The Blank and Future BookA Poem by David Lewis PagetI’d always thought that books were the same, There wasn’t a lot to choose, They each seep slowly into your brain With knowledge you can’t refuse, But then a book I found on a shelf All dirty and dark and dank, I’d read so far, then turning the page I’d find every page was blank. The print will stay till I drop my eyes And the book slips from my grasp, Then every page that’s ahead is blank As the book escapes my clasp. The villain smirks as I lose the plot And he changes what’s to be, He struggles up from the printed page In an effort to be free. I read the book on a cliff top verge Looking down along the coast, The day was calm like a soothing balm And I felt as warm as toast, My eyelids, heavy as lead dropped down Preparatory to sleep, When someone scaling the cliff ahead Called out, began to weep. ‘God help me, sir, or I’ll fall below, On that pile of jagged rocks, Reach out for me and don’t let me go, You don’t look the type that mocks.’ I noticed then that I’d dropped the book In a pool of mud, and rank, It fell agape with a broken back The following pages blank. ‘I have to ask how your tale will end, It’s unfinished in the book, Your villainous deeds go on, and then Disappear each time I look.’ ‘It ends any way you want it to, It’s the tale without an end, For you are the villain in the book You can do what you intend.’ I stood up straight and I kicked on out At the figure on the cliff, And he fell back with a scream, a shout To the rocks along the reef, I turned to pick up the broken book Wiped the pages free from mud, There wasn’t a single page left blank Each page was stained with blood. David Lewis Paget
© 2015 David Lewis PagetFeatured Review
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