He built his home with ink on paper,
his world was walled with words.
And with myopic eyes he gardened
in the soil of sagging shelves, he sowed
with books a mirrored maze of self.
He lend his voice to others, to poets
of the past, to his guests and patrons.
His home was library.
Decay came slowly to his home.
The library was built before the city glitzed
with neon billboards making reading obsolete.
It was built with pride, before we cobwebbed
with the ignorance of gold and goods.
No wrecking ball was ever used against its walls
but his library is crumbling from the cataract
that almost left him homeless.
But with letters only left as shadows
on its graying walls.
The aged librarian smiles;
he recites a poem that he knows by heart.
and concludes:
“My home has shrunk but still
it’s stronger than its walls.”
Still life with skull, candle and book by Paul Cezanne
I will also link up to poetry pantry tomorrow.
—
March 18 2017
Leave it to an aged librarian to find a “mirrored maze of self” in the shelves. I will miss him so and the shelter he offered us in words …
This is absolutely gorgeous, Bjorn. I love it.
These are my favorite sections:
“with myopic eyes he gardened
in the soil of sagging shelves, he sowed
with books a mirrored maze of self”
“Decay came slowly to his home.”
“No wrecking ball was ever against its walls
but his library is crumbling from the cataract
that almost left him homeless.”
“he recites a poem that he knows by heart”
This is so incredibly sad. Frightening, too.
This is haunting…….I love the closing lines so much.
Always love the stories of this librarian…especially- he sowed with books a mirrored maze of self… that is so chilling.
I look forward to every poem about the aged librarian, Bjorn, and you never let me down!
Superb:
‘He built his home with ink on paper,
his world was walled with words’.
A home is more that bricks and mortar and it is the way you feel about a place. Clearly for him his books were his love and his home. Beautifully done.
“My home has shrunk but still
it’s stronger than its walls.
The voice of strong resolve from an old and inspiring librarian but sadly the same confidence is not echoed by the younger users more concerned with their cell-phones.
Hank
A wonderful occasion for your aged librarian.. I believe libraries were my second home for many years of my youth. I still love a room lined with bookshelves – it feels like home.
Oof. This is gorgeous writing. I always wanted to be a librarian, from the time I was a little girl. But real life didn’t take me in that direction. I can’t imagine the privilege of being around all those books every day, all day. It sounds like heaven.
My goodness this is good! Especially “But with letters only left as shadows on its graying walls. The aged librarian smiles; he recites a poem that he knows by heart. and concludes: “My home has shrunk but still it’s stronger than its walls” is so poignant.
Your aged librarian has a lot of wisdom!
The last and best home–your character just keeps maturing, Bjorn, and his words become more resonant.
I love the conclusion and share your aged librarian’s smile–there is no greater happiness than the one found in knowing that nothing can truly destroy our home, while we still breathe… 🙂
I like the idea of him building a home with ink and paper…but the idea of the eventual decay saddens me.
This reminds of that saying “home is where the heart is” … no matter the size, your home is always cherished. Also a great metaphor for literature… may books and knowledge always be valued and preserved.
I love every inch of this poem 🙂 It has this undercurrent of melancholy and resilience which i love. Completely resonates with me :’) I’m sharing this with everyone!
Ah, the librarian has once again come to share a tale. He is an oracle of words in many ways. I would like to open a page in his book to get a glimpse of his world.
A poem in the heart is strength for eternity!
Beautiful soulful words Björn. I am glad that the aged librarian knows the real strength of his home, that that lies in his heart.
Kind regards
Anna :o]
“Cobwebbed with the ignorance of gold and goods.” Brilliant analogy. I love the old librarian. A screen search of Kindle books is such a pitiful pale comparison to a visit to a bookstore and the scent of vintage books!
“My home has shrunk but it’s still stronger than it’s walls.” Maybe it’s the rest of the world that has got a cataract, with its vision clouded by ‘gold and goods’. The librarian is the only person who still has clarity about what really matters.
You had me at the first line. I love this entire thing ❤
This is so haunting! Death comes slowly for us all in the end.
I love your closing lines.
This is very sad.
A wonderful poem…building a house from words and from the spirit of their keeper…the decay is inevitable perhaps but we are offered hope where the walls remain strong.
“before we cobwebbed
with the ignorance of gold and goods.”
my favourite bit of the poem
thanks for dropping in at my Sunday Standard
much love…
““My home has shrunk but still
it’s stronger than its walls.””
Great line!
Bravo * * * * * Couldn’t stop reading it.
the storyline in your poem is one of meritorious means. excellent in my view!
This is sweet, sensitive, a little sad. Yet I find comfort in the aged librarians last words. Lovely writing Bjorn.
Oh how I love that wise old librarian
‘The Ancient Librarian’ series is really wonderful … brilliant. I would love to see it pulled together (possibly with a bridging refrain or other poetic device) and ultimately recorded. I think it would be sublime to sit back and let the masterfully honed words contained in these pieces, simply roll over one’s mind.
the library at the end of time. if only we read books as a culture, still (here in America) ~
I felt sadness yet, you always make us readers re-think about our lives and life itself.
My favorite line: a mirrored maze of self
The reflections of who we are and the maze in us, a puzzle to solve.
I hope libraries will still exist in the near future and that people would not only depend on the internet. The poem made me think of my past encounters with librarians, Bjorn.
How did we arrive at a place where no one wants to learn, to research, to read anything other than things they can agree with? Your poem is a powerful visual and perhaps hope not every library or librarian will be come skull and neglect.
“His home was library.” His heart was his home, larger than any walled enclosure could be. Wonderful.
“Before we cobwebbed with the ignorance of gold and goods.” – what a perfect description of society. Love this poem, Bjorn.