Wednesday, 10 March 2010

An extraordinary proposal!

You know what I've learned? I absolutely adore Charles Dickens. I'm currently reading Bleak House, and it's fascinating - not to mention hilarious. I really do love reading.
Why is it, then, that I find it so hard to read?
Am I the only one? Or are there other writers who feel something holding them back from books, even books they love? Once, though this is an extreme case, I stopped reading midway through a series I love, and I still can't fully explain why. I've yet to pick the series up again, and get a sick feeling in my stomach every time I try. I feel exhausted by books, emotionally and physically, even though I love them. Do you think it may be because I love them too much? When I read, I get possessed by the world I enter, and the characters enter a reality almost on par with my own.
What about you? Or is it really just me? I wrote a poem about it, actually, where the last line of each stanza is missing. That's how I feel when I read - like the last rhyme is missing.

A Poem Without A Rhyme

Feel the heartbreak tear across
For a character driven fantasy
Tears that never fell, a tell-tale loss.

Once the sun rose pale gold,
Black ink on white pages,
They cannot change, cannot grow old

Paper song birds cannot sing
A hand reaching out in words alone
A chapter driven king

Love and goodness conquer all,
But once the story ends,
Summer never again fades to fall

Lines are missing, can’t you tell?
The story isn’t finished,
the poem continues, clear as a bell,

Fantasies so real and dear,
But when the book is closed,
Their lives seem still so near

Why must the pages end?
These people are alive to me,
True as any real-life friend,

Tears falling from my eyes,
The stories die with the final page,
Paper sweet soft lullabies

Reading always brings me pain,
Always incomplete with time,
Suspended, floating drops of rain

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