An Anxious Aspie's Interpretation & Decoration of Poetical Ideas, Messages, Information and Resources.

Posts tagged ‘book’

Reading materials

In a bookstore,

or a library,

a wide range of books,







Lost Civilizations

Disappeared ancient centuries,

with the color of magic,

ruins under the cliff,

buried in history.

The lost civilization,

continuation of thousands of years of,


the glory of the Roman expansion sunk,

in time.



You’ve seen a lot of paintings,

you’ve watched many operas,

you’ve worn many pairs of ballet slippers,

you’ve tuned countless strings,

you’ve traveled to every bookstore round the corner,

you wake yourself up with symphonies every morning,

you listen to classical music while jogging every evening,

you always dine with cutlery,

you only buy clothes with nostalgic laces,

they don’t understand your artiness,

they don’t understand your life,

you’re happy sometimes,

and quiet sometimes,

any explanation is futile,

the sun will always rise tomorrow,

beauty doesn’t equal artiness,




and delightful,

arty or aloof,

or deserted,

it’s a little mood,

a little idea,

it’s woolgathering,

it’s stargazing,

it’s dreaming,

it’s faint,

it’s remote,

it’s cold,

it’s touching,

it’s lightsome,

it’s free,


and selfless.




Still life

A row of books,




the heights vary,

a kind of introspective ladder,

sweetness streaming down,

onto the last mug,

luring the bees,

is a jar of fake yellowish honey,

the rain begins the erode the murals,

on a deglazed cloudy day,

a dull,

uninteresting bed,

the soft grey,

cuddling him,

the man on dispaly,

he’s on display,

in between selling and non-selling,

he’s a still life,

with wood and wind as partners,

in a dark placid time,

spreading out the title page of the book,

the title has been flipped,

in the past.

A calm life

A calm life,

like water,

graceful songs flowing ,

one after another.
A calm life,

like a painting,


the ups and downs in the mortal world.
A calm life,

like a tree,

studded with glittering rosary peas.
A calm life,

like a book,

marked with the footprints of time on every page.
A calm life,

like a poem with a blurred outline,

imperfectly understood.
A calm life,

like a song coming to an end,

resounding throughout the hall.
A calm life,

like the starry night,

the lasting river,

the Alps,

the clay roof tiles,

the asphalt road,

filled with honesty,


grumbles and long-windedness,

times of sowing and reaping,

greed and contentment,

endings and beginnings.

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