A cloudy day with bouts of rain,
a public holiday long weekend.
I decide to stay in my PJs all day,
eat easy-cook comfort food,
and look through my bookshelves
for something equally delicious
to savour – or to add more sweet.
My home is full of bookshelves!
The biggest ones won’t fit the unit
so they’re out in the garage, lining
the long, high walls. They hold
my huge poetry collection (I’ll have to
donate it to some institution in my will);
my art books, from Old Masters to Banksy;
a big shelf of those novels I must frequently
re-read (some I’ve loved since childhood,
others discovered over all the rest of my life);
another shelf detailing a range of spiritual
and energy healing manuals, plus wisdom
for the soul, including the King James version
of the Bible (the one that’s written in poetry);
and a shelf full of books on magic – not
the stage kind, but witchcraft, Druidry,
shamanism, ceremonial magicianship and
the Qabala. Then, inside the house, the tall
bedroom bookshelf houses my several translations
of the I Ching, a number of other oracles, and
my many tomes on theTarot. Plus all my cards.
The lounge-room shelves are for overflow:
my favourite books for writers; some biographies;
feminist classics; encyclopaedias; books I wrote;
books my late husband wrote; folders full of my
early poems (before I stored them on computer);
and old journals (ditto). But, hooray! I finally find
what I want on the virtual shelf, my beloved e-reader.
Written for FridayWritings #225 at Poets and Storytellers United, which invites us to find inspiration on our bookshelves.