Miles Falworth - Buies Creek, NC (USA):
This book gets up later and later every day.
Sarolina Shen Chang - Canton, Michigan (USA):
This book is the one-tenth of a rainbow, a barrette to gather
the wind, the whisper of heaven.
This book is the one-tenth of a rainbow, a thread to mend
the tear, the break of heart.
This book is the back of the Minke whale that parenthesis the
philosophy of the universe.
This book is the clock that went backward after the earthquake.
This book holds the breaths of the roses trapped inside the ice
Katherine Borghardt - Ottawa, KS (USA):
Like the old masters
who recognize beauty at face value
light playing with the features
shadow emphasizing the hollows
this book recognizes the beauty of us:
Alfred and Sarolina, always there in the poetic sense,
Tim, the funniest one-liner in the book,
Karen, the most novel of approaches,
Kevin, Sandeep, Bob and Peg, the weave and weft of the Library,
Mary, the flower of poets,
Dale, singularly beautiful,
Penelope, are you all right?
Kevin W. Grossman - Santa Cruz, CA (USA):
This book was too easy to forget, but after three weeks the
library notice arrived announcing that it was now available for pick-up. I
was ready to go and complete my delivery when the volunteer coordinator
called, her voice solemn and reverent.
My book buddy Bill died today. We never really got a chance
to bond. A violent storm had been brewing in his mind's Bering
Sea for days, maybe years, they can't be sure - suddenly. When
I met him, he had been bedridden in a convalescent hospital, pleasantly
restless. He was a ravenous reader eating through stacks of library
books from morning 'til night, words crusted in the corners of his
I had only seen him a few times to bring him new
books. We shared brief words, mutual wonders and local war stories about
Santa Cruz business shenanigans. He had a sister who had lived in
Visalia where I grew up. He had liked listening to the
northwest roar of Art Bell's didactic late night chatter. He had told
me to listen some night. I might enjoy it. I never did.
My book buddy Bill died today. We never really got a chance
to bond. I walked down to West Cliff and watched the sun
pass over the bay and into the hills and houses beyond the
university and Highway 1. The sky seemed make-believe with melting black eddies.
Waves pounded and pasted the rocks with thousands of pages of tiny
Sea lions barked warnings and thunderheads roiled along the horizon, so I
bolted home and called my parents because my Mother has a new
library card. We've got a lot of reading to do before the
Susan Meyers - Summerville, South Carolina (USA):
This book worries when it's out late
It longs to thumb its way home,
whistle down roads
John Glowney - Seattle, Washington (USA):
This book contains all the words we should have said
when we should have said them; and all the things we should
done but didn't; and look here, where the dog has chewed
the last 10000 pages to shreds, leaving only yesterday's instructions
Bennett Rader - Plymouth, Ohio (USA):
This book was found in the pot of gold at the end
of the rainbow.
This book kept opening the shades in the library for the sunshine.
It was a book about spelunking.
This book used the fire escape to sneak out of the library.
It never got to meet any of the new books and
it was bored with its neighbors.
This escapee book bar crawled through the seedier side of town and
picked up some bad habits.
This escapee book eventually found itself in rural America where it
settled down to a life of work and taxes.
MARY P. ELWELL - SUNRISE, FLORIDA (USA):
This book is about the Homeless. I am one of them. I
am a frail woman holding a shopping bag Hair all askew looking
like a hag Searching through garbage cans for something to eat cast
off clothes to wear old shoes for my feet Looking for things
carelessly tossed away by those who don't care My clothes are all
shabby and torn, tis true What else can I do? What would
you do if you were me? My home is a dark alley
under some stairs surrounded by pie
ces of torn cardboard and a torn plastc curtain that once hung
in a shower My bed is a cast-off pillow and a piece
of lumpy foam This is my home.
What would you do if you were me Would you offer me
a warm room and a comfortable be on which to sleep and
rest my weary head? What could you do? What would you do?
We are the young couple eith our lives torn apart by the
greed of others with stone cold hearts We strive each day for
a place to shelter our family What are our decisions for me
to be? I am the friendly, bleary-eyed man with tattered clothes who
asks for a dimeor two from you. I was
once well dressed and wealthy just like you Would you take me
home for dinner too? I am a lost and forlorn teen I
wander the streets alone. Would you offer me the shelter of your
peaceul home? When you simply ignore the homeless and their children's faces
and frowns and go about with your life as if they do't
exist and are not around You are rong! They need your help,
your empathy For the plight of the homeless is a reality They
are your responsi
bility They need your help, your empathy It could happen to you
It happened to me What would you do if you were me?
Tere Starr - Miami, FL (USA):
This book brings me back to my childhood days when my soul
appeared through reality’s haze, most often in guise of the
words on the page of this book.
With this book in hand, I climb with Naruda to the heights
of Machu Picchu. Pablo and I stand in silence. We watch
lifetimes evolve, his and mine. Even the stones remember.
This book is about the trickster and the ways he enriches our
lives. How we see him depends on our cultural view, sometimes Hermes,
Loki or coyote. He’s always crossing boundaries, it seems, and to me,
he brings fun and insight.
This book, the oldest in my collection, is a voice from the
past and deserves introspection. As I turn each page, words unfold.
Thoughts are carried away on the wind.
This book describes chaos, poetic disorder that’s affecting the cosmos. Meeting at
boundaries, strange attractors craft order. They’re the very distracters that lead to
the meeting of minds, to creative touch that infuses a spark, that
explosion of light.
Alfred J Bruey - Jackson, MI (USA):
This book has been translated into 27 different languages and it's poorly
written in all of them.
This book was written by a famous inventor. If his inventions were
as bad as his grammar, he would have starved to death before
he was 30 years old.