The bookshop

Walking on squeaky floorboards

Occupying space

Previously walked

At a nurtured pace.

 

How much time

Have people taken

To scan the walls

And see the books?

 

The smell of written beauty

In a time of pixels

Smell the pages

Of history.

 

Looking through

Piles of literary minds

Looking for that goldmine.

That transports and enthrals. 

 

That feels like substance

And shouts reality.

The holy pages

Carefully turned.

 

Where are these 

emporiums going?

These holy places

Of the word.

 

Taken to screens

That scream loss.

And leave textureless

Tiredness on broken eyes.

◄ Absurd

Tears ►

Comments

Profile image

Martin Elder

Sun 24th Mar 2019 14:42

I have to say I am with David in this. I have collection of books spilling out all over the place and love bookshops and libraries.
A great poem Phil. I can't help that the natural rhythm of this piece lends it self well to being the lyrics of a song.
Nice one

Profile image

Wolfgar Miere

Sun 24th Mar 2019 07:09

Good morning Phil,

I never know quite how to respond when people rail against technology (I confess I have done it myself on occasion) I am an avid reader and collector of bound books, I love bookshops, may they never disappear.

I am conscious of the fact that historically many viewed the printing press as a great evil, consequently people were persecuted and presses were smashed. I see the damage advancement appears to do, but I think there has to be balance as all things change.

I do agree that the loss of books and bookshops would be a terrible thing, I don't think it will happen entirely.

All the best,

David.

Profile image

Frances Macaulay Forde

Sun 24th Mar 2019 02:25

From one book-holding lover to another, thanks.

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message