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Books are fuel to the imagination.

Works of fiction pour into my mind,
hours at a time.

I feel the power rise,
as I climb through expositions.

Looking down,
I see the world in the palm of my hand.

Looking up,
I see my face amongst the clouds.

On this high I craft my own words,
some spoken and others in ink.

And as I fall,
I ponder the time until my return.
It's all in text
It's on your books
You'll find it there
It's there
It is there
I'm sure of it
All your questions have been answered
Of course, it's there
What are you talking about?
What's your question?
Well, you'll have to find that out on your own
Some of my questions will never be answered
Brumous 2d
I tell the made-up stories of raconteurs
pouring their hearts out on empty paper

I help people learn, love, and laugh;
They dream with others as a source of
happiness, hope n' stuff

'your name' appears in books
that makes people cry

I am somehow a sanctuary of
people with dreams that remain fruitless
They use my name to fantasize about the times
they can never fully feel;

I, y/n.
Y/n is used in books called 'x readers,' y/n is an abbreviation of 'your name';
I wrote this from the perspective of y/n but, it isn't in the pov of the reader.

Y/n can be anyone, honestly.
Raven Feels Apr 19
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, funny how a book can be translated by everyone's Mercury differently--edited;}

on a beauty so mystical on a plastered smile an essence so beam

yet not everlasting not in a bare nor a second tormenting blurt

such stars she begged them Gods for she tormented in a skeptic hurt

she trails her menaces to **** in a drip

of a bordeaux in a wine in a mindless sip

yearning erased letters from people from faces

a charm of a devil monster selfished her feels down her laces

a bound to the intimate

flushed upon the ultimate

of the hate of the ends

an evermore of upcoming pained centuries

moments the gods abide to hide to conceal

from human memory to blank and come across a past life to steal

then to the unconscious to plant on dreams and make souls heal

speechless left

one on the fictional

two on the cure in the weeks my delusional

believed seven constellated freckles pure by the character been held

mooned self-expressionism in sick mind delves I label mine

forever fallen saint on the line

Prince Rin Apr 15
On your bed
you lay on your back
wrapped up in your favorite cover
Your lamp is on
bringing light to your room
Not too dark but not too bright
a book in hand
One you seem to enjoy
You carefully read over most of the words
sometimes going too fast and restarting the page
You may laugh at what they say
Or cry from the loss of a character
maybe even believe you're in the story yourself
With the peace and quiet of the world around you
It's easy to get lost in your book
Page after page
You get eager to know what happens next
not getting tried of the action, adventure, or romance
All of it keeping you on edge
You read until your eyes wake
and the sun begins to rise
not realizing how you lost time
But all is well
it was worth it
in the end
You finish the book
and the story ends
Now you seek out another
just for the adrenaline
of a new world
What will you read next...
Um- Just a little quick type free flow. What kind of books do you read? Leave it in the comments, please
Nicole Apr 12
He was known for a puzzling idée fixe
for literature in an array of topics;
Not a citizen of particular themes.
Given to a pursuit of this literary ENTERPRISE,
he would hermit away and ravenously read,
which left him with a pale VISAGE.
He'd dealt with comments of its PERNICIOUS effects,
putting a BLEMISH on his social standing.
Yet, it didn't DAMPEN his spirit.
He didn't shy from upgrading to a learned man.
A mixture of books granted him entrance to
TRAVERSE an ever transforming road,
for which weather had no dampener on.
He was a SENTRY of his own mind,  
following the ASTRAL bodies in the night sky,
to channel knowledge into dreams.
Wrote this for a poetry contest last year. Had to include the words: dampen, blemish, pernicious, traverse, sentry, visage, astral, enterprise The poem won 3rd place.
mal frost Apr 7
a mad dog
a sly fox
a starving hyena
rabidly consuming the reality around me


"Wine I loved deeply, dice dearly; and, in woman, out-paramoured the Turk: false of heart, light of ear, ****** of hand; hog in sloth; fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, dog in madness, lion in prey." - 3.4.90 King Lear by William Shakespeare
Ellesora Rue Apr 3
He had hair the colour of lemons
Beautiful, bright yellow
Jesus, Mary and Joseph
He'd exclaim
I loved him

Rescuer of books
Jumping into the ice cold water
A kiss, saumensch?
He'd ask
I love him

A limp body
Dusty, cold, broken
Wake up
Denial; a kiss he couldn't feel
I will always love him

My book saved me
But who would read it now?
I wrote this from The Book Thief character Liesel's point of view... sorry haven't posted in a while :(
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