I love books. I also have far too many. School books, student books, novels, poetry, travel, biographies, histories, historical fiction, sports and sundry unclassified, or unclassifiable.

Far too many lie unread. Some are on display for effect, some have been on display for effect for so long that their effect is the opposite of what was originally intended – see Tony Blair’s biography.

I tend to go on book reading binges, Tom Sharpe, Evelyn Waugh, Tom Clancy, Tony Parsons, Simon Scarrow, then starve for several months despite the plethora of reading options available to me.

So, confession now committed, I shall henceforth publicly commit to the books I shall now commit to read, or give to charity shops, in a determined effort to denude my collection of the unread by reading or disposal

My first public oath? To consume “SPQR” Mary Beard, history of Rome.

Meanwhile, I wrote a poem about this once:




You fancied me once

Fingering me lovingly

Running your hands down my spine

Stroking me

You wanted me so much

That you bought me

Now I lie discarded

Your interest has moved on

Abandoned amongst the rest

Your expressions of intent unfulfilled

Left on the shelf

Sometimes you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.

This entry was posted in Poems. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Books

  1. Polly says:

    heh-heh…so identify with this! Smashing poem.

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