Treasure Seeking

An attempt to find the perfect books among thousands.

A dusty smell hangs in the air,
the first thing I notice when entering the large building.
Pleasant, comforting and so very familiar
it is the scent of knowledge and of words delicately formed,
of words that dance across the page in the most skilled of ballets.

As I move further into the building, still shivering with night's cold,
my eyes finally land upon my goal,
the whole reason for venturing out of my dorm during such a frigid day.
The books line the shelves, the most orderly of soldiers.
Their spines exposed for all to see,
they stand and wait.

I feel insignificant amongst the shelves.
The many books stretching outwards, endless amounts of words stored.
Looking to find a treasure,
I dig through exalted volumes of literature
as if they were merely
meaningless flecks of sand.

Silence, bordering on solitude weighs heavily down on me.
Whispers from the next aisle over break it but only for a moment
and then heavy it descends again.
Strange
to find comfort in such an imposing place.

I head towards the stairs, taking a moment
to admire the beauty of the view, panoramic in the window.
It's more like a painting than reality. Trees that were once green
reaching up to the starry sky as if rejoicing their nakedness,
embracing the beauty of a false death.

The carpet dulls my footsteps,
the same carpet that trips me as I move up a floor.
There are more beaches full of books to dig through,
all in search of that one treasure, that one book that
will open itself and reveal wonderful secrets to my eyes.

And then a shout of triumph attempts to escape from my lips
only to be stifled the moment I realize
what a sin it would be.
But I've found my treasure after searching for
so, so long.

The trip down the stairs is quicker and
there's no line at that long counter
where the book becomes mine for a short while,
just the steady beep of the machines as the book goes through.
Pushing open the heavy doors, a gust of wind rushes at me,
cold and painful, drawing tears from my eyes.

As the building fades behind me, I feel it watching.
It has a life of its own.
Like a dragon it guards over its hoard of
glittering words and shining phrases,
permitting those who come borrow
but never keep.

Author's Note

This was written for a class of mine focusing on creating a sense of place in writing. The assignment was to pick a place on campus and write about it however we decided as long as it was a poem. It would be greatly appreciated if you were to let me know if this has been accomplished.

Also, this is the first time I've written a poem in years. I prefer short stories. Any suggestions are welcome.

Reviews

[R J Askew]

Assignment accomplished with distinction I'd say. There was great presence throughout. I was with you all the way...trying to move quietly the better to catch your poem's whispering voice. The last verse is definitely the best, the notion of the library watching us as we leave is brilliant.

Like the 'scent of knowledge' and the feeling of insignificance among the sheer physicality of the words' world. Like the heavy silence. And the idea of frantically sweeping aside classics to get to what you want. And what were you looking for? We are intrigued. Would we want it? Have we read it? An intelligent and enjoyable read. Also got me wondering about the fate of libraries in the age of click-aty-click. The internet is just not and never will be the same as a library full of books.

[Anita B Jacques]

It was an adventure, almost a dream. A love for books, where else but a Library, a nice very old one. I love it. Great write, I wanted to be in your shoes, looking for "special book" Thank you for sharing.

[Wildecat]

This is a very well crafted and creative poem, well done.