As part of my Creative Writing minor I had to take a poetry workshop. Man do I suck at poetry! One thing I wrote however I do kinda like, since it makes me giggle and makes the hubby roll his eyes, plus my professor liked it and he was one hell of a hard professor...so here it is...(and remember I am a playwright/fiction author before you judge how bad this is!)
I would love the feel of the spines against my fingertips,
the sensation of pages flipping in my hands,
the smell of the various stores; old books
in a used bookstore, or even the inviting
aroma of Starbucks, a welcoming scent for browsing.
for although the coffee smell still lingers in the air
my eyes cannot comprehend the garish displays
of electronic readers that demand my attention.
But isn’t that the function of my bookcase?
at children’s books or even magazines.
How will my son learn the fine motor skill of turning a page?
they are too creepy, too unnecessary, why read on a computer
after all what would Dickens think, or Emerson say?
Would they want the intimacy of their words glared from a screen?
Now my husband has a Nook, and is trying to convert me.
It will never happen; I have prized books authors have signed
what next? An author can sign a Nook?
not in the true form of a book. And afternoons once spent
browsing a bookstore become a memory
as the stores around me close.