowledge of Ptolemy across the sky.
Fire
from Caesar’s burning fleet*
ignites the home of Euclid and Heron.

Words that knew the world reduced to embers.
*one of several explanations for the cause
  of the fire.
Amanda Francis Sep 2019
You are a mystery. A riddle without an answer.
A tounge twister I can't wrap my sense around.
I would never find the answers in between your lines.

If you were a library I could never read everybook.
Not even if I could live forever.
Not even if your library would let me in.

And yet, on the cold ground I wait. My body caves in on itself, shrinking under the shadow casts by your walls.

Your fortress. Your empire. Your kingdom.

You are everything that I love and yet I am exiled.

Your name would hang above the doors in gold, glittering like the ice crystals freezing my shattered heart together.

But here I wait. And here I'd still wait.
Even after I'd gone blind, or forgotten how to read.
Because if your library ever let me in, there is no sweeter smell than old books.
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