A poem about a bibliophile seeking comfort in the familiarity of the unknown. See if you can spot all the literary clues to authors embedded inside.
Slipping feet into my favorite slippers,
I make a drink.. Southern Comfort .
Carefully cradling it in my hands,
I pad down the hallway -
My personal corridor to eternity;
Stretching to a doorway to everywhere,
Opening the door I take it in.
Drawing a deep breath,
Olfactory senses assaulted,
Nostrils distended to breathe it all in;
My eyes close for a moment,
Suspended in a luxurious timelessness.
Atmospheric blend of myriad sensations
Caress my skin with a gossamer touch.
Glue, ink, leather, paper;
Crisp, yet comforting.
Step into the cool, dry room;
Enter a galaxy of imagination.
Possibility upon possibility…, endless
Portals to countless universes
Floor to ceiling stacked, shelved.
Slowly my eyes,
Closed in contented contemplation,
My gaze sweeps across the room.
Dim lights highlight favorite destinations;
Drawing my gaze as flame does a moth.
There a portal to Barsoom,
Where in my youth I fought four-armed white apes;
Battled my way across red sands
Side by side with a swordsman supreme
As we made our implacable way
To a woman beyond compare.
Fighting to win the ultimate prize
In a city floating wistfully on a bed of Helium
As back home an apeman swings through trees
On his own trek into a jungle of legend
I espy a wormhole to a galaxy far, far away
Where a fledgling republic fights
A war, long, hard, against an implacable empire
Bent on absolute power;
Determined to rule all regardless.
No thought for the welfare of the people.
Raising my hands like a batter awaiting a pitch,
Pursed lips make a vrooommmm sound
As I take a mighty swing with a saber of light
Subject by subject …
Fact to fiction ..
Real to fantastical.
Anne fixes rice in a blood drenched
Gothic New Orleans as I take a Stand for
Good under the dome with Abigail
Whilst strangers become watchers in midnight lightning.
A child sends his reacher into lone battle against evil;
Hulking yet gentle giant wading into the fray,
Taking on foes he never sought out
Next to where a sand ford washes some flowers
Onto a table placed by a davenport.
Entering this universe of imagination,
Stepping into a plethora of creation
Unequaled in reality.
Ringed lords fly atop fearsome dragons as elves
Shoot literary arrows into my soul.
A dwarf armed with a crossbow
Commits patricide from a hidden cleft.
In a castle perched upon a lonely crag
A maiden leans from the highest window,
Peering forth longingly - hoping to spy her knight
Chivalrous charging to her rescue upon
Black destrier bedecked in shining armor.
Patiently awaiting my attention,
My favorite mistress beckons enticingly.
Sliding toes through plush carpets ,
I approach, slowly, smiling in anticipation;
My body eager to partake of her wanton comforts.
Gifting her a light stroke on one arm
I settle into the embracing luxury
Of my plush, leather armchair -
my body held sweetly. I am cradled
Between the soft arms
Of the mistress who calls me her true lazy boy.
Sighing, I squirm slightly
Finding just the right position
Back fitted into divot waiting for my presence.
My bottom cupped perfectly
As the arms of the woman I love
Entwine around my body.
Together, blissfully swaying in slow dance,
We glide to music of the universal soul.
Reaching to the table near at hand,
I set out on a trail to explore the vast unknown.
Settling back in the comfort of my own library,
My mind wanders once more
To the marsh and beyond
Where the Crawdads Sing.
About the author
Andrew McDonald is a 30 year 911 dispatcher in Florida. He resides with his wife of 35+ years. Upon earning his B.S. in Applied Mathematics at Florida Institute of Technology, Mr. McDonald served as an officer in the U.S. Army 1985 to 1992.
Very well written. Keep up the good work!
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