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Memories of Books

Black thunder cracked over my head like a whip,


















The ebon sky, veined with white lighting, roared,



















And I cowered,
































A flashlight turned on, A book opened,

























An adventure began
I was a wizard, poking the belly of the sky with my gnarled staff,













Halting the thunder,




























Bringing peace to the castle beneath me
I was an elf,
































Sprinting, lithe and nimble as a wildcat,






















Following a tortuous, sluggish river,























Tuning my senses to nature,


























Heart pounding, racing to finish my mission

The sun blazed with rage overhead,






















Choking the land beneath it with the iron grip of its rays,
















A dark patch of ground welcomed me,





















The ON button of a fan pushed, A book cracked open,


















And a child swept away
I was a king, cloaked in crimson, golden crown perched precariously atop my head,







Stroking my chin thoughtfully,





















Contemplating the decisions waiting to be made,
















Surrounded by courtiers fanning themselves like butterflies,












Waiting for freedom these stifles of court
I was a knight,






























Slamming my gauntlet down on a glossy table stretched before me,











Polishing my armor, drawing my sword,



















Spinning lightly on my feet, delivering the kiss of death with my blade,











Riding off to the sunset on my noble black steed

Outside, a blizzard howled,

























White sheets of snow strangled the neighborhood,
















Cold crept into the house like a plague, infecting all who it touched,










Shivering, I settled down in a few hundred blankets,

















A space heater flicked on, A book forced open,



















A whirlwind of adventure carried me away

I was a sword,































Flicking through the air, Showing off my jeweled hilt,


















Shimmering in the sunlight,

























Performing my masterful dance: Overhand, Backhand, Slash, Jab, Cut,











Holding my point high after each performance
I was an arrow,






























Slicing a perfect arc, Singing past majestic trees and low shrubbery,











Savoring the taste of freedom,

























Warning all with my flamboyant tail to stay away,


















Riding forever upon my master’s back in a leather case

I was a child, Staying up late nights, Waking up early in the mornings,











Clutching my obsessed-over books,
























Waiting for adventure, hoping for victory,



















Breathless with excitement,

























And a book was opened . . . . .



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This article has 1 comment. Post your own!

legolas_elf said...
Apr. 27, 2012 at 6:47 pm:
Hey, to whoever reads this poem, could you please comment on this, I love getting comments because it helps improve my writing.
 
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