Literary Life

I want the literary life
lost within its pages
that are somewhere
between bookends
and a smoking pipe
and again, I stoke the fire
I warm my feet
on the dog,
she rests beneath me
and my fingers type

I want the literary life
my shelves all lined
with the finest of paper
that holds the best of words
and those who strung them together
their names all etched
in linen,
some in leather

I want the literary life
and all its comforts
to know how to pilfer
those slow
and rainy days
to wring the clouds out
like a wet handkerchief

I want the literary life

Reviews

[bluessadmood]

oh how lovely and no i never use a pipe,ha ha
i dont have shelves ..its all scattered on my floors
and usually i never feel the cold till i am stricken ill
not from cold ,but the fever they give me,the thoughts
my mind could not stand them all..some tell me to head west
some will urge that its to the east we should head
and i lose my faith,i dont know where to turn
the dazzle me and never give a final word
and i think a lot and am left lost,as to where
should i go..and i know ,no one ever knew
they just thought it all but non really knew
all somewhat were lost,but by far they knew the way
they used to tell everything,how grateful am i
i am lost and still could see the way..though hazy
lovely write..

[.]

and what a great life you describe

[NoneOfYourBusiness akaK..]

your metaphors are full of written grace~ beautiful~

[Ed Hart]

this is wonderful...and i'll bet you'll look great smoking a pipe