There’s no better friend than a book
Books are loyal, books are honest
Libraries are passe now; memories hang by a hook
Books never betray, unlike a lover dearest
Never judge a book by its cover or its look
Like a lifelong friend, it’d look away from its closet.
Habit of reading grows like a sapling
Water it every day wait n’ watch
The first book, most often, is that of discipline
Books enter our souls, childhood memories of hopscotch
Besides being tomes, they tell us what’s happening
Around the world, in the crevice of fiction n’ its notch.
Words transport us to a realm
That of dreams, of make-believe;
Unlike cinema, they bring inner calm
Here, we empathize, we weep and heave
It’s heavenly to hold the pages within the palm
Let the emotions within, percolate as tho’ by a sieve.
I went to libraries throughout my student years,
They’re the best places for reading
Even if the pages of books are full of smears,
One never knew the classes from which I was absconding
Classes, where students sit with all ears
Listening to lectures – well taught and healing.
I sport a pair of spectacles now
But reading and its habit have persevered;
It’s good to have technical know-how
Being a literature student, I thought these weird
I read on, disregarding my pet’s miaows
Even though all and everyone looked and sneered.
Books are a human’s best friend
Never, ever, lose sight of them
Even though Kindles are the latest trend
Paperbacks are best bedmates; Amen!
Love for reading is abstract – nothing to apprehend
Every house must have a reading nook around the bend.
One knows the importance of reading late in life,
So long one’s life remains busy – undercuts of the knife
Once we hold a book, we forget all past strife;
We tend to be immersed: forgetting the calls of the fife
A book’s, by far, a better companion on a drive
The pages maketh a man, forget the nearness of his wife!!
A reader, who loves to read, isn’t a bibliophile
There is an ocean of difference
The latter can swap places rather happily,
A reader of books, refrains from a conference
It’s easy to be didactic, to preach a homily
Books, rather than a Tab, are best for reference.
Love of reading and reading of love
Transport us all to Heaven above
We shirk all duties and shove
The clock and its hour hand up to the alcove
Nowadays, bookshops have turned into cultural hubs
A nook or corner for reading, has evaporated like a dove.
Taking up a book to read, lets the mind wander
I lose myself in the world of dreams
I feel I’ve escaped the reality of pain, existing yonder
But the world of books is stranger than it seems;
How I wish the Truth had been kinder!
Fiction is a ray of Hope, like moon beams.
I, sometimes, wonder why libraries have gone extinct.
Is it because now, we tend to collect rather than give?
Before, we gulped and had books drink-ed
We let every page enter our souls, drip by drip
The librarian often turned a stern eye, but we hoodwinked
It’s heavenly to hold a volume within our grip.
Memories frozen in time, that’s what books have become
Hold on to them, before you lose sight of some
Chew them the words as you’d do with a bubblegum
You’re lucky if you survive the race you The Enlightened One;
Read books are unread, flip them like a photo album
They were given to you in the past by your lovely Mum!!
Now I read books as if there’s no tomorrow
I try to keep a page open at all times
I’ve known they’re the best succor for one’s sorrow
I bought books from old shops for dimes;
Often these were bartered, loaded upon a barrow
I read them at all times, times allotted for fruits and limes.
Treasure books for no one is an island
Writing has become a habit after reading
It’s godly to hold my first book in my hand
Academic books are left behind, at school leaving
It needs years of maturity to understand Ayn Rand!
But book thieves are pardonable, excuse their scheming!!
Academic excellence is hardly the parameter of tomes,
You must be a nitwit, not to admire Sherlock Holmes
Picking a book to read, is much like diving with sea anemones
Literary prizes are tips of icebergs of ice cream cones
Years of hardship and effort, shattering human bones
Are behind these laurels;
so never dampen spirit with woe-be-gones.
It’s Otherworldly to lift one’s book to friends
They are the best critics of one’s writing skill
They see us sail through many of life’s bends
When I handed over my book,
they said, “You’ve climbed an anthill”;
Writing a book is an honest confession, where one amends
All the mistakes are done by the hand drill.
But reading and writing are poles apart
It needs a Hercules to topple down the apple cart
Reading is a necessary regimen for writers,
to have a healthy heart
One writes only, in bits and pieces, part by part
Together, the habits of reading and
writing prevent us from being a tart!
Being a woman, before I take up the pen,
I get pending tasks cleared.
It is hard to define how one grows the writing habit
The habit plays hide n’ seek with you like a rabbit
You reach the sky, that too within the quill’s ambit,
School memories come first: Like you doing a skit
One never writes, to make one’s book a hit
As one takes the pen, one grows, that’s the unspoken writ.
Doing well in exams, hardly makes one a writer,
Wide experience, talking with people to gain knowledge, does
It takes years to realize that the pen is mightier
Only a writer understands that the power of the muscle is worse
To hold the pen is harder than holding a gas lighter
Emotions rain upon you,
in a more abstract sense than Code Norse.
Seeing the world through the pages of a book
Is not new; it’s run like waters of the brook
Readers read books; but the grit behind,
whereby mountains shook
Can outwit anyone: A writer’s glance or a look
Is scathing, we get enchanted by the words’ loop
A book’s charm makes us forget our game of Hoo-la-hoop.
Writing this poem has been a journey
In hours of darkness, it’s prevented me from being lonely
If any of you like reading this, it will be lovely
The happiness it’d give me is hard to explain and uncanny!