You were a tattered maths book
that had been left out
in a shower of rain
and become a little damp, around the edges.
I had a gilt bound classic look
full of long words
that made no sense
and had brown spots, on my pages.
When you dried out you crinkled
like a lost smile
in a corner, seen only
by a stranger who liked, and stayed looking.
When I was scrubbed I twinkled
like an old bowl
cleaned of its dog's dinner
by a long tongue that liked, and kept licking.
As books we met and judged
not by the covers...;
we read between lines
deciding our ink could be smudged
to read the same.
A contest entry
- From Different Worlds by Strawberry Wolf.
3500 points, ended March 10, 12 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please leave me a comment, constructive criticism is always appreciated, but please, make it constructive, not just criticism.
Comments
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This was sweet. I especially like the structure of it. The way the last line of each stanza lengthened and made the book seem melancholic.. especially in the 3rd stanza.
I don't know if i understood right but what this poem means to me is that the maths book is sad and not used becuase it isn't understood... poor book.
I guess poems mean different things to different people ay
Maria -
I honestly love this write, the title was quite appealing. You've done well love.
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Very good. I like it. Best of luck
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