He always thought that
bridges
could be built as essays (unabridged).
That if he listened — after-
wards he’d be allowed to speak his mind.
“It’s like crossing ridges —
once you reach the highest point it’s downhill
to the valley below”
But timeslots slips; the aged librarian
waits,
and builds his thesis,
breath by breath,
strong with reason — walled with words
and punctuated,
it’s perfected
juxtaposed to synthesis;
“My mouth is filled with pebbles”.
He believes that chasms of treason
can be closed
if just once
he’d be allowed to speak his mind.
He lights a candle. Sighs.
Cause bridges crumble and his pens run dry.
That’s why
the aged librarian just makes sense in
poetry.
Bridges can be scary
Today Lillian prompts us to write poetry on bridges at dVerse. My choice was to continue a series on the aged librarian and taking a more metaphoric approach on the bridge. But the prompt is open to all kind of bridges. Join us at 9 PM CET when pub opens.
January 10, 2017
I’m loving your aged librarian series!
This is unbelievable, Bjorn. Incredible work.
love that idea of “unabridged bridges”…for when they are abridged, there’s usually a nasty drop on one end or the other…
Well you have me wondering now. I’m not familiar with our aged librarian series but it is now a must read. Can you direct me?
Love your reply to this bridges prompt….I suspect we will have many diverse responses.Looking forward to the reading later on today.
Silly me….just saw the header in your blog: Aged Librarian. Shall begin to meander there in a bit! 🙂
It’s something I have been writing to some other prompts up till now… Have actually thought about making it into a book.
Björn this is definitely one of my favorite poems by you. I read the first stanza and thought I have to quote it below because I love it, then I read the second and so on and pretty soon I realized I would be quoting the whole poem. This is a work of genius!
I have an ongoing project of writing about this persona of an aged librarian…
I must check that out!
Beautifully penned Bjorn ~ I can see the aged librarian hunched over his pen, writing poetry (walled with words) ~
Perhaps, allegorically, we are all aging librarians, doing our research, then eager to communicate what we’ve discovered and learned–and yes, only in poetry do most of us find a voice & an audience, I like the line /cause bridges crumble & his pens run dry/.
Wow, my comment disappeared. So, I’ll try again (I hate it when that happens). Perhaps, allegorically we all are aging librarians, quietly doing ur research & cogitating, then excitedly wanting to share what we’ve discovered and learned–and yes, mostly through poetry we find our voice & audience.
Deja Vu–is that an echo; smile.
Ha… something weird must have happened there Glenn.
Excellent opening stanza … bridges crumble, pens run dry but at the end there’s still poetry. So true. As Bukowski said: Poetry is what happens when nothing else can’ … must check out your librarian. Sounds intriguing
“strong with reason — walled with words” ~ this is true to most of us. Can’t help but think that there’s an aged librarian in each of us. Well penned, Bjorn.
I love this, Bjorn, especially:
“builds his thesis,
breath by breath”
I have often thought that I love poetry because it is short term commitments. 😉
Excellent addition to the aged librarian series, Bjorn 😀 especially awed by these lines; “It’s like crossing ridges — once you reach the highest point it’s downhill to the valley below” Beautifully executed.
This resonated with me, Bjorn. I can relate to the aged librarian…mouth full of pebbles at times but finding words through poetry!
Incredible work of poetic feel. The addition to the aged librarian serious is remarkably amazing and beautiful. 🙂
Such a fascinating piece. I can tell you know the aged librarian well. You are such a versatile writer.
Excellent writing and this, ‘my mouth is filled with pebbles’, is stunning.
Ha, thought about Demosthenes…
you painted a vivid image. love the metaphorical approach. 🙂
Splendid, particularly “walled with words and punctuated,”. There’s so much to love in this poem.
I really want to gift him a fountain pen. Re-fillable. Poetry sometimes must not only be read, but also one must be poetry, exist as poetry.
I am really enjoying your aged librarian.