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A Good Book

By Marilyn (

A few weeks ago I visited my brother in South Carolina. As soon as I opened the front door to his home, I saw this beautiful bronzed boy. My brother likes to read and when he spotted the bronze in a local shop, he had to have it. I changed the background and used drapes instead of a wall because the drapes give the picture a little more color.

Where did you like to read when you were a child? What were some of the books you read?

The challenge is to give this boy a story, or tell us a story about your own reading experiences. Fiction or fact, we look forward to your entry.


A Good Book

By Tom (

I see a boy lying under an apple tree reading Tom Sawyer. He must wait for an hour before he can go swimming, so he reads his best book for the umpteenth time and dreams of life on the Mississippi.

neath the boughs of an apple tree,
there he was with his book,
a reading as his mind wandered about,
the wide Mississippi he could see.

barefoot as it is summer time,
just lying there whiling away his hour,
for one day, some day he hopes
he too can travel the river on a raft,
fight Injun Jim.

Whiling away an hour after lunch,
that hour before swimming he can go.
Just lolling and letting his mind roam,
for that is what all boys do, it seems.

caught by an artist,
rendered so true,
that boy could have been me or you,
so I smile and remember those days.


A Good Book

By Amy (

oh i love a good book on a rainy day
and oh oh oh by the way
it has to be a mystery
dont you see
a who done it, well not me"""

i love a good thriller down to the end
who did he kill lover or friend?
why did he do the dirty deed
love or money, jealousy or greed?

why oh why did the victim die?
was he or she a bad one - did they lie?
did they cheat did they steal
or were they just another gone wrong drug deal?

no matter when or where or why
I WILL NEVER understand and will always cry
when i read a mystery, and someone dies..


A Good Book

By Phyllis Ann (

As a child, I loved to read books. I, as an only child, whiled away many an hour engrossed in the pages of a book. I had many reading places, and one of my favorites was on the front porch swing in the summer. My friend and I often read library books on her front porch as well. She had a screened in porch with a cushioned glider. Sometimes I read in my room at my small roll top desk, and at other times I read on our living room sofa. No matter where I read, the experience was the same, wonderful.


Reading can transport you to many places you would never go, except in a book.
Reading can take your mind off things that you need to overlook.

Reading can be an education in itself that broadens your mind.
Reading is an experience that is one of a kind.

Reading is something you can do all by yourself at any time or in any place.
Reading is better than any movie for you can change the scenery and the face.

The characters come alive in your imagination as you see them through your mind's eye.
Sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry.

What would we do without books, whether they be in their original form or on tape?
Reading is fun, relaxing and a good escape.


(It takes the world offen my bach!)

By Bob (

When I'm wrapped in the blanket of a good, good book
It's a most relaxing feeling. A secure and quiet nook
Turns the world to non-existent. Cares and worries of the date
Leave and dutifully exit to their place outside the gate
To wait.

When my book world has renewed me, with my spirit polished bright,
I unwrap me from my blanket that my book held me in tight.
I am ready for the world again, renewed from head to toe
For what the world may throw at me, and to that world I crow
"Let's go!"

When I am weary of the world, though its cares and worries hound,
I send them out to watch the gate, that way they're not around.
And simply to refresh myself, when I am in the need
I open up my book, and simply give that world no heed.
I read.


A Good Book

By Cara (

Ever since I was a little child,
I went to the library to read.
The books there were magical.
A visit to that place became my need.

At first, on Saturday mornings,
my sisters and I would enter
the special room that the Librarian
called "The Fairy Tale Center."

Paying rapt attention,
we heard each and every story,
retold by the Brothers' Grimm,
about the royalty who lived in glory.

"They lived happily every after"
was the way each tale would end.
We rushed to take out our books,
as many as the Library would lend.

As we became older and independent,
our interests changed a lot.
We looked for books that told
a story with an interesting plot.

The Library became a favorite place,
which we held in high regard,
researching papers and such,
and treasuring our Library card.

Now in old age, we still admire
that marvelous, exciting place.
The rooms are filled with information
that can improve the Human Race.


A Good Book

By Norma (Mikey) (

I have been reading books since I first learned how to read. Used to sit in kitchen right next to furnace register during the winter months with my head resting on the wall, book in lap. How I loved "Black Beauty", made me cry every time I read it. Then all of the Bobbsey Twins books, Heidi, Little Women, Jo's Boys, and my father's entire collection of Zane Grey. My mother had all of Kathleen Norris books so those were added to my reading list as I got older.

Now that I am retired I am back to reading as those working years didn't leave much time to read. Reading or trying to read 10 books a month as I have a lot of catching up to do. Really enjoy Nora Roberts, John Grisham, Barbara Delinsky, and of course my Bible.

We certainly were a reading family and it wasn't unusual to find someone in just about every room with their head stuck in a book. Those were the days!!


