In the spirit of National Poetry Month, I thought I’d try some more poetry.

A Lotus from Poetry by Lotus inspired me to try my hand at a “Thirteen Ways” poem, in the mode of Wallace Stevens’ “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.” Imitating this poem was also mentioned as a poetry writing prompt in Rose, Where Do You Get That Red?, which I read and reviewed on Rebecca Reads last week.

Note that I am taking some phrases from Stevens, not with the intent to plagiarize but as poetry guidance and prompts for my own ideas. In some sense, this is all a joke, for I don’t think it is great poetry. As you read, please keep in mind that I’m not a poet.

Despite that fact, I sure had fun writing this. Each of these stanzas references a different way that I, a stay-at-home mom, look at books.

If you choose to do a “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a…” poem yourself, leave a link in the comments.

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Book

I

Through all the busy house,
Empty but for two,
My book calls me.

II

I was of three minds:
Each book
Only partly begun.

III

The water soaked the cover,
Warping the edges,
But I grasped it
Before the words warped too.

IV

A woman and her book
Are one.
She cannot put it down.

V

I do not know which to prefer:
Crisp binding breaking-in
A hard-cover sentinel
For my shelf;
Or a gentle and comforting shinning soft-
Cover for my hands.

VI

Rain splattered against the long window
With impolite raps.
I ignored it,
sinking into down,
sighing into my book.

VII

O people of everyday:
Why do you imagine only boxed-in pleasure?
Do you not see how a book
Captures you in a truer world of imagination?

VIII

I know house-cleaning
And preparing healthful meals;
But I know, too,
That my book is involved
In what I need.

IX

When I place the book in the library return,
It marks the beginning
Of my hope for a reread.

X

At the sight of shelves
Lined with used books,
Even the poorest of bibliophiles
Would cry for joy.

XI

He flew to Texas
In a large airplane.
Suddenly, a horror pierced him,
For he realized
He placed his book
In his checked bag.

XII

My son is sleeping.
I must be reading my book.

XIII

It was midnight.
The light was off
And was staying off.
The book lay on the table,
Opened to page 42.

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