Smashing through my roof,
soaring through the clouds,
zooming through space
at the speed of light;
my reading pile grows exponentially.
Balancing precariously beside by bed,
a tower of teetering, twisted titles
fuelled by my nocturnal dreams,
it’s a marvel of modern engineering.
The weight of ambition
far too great,
cascade all over the floor.
from the writers’ glass,
but always overflowing.
Words to spare.
Trapped in a pressure cooker
somewhere in between
my nightmares and my dreams,
an alarm clock and a ringing phone;
my reading pile grows
higher and higher
like marauding weeds.
A mighty monument
dedicated to Summers past
when I had time.
I’m still waiting for the holidays,
which seemingly never come
I am no longer my own.
Yet, I haven’t forgotten
how to dream.
Book by book.
after the fall.
Because my love
has never died.
like an indefatigable knight,
I will charge on!
Rowena Newton 3rd January, 2016.
This poem needs no explanation, except to say that it’s very exceptional for me to share a poem straight away with anyone aside from my usual reader-in-residence, the long-suffering Geoff.
However, writing is communication and wasn’t intended to be something locked away but to be shared…especially with those who share your folly.
I’m sure many of you also have book towers built up beside your bed. which were, of course, constructed with the best of intentions.
I have so many unread books and yet, I keep buying more and blogging is only making it worse. I have ordered one book online over the Summer break and am about to head off to the local bookshop for another. They are:
Dr Wayne Dyer: What Do You Really Want for Your Children?
Ted Hughes: Grief is the Thing with Feathers.
I seem to remember posting not so long ago about bad habits: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L80XYgxjIw8
Meanwhile, as I add to the pile, I am also intending to subtract. If I lived to be a thousand, I still don’t think I could get through all the books I haven’t read in this house.
And yet, I will not give up trying!