Druids Heath Library – “I was absorbed by stories..”

Hayley Frances worked with Druids Heath Library users to write their own poems about visiting libraries with children, as children and young people and their love of a local library.. Sharing a love of libraries, Hayley also shared a couple of her own poems about libraries with us.

My first memory of a library

goes back to when I was three –
 I was an early reader
 helped by two older brothers and
 Dad reading parcels who read rather than watch
 My brothers would read to me
 from huge books of fairies –
 I mouthed words so well but my
 brothers did not stick to those words –
 they changed and added, scrambled them
 and so when I protested, said no –
 and so learned to read those words.
And my mother showed me the glorious
 Children’s library –
 and the librarian said no –
 she has to be at least five –
 but my mother said, “Choose a book.”
She could read and I read the book about tigers
 and was allowed to have a card –
 a gateway card to adventure.
Afterwards, other people – how they coped
 in a changing world, their feelings and retellings –
 I was absorbed by stories.
School was smothering but as soon
 I finished the prescribed work
 I could read the real books.
Changed, there was a river
 Eagerly anticipated, hopeful, important
 My lifetime in a changing world.
Cathy

My Library Days

My library days from a youth was intimidating –
 A vast room filled with books, librarian waiting –
 Loads of authors, loads of topics –
 I can’t recall if there were any comics.
 If you talked too loud, all you heard was hush –
 Thinking of what to read to your latest crush.

Remembering those thick leather-buttoned chairs –
 The lamps on tables, silence in your ears –
 The turning of pages and the odd cough –
 I eventually found a book that was good enough.

Seeing strange words, dictionary in your hand –
 When you started reading, likened to another land.

Recall the smells of different books –
 The storylines had their own kind of hooks –
 To remember the pile of books to be taken out –
 A few months’ worth with lots of clout –
 Everyone got a library card with your name –
 The story’s so vast you couldn’t frame.
Donovan

I Can’t Remember the First Library

I can’t remember the first library
 I went into, but I know I would have
 felt like I’d been there before
 because by that body
 of books of literature
 of science, medicine
 and
 religion
I can’t remember the first library
 I went into, but I know that I’ve been
 more than once / plenty of times
 with all their ups & special corners
I can’t remember the first library
 I went into, but I know things have
 changed if you find me there.
Dionne

My library usage

when i was doing my O level studies 
at Birmingham Central Library 
up we'd go to the music floor 
pull out our books with an eye on the door 
knowing happy and full we would soon get our fill
that is me and my mate and a brace from Rose Hill
the four of us losing ourselves in the throws
of the scattering books and the loosening of clothes
and the passionate kissing entwined on the floor 
as we mate our new mates with an eye on the door 

From a Mom of a Poet

I took you 
	to the library 
a peaceful place 
	to learn
wonderful stories
	waiting to be read
to gift you an interest 
	in reading - reading opens
your mind 
	you can live in 
the peaceful world
	of the library 
you focus only
	on the pleasure of reading
not even talking 
	or whispering 
to not break 
	the silence of reading 
storytelling with the librarian 
	was a special time for me 
to sit and watch you both 
	transitioned into your own 
imaginings of the story 
	why do I recall these moments 
even now as I write this 
	I am smiling from the inside out
my own mom mind 
	was at peace 
in the walls of books 
	in the silence of my mind
taking in my child's 
	beautiful little face
I miss the old library 
	with its time stopping 
even if only a couple
	of hours a week. 

Jean

I kept one

once, I think 
it was Black Beauty, 
some literature classic 
anyway, the cover 
had an English oak tree 
on it and there was a letter
that came of course, 
without a reminding parent 
I forgot to take it back 
when I should have.
Perhaps I forgot to take it back
because of the distance.
Perhaps I was scared 
they would know I hadn’t 
read it yet. 

Perhaps they 
would disapprove of me 
returning it to take it out 
again and back then 
it was a lot of money 
to pay for a delayed book.
Back then I couldn’t focus 
on reading one book 
and I struggled reading 
the same passage 
over and over again 
until the words shivered 
into something reminiscent 
of the screen of a severed
macrodata refiner.
I would scold myself 
for my stupidity 
in missing the return date,
in missing the meaning of the book,
in missing someone to read with,
in missing the return, 
a simple loss,
I owned. 

Hayley Frances