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Stephen Moore Jul 2019
Nursing cracked paper backs and dusty reference works,
Softly uttered beauty,
Topped by brown bun glows in alabaster skin,
She whispers,
Quiet please.

Words slip through fingers,
In constrained eroticism,
A country woman in tweed.

Her passing stamp,
Over a pristine white sheet,

Reading her unspoken words,
A chapter opens,
I succumb to her prose,
I suppose.
A restrained sensuality is somehow more intoxicating than something more brash. Someone who’s life is order and system, I imagine, contains the makings of collapse into blissful release.
Stella Jun 2019
I don’t have work
I don’t have school
I have no books to check in or out
Yet still,
you get to sit around
Look at me,
my swollen black circles
under my lifeless eyes

I’m so tired
I see the shy little nerd stacking books again

She’s my kryptonite now
Who knew leather books could be so comfy to lay one’s head?
It’s not cool being awake for over 24 hours driving through the day with coffee. You feel jaded but not in a good way
brianna of space May 2017
You are an enigma -
Kind, generous, selfless,
But still a mystery I want to solve.
I scan your penned notes in the books I borrow -
You have literally given me your thoughts in the pages.
I add my own,
As if my penciled remarks could connect me to you,
But it isn’t enough.
There is still something about you I don’t know,
Something about you I don’t know but I think I can find,
I think I can find through this, searching.
The solution to every worldly problem
Can be found in a book -
Because asking is for the weak,
Discovery, for the stubborn.
My favorite note of hers so far is "narrative as a coping mechanism in a chaotic world," which seems appropriate.
Lily Jul 2015
When I grow up I want to be a librarian.
Okay, this is kinda my diary now lol. But yeah, one of my biggest dreams is to be a librarian :D
Cheyenne May 2015
There was once a stingy, little toad
with fire upon its head,
a shrilly voice of ignorance
that left annoyance in its stead.

The rules it made were silly
and gave good reason to rebel.
It wouldn't let the others speak.
Why? No one could tell.

Its disconnect was obvious
when treating toads like flies.
And all pretended to do what told
until it turned its eyes.

It sits upon its lily pad
as if better than the rest--
unaware that the other toads
are, frankly, sick to death.
Victoria Johnson Jul 2014
Here am I,
Lurking, waiting for you,
I see your face,
In every dream,
I almost love you,
Or so it seems.

I see you walk in,
And I take my chance,
I take you away,
So that we may dance,
I draw you in,
Among the stacks,
Take you so far,
that you won't come back.

With my temptress words,
I draw you in,
Because what I want,
Is lips on skin.
Slowly, sweetly,
You read me like a book,
And if you don't stop,
You'll be hooked.

— The End —