I long for hardback books
And sequestered nooks
In traditional pubs with open fires.
My desires
Are simple and yet
I get
Paperbacks that fall apart
And drinking dens that lack a heart.
I Long For Hardback Books
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Tag Archives: tradition
There Is A Kind Of Conservatism
There is a kind of conservatism that has little or nought to do
With politics, but which runs through
Many a man, who will say
“I like it this way
For it has always been so.
I know
That the horizon seems bright,
But there is pleasure in the scent of these roses
Here and now in this night garden.
Other posies
May brighten some dreamed of day
But here I would stay
Surrounded by these well trodden garden paths
And the laughter of friends
Who are ends in themselves.
Such a man weeps to see
The ancient tree
Cut down, for it is more than a mere tree,
It is he.
Such a one is often inarticulate.
Of an evening late
When others speak of utopia he gazes at the starry sky
And wonders why
These others are not content
With god’s great tent.
Else he takes refuge in books, for the sheer pleasure he derives
From reading, and derides
Those who pour over dreary
Theory and take pride in attacking every institution.
He is inclined to defend the constitution
And although charitable is sceptical of wholesale redistribution.
You will find such a man in every walk
Of life and when you talk
With him he may say
“I am not in the conservative way”
As he strokes the cat, purring by an open fire,
Fulfilling his only desire
Posting A Letter
Posting a letter yesterday,
On my way
To the pub,
I pondered on this red survivor of a vanishing age.
People flip the page
On devices unknown
In my youth.
Wrapped up in their phone
Do they ponder on the age-old truth
That all fades away, as the vehicles that wiz so fast
By this survivor from the past?
I remember a time when the postman brought more than junk mail.
Now when the email fails
We are all at sea,,
While the luddite in me
Yearns for letters and the feel
Of something real.
Flame
Thought
Caught
In the flames of this fire,
Fanning my desire
For a past when the publican laid logs
In fireplaces
And drinker’s faces
Gathered around the blaze as their dogs
Lazed beside the eternal flame.
It is not the same
Since the pub changed hands. The beer
Remains unchanged, yet I fear
The flame does not burn as bright
Of a winter’s night
And the grate is too often cold.
Shorn
Does the grandfather clock’s pendulum
Still, with measured swing
A sense of order bring
To that country place
Where a mantion’s stately grace,
Brought peace,
For a while at least.
I would resile
This urban life
Of strife,
And solace take
In the birds who awake
At morn.
We are from tradition torn,
And shorn
Of a sense of the past
Wander in a vast
Whirlpool
Where the sleepless screen does rule
And institutions are thrown away
For they belong to yesterday.
New Year’s Eve
Cold hands.
Man stands
Gazing into the abyss
Of bliss.
The rain drums.
2016 comes
Ever near.
The new year.
Think?
Lost in drink.
The link
Is broken
The door no longer open
To admit the old.
The young and bold
Hold
The future, or so they say
And the old year ebbs away.
In Praise of the Traditional Book
Does it matter what form a book appears in? Both my books – The First Time and Samantha – are available in ebook format only (it was the easiest way of publishing and the cheapest).
As a reader I value the accessibility of ebooks. Being blind I can read electronic books using the text to speech facility on my Kindle or Voiceover on my Ipad. I am, however unable to read hard copy print books as my poor eyesight renders doing so impossible.
Having said all that I would like, in the longer term to collect my stories together (in real rather than virtual covers) and have them appear on actual bookshelves. There is something magical about handling a paperback or hardback book. Literature somehow appears more real preserved between covers than is the case when it flashes up on screen or is read aloud using voiceover or text to speech.
Print books can (and do) last for centuries and I guess that many owners of e-readers would feel long lasting pangs if their print books disappeared in a puff of smoke while the loss of e-readers would cause less profound turmoil.
Perhaps I am showing signs of my age (I’m 44 years young)! But, in my view print (and braille) books possess a value which their younger relative (the e-book) lacks. One can not sit in a room surrounded by e-books nor can one obtain pleasure from the texture of electronic publications. Long live the book in all it’s forms but god preserve us from a world in which only e-books exist.
Bookshelves
There is something reassuringly familiar about the presence of much loved books ranged around the room on book shelves. The scent of bees wax perfumes the atmosphere as you sit comfortably ensconced in an armchair. No noise can be heard other than the ticking of a grandfather clock and the periodic sound of pages turning.
On looking at the books displayed on my bookshelves within my KDP Select dashboard I was struck by the somewhat quaint and to me rather lovely reference to bookshelves which conjured up the above vision of a traditional library or perhaps a single bookcase displaying much cherished books. It is good to know that in this age of technology familiar references remain. Everything changes but, somehow remains the same. Oh gosh I am turning into an old fuddy duddy!
K Morris - Poet 