The aged librarian collects ideals:
he’s saving fragments, bulbs and seeds
of scribbled shorthand, notes and antidotes.
He shuffles words and stanzas
tries to set them juxtaposed against his memory of youth:
the boisterous marketplace before he closed the doors;
the recollections of the lips he never dared to kiss,
her breasts, her hair and music that he failed to play.
He’s lacking soil and sun of conversations,
Stiff from loneliness and books his life is hushed,
it’s slow and collected possibilities have withered in a corner.
Ideas gather dust and resolutions rust
as the aged librarian is waiting for a crust of metaphors
to grow, connect his dreams.
The aged librarian closes his eyes, sighs.
“Untitled” (A Corner Of Baci) by Felix Gonzalez-Torres – Fair use principles
Kerry Inspires us at toads with the art-work of Felix Gonzales-Torres and the way he titled his works, she wants us to let us take our cue from “issues of identity, desire, originality, loss, the metaphor of journey”, and I continue to write on the theme of my aged librarian.
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December 22, 2016
I like getting another peek at your aged librarian, where the scale of the view seems much more intimate and personal.
I can see his life and his body stiffening in age. I especially like your closing lines, where he “is waiting for a crust of metaphors to grow, connect his dreams.”
A perfect addition to your life of the aged librarian. I feel such a kinship with him, since my whole life has revolved around books in one way or another, reading, studying, teaching… such a huge pile of printed paper, when all is said and done.
He’s lacking soil and sun of conversations..
This rings like a warning heard too late.
Bjorn the resolution of this image may be a bit too big for the confines of the RT blog roll. It appears beyond the margin and is obscuring the links.
I have removed the image.. but it still obscures… I have no idea why.
I’m sorry about that, Bjorn. It’s a glitch that occurs sometimes. I don’t want you to have to change your blog to suit ours.
That was beautiful to read!
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
Absolutely splendid … clever and an enjoyable read!
He’s lacking soil and sun of conversations,
Stiff from loneliness and books his life is hushed
This is so poignant! A masterful write, Bjorn 🙂
I’ve become fond of your aged librarian, Björn. he reminds me a little of Lord Sepulchrave and his beloved library in Mervyn Peake’s Titus Groan.
I love the lines:
‘He shuffles words and stanzas
tries to set them juxtaposed against his memory of youth’
and
‘He’s lacking soil and sun of conversations,
Stiff from loneliness and books his life is hushed,
it’s slow and collected possibilities have withered in a corner’.
I’m enamored of your Aged Librarian, whose career in every sense of the word still allows him to pigeon hole issues
“he’s saving fragments, bulbs and seeds
of scribbled shorthand, notes and antidotes.
He shuffles words and stanzas”
much lobe…
I love this typo. Maybe it’s more meaningful to offer “much lobe” (an ear, our willingness to listen) than it is to offer “much love” (feelings that are often too shallow or selfish).
sun of conversations. love that phrase
I find posing our questions before our youths to be a powerful concept. Perhaps, the views and answers will not be right, but it will be something we lost forever: innocent.
This is incredible. All of it, but I extra-like the opening sentence, and the part about the girl he lost because he wouldn’t touch her. Oh, and that fantastic sentence that begins with “Stiff …”
This is great! Love the “resolutions rust”.
Ah! This is such a good read. How you weave a poem through a librarian’s life, with all its metaphors and juxtapositions, is charming. It speaks of a life lived in obscurity. Yes, books are wonderful and they take us to places but may be we forget the real life and it is too late when we realize all the things we have lost. It’s saddening. Where’s the barrier and where’s the fine line to maintain all the aspects of life? That’s the question and the answer.
Beautifully penned, Bjorn. It’s always a pleasure to read your written word.
-HA
I recognize this figure — he’s in all of us, or is all our drafts crumpled and tossed into that corner.
“waiting for a crust of metaphors to grow”…… so good