A Good Book

By Tom (

I stood and watched the boy a reading,
not a muscle was he a moving,
then it was, I felt a fool,
For that was a statue neath that tree.

I smiled and sat on a bench,
looking at that statue, a thinking.
For many a day in summer of old,
I would lie under a big old maple.

Lie and read my head astir,
as I dreamed of things I was.
Chasing pirates on the main,
riding with Jeb up the hill,
oh the dreams of a boy.

The day was warm and I was tired,
as I sat there and dozed.
Dreaming, oh yes I was,
again I was just a boy.

Barefoot running about,
doing my chores and
going to the creek,
always thinking, always moving.

But alas it is time to go,
as I take one last look.
Hmm, reckon it was me
when I was a boy?


One Librarian

By Norma (

A baby girl was born
Into a family of males
Like an angel on a cloud
On a warm July day
She came.

One day, judgment lapsing
Mama gave her restless 6-month babe
The big Sears catalogue
In her crib
To entertain.

How could a babe be so happy,
And treasure every page,
Never tried to tear it
A babe, a book.
A smile.

Then one day on the floor,
From the old drum table,
This little girl at two
"Read" her Golden Book
All through.

By now mama knew
How to please her babe,
Collected all from the grocer,
Little one wore out the spines
Love damaged.

Repaired with green duct tape,
The Goldens lived years more,
The little babe librarian,
Rubbed wax off from the floor.
On the tummy of any dress.

Womanly and loving now,
Little ones light enrapt into her face,
And she tells them of books of worlds
Limitless, enchanted.


A Good Book

By Joy (

To read a book is magical
Just me and my imagination
From the humdrum of days it transports me
To sun, sand, and a special vacation

Everything around me fades
Gray days and stormy weather
I find me lying on a beach
Or floating on blue water like a feather

A humdrum life no more for me
I am solving a complicated mystery
Or reading of days long gone by
And catching up on history

Reading a book is like traveling
To places so far away
Exotic sights and foreign ports
Something exciting every day

When things are looking gloomy
Find a book that makes you laugh
When you need a time relaxing
Take your book into the bath

Make every day an adventure
When you pick up a brand new book
You'll learn something so wonderful
If only you take time to look


A Good Book

By Swampetta (

It was raining outside but Johnny was so deeply into a "Penrod and Sam" book that he didn't even look out the window. He thought of Penrod as one of his best friends and Sam was too. They did the same things that he did. They got caught as much as he did. That's what made them so real.

Booth Tarkington must have met Johnny and that's where he got the idea for his characters.

Johnny's mother looked in at him because when he was that quiet it usually meant that he was up to something. She saw him laying on the floor reading his book and smiled. He was the only one of her children to read anything except road signs. Someday he would make her proud.



By Sharon (

Gosh, this is so good to read
Ma says reading is brain feed
With this book here I do lay
It's not a school day today

Ma enjoys when I read books
I can tell by loving looks
What she doesn't know won't hurt

Comics hidden in my shirt
When she leaves the livingroom
The comic I then resume
Placing it between page leaf
So Ma won't give me some grief



By Mary (

Give me an adventure
through the pages of a book;
like a trip by car, for instance,
slowly driving for a look.

Early Saturday mornins
piled in momma and poppa's bed;
we'd listen so raptly
to every word they read.

Perhaps a magazine serial
would excite and enthrall;
solve the mystery whodunit
at tha midnight masque'd ball.

As we grew older
active minds read on our own;
each book a new adventure
such as we had never known.

Little Women so amazing
with those darlin' sisters four;
Bethie ~ Amy, Meg n Jo
their escapades n so much more.

The Three Musketeers
a young lad's pure delight;
with Anthos, Aramis, and Porthos
sword battles day and night.

Or bravery like Oliver's
who broke orphanage rules;
by asking for "more" porridge,
never mind punishment's tools.

Local libraries often beckon'd
we'd be found there every week;
hours spent in nooks n crannies,
another interesting book to seek.

A pattern set for a lifetime,
craving to read tha written word;
from childhood through adulthood,
no adventure too absurd:-)


Visions of His Past

By Connie (

Lying on the floor
Where his childhood began
Night after night, he wrote
Not realizing his fame to come

Reliving writings of his past
One of great talent
Poetry flowed from his hand
Like a stream in the forest

A man of many passions
Words were his forte
No one could've foreseen
His talents in which they lay

Years would soon pass
A leap into the future
A quest for more knowledge
Would drive his yearning path

Audiences sit mesmerized
By words flowing forth
Visions of his memories
Filled page after page

Today, tomorrow and thereafter
Books don the shelves in shops
The world will forever read ......
A desire from his youth.




Going to America


Vanity ( 5 Authors )


Speak to Me

When I Think of You

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