Poetry Books To Read Online 소설 & 이야기

Novels, grimoires, Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickinson. Wait, what? The Emily Dickinson? She hid most of her poems until the day she died, but looking at this book, holding it, it feels like everything she had written is in here. It's a lot, there were still poems of her that I haven't read yet, I never knew about its existence until now. I quickly opened the book and the pages were amazing, you know that scent of old books? This one has it, that one familiar scent of home, of comfortability, of coffee in the early morning while it's raining. I stopped on a particular poem, one I've read over and over again. I'm Nobody! Who are you?

It wasn't until she noticed the strange book tucked away in the corner that she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. "I almost missed one," she whispered. As she walked over to it, she noticed that its cover was worn, and it seemed to emit a faint glow that caught her attention. Maybe it's how the moon perfectly acted as its own spotlight that made it seem so glowy, but it's not just that. She somehow felt a little hint of amusement as she stared at it. As she approached the book, she saw the shinny title written on it, Lunaria, and she couldn't help but be intrigued. The moonlight shining down on the pages illuminated the words in a way that made them seem to come alive.

I said, grabbing the book off of the shelf and showing Kai proudly. That was a bit easier than I thought it would be. That was at least reassuring. He took the book from me and flipped through it, confusion lining his features. “Our next clue is a book of poetry?” “Yes. No, not exactly,” I said, biting my lip and flipping the book open until I got to the right poem. “This is a book of poems from the infamous Austrian poet Rainer Maria Rilke. My favorite poem is this one.” I showed him. I was not huge on poetry, but Rilke was a complete genius with his words, and I would be an idiot to ignore that genius.

The sky was splashed with brilliant stars which illuminated not only the atmosphere but also people's hearts. Nneoma sat on her bed, munching popcorn. At that moment, she reached for a poetry book on her cupboard which she had purchased at a bookshop during the holidays. It was titled; Chimes of Golden Tunes. 'I've not read the poems,' she murmured opening the book. She positioned herself well on the bed and flipped the pages. Arriving on the first poem, she read the title slowly. 'The Iridescent Stars; mmh… Typical of tonight.'

He pulled a small rectangular pack- age out of his jacket pocket and placed it in my lap. "Oh... I have a present?" I lifted the package and unwrapped the soft blue tissue. It was a book. A very old and very special book. My heart started thump- ing hard as I realized precisely what Ethan had given me. "Lamia, Isabella, The Eve of St. Agnes, and Other Poems by John Keats?" I choked out in complete shock.

I pulled one out at random, a collection of poetry, and began to read. I sat on the couch, surrounded by the silence of the beach house, lost in the words of the poetry book. The verses spoke of love, loss, and longing. I felt a pang in my chest as I read, recognizing the emotions that had been swirling inside me. The poet's words were like a mirror, reflecting my own thoughts and feelings back at me.

I close the door quietly. I spend an hour in the smaller library looking at the books. He has everything. Fiction. Nonfiction. Art books. History. A whole shelf of poetry that looks like it has never been touched. I pull out a volume of Mary Oliver and flip through it. Someone has dog-eared a page. I read the poem. "Wild Geese." I read it twice.