Rustling Pages of My Childhood

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
This began as a fun little listing of things that I read throghout my childhood, which was very very bookish, but it turned into a lesson about my love of books. :) Hope you enjoy!

Submitted: April 08, 2008

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Submitted: April 08, 2008

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The Rustling Pages of My Childhood
Alcott, Austen, Whitman,
All the classics I loved and read,
Bronte, Dickens, Robert Louis Stevenson,
All that left me with an ache in my head.
How Mark Twain made me laugh,
And Anne Frank made me cry,
My young fingers rifling through shelves,
There was nothing I wouldn’t try.
I tried Jane Eyre when I was ten and failed,
The Count of Monte Cristo was too much at twelve,
No one stopped me from trying whatever I could,
Into fresh ink and paper I couldn’t wait to delve.
All those I didn’t love I stumbled through,
Eventually I grew to love them all,
As my tastes grew and changed,
I was so easy to enthrall!
Brashares, Dessen, Mitch Albom and Sparks,
I read through modern stories, too.
Biographies, conspiracies, romances,
Books and characters pulled me through.
Tom Sawyer was full of boyish fun,
Laura Ingalls Wilder made me shiver,
Persuasion was so realistically unsettling,
And The Lovely Bones made my lip quiver!
I read Hawthorne’s The Scarlet Letter,
Before I even knew what the “A” meant,
Where The Heart Is captured mine,
And The Thirteenth Tale seemed heaven sent!
The Da Vinci Code had me absolutely hooked,
I loved The Painted Veil from the start,
Shakespeare was too clichbut I read him,
Words were such an art.
Meg, Jo, Beth, Amy, Laurie was so sweet!
Lizzy and Darcy became my closest friends,
Charlotte and Wilbur, Harriet the Spy,
I wanted them all to come to good ends.
Words, characters, plot, the smell of ink on a page,
The unreal and the imagined, I resided there.
I’d rather shop for books than clothes,
And I loved people who shared!
Sequels, spin-offs, I read it all,
I was a strange child whose truest friends were fiction,
And who relished in plot and a whole other world,
It was an addiction!
It wasn’t always easy,
Wilde confused me and Conrad slaughtered me,
But I have respect for anyone and everyone,
Who will unleash an inner world, their deepest thoughts, for all eyes to see.
My sticky little fingers often wandered into pages that they shouldn’t,
But it developed my imagination as well as my head
Gave me a connection to people who didn’t even exist,
Or to those who were dead.
But that’s the beauty of it, you see!
The mind and the heart are capable of more than we think,
For a true wordsmith can turn a void into something real,
And books are the link.


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