Poetry Corner – April 2024


The Library

by Willow DuBrovin

I look to thoughts for comfort,

a thirst for knowledge, I couldn’t quench.

I venture to fulfill, I venture to learn,

a need to ponder, a need to unclench.


I stand at the door a Library great,

with endless shelfs, of endless books.

I am excited, my thoughts elate,

stained glass windows of gods of morn,


I float through corridors with bliss,

finally a place to call my own,

gifted as my own abyss,

A place I yearned for ages since born.


Covers and covers of beautiful books,

spiders hidden within the nooks.

I ignore the silver cobwebs, I get drunken off the sight.

I skim page after page, thoughts encaged by knowledge’s plight.

Finally, a place to quench, or extinguish my own unknown,

a place to learn, a place to think, for what can I atone?

The hands of gods reach my mind,

with malice, fingers of scalpels and razors.

They don’t like my presence, it seems

because I never joined their praisers.


Yet I continue on, reading books like a river

flooded by a domineering dam.

The moonlight trickles through stained glass,

and I’ve joined the stargazers again.


Years gone by, and I remain here

in this Library great designed.

I’ve learned all there is to know,

learned all there is to define.

But when I try to leave,

I then realize I’ve been confined.

The beautiful doors remain bind,

because the Library is my mind.