All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
The Library
I walk by Thoreau,
And give him a little smile,
While he laughs at the self-help book I’m shelving.
“Ha!” he seems to say.
“Why, you can find your “help” in the woods,
Where the fruit of mystery awaits you.”
I give Shakespeare a welcome glance,
As I hold a children’s picture book.
“Yes,” he explains,
“Let their minds become sharp
With the knowledge they discover.
Let their imaginations soar through the depths of life.”
Walt Whitman is contradicting himself
In a dusty corner as the morning light tickles him.
“Your very flesh is a great poem,”
He tells me,
“Marvel in the silent sun
To figure out your poem’s feelings.”
As I turn to leave the quiet sanctuary.
Ray Bradbury calls to me from a distant place,
His voice echoing through the building.
“There are worse crimes then burning books.”
He says,
“One of them is not reading them.”
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 3 comments.
I meant to rate it 5 stars but accidently hit 4 :( poopy.
anyway, I love this poem. As always your last line just clicks, perfectly, with the rest of the poem. I loved the flow of it and the references to the authors/poets/etc (THOREAU <3)
