South Africa’s first-ever Book Hotel, the Royal, in Bethulie
Imagine a place like this.
The perfect hotel of bliss.
Endless books to read.
Nothing else I’d need.
Walls of books everywhere.
All you need is a chair.
Never run out of a book.
Just pick your favorite nook.
Read the day away.
Nothing else to say.
Open a book.
You will be amazed
by what you’ll find.
Your mind will open
to new thoughts and ideas.
A whole world awaits.
I will read you a story.
It might be all too gory
For you to understand
But I’ll give you a hand.
A blight falls on a town.
It’s sure to make you frown.
Residents disappear.
I want to make this clear.
This isn’t a regular place.
Don’t give me that dark face.
It’s a place of evil creatures
And many more creepy features.
Dark shadows stalk the night,
Giving tourists a fright.
Florida can be a scary place.
I will soon pick up the poem’s pace.
The Dead want to kill you.
You’ll be their dinner too.
THE DEAD GAME
Nothing more sad.
Nothing more shameful.
Than a book not read.
A book lost to time.
A closed door.
It can open to many things.
It can lead to a garden of flowers.
It can also lead to unspeakable horrors.
What are you in the mood for?
Do you want pretty flowers,
or do you want to explore the unknown?
The choice is yours.
THE DEAD GAME by Susanne Leist
A VISION
The bookstore is dark.
I turn on the lights.
Rows of bookcases loom tall.
I open the curtains.
The Florida sun flows in through picture windows.
Bright squares fall across the floor.
The perfect spot for comfy couches and chairs.
A counter with stools to the right,
where I would serve coffee and pastries.
Book stacks to the left.
Yes, it’s all coming alive to me.
A bookstore/ coffee shop
in the seaside town of Oasis.
Little did I know of the otherworldly plans
taking place at the same time as mine.
Plans that are in no way
as peaceful and innocent as mine.
THE DEAD GAME
Abandoned Library (by katka.havlikova)
Books sitting on shelves.
Abandoned and deserted.
Knowledge lost.
Potential buried.
The wind sneaks in.
The sun peeks in.
Animals walk past.
Discarded pages.
That no one will read.
No one who cares.
The wind gives a moan.
To read a book
Is to dream.
To think.
To imagine.
What was.
And what could be.
No time to read.
No time to relax.
Running on empty.
Ears plugged in.
Brain plugged out.
No way to live.
ourtwobodiesintoonepinkcasket
my insides
READ THE PICTURE
You can feel his pain.
His sadness.
For a life not lived to the fullest.
For a life almost over.
Sitting by the fire.
All alone.
Not even a dog by his side.
Source:moonisasickle
