Books
The fresh bookstore smell of them,
bending the pages to crack the spine,
notes scribbled in the margins,
underlines,
hearts with initials on the flyleaf,
something to loan or to wrap for a gift,
something propped up on the bathtub edge,
its paper sprinkled with drops-—
pages wrinkled into a Braille memory—
that rainstorm run through,
how he put it in his back pocket.
Poetry touched by fingers.
Single words met by lips.
Words pored over by candlelight or flashlight
in a sleeping bag or in a hut with no electricity.
Books pushed into backpacks
and under table legs for leveling.
Paper that soaked up
the oil from fingers
of the reader
consuming popcorn
or chocolate chip cookies
in lieu of the romance on the pages—
finger food served with brain food.
Passions wrapped in paper and ink—
the allure of a book and the tactile comfort.
The soul of a book you could touch, fold, bend.
Books are the gravestones of trees
but also the journals of our hearts.
Cities of words,
boards and bricks of letters,
insulated by hard covers or the curling skins
of paperbacks.
Something solid to transfer the dreams
of one person to another in a concrete telepathy
of fingers and eyes.
Books are the roads we build between us,
solid and substantial—
their paper the roadbed,
the words the center lines directing us.
What will fill the bookcases of a modern world?
Wikipedia replacing dictionaries,
Google already an invisible bank of Encyclopaedia Britannicas.
What will we use our boards and bricks for,
if not to hold up whole tenements of books?
How will we furnish our walls?
What will boys carry to school for girls?
What will we balance on heads
to practice walking with perfect posture?
What will we throw in the direction of the horrible pun?
Will there be graveyards for books, or cities built of them?
Quaint materials for easy chairs or headboards for beds?
Will we hollow them out for cigar boxes
or grind them up for packing material?
Where do books belong in the era of Kindle and Audible?
These dinosaurs that soon will not produce more eggs.
Perhaps they’ll grow as precious as antiques.
Perhaps the grandchildren of our grandchildren
will ponder how to open them. Will wonder at their quaintness,
collecting them like mustache cups or carnival glass,
wondering about the use of them—as unfathomable as hieroglyphics.
That last book closing its pages—one more obsolete mystery
fueling the curiosity of a bygone era that has vanished
into a wireless universe.

Yes, you are right. These are chairs made out of books.
In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Going Obsolete.” Of all the technologies that have gone extinct in your lifetime, which one do you miss the most?

I think there will always be books. Not as many books, but always some. I still buy hardcovers of favorite authors and get them signed when I can, but I read on the Kindle. When I need to remember why I love books, I open one of those hardcovers. The binding crackles and I get that wonderful smell of ink … and I fly backwards in time.
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Like Marilyn, I do most of my reading on my kindle. It has become so much easier. Especially since you can change the size of the text. If I’m in an adventurous mood, I’ll change the font to match the book; e.g. Courier New for pulp or noir,
Occasionally, I’ll read an old paperback. 🙂
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To be truthful, I listen on Audible to most of my books as the only time I have to “read” is when I’m driving or in the kitchen or art studio. I still can’t bear to get rid of my books, which have come in handy to photograph for illustrations for my blog. Talk about confessions!!!!
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I live close to Goodwill, so I go there about once a week to see if I can find any old Perry Masons, or anything by Arthur Hailey (I love potboilers). The only audio book that I’ve ever listened to is “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay”. That was after I had already read it.
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KINDLE: Love that fact that you can change the size of type… I am getting on up there… But it just doesn’t feel the same?
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I’ve never read a book on Kindle, although I have several books I’ve written on it. I’m just wondering where all these Kindle and print on demand books will go when we die? Not my problem, I guess.
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Reblogged this on Clips & Snippets.
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This is inspired and inspirational! A real gift.
I love the book spine images. Could even be used on an “About” page.
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It’s of a bookshelf in my spare room. Thanks for kind words, Lola.
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Reblogged this on lifelessons – a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown and commented:
This poem written over two years ago and edited a bit today seems to fulfill the requirements of today’s prompt word. As I look at those who have already read it, I see only a few familiar faces. (Hi, Marilyn) so I’ll risk running it by again.
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Wonderful poem, so timely and so poignant – thank you, Judy, for repeating it!
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And thank you for responding.
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My pleasure!
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I just posted my doodle. Hope you’ll like it. https://nelkumi.wordpress.com/2017/11/03/accompanied/
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