Unread Voices

A poem of books and bumps in the night

Originally submitted last year to an annual Halloween event that YouTube filmmaker Trent Lenkarski puts on, I wrote a poem about secret tales inside library books. Where the space between the text and pictures comes to life when the library is closed.

And as books are borrowed, the hauntings get their chance to emerge outside the usual confines of the library walls.

Nine syllables to each line, other than final line. That is, if you read ‘library’ as a 2-syllable word in one line, and a 3-syllable word in the line it appears in…

I used to write a lot of poetry in my childhood and early adult life. My output is less frequent and prolific now, but I still like letting the words glide in a container that works beyond the prose.

Talking of which, my inspiration for publishing the poem today comes from reading a great essay by

Anagha Smrithi

on

Poetry Pals

with

Nelly Bryce

.

Poetry (pen) Pals #11

While Trent didn’t use the poem in his Halloween videos, it’s not specific to the season, so I hope you enjoy the piece right now, whenever you happen to be reading!

[Accompanying images are via Midjourney, with my reference images/photos used]

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Unread Voices

I

A haunted library. Not ghouls and ghosts;

But shadows, curves in time, tricks of light.

Bricks older than the eldest patron,

Books filled with wisdom beyond ages.

II

The witching hour lasts all evening

Once doors are closed and reading ceases.

A timeless space where narratives dance

In the void outside the books. Ink leaves

And pages fade. The bindings absent,

Replaced by shadows. Darkened spectres.

Curious tomes where old tales, past lives,

Now whisper secrets in the stillness.

III

A scripted symphony within a

Lexicon labyrinth, in darkness;

No longer tied to parchment, nor page.

Now phantom gloom radiates, emits

Accounts of those tormented beings

Who haven't got a voice beyond the

Emptiness of empty shelves. No book

Includes their chronicles, unmet needs,

Cries for help, reaching out, sinking deep.

IV

This shadow chorus in the twilight

Fades again with day. But lives on in

Books. Between the printed letters seen.

Shadow becomes light at day. Too bright

For mortal sight to grasp its being.

Yet their very presence allows each

Visitor a spine shiver as they

Enter in their unassuming day.

It's that connection, giving unheard

Voices one more chance to tell their tale.

And though the guests and staff don't know this,

Each book they take gives hope to shadows

Wishing to escape these confined ways.

V

Library members take out the texts

And welcome them into their abodes.

And when night returns, the shadows take

Their chance to scream in places elsewhere,

Confident that new ideas will now

Circle back to release these shadows

Out of their shackles and back into

Minds.

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