Vancouver Twenty-Three Scorpio
Once upon a time there was a girl
Who wanted to forget her life and drown into words
So she opened the covers of the books in her shelfShe read about a brave boy
With a lightning scar and his mother’s eyes
And loyal friends who became his family
And after reading all seven books
She tried swishing and flicking her pen
And remembered to turn on the lightShe read about a black and white circus
That opened its gates at dusk
And had more wonders than you could count
And after closing the book’s black cover
She wanted to learn magic tricks
And started wearing a red scarfShe read about a kind man
Who was short in height but found his courage
And left his hole-home to go on an adventure
And after finishing the book
She went on a long walk, singing songs
And wrote all the things she saw on a red notebookShe read about a girl and a boy
Who were wolves, alternately
And read poems to each other when the weather was warm
And after putting the dust jacket back
She bought a red coffee maker
And folded a thousand paper cranesShe read about a group of teens;
They were sons and daughters of gods and goddesses
Sometimes insecure and imperfect, but never alone
And after reading not one, but two series
She consumed books about Greek mythology
While eating a bag of blue candyShe read about a four-year-old girl
Who was particularly smart, a genious
And read and memorised a hundred books
And after returning the book to the library
She started studying harder than ever
And tried moving her teacup without touching itShe read about a girl on fire
The symbol of justice who brought hope to the people
Who went through countless terrors for the sake of others
And after turning the last page
She went on a protest for the things she loved
And raised her hand and whistled four timesShe read about two teens who were in love
And hung on to their own little infinity
Lived day by day, before the last one came
And after the story was over
She started saving up for a trip to Amsterdam
For her and someone she could whisper “okay” toShe read about a quite unusual girl
Whose hair was peacock-blue
And who belonged to two different worlds
And after flipping through three thick books
She started collecting animal teeth
And got into drawing againShe read about a girl and a boy
Selfless, reckless, sharp, honest, and kind
And the boy lost the girl but not in vain
And after there were no more pages
She got a tattoo with a special meaning
And didn’t let anyone control her ever againShe read about a company of nine
Who were members of different races
But grew close to each other and formed eternal bonds
And after the story had enchanted her
She started growing flowers in her backyard
And realised she was wandering, but not lostOnce upon a time there was a girl
Who wanted to forget her life and drown into words
But after closing the covers of the books in her shelf
She saw that her life wasn’t empty at all, not anymore
And maybe her own story was worth reading, too
So she sat down and grabbed a pen
A poem about the influence of books (via listentothepages)
Since this is a poem about books I’m just gonna throw it out there that there’s no line about happiness being found in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light in the actual books. That’s a movie line. I liked the poem, that just threw me out of enjoying it and the theme because the poem is all about books and that’s a movie line?
I also like this poem because I recognized all the books on it and it’s really cool how well they were described without naming them. A+.
(via ihadthatdreamagain)
Thank you for your feedback (especially as it is super appropriate criticism and not hate or anything)! ♡ But so… I know. ^^’ It’s just that the Harry Potter movies were the reason my little sibling read the books, and they were like the first “big” books they ever read. And book-to-movie adaptations in general are very enchanting to me (except for when I accidentally see even a glimpse of them before reading the book(s) and PUFF the magic is suddenly a bit blurred). So I really wanted to include that! Also I meant to write some movie stuff for other verses of the poem, but the only options were The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, and I already had more things to say about those than I was able to fit in the poem. ^^’ And yes, I know Percy Jackson movies are a thing, but at the same time… They’re not a thing. You know. :P But again; thank you! I’m so happy to hear you enjoyed the poem anyway, and ESPECIALLY happy that you found it interesting enough to actually comment on! :’D(via thewildredreader)
can we just take a moment to imagine little cute six-year-old hermione reading matilda
and peering into this book about a smart, bookish girl who could move things with her mind
and then can you imagine her concentrating very hard on the books on the bookshelf and slowly, slowly, getting them to move
Reading with an eye toward metaphor allows us to become the person we’re reading about while reading about them. That’s why there are symbols in books and why your English teacher deserves your attention. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if an author intended a symbol to be there because the job of reading is not to understand the author’s intent. The job of reading is to use stories as a way into seeing other people as we see ourselves, and when we do that we can look out at the world and see a giant, endless set of beautiful variations of pizzas. The whole world composed of billions of beautiful, delicious pizzas!
Vlogbrothers, “Life is Like Pizza.“ 20 Sept. 2010. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NDk73GUwicY&feature=share
(I believe this might be the pizza quote that was recently requested)
What are books but tangible dreams? What is reading if it is not dreaming? The best books cause us to dream; the rest are not worth reading.
Before you tell me how much you “enjoy the smell of print books” like some kind of psycho, let me try to sell you on the convenience of reading in the Kindle or iBooks app: you’ll always have your books with you, and most importantly, you can always get through a little reading in those lost minutes of the day—waiting in line for coffee, for the 4-train running behind schedule, and for the bathroom because you drank too much coffee. Those pages add up fast.
Do you have like those books that you fell in love with right away because they slapped you in the face with their awesomeness so hard that you got whiplash and then those little quiet books that you never really planned on loving while reading them but as you flipped the last page the words just lingered and lingered and lingered with you for days and you never realized how much you loved it because it just took a while longer for the words to catch up to your heart
BOOKS.
I don’t pretend to be someone else when I’m reading. I just forget everything that’s going on in reality and bury myself in the pages. I’m just watching the story unfold itself, observing the characters reactions while I sit nice and cozy with a blanket and a cup of tea.
I would have to say that I’m probably happiest when I’m reading. Even if I’m in a noisy crowded place, when I’m reading everything falls silent around me.
It’s not that I don’t like people. It’s just that when I’m in the company of others—even my nearest and dearest—there always comes a moment when I’d rather be reading a book.
Maureen Corrigan, Leave Me Alone, I’m Reading: Finding and Losing Myself in Books
Don’t we all feel that way sometimes!
(via the-bookmark)
It wasn’t until I started reading and found books they wouldn’t let us read in school that I discovered you could be insane and happy and have a good life without being like everybody else.
vanillahoneybush
