The Book Museum

One of two poems about my love of libraries.. written in a library.. This one is better than the other, but that doesn’t mean the other one is bad..

I visited the Museum today
Many exhibits on display
Shelf upon shelf of history
Maps and romance and mystery

Long ago it is said the Museum was called
Something much different, of that I’m appaled
But in the way that I was when I’d heard
The Museum’s pieces are books filled with words

I had no idea that words could be pronted
No part of my learning let that fact be hinted
That a person might learn from the words in a book
A book he might borrow, to her home it was took

I have these devices that speak words to me
They show me in pictures, explain what I see
Information is beamed direct to my mind
There’s no information my computer can’t find

Alas, I have looked, and it can’t find a book
There are no words to read anywhere that I look
And I find it quite odd that there’d be such a place
Filled with books, their words set in typeface

And the more that I think and I ponder about
The Museum filled with books, I harbour some doubt
That anyone sane might have wasted her time
Reading book after book, line upon line

So I put it from mind as I leave the museum
Written language is dead, this is a mausoleum
Monument to a time with ideas contrary
For who could be mad enough to visit a library?

Reviews

[angel]

I love books. I have a large collection, boxed up in a corner of the house.
The power grid could fail one day, and what would we do?
Go back to the technology of time gone by, where the pursuit of knowledge centers around the printed word.
The feel of a book in the hand, the smell of the paper and ink...I will always love those things, and that makes me happy to be older...having that appreciation of the printed word...

A very nice poem, however. Shame that it won't be immortalized...in a book.