It is better not to think
of what to think
about (for my own stout health,
I should forget the shelf).
*
Yet, there it is, all in white,
up past the wall with its lamp-bright
halo (made yellow by stealth
just above the shelf).
*
The body of it leaned, something barely
perceived, yet it is clearly
bent (all that spent wealth
on a dodgy shelf).
*
And next to the lamp, table and coat stand,
the smaller one, an also-ran
stacked and brown (unpacked it myself;
a final overburdened shelf).
*
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About the Creator
Kendall Defoe
Teacher, reader, writer, dreamer... I am a college instructor who cannot stop letting his thoughts end up on the page.
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A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
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Comments (7)
I love this! Beautiful flow and very evocative!
One can always use another shelf. If not for shelves, where would we put our elves?
Books are steadfast forever friends :) Loved this one!
Your ode reminds me of William Carlos Williams' poem that focuses on a wheelbarrow. Something so seemingly ordinary yet unforgettable can easily make you think about deeper aspects of life.
Lovely message, books are our friends.
great entry
This is lovely. Much respect to book hoarders.