He talks with the shelves, as if
their shadows would brighten
to gold; he mumbles in meter,
enchantments, entrapping, from
ink, the ghosts from its tomes,
scholars deceased, the poets
of unwritten verse, the muses
confusing his hands His rambles
are veiled with substances lost
to gluttonous dreams of springtime
delusions born to the hoarfrost
of April. He whispers the songs,
the lullabled ache of mothers
to sons lost in stories of trees.
He whimpers adieu to spectres
of pulp, bleeding the letters of
names he has found; he doodles
in dust what remains to be lost.
Today Sanaa inspires us to write in the style of poet Maggie Smith at dVerse. I am not sure that I did it right, but whenever I cannot find inspiration I go to the library and talk the aged librarian, and this is what he suggested with a blankverse arranged in couplets.
April 16, 2024
Björn Rudbergs writings 
What is lost to us is not lost to him — Magnificent poem, Björn, and the aged librarian’s inspiration has struck every poetic chord just right!
Thank you… he always whisper to me when inspiration is lacking
This is gorgeously rendered, Bjorn! I especially love this part; “His rambles are veiled with substances lost to gluttonous dreams of springtime delusions born to the hoarfrost of April.”
Thank you so much for writing to the prompt 🩷🩷
I did enjoy the prompt…
I love reading this series Bjorn. Specially, admire the mumblings in meter and enchantments and this part too:
He whispers the songs,
the lullabled ache of mothers
to sons lost in stories of trees.
I had fun writing this one, and the style suited me.
I’m going to bore you by saying again and again how much I enjoy your librarian poems, Björn, and this one is great. I love the way the aged librarian converses with shelves – they are old friends by now and I wouldn’t be surprised if they talk back. I particularly love the lines:
‘enchantments, entrapping, from
ink, the ghosts from its tome’
and
‘He whimpers adieu to spectres
of pulp, bleeding the letters of
names he has found; he doodles
in dust what remains to be lost.’
Thank you so much, the library is a very strange place, and I think that I am starting to feel like an arkeologist looking at the traces left.
The way things are going in the UK, we’ll be lucky to have libraries in ten years time. I’m glad I have my own library.
Great ending. I could see his finger in the dust.
Dust is his canvas
An imagistic delight, Bjorn!
Thank you. so much… I could see the library before me.
Another wise wordsmithing from the aged librarian! I think we all are doodling in dust… just wondering if you meant “lullabied” ache of mothers??
Thank you, I actually meant lullabled as a wordplay…
I love that you recited “everything” the old Librarian shared with you!! Perfect .. the Art too.
The art is not my doing, but the librarian is my goto…
That poem is some good. This library is a treasure trove.
It is… libraries are the bulwarks
Very interesting. I could hear him mumbling to his books and words.
He is one of those weird characters.
… but very fascinating.
This is a wonderfully written poem Bjorn
Thank you so much
🙏🏼🙏🏼🙏🏼
Yes indeed – love your Librarian poems Björn -“scholars deceased, the poets ”
of unwritten verse”…
Thank you… he is a great muse to include in my conversations.
Interesting, a fun one to read. I like your lines with the ghost and the “the poets of unwritten verse” as a favorite. Hard to choose, all done really well.
..
Thank you Jim… the library is a strange place
I feel a sense of magic in this, lovely to read…I love the last lines…
He whimpers adieu to spectres
of pulp, bleeding the letters of
names he has found; he doodles
in dust what remains to be lost.
I think the library is a magic place, and the librarian its magician.
I liked the use of alliteration in your poem, Bjorn. 🙂
I include alliteration wherever I can.
Hi Bjorn, I think this poem is fascinating. I love libraries and always visit them when I go abroad. South African libraries are few and far between, sadly.
The library and my librarian is an ongoing theme in my poetry (and may be a book one day), very much inspired by Jorge Luis Borges…
Wonderful, Bjorn.
Beautifully written! 😊