The Bookshelf (a sonnet)

[danny_]

this has nice flow all the way, to me. i didn't trip up on any wording, either. and the subject is really cool. i haven't read other feedback but mainly what i see as a problem is this book is "rotted dry as bone" but you're still able to read it, and even move it without it falling apart. second thing is, just when we're getting intrigued by this old book we switch to a brand new book. if the poem focused on one mystifying book and you painted the atmosphere around the hours indulged in it, it would really shine as poem. for example, the glaring naked bulb hanging overhead in an attic, glinting specs of dust swimming around you as you blow off old pages and delicately thumb through them. whatever your atmosphere, make it strong and make it focused on one particularly intriguing moment of discovery.

thanks for sharing

I haven't written in a long while. Here's a sonnet:

The Bookshelf

I found a hidden treasure tucked away,
a withered science book of age unknown
whose ink and pages rotted dry as bone
that years of dust had turned from white to gray.
Consumed therein, unmoved throughout the day,
delighting in the data all alone
until I realized light had fin'lly flown
and gladly put the book back on display.
Then buried 'neath the boxes of the past
I happened 'cross a novel left unread,
shiny and new, without a single scratch.
The characters are powerful and fast;
suspense and danger fill the mind with dread
but in the end the hero finds his match.



I'm not so sure about the meter in line 8, and I want to see if I'm getting my point across adequately (pro-tip: my girlfriend is a scientist). I want to make sure my symbolism isn't too cheesy, and really, that it's a decent sonnet. Any advice or criticism is appreciated.

- The Pinsir