“Fairly small, up on a pole, books inside, and saying, ‘Take A Book – Leave A Book’…”—that’s a quote from a post I did about Little Free Libraries.

Image Courtesy of Adem KAYA ~ http://www.freeimages.com/photographer/ademkaya-48217

While they can be almost anywhere, I haven’t yet heard of one in a taxi…

And, from an older post called All About Libraries, there’s this word history for “Library”:

place for books, late 14c., from Anglo-French librarie, Old French librairie “collection of books” (14c.), noun use of adj. librarius “concerning books,” from Latin librarium “chest for books,” from liber (genitive libri) “book, paper, parchment,” originally “the inner bark of trees,” probably a derivative of PIE root *leub(h)- “to strip, to peel” (see “leaf”). The equivalent word in most Romance languages now means “bookseller’s shop.” Old English had bochord, literally “book hoard.”

So, a “place for books”, a “collection of books”, and “book…

I thought it would be interesting to share a view of the bookcase in my bedroom. The books in question are all in braille. I have four book cases in total; the one in the bedroom, another in my living room and two in my study/spare room.

K Morris reading an anonymous poem entitled ‘The Bridal Morn’

A selection of books from my bookcase

My bookcase

K Morris reading an anonymous poem entitled ‘The Bridal Morn’

http://www.theguardian.com/books/2012/oct/08/poem-of-the-week-bridal-morn

An article from The Guardian about the poem ‘The Bridal Morn’

Poet: “Why do you dig a hole my good man?”
Workman: “Because I can,
While those who are not able
Sit at a table,
Wasting time
Trying to make their verses rhyme”!

Poet: “I have a plan
To make my lines scan.
Kindly move your van
And I will be on my way
To versify the livelong day”.

“Workman: Why bless my soul
This poet droll
So intent was he on his goal
Of writing verse,
That the man’s fallen into that there hole,
To be a rhymer is most perverse”!

Free verse is all about exploration.  Through it we explore our world as it is and all those possible worlds that might exist in other realities.  Not all such thought journeys are in sweetness and light, some delve into very dark corners.  The person, subject of the exercise below, inhabits one of those dark corners.  Many families, perhaps your own, has a member who might resemble this person.

She sits alone
On a straight-backed chair
In a darkened room

Occasionally she will glance
Toward the rain-streaked window
At a grey landscape beyond.

Children play, neighbors commune,
On the other side of the glass
Under sunlit skies of blue.

She wears a dark shawl made of memories,
Each selected with great care,
Sewn to the hem by ancient gnarled hands

A box at her feet
Contains her entire life,
A collection of every event.

She takes out a memory.
It brightens…

Diamond black

Rain shines

On shadowed rock.

Moonlight sings

Above the lake

And dreams play

Languidly

In the mist.

We swim together

And the goddess watches